Escape with the Navy SEAL

by Regan Black

  Mark wasn’t about to expose Charlotte to any further harassment or pain. “I told you, I don’t know where she is. She was rambling about getting to the creek and...”

  The guard toggled his radio, asking for orders that didn’t come. He shoved Mark forward. “I’ll just take you back and dump you in a cage.”

  Mark dragged his feet and stumbled away from the dock and closer to Charlotte’s hiding place. He had the terrain memorized, knew exactly where he wanted to make his move once they were past her.

  The path between the dock and the cage room meandered around the bigger trees. At a sharp bend, Mark spun around and grabbed the gun. He jerked J.D. face-first into the tree trunk and followed up with a driving blow of his elbow into the guard’s sternum.

  Done correctly, the move would shock an opponent’s heart and incapacitate them. Either Mark missed or hadn’t put enough force behind the blow. J.D. fell hard but didn’t stay down. They wrestled for control of the gun in a life-and-death game of tug-of-war. In peak condition, it wouldn’t have been a fight at all, but the abuse and stress had dulled Mark’s edge.

  J.D. twisted around and swept Mark’s legs out from under him. Mark scrambled to get some distance, only to be caught around the ankle. He landed a kick to J.D.’s shoulder and even without a boot, the guard howled in pain. The other guards would descend on them in a hurry, but this wasn’t where he wanted to make his last stand.

  Riding a burst of adrenaline, Mark jumped to his feet and went for the gun again, but J.D. wrenched it out of his hands. Mark plowed a foot into one of J.D.’s knees, but the kick lacked enough power to do any real damage. He picked up a rock, determined to put this guard down permanently, when a scream lanced through the air.

  Charlotte.

  Mark reacted. He dropped the rock and then grabbed the guard’s ankle, twisted his leg awkwardly around a tree. J.D. screamed. Too bad. Mark had to be sure the man couldn’t follow him.

  He grabbed the gun and the radio that had been broken in the fight. Heedless of his bare feet, he raced toward Charlotte’s cry.

  Chapter 12

  Swinging upside down, tethered to a high limb by her ankle, Charlotte cursed every useless tear dripping into her hair. Furious she’d been caught, angrier still that she’d screamed, she tried again and again to reach the knotted rope around her ankle. Calling herself names, she thought she might as well have sent Eaton or anyone else on the island an engraved invitation to her demise.

  Following Mark’s instructions, she’d been watching the water beyond the dock for any activity while listening for Eaton and the others closing in on him from the island. The only voices had been Mark’s and the guard he nicknamed J.D. She hadn’t heard any radio response to the guard’s calls. Since the night they’d been kidnapped, she’d seen firsthand a wide range of Mark’s skills and tolerances. His acting skills impressed her as much as all of the others as he manipulated the guard, luring him away from the dock.

  He’d told her to stay put and watch. She’d meant to do only that. But when she noticed the stack of crates near the trees on the other side of the path, she couldn’t help but take a closer look. The promise of bottled water and the potential of finding a weapon was a draw she couldn’t resist.

  She’d walked right into a trap. And because she’d screamed, she knew Mark would do his best to get to her. They might both be caught again. Recalling the cages and the brutality Mark endured, guilt swamped her. She didn’t want any more of his blood on her hands. She resolved to get herself out of this snare. Mark couldn’t be expected to do everything for her, not even out here.

  The pack thumped against her back as she twisted, trying to get a hand on one of the stakes to cut herself down. A bloodcurdling scream sailed through the air and Charlotte froze. Praying that hadn’t been Mark, she jackknifed at the waist in another effort to escape. It wasn’t enough. She swore under her breath. Anything to give release to the frustration.

  “Easy there, love.”

  She twisted around to see Mark step into her upside-down view. “I’m sorry.” She flung a hand toward the crates. “Water and a gun... They’re probably empty,” she grumbled.

  “I get it. Would’ve done the same.” He walked a circle around her predicament while she swung like a sack of potatoes. He was barefoot again and she wanted to cry. He must have tossed the flip-flops in order to run to her aid. Guilt was a rash of sharp prickles under her skin while he searched for a secondary trip wire.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered again. “How’d things go with J.D.?”

  “He won’t be taking any long walks for a while.” Mark set the gun down and pulled the knife out of the backpack. “The effort wasn’t a total loss.”

  “Yay,” she cheered with fake enthusiasm. “Is anyone else headed this way?”

  “Not so far,” he replied.

  “You should go,” she said. “Hide until they come for me.”

  “Not a good play.”

  She disagreed completely. He could hide and pick off whoever came for her.

  He gazed above her at the rope. “Let me make sure cutting you down doesn’t trigger some other trap. How’s your head?” he asked.

  It took a second to follow the conversational leap. “Aches.” In fact, her vision was starting to blur. “Hazy.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “I should have spent more time on abs at the gym.”

  “Your abs are fine,” he said, laughing a little. “I saw them just last night.”

  Stopping directly under her, the snare kept his face just out of kissing range. But she could touch him, so that was a bonus. She ran her fingertips across his beard, swaying a little with the motion, unless that was only an effect of her blurred vision. “Are there two of you?”

  “You wish.” His lips twitched.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” she ordered.

  “Lottie, you put the cute in life-and-death situations.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she said.

  “It doesn’t.” He seemed to say it more to himself than to her. His gaze tracked up the length of her body to the rope again and presumably to where the line was anchored. “I bet you’d do just about anything for this knife right now.”

  “Stop teasing and get me down.” She was terrified Eaton would catch them both and the nightmare would start over again. “Better yet, just leave me here and capture Eaton when he shows up.” Had she said that? Becoming bait wasn’t the worst idea. She’d finally be an asset rather than a burden.

  “You’ve suggested that.”

  “I did?” It was getting harder to think clearly. “Did you like the idea?”

  “No,” he replied. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  “Think about it,” she urged, twisting to try to keep him in sight.

  “Hush.”

  He went perfectly still. Or she thought he did. It was hard to tell when a breeze caught the tree and set her in motion again. The pounding of blood in her ears made it harder to hear anything else. Was it too late for Mark to set a countertrap?

  “Hide.” She waved her hands for him to run, but as she twisted around, she couldn’t see Mark at all.

  In the distance, she heard Eaton barking out orders. It was impossible for her to determine if he was talking to someone directly or using the radio Mark wanted so badly. She couldn’t make out his words, though that didn’t matter to her as much as making sure Mark got away safely.

  Fighting the tunnel vision and pressure from hanging upside down, she vowed to fight back, stall or otherwise impede Eaton’s plan. She’d do whatever was necessary to give Mark a chance to escape.

  Suddenly the ground surged up to meet her and a big drab olive shadow blocked her vision. Mark’s leg, she realized slowly. He’d added his weight to the snare line. She could touch the ground with her fingertips, but she wasn’t fre
e.

  “Almost done. Protect your head and neck,” he whispered. “Going down,” he continued like an elevator operator.

  She did her best, willing him to hurry. In a moment, her body dropped and she curled in on herself as she hit the ground. What were a few more bruises among friends?

  Before she could stand, Mark was at her side, cutting away the rope knotted around her ankle. He helped her up, giving her a steady anchor point as her blood flow resumed a normal healthy pattern away from her head. Her vision still fuzzy, she had no idea where he was taking her until the blast of sunshine caught her in the face. She winced and shied away.

  “Keep going, you’re doing great,” Mark encouraged. “They probably know by now that I have the guard’s gun and radio. It will give them something to think about.”

  Believing him took less energy than arguing and it was far more pleasant to think she really wasn’t the problem child out here.

  She heard a shout behind them and this time the sound was clear, close and furious. Either her hearing had improved or Eaton was practically on top of them.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Mark said.

  She could smell the brackish water of the creek and knew what he intended. “Beats death by madman,” she quipped, following him into the murky water. Once more the creek bought them precious seconds.

  When Mark gave the all clear, she climbed to the opposite bank, grateful they had several hours of sunshine to dry their soggy clothes.

  “Why didn’t you just kill Eaton back there?”

  “I thought about it,” he admitted. He used his hands to squeeze the water from her hair.

  His gaze turned possessive as he studied her face. Suddenly, the sunlight wasn’t the source of the heat coursing through her system. It was a wonder her clothing didn’t instantly steam dry. When his thumbs glided over her cheekbones, she thought she’d melt from the tenderness in his touch. “You were fading,” he said. “Besides, if I’d missed, you would have been hurt.”

  “You don’t miss.”

  His lips kicked to one side. “Your confidence notwithstanding, I couldn’t take that kind of chance with you.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Charlotte. When we get off this island, you will be in one piece.” He kissed her, a sweet, gentle assurance for both of them. “You’ll be able, mind and body, to return to the life you’ve made for yourself. Anything less is a failure in my eyes.”

  “Mark...” She couldn’t articulate everything his words and hands and lips stirred up inside her. Not when he touched her with so much love while at the same time he spoke of going their separate ways when this ordeal was behind them. It hurt that he seemed so determined to walk away from the connection and passion she felt growing between them.

  Love was patient, she reminded herself. And love didn’t look anything like she thought it might or should. Her infatuation with him had only been the first spark. What she felt now was something so different and deep. It was a fresh and unexpected view of the man she thought she’d known. She started to try again, but she could tell by his narrowed gaze that he’d snapped back into survival-guide mode.

  “We need to dry out and find a safe place for the night.”

  “It’s not even noon yet.” She tipped her head back, trying to peer at the sun’s position in the sky.

  She trudged after him, feeling another stab of guilt that he was barefoot again. As much as she’d previously protested the option, she was more and more convinced that he should park her somewhere and just finish this on his own. When he looked at her, he couldn’t see anything more than an obligation. A pretty one, by his words, but still an extra person he had to keep track of. She was making his survival harder. Maybe now that they had a gun he would implement the stash-the-inept-girl plan. She could defend a secure position with a loaded weapon.

  “Promise me something?” She wanted several promises from him, but this time the most important one was about making sure he’d take care of himself.

  “Whatever you need,” he replied without looking back at her.

  “When we get out of here, promise me you’ll get a pedicure and then never go barefoot again.”

  “That sounds...”

  “Delightful?” she supplied when he was lost for words. “Luxurious? The right thing to do for your poor, abused feet?”

  He turned, a grin spreading across his face and the dimple flashing in his cheek. “Horrific. Besides, according to those cheesy romantic movies my sisters watched, walking barefoot on the beach beats paying someone to exfoliate. Plenty of room to do that right here.”

  She remembered a line like that from a movie she and Jolene had watched on one of their boisterous dual-family vacations. “But you have to follow up the exfoliation with hydration and preferably shoes,” she said.

  “One step at a time,” he teased.

  When he looked at her that way, those silly youthful fantasies of Mark sweeping into her life like those teenage heroes filled her head and carried her away to a sweet place without cages, guns and men bent on violent revenge.

  Until a chunk of the tree on the other side of Mark’s head exploded.

  * * *

  Mark gathered Charlotte into his arms and took them both to the ground, his body covering hers.

  All this time, Eaton had let others do the dirty work. Finally the man was pulling the trigger himself. Of course, that was little comfort considering he was a world-class sniper, willing to take the hard shots.

  They were too far from the creek now for that escape route. Putting himself between the gunfire and Charlotte, he pushed her along ahead of him, deeper into the trees. In this area, it was impossible not to leave a trail through the ferns and fallen leaves and needles of scrub pines.

  Sure enough, bullets followed their movement, biting into the bark here and there. The man was missing on purpose. The movement they made scrambling through the trees might as well be a beacon to a shooter of Eaton’s skills.

  Charlotte’s body jerked with every shot and Mark’s temper rose in response. She didn’t deserve this. No one did, but especially not a woman so full of talent and light. The world needed the hope and beauty she could offer.

  Mark’s mind worked through what he knew of the island. Based on the angle of the first shot and those following them now, Eaton was trying to herd them into the marsh where they’d be completely exposed. The trees were their only defense and at the same time telegraphed their movements too well.

  Spying a gap created by a tree recently felled by a storm, he nudged Charlotte over the rotting log and into momentary safety. “You okay?” he whispered.

  Her blue eyes were round with fear and full of worry. “I’m not wounded if that’s what you mean.”

  “It is.” Mark paused, listening for any evidence that Eaton’s men were trying to flank them. “He’s pushing us to the marsh.”

  Her hands gripped his tightly. “I don’t want to hide in that water.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” A bullet whizzed overhead, punching through a small limb. Mark covered Charlotte, letting the debris rain down across his back. He barely felt it, his mind shifting to operator mode while his body catalogued her long legs and soft curves tucked under him.

  “He’s guessing now,” Mark said. “Do you know where we are?”

  “Hell,” she replied in a weary whisper.

  He chuckled. “Close enough. I meant specifically.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at the sky and the trees overhead. He knew she was mentally retracing their route away from the dock.

  Another bullet grazed a tree nearby. Charlotte tensed and trembled. If they’d been on the move, Eaton would have guessed their position with distressing accuracy. It also confirmed Mark’s theory that the man wanted to push them to the marshes.

  “The marshes are
on the west side. So we must be heading in that general direction,” Charlotte said, her voice pitched low. “These are live oaks and they grow thicker inland.”

  “You’re brilliant.” He smiled, more pleased than he cared to admit. “Can you get back to our camp at the cove from here?”

  She nodded, her gaze drifting to his lips. Yeah, he had a long list of things he wished they’d done last night too.

  “You’ll need to move north and east,” he said, trying to focus on saving them.

  Sitting up a little, she glanced around, getting her bearings. “I can do it.”

  “Good. Go back there and hide behind that screen of palm leaves we made.” He pressed the gun into her hands. He knew she could shoot and was familiar with a weapon like this.

  “What about you? You’ll need this.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He pulled out the radio. “I might be able to get a signal. Either way, I’ll stroke Eaton’s ego and let him drive us toward the marshes.”

  Her long fingers curled around his, gripping hard. “Please don’t do that. It’s too open.”

  “Shh.” He cupped her cheek, giving her all the tenderness he could offer. Once they parted, he had to be ruthlessly focused on taking out the enemy. “Alone, I can get him where he wants us and come back to you.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Dwindling numbers,” he reminded her. “Someone is with the boat. It will be months before the guard from the dock can do anything after I tore up his leg.”

  “That still leaves Muscle and Quick-Punch Kid helping Eaton. They’re rested and you’ve been physically punished for days. What if they’re armed?”

  Mark hated the fear in her eyes. Fear for him. A prickle of unease slid along his skin. He didn’t know what to do with it. Did she want him thinking about failing her?

  “This is what I do, baby,” he said, mustering every drop of arrogance and bravado he had left. “I need you to take the gun and wait this out at the cove.”

  Her gaze narrowed and her full lips thinned. He held on to that annoyance, leaned into it. This was survival. “Wait until he’s following me, and then go.”