“Did they hit you?” he asked urgently.
“No. I’m okay.”
He yanked her into his arms. “We did it! I can’t believe we made it.”
He kissed her hard again, with a fierce, radiant joy. As she savored the taste of him and the wild fluttering of her heart, she thought she would be willing to do just about anything for that kind of reaction.
Probably not a good idea to share that little tidbit of information with him, she decided, given the things he had asked of her up to now.
CHAPTER 14
He stepped away far too quickly. “Cesar keeps his boat over down the beach a little ways. Just keep your fingers crossed that it’s got enough fuel to get us to Golfito.”
She followed him down the beach. “Not Puerto Jiménez?”
“I think that’s our best option now. As soon as he figures out we’re taking to the ocean, Rafferty will be watching the beaches in Port J. He won’t leave us any safe place to come ashore.”
The boat he talked about was small—probably no bigger than sixteen or eighteen feet long, with an outboard motor. And he expected them to take that all the way to Golfito? She supposed it was probably better than a kayak, but not much.
“Can you help me drag it down to the surf?”
She grabbed hold and tugged with her aching arms. When they reached foaming surf, he came over to her side of the boat. “I’ll help you inside, then tow us out a little way.”
Compared to everything else she had done for him, this seemed a small thing but the idea of being out in the ocean in this small craft that smelled of fish and tobacco was terrifying. But already she could hear shouting and crashing through the brush as Rafferty’s men tried to reach them.
She drew in a breath and once more placed her hand in his. He lifted her into the boat, then tugged it through the water to deeper surf. When they were perhaps a dozen feet from shore, he climbed in and went to work on the motor.
To Olivia’s vast relief, it fired up a moment later with a low, powerful throb.
“Here we go. Hang on!” In the moonlight, she could see his grin and her heart seemed to turn over in her chest.
How could any woman not love a man like this, someone strong and gorgeous, who thought she was resilient?
The small boat had a kick-butt motor, and they were soon some distance from the beach.
The moonlight was stronger now as the clouds had passed over, and in its pale glow, she could see three men reach the shore behind them. The darkness and distance obscured their features, but she thought one raised a weapon and fired it.
She shivered, exceedingly grateful they were out of range.
That made three times now people had shot at her—four, counting the police that first night—and it wasn’t an experience she cared to repeat anytime soon.
Ren laughed out loud as they motored away. “We did it!” he exclaimed over the throb of the motor. “Now we just have to find our way around the peninsula to Golfito and we’re home free.”
She smiled in response but the outboard was too noisy for much conversation.
It was cool out here on the water, especially since she wore nothing but a rain-soaked sleeveless dress. She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her shoulders.
Ren gestured to the wide bench behind them. “See if you can find a couple life jackets,” he yelled. “Cesar might even keep a blanket or two in there.”
She didn’t feel a hundred percent comfortable moving around on a small fast-moving boat like this—it would be just like her to topple over the side when Ren hit a wave or something—but she managed to maneuver so she was kneeling on the bottom of the boat, still relatively stable, while she lifted the hinged lid of the storage bench.
Inside, she found a couple of orange life jackets. She handed one to Ren, then slipped the other over her dress. Deep in the interior of the storage bench, she found a wool blanket that smelled of gasoline and salt water. She didn’t care; she was just grateful for the warmth as she wrapped it around her shoulders.
This was the first time since she landed in Costa Rica that she didn’t feel as if she were slowly simmering in her own juices. It seemed an odd sensation, to be cool, bordering on cold.
She snuggled into the blanket, suddenly exhausted from the strain of the last few hours. She had only caught a few hours’ sleep back at the bungalow before James Rafferty burst in on her.
The combination of the blanket’s warmth and the steady hum of the motor—not to mention the release from the overwhelming terror that she and Ren might not make it through this—sent a pleasant lassitude soaking through her exhausted muscles.
Despite her efforts to prop them open, her eyelids drooped and she huddled down into the seat.
“Lay down,” Ren called. “There should be room. We’ve got a two-hour boat ride, so you might as well get some rest.”
She wanted to stay awake but her exhausted, achy body ruled against her. As her adrenaline crashed, she could do nothing but curl up on the seat facing Ren, tug the blanket over her shoulders and drift away on the tide.
* * *
From his spot at the wheel, Ren watched Olivia’s eyelids flutter a few times, then go still.
Good. She deserved a rest. He wished he could give her silk sheets and yards-thick mattresses instead of a scratchy old army-issue blanket and a hard metal bench, but at least she was safe.
The alternative didn’t even bear contemplating.
He knew they’d had a lucky escape. If not for Rafferty’s thugs and their careless knot-tying, he and Olivia would probably be dead right now. Hell, they could have been dead a dozen times on this crazy ride they’d been on for the last two days.
He was not a man who believed in miracles—give him cold, hard science any day—but he couldn’t deny they had either been extraordinarily fortunate or someone had been watching out for them.
He kept one eye on the dark outline of the shore and the other on the vast ocean ahead of them.
They weren’t safe yet. He still had to negotiate miles of ocean to Golfito and then find a way to contact Manny. His head still throbbed in synch with the engine’s growl, though he wanted to think the ferocity of his headache had eased a little.
For the first time since he’d seen James Rafferty standing outside Al and Bobbi’s bungalow, Ren allowed himself hope.
It seemed a lifetime ago that he had held her in his arms back in that netting-draped bed.
He settled back on the seat and gazed at her sleeping form. In sleep, she looked soft and vulnerable, like a bedraggled little girl lost in the wilderness. He wanted to lift her onto his lap and hold her close until she found her way again.
She was amazing.
She deserved the credit for their escape far more than he did. She had been the one to work free of the cords binding her wrists, which enabled her to help him do the same. Without that small act of providence and ingenuity on her part, they would right now probably be alligator food.
He thought of Rafferty’s words that first day at Suerte del Mar. Ren hoped the man had figured out by now how he had severely underestimated the cream puff he thought would be easy prey.
There was more to Olivia Lambert than Ren would have guessed—and far more than he thought she herself realized.
She was clever and sweet and unbelievably brave. A hundred times over the last few days, he had seen her face her fears and shove right through them. She had done every impossible task he asked of her and then some, with a faith and trust that humbled him.
The terrified, white-faced woman he had taken at machete-point had spread her wings and become like one of the morpho butterflies that flitted through the rain forest.
He was in love with her.
He inhaled sharply at the ache in his chest. All his efforts at keeping her out of his heart had come to nothing. She had wiggled her way in regardless of his defenses.
What the hell was he supposed to do about it?
He sighed. Nothing
. He could do nothing. Once they reached Golfito and reported what had happened so Rafferty could be arrested, they would go their separate ways. She would go back to Texas and he would go back to his turtles.
The thought held no appeal to him right now. Already his stomach twisted at the idea of saying goodbye.
His life—the world that had seemed so satisfying, so meaningful, the day before yesterday—would be cold and barren without Olivia Lambert in it.
He could handle that. He had practice at stumbling through the motions of life when it felt as if fate, like Rafferty’s goon, had smacked him in the head with a good stout tree branch. While he did not look forward to their inevitable parting, what he dreaded most was that she would return to Texas and leave behind the bright, iridescent wings she had found here.
He didn’t know the story between her and her father, but he had picked up enough from her comments to guess the man had tried to crush the life out of her, for reasons he couldn’t understand.
He didn’t want her to go back to that. But how could he possibly ask her to stay here, where he had nothing to offer her but heat and bugs and his own lousy track record at relationships?
He sighed, turning his attention back to the ocean in front of their running lights. The night was cool and lovely. Off the starboard side, he could see a couple of dolphins keeping pace with their boat and he was almost tempted to wake Olivia to enjoy it.
After perhaps an hour, when he judged they were close to Matapalo and about to enter the Golfo Dulce, he suddenly heard another craft above the noise of Cesar’s little fishing boat. He jerked around and saw a large vessel cutting rapidly through the water, coming from the direction they had just traveled.
Acting on instinct, Ren cut the motor and the lights, praying the other craft hadn’t seen them. The cessation of sound must have awakened Olivia. Her eyes fluttered open and she pushed herself up to a seated position.
“What is it?” Her voice was rough, thready with sleep. “Why did we stop?”
“There’s another boat coming fast behind us. I’m hoping they miss us in the dark.”
“Do you think it’s Rafferty?”
Her voice wobbled with fear, and he reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Doubtful. There are a lot of boats along the peninsula. I just don’t want to take any chances.”
She still looked fearful, her fingers clutching convulsively in his. Poor thing. He couldn’t help it—he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. “We’ll be okay,” he promised, though he hoped to hell he could keep that particular vow.
They sat together in silence as the boat approached them, perhaps thirty yards away on the seaward side now. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, every exterior light blazing. As it moved past them, his stomach sank. He could clearly read the words Buena Suerte on the side.
It was Rafferty’s luxury yacht.
He held his breath, hoping against hope they were too far away for anyone on the other craft to see them. A moment later, a searchlight scanned the ocean and he suddenly heard a shout from the other boat.
“Mierda!” He pushed Olivia toward the other seat and fired up the motor again.
“It’s Rafferty, isn’t it?” she cried.
He nodded grimly.
“Can we outrun them?”
No chance in hell, he knew. Rafferty’s yacht was sleek and fast.
“We can try,” he assured Olivia. “Get down.”
Out of shooting range, he meant, but he didn’t say it as he fired Cesar’s outboard as fast as it would go.
But after only a few moments, he knew it was pointless. The Buena Suerte wasn’t going anywhere; it was now well within range. He kept waiting for bullets, but they never came.
Huddled on the deck of the boat near his feet, Olivia looked close to tears, white-faced and terrified.
They had come so close. How the hell did Rafferty keep coming out on top?
Since they weren’t shooting, he wasn’t about to cut the motor anytime soon. Jimbo could damn well follow him straight to Golfito.
Someone on the deck of the Buena was yelling and waving his arms. A moment later, he heard an amplified voice coming from speakers on the yacht.
“Stop, Dr. Galvez. Stop now!”
It wasn’t James Rafferty’s voice. He didn’t know who it was and he didn’t much care, but at the sound, Olivia’s head came up. She stared at him for a long second, then swiveled her head around to look up at the much larger craft.
“Stop immediately,” the voice called again.
In the approaching dawn, he could see shock in her deep blue eyes.
“Stop, Ren! Stop!”
“No way!”
She clambered to her feet and stood with the wind whipping her hair behind her, staring up at the other boat. He hit a wave, rocking the boat, and she wobbled a little.
“Liv, sit down,” he ordered. “You’re going to fall out.”
“No. You have to stop!”
She was so insistent, almost frantic with it. Though he fought the inevitable with every fiber of his being, he knew they couldn’t keep up this pace. Sooner or later the yacht could cut in front of them, and he would be going too fast to avoid a collision.
With his heart pounding, he cut the motor and the little fishing boat slowed. Olivia continued to gaze up at it, that stunned disbelief in her eyes.
“F-Father?” she called. “Is that you?”’
A man leaned over the higher deck of the Buena. He looked bluff, distinguished, with a shock of white hair and broad, commanding features.
“Olivia? Oh, thank God. Are you hurt?”
“I…no. Not really. Wh…what are you doing here?” Olivia asked.
“Chasing you halfway across the ocean, it feels like. Come aboard. You’re safe now.”
Ren didn’t know exactly what was happening but something drastic had changed in the last few minutes. Her father was on James Rafferty’s yacht? None of it made sense.
“Where’s Rafferty?” he called. “This is his boat.”
“I borrowed it from him to look for my daughter. I’m sure he won’t be needing it for some time.”
“He won’t?”
“He’s in the custody of the Costa Rican Rural Police, held on assorted charges of murder and attempted murder. Now, please. Come aboard.”
“You had best listen to him.”
This suggestion was uttered in Spanish. Ren looked closely as another man leaned over the railing.
“Manny?”
“Sì.”
A weight the size of Olivia’s home state seemed to lift from his shoulders as he heard his old friend’s voice. Relief washed through him. If Manny Solera was aboard the Buena Suerte, Olivia would be safe there. Manny wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
With the oar, he maneuvered their smaller boat to the ladder on the port side.
He tied up alongside it and held a hand out to Olivia to help her climb.
He followed right behind her and by the time he reached the deck, he found her in an awkward embrace with the stern-looking man he assumed was Wallace Lambert.
“Father, what are you doing here?” she said after a long moment. “I don’t understand.”
“You should. You brought me here.”
Color soaked her cheeks and she stepped away, looking forlorn. “I’m sorry. I made a mess of things, as usual, dragging you down here to bail me out of trouble.”
From all she had told him of Wallace Lambert, Ren would never have thought the man capable of gazing at his daughter with such deep emotion, but it was unmistakable in his blue eyes, a much paler shade than his daughter.
Wallace reached into the pocket of his tan slacks and pulled out a cell phone. “Listen.”
He pressed a button and a moment later, Ren heard James Rafferty’s voice, distorted on the voice messaging system.
It should be easy. I’ll just make it look as if when I caught you both and tried to transport you to my estate to await police,
Dr. Galvez tried to escape, killing the both of you in the process. It will be tragic, really. You were so close to safety.
Ren stared at the cell phone, baffled. “Where did that came from?”
Olivia looked stunned as she pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her dress.
“I hit Redial while you were still unconscious. I thought I was calling your friend, Detective Solera. I suppose that’s you.”
She turned to Manny, who nodded, his eyes slightly dazzled.
“Instead, she called me,” Wallace Lambert said. “I was in the air but my voice mail picked up. I got the message the moment my plane landed in Puerto Jiménez. Some of the message was garbled, but I heard that part loud and clear and put the pieces together from the rest. I know James Rafferty planned to kill you both.”
“I can’t believe someone heard me! I thought the battery was dead!”
Manny stepped forward and spoke in his heavily accented English. “We knew from the phone message that Rafferty was taking you to Suerte del Mar. Señor Lambert insisted we immediately stage a rescue.”
“He…he did?” She blinked, clearly stunned.
Wallace Lambert’s mouth tightened and he looked even more stern, as if he hated his daughter knowing of his concern. Ren wanted to shake him.
“Sì. Sì,” Manny said. “We took two helicopters to Suerte del Mar. When Señor Rafferty returned for this boat to look for you, we waited for him. After we arrested them, one of his men told us you escaped on a small fishing boat. It seemed fitting we use Rafferty’s yacht to find you.”
Olivia looked as if she could hardly believe what had happened. The sun was beginning to crest the inland hills and in the pearly morning light of dawn, she was radiant, fresh and lovely.
And absolutely not for him.
She turned to him and the joy in her features made his chest start to ache again.
“Nice work, Liv,” he said, forcing a smile.
Rainforest Honeymoon Page 18
