Her eyes said love, but her heart said murder — murder done to the music of Spanish gold
From the back:
It was Boke Carey’s kill of a lifetime, his pot at rainbow’s end — a million dollars in gold ingots buried in volcanic ash on a barren Central American island. Gold was Carey’s business.
Now he had it in sight — only the others on this palatial white yacht stood between the gold and Carey, in a kind of dark barrier of violence.
There was Jodi, the platinum-haired Venus, a beautiful, chattering monkey of a girl who kept her eyes glued to the main chance.
Anson, the oxllike consort of thieves, who gambled only on sure things-like beating a man to death.
Lopez-O’Brien, the sadistic steward, who appeared out of nowhere — his only worldly possession an arsenal of knives. And there was Sheila, the Spanish beauty as ruthless as he, the only one of them Carey feared — and loved.