by Regan Black
Cameras. Regardless of Zettel, this was Eaton’s game and he loved nothing more than live video. He’d probably had the entire island covered in a closed-circuit network while planning this scheme.
Where was it? He crouched low, scanning their surroundings for something too straight or clean, or a telltale light that a device was active. Come on, come on. His gut told him he was right about this. He moved and caught the flicker of a red dot. Motion-activated recording. Clever.
Rounding the wide tree trunk, he clasped Charlotte’s hand. The rain was coming down hard enough to mask their trail. They ran, somewhat blindly to the north and east. It didn’t really matter, especially if Eaton’s camera network did in fact cover the whole island.
Once again, he wished he had his team at his back. As a unit, they were unstoppable. Although they’d all had the same training, each of them had specific strengths. Mark wasn’t the top guy on the team when it came to the tech stuff, but he was no slouch.
He pressed the pack into Charlotte’s care. “Wait here.”
“Mark, no.”
He hesitated, hating the worry in her beautiful eyes. “Eaton posted motion-activated cameras around the island.”
Her auburn eyebrows snapped into a scowl. She let loose a colorful, creative string of oaths that would’ve made his SEAL team blush.
“Agreed.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m doubling back to take out the camera near that tree. Wait here.”
She grabbed for his arm. “What do I do if...”
“Zettel doesn’t actually want you dead. Work that to your advantage if he finds you before I get back. Remember, the cameras are motion-activated. Stay low and don’t move.”
“All right.”
He crawled several yards away from her on his belly and then popped up, ready to lead Zettel and Eaton’s cameras on a merry chase. All the while, his mind was on Charlotte, on the consistencies and contrasts of her. How could her lips taste so sweet while a tempest brewed in her big blue eyes?
“No one likes a cheater, Eaton,” he murmured. He’d been inclined to take out the camera nearest her hiding place, but if he did that, it was as good as shooting off another flare. It was time to get unpredictable.
One of Zettel’s men was loitering not far from the oak where they’d been hiding, his movements keeping that red dot on the camera lit. He didn’t appear to be armed with anything more than the flare gun.
Mark’s first instinct was to step up behind him and snap the man’s neck: one less thug blocking his escape. If he did, the brutal act would be caught on the camera.
At Eaton’s discretion, the video could be leaked and the world would see a trained navy SEAL killing a man standing around, minding his own business. The stain on the Riley name would be permanent and his father’s reputation forever attached to the disaster. That kind of thing would leave the navy and SEAL program scrambling under the resulting media scrutiny, as well.
Thinking it through, he was 99 percent sure that was Eaton’s goal out here. Bringing in the hunter only gave Mark more victims to destroy. No way would Mark play right into Eaton’s hands.
Mark picked his way around, moving with the gusty storm, until he was behind the camera.
As Zettel’s man continued to pace and watch, Mark pulled the plug connecting the device to the battery pack on the supporting stake. It was a clever design and now that he knew what to look for, it would be easier to locate more cameras and undermine the effort.
That still left the problem of Zettel’s spotter.
He could sneak away, but he’d rather not. It was a golden opportunity to even the odds. Mark shoved the camera under some scrubby plants and took the stake in hand. Anger and indignation pushed him. He wanted to kill the man, but this guy had nothing to do with the kidnapping. He was nothing more than a pawn. A nasty pawn, working this hunt with Zettel, but maiming him and taking any helpful gear was the smarter move.
Standing tall, he cleared his throat. “Looking for me?”
The man spun around and his jaw dropped. It was the split-second advantage Mark needed. He charged as the other man scrambled for the flare gun. Applying pressure to the man’s neck, Mark subdued his opponent before he could put up any resistance.
Mark let the man drop to the ground with a hard thud. “Ouch. That’ll leave a mark.” He searched the man’s vest and pants for weapons or a radio and found only the flare gun and flares.
When he stripped off the man’s boots, he found a good knife. He set the blade next to the flare gun and tried to get his bare feet into the man’s boots. Too small. He’d take them anyway. The boots might fit Charlotte and would be an improvement over the flimsy shoes Eaton had given her.
Thinking of Charlotte, he considered his options. He couldn’t leave the man to get up and walk back to camp for more gear. He’d be back on their trail in no time.
Mark didn’t overthink it. Tucking the stake and flare gun into one of the boots, he picked up the knife and sliced the man’s foot near his heel.
The pained screams and a smidge of guilt followed him for several minutes. When he was confident no one was tailing him, he returned to where he’d left Charlotte waiting.
This time he initiated the hug, taking all the warmth, comfort and relief she offered.
Chapter 10
Charlotte had been surprised Mark hadn’t been stealthy when he returned to her hiding place. She’d been downright shocked when he dropped several items to the ground and pulled her into his strong arms. His heart pounded and his breath sawed in and out of his lungs. He might as well be her personal furnace in the chill of the heavy rain.
What had happened? She decided the details were irrelevant at this point. He was here and in one piece. Stepping back, she ran her hands lightly over him to check for injuries. He didn’t seem to have a scratch, but his gaze was grim.
“I took one of Eaton’s motion-activated cameras down,” he said. “Got the spotter with the flare gun too. Any sign of trouble here?”
“Someone was close. I heard footsteps over that way,” she said, pointing.
“To the west,” Mark supplied with a quirk of his lips.
Without the sun, she had to take his word. “I was sure they’d see me, but then they turned back and hurried away.”
“West again?”
“Mostly, yes. I think.” She wrinkled her nose at her less than helpful answers. “It is raining pretty hard and I was trying not to get caught.”
“Fair enough.” He caressed her cheek, and his dimple flickered as he smiled. The expression was so tender butterflies soared through her belly. But he didn’t kiss her again. “Try on the boots.” He sat down and moved them toward her. “They’re too small for me.”
“Muscle’s boots might fit you,” she said, distracting herself from the idea of wearing a stranger’s shoes. A stranger who’d cooperated with Zettel to hunt them.
“Got a good look at his feet, did you?”
“Actually, yeah. Sizing up people is part of the job.” She routinely studied her environment as a puzzle, fitting together what she saw and how she would focus it on a canvas.
“When?”
The boots were a little too wide. “When what?” She set to work on the laces to see if she could improve the fit.
“When exactly did you size up Muscle?”
She peered up at him through the dripping rain. His jaw was set and his hands, tender a moment ago, were curled into fists now. “Are you jealous?”
“He had no right to touch you.” Mark surged to his feet and paced away from her.
A bright red dot of color caught her attention. Another camera must have gone live. “Mark,” she said.
“That one I’ll kill,” he muttered. “You’re innocent. Off-limits.”
She could see the rant brewing in the tight muscles flexing under the sc
rub top plastered to his skin. She didn’t want to recall those terrible moments in Eaton’s office and she certainly didn’t want a burst of misplaced rage to bring Zettel and his men straight to them.
“Mark,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Stop. Moving.”
He halted. She wondered that the rain, growing heavier again, didn’t just steam off his shoulders. Mark’s contempt for Muscle and the others was understandable. And despite the odds against them, being under his protection made her feel treasured and adored.
That kernel of romantic optimism that they might have a future, the secret dream she’d harbored for most of her life, was ready to explode like a fireworks finale on the Fourth of July. She had to keep it under wraps long enough to get off this island.
“There’s a camera at my eleven o’clock,” she said.
He stared at her and then turned. She watched him stalk straight over to the camera and dismantle it. With luck, that view would give Eaton a long-overdue moment of terror. Mark added the stake to the first one he’d secured through a loop on the pack. The camera he dropped at her feet.
“Stomp it.”
She obliged, putting her borrowed boots to good use, and was rewarded with a hot, lingering kiss that left her speechless. He picked up the smashed camera and walked away, toward the east side of the island. At least that was her best guess.
“Are you looking for the dock?” she asked after several minutes of his broody silence.
He grunted. “Might as well. Whoever didn’t go out to help the spotter I wounded get back to camp is probably warm and dry, waiting out the weather on the boat.”
Granted, he was the experienced part of their team, but she thought that sounded like an excellent reason to avoid the area. “And we’re going to do what? Walk in and stage a mutiny?”
He stopped short and swiveled around to face her. “Boats have radios and charts. We can call for help, pinpoint our position or steal it outright.”
Hope swelled; his confidence was her own personal rainbow in the gray, miserable day.
She’d painted rain-soaked cityscapes in Paris. Lightning storms in the Midwest. Foggy valleys in the Appalachian Mountains. Weather could be both treacherous and inspiring. She hadn’t decided if she could do this weather justice. As a victim, she was too conflicted about the entire situation.
Despite Mark’s presence, fear dogged her heels, enough that she wasn’t sure she could find the beauty in all these layers of gray and green. On the flip side, with Mark right here and those kisses keeping her warm, she ran the risk of turning this hazy scene into a wondrous fantasy world. Neither portrayal was the whole truth.
“Why didn’t you and Maria get married?”
He stubbed his bare toe on a root and she winced.
“I thought we were talking about stealing a boat,” he said. “Why does it matter?”
They hadn’t been talking about anything for several minutes. “I was curious. Our mothers are best friends,” she replied. She’d tried her hardest not to hear about his dating life, but there were times, before she’d cut herself off for the show, that it was impossible to tune out. “You brought her out to Cape May and she was with you again at Labor Day the year before last.”
He slid a look her way. “You weren’t there.”
No. She’d canceled when she’d heard he wouldn’t be alone. “Mom mentioned it.” She should drop it, but as she’d said, she was curious. The first kiss had changed everything for her. The fact that he didn’t want to talk about Maria seemed important.
“We had different expectations,” he said, his voice hard and tight.
Maria had hurt him, and Charlotte was filled with an outrageous urge to track her down and make her apologize. Everyone was so sure nothing really troubled Mark, but she’d learned early on, by watching him, that his humor was often a protective measure.
She didn’t have time to ask for details. They’d reached a jagged line of wind-shaped palms leaning more than usual under the weight of the rain. On the other side of a ridge of tall grasses, a small cove welcomed the Atlantic. There was no dock in sight. Relief and disappointment warred for dominance.
“Guess we keep walking,” she said. With the ocean in sight as a reference point, she had a better sense of direction. Based on where they’d been, she assumed the dock would be farther south.
But Mark didn’t move. He pushed his toes into the sandy soil under his feet. “I meant to. Propose to Maria,” he clarified, his gaze on the cove. “I shopped for diamonds and settings.”
With her heart aching at the pain constricting his voice, Charlotte knew that given a canvas and time, she’d paint sorrow into the gray surrounding them. “What happened?”
He wiped the rain from his face. “Marriage isn’t right for everyone.”
“It’s right for you,” she blurted without thinking. With the right person. Of course, she wanted to believe she was that person, but even if she wasn’t, Mark was built for commitment and a forever kind of partnership. The same core values held both of them upright as surely as bone and muscle. There was something more to the story, something she probably shouldn’t poke at.
“What happened?” she asked again, despite her misgivings.
His gaze touched on her and then slid away. “We broke up.”
Mark claimed to be the extroverted twin and he embraced the assumption that he was carefree, a slave to wanderlust. She’d watched him and loved him long enough to know better. She laced her hand through his and repeated her question one more time.
He didn’t move, but his whole body seemed to slump, defeated. “She left me while I was deployed.” He didn’t turn from his study of the water. “I thought she was pregnant, but didn’t ask before I left.”
Charlotte’s heart clutched at the pain in his eyes.
“I spent that whole operation grinning like a fool. I rushed home, ready to pop the question.”
A hard shudder rippled through him and Charlotte held his hand, rode it out.
“Maria wasn’t there,” he continued. “I was so excited to go home. So damn sure she’d be showing. Eager to tell me.” He cleared his throat. “And she... She was gone. Moved out. A few hundred phone calls and texts later, she finally agreed to meet with me.”
Charlotte held her breath and prayed, for his sake, that she’d misunderstood what was coming next.
“She was pregnant when I left.” Mark’s big voice, all his normal vitality, faded on a shaky sigh. He’d had more life in the cage. “While I was gone, she got scared about being a single mom. In her mind, SEALs weren’t good daddy material.”
“She said that to you?” Charlotte couldn’t suppress the indignation.
He squeezed her hand. “The divorce rate among Special Forces is pretty high.”
Charlotte snorted. “She must’ve been pretty high if she couldn’t see how you are different from a lousy statistic.”
His lips twitched. “Ever the loyal one,” he murmured. He finally dragged his gaze away from the ocean to look at her. His rough thumb wiped the rain from her cheek.
“That’s right.”
“Thanks for that.” He seemed to pull himself together, though he still held tight to her hand. “Long story short, she ended the pregnancy. Ended the relationship. I just got the memo a few months too late.”
“She...” Charlotte couldn’t say it. It took several seconds for her to absorb what he’d said. Her heart broke for him and the child he never met. “You never told anyone?”
“Where would I start?” he asked. “Hey, Mom, you’re not having a grandkid after all.” He slid his hand free and raked his hair back from his forehead, scattering raindrops. “At the time, sympathy wasn’t what I needed.”
Sympathy was exactly what he’d needed. He should have had support and love and the reassurance from his amazing family, and hers by extension, that
the woman had been heartless, cruel and all wrong for him.
“Luke must have suspected something,” she said.
“We were on opposite sides of the country at the time,” Mark said. “The Continental Divide messes with the twin telepathy thing.”
“Stop,” she snapped, startling them both.
“Stop what?”
“Belittling what you went through.” Her temper was running away from her and she couldn’t quite catch it. “When we’re out of here, I’m going to track down that woman and kick her butt for hurting you.”
“My fierce artist.” He laughed, the sound rather strangled. “You’d do it too.”
“You bet I will do it,” she said. “It’s one more thing to look forward to.” She was angry enough that if Muscle jumped out and attacked her now, she was sure she could take him down.
“I hate to disappoint you, but it’s long over,” Mark said. “I’ve moved on.”
Right. He didn’t speak about it like a man who’d moved on at all.
She was still fuming when he slipped an arm over her shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Thank you for listening,” he said. “I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
She thought of his words to her this morning. “You’ve carried that secret long enough all by yourself. Even with your amazing shoulders, it had to be getting heavy.”
This time his soft chuckle sounded more amused and less pained. “Guess so. You won’t mention it to anyone?”
She didn’t want to keep something that big to herself, but it was his secret and therefore she would. “Not a word. It’s not the kind of gossip artists are into,” she promised.
Tears prickled in the backs of her eyes and she looked up at the sky. The breeze off the ocean kept the worst of the rain behind them. It was damp here, but they were no longer in the downpour. Out on the beach, it looked almost dry. And if they strolled out there to dry out and enjoy it, they’d be sitting ducks.
She plopped down and leaned back against a palm tree. “Do you think they’ve stopped for the day?” she asked.
