Intimate Details

by Dana Marton

  They reached the end of the woods in half an hour. No sign of the others. A quick run down the beach revealed footprints in the sand. They led to the water.

  “Cheeky Yanks, the lot of them. I think they commandeered the yacht,” he said and smiled, but it had a bittersweet tinge.

  She didn’t have time to analyze it as she waded into the water next to him and threw herself into the choppy waves. When she looked up, she could see Anita on board, waving.

  Had the others been waiting for them?

  She glanced over at Cal. They were swimming head-to-head. The salty water stung her scrapes, and for a moment she considered just how smart it was to go into the water with arms that were bloodied. Were there sharks in these waters? None in the bay, according to Mark. She had asked before she’d gone out swimming on their first day here. But what about this side of the island?

  She settled into a steady rhythm, focusing on nothing but the distance before her, keeping close to Cal. They reached the boat about the same time. Cal went first and helped her up.

  “We have to go. Tsernyakov is coming.” Gina got the most important thing out in between grabbing big gulps of air. “By air. The ship we saw is bringing the buyers, probably, to make the pickup.”

  Then Cal took over and gave them a quick heads-up on everything he knew. “You have to go. Now. I’m staying,” he said when he was done.

  What was he talking about? Gina spun to look at him as her heart took a slow, loud thump. “They’ll kill you if they figure out you helped us.” Didn’t he get it?

  “They won’t.” He looked determined. “You can drop me off at that crag.” He pointed to a rocky outcropping on the beach to the west of them. “There might not be time for the commando team on standby to get here before the deal goes down. I have to go back and try something. I’ll swim to shore and tell them I ran into pirates who dumped me overboard and took everything.”

  The wind was picking up, tossing the yacht. Gina grabbed on to the railing. “Will they buy it?” She hated the idea. “What if someone takes out the other chopper to find the yacht?” He couldn’t see Tsernyakov’s men letting this go so easily.

  “Not right away. They won’t have time to investigate right now. Tsernyakov is coming,” he reminded them. “Everybody is running around like mad to prepare for him.”

  “Not to be a drag or anything, but none of us can drive a boat,” Sam remarked.

  Gina relaxed a little and sent her a thankful smile. Cal would have to come with them now.

  He didn’t look swayed. “You’ll learn. I have to go back and create a distraction. I have to do something to slow down the handover. Look, I know I probably can’t stop it, but if I could hold them back just for an hour—a half an hour even—it might make all the difference.”

  His eyes and jaw were hard-set and determined, and she realized he had thought this out, perhaps while he’d been on his way to save them. He had made his plans and nothing was going to deter him.

  Her heart sank. She wished she had some good points she could use to talk him out of this madness, but she couldn’t come up with anything at the moment. He was right about the situation. She hated that.

  “Okay, so, new plan.” She pulled herself straight and drew a deep breath. If Cal was going back, it was even more important that they got help as soon as possible. “How do we drive a boat?”

  “If it runs on a computer, I can figure it out, probably.” Carly moved toward the pilothouse.

  “I’ll show you the basics.” Cal followed her and did just that, even digging out a user’s manual. “You think you can handle it?” he asked after giving her some bare-bones instructions.

  “We don’t have any other choice, do we?” Carly asked, then said, “Don’t worry about it. You do your part, we do ours.”

  “We are not altogether helpless,” Anita said.

  He grinned at them. “I noticed.”

  “We’re not going that far,” Carly put in with a good measure of self-confidence that went a long way toward settling Gina’s nerves.

  “Watch what I’m doing.” He steered the boat and moved it toward the crag he’d indicated earlier, pointing to the displays and explaining how they helped with navigation.

  “After you drop me off, you go a few hundred feet more on the same course to this point here.” He jabbed the map with his index finger. “Then you turn the boat northwest at a forty-eight-degree angle. After that it’s a straight line. You should see the island in about two hours if you keep your speed steady.”

  He handed the controls over to Carly, who didn’t seem nervous about taking them. Then he moved back to grab the fire extinguisher fixed to the wall of the pilothouse. He used it to break a hole in one of the cabinets under the instrument panel.

  “Here you go.” He pulled out a couple of handguns, Russian-made Makarovs. “If you do run into pirates, use these and go for speed.” Then he told them which restaurant to go to once they got to Hariumat, how to find the hidden phone, what number to call. He wanted to make sure his people were alerted as well as their own connection.

  “What about the cyclone?” Gina asked. “You said it’s coming from the west.” The way they were going.

  “Still too far out. Don’t stray off course and get into its path and you’ll be fine. You should be safely in harbor by the time it comes our way.” He moved to the side of the boat. “Take care,” he said to all of them, but his gaze rested on Gina.

  “You, too,” she said and wished he could have taken one of the guns. No use, of course. The water would render it unusable. “Stay safe.”

  He stood up there for a long second, wide shoulders outlined against the sky, hair flitting in the wind. Then he flashed one of those cocky grins of his and pushed away, diving into the water without looking back.

  Carly waited until he was safely away from the yacht before starting up the engine again. She kept the yacht parallel to land, as Cal had instructed. Gina stayed where she was, following his progress as he swam to shore, ran across the sand and took off into the woods.

  Then she began to think.

  How on earth was he going to cause a big enough distraction all by himself?

  Tsernyakov’s goons outnumbered him twenty to one. He wasn’t a trained professional in the first place; what was he going to do with his makeshift SIS training? The more she thought about it, the dimmer the situation seemed. He had to know that he didn’t stand a chance. Why had he gone?

  He was intelligent enough to realize—

  And then it hit her that he did know. He was well aware that he’d gone back on a suicide mission. And he’d done it anyway, making sure first that they were all safe.

  I wish it could have been different.

  His words, which she’d barely registered in the aftermath of that kiss, made perfect sense now. Cal Spencer expected to die on the island, holding up the transaction until the commando teams got there.

  She swallowed, her heart aching so badly she had to press a fist against her chest. She was law enforcement, dammit—or at least she had been. She had years of training and experience. If anyone stayed behind, it should have been her.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  “Stop the boat!” she yelled over the noise of the engine, turning toward Carly. “Stop the boat.”

  She did so immediately, looking at Gina wide-eyed and bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

  Anita was coming around. “What happened?”

  “I’m going back.” She took a deep breath. “I have to do this.” She turned quickly and jumped without giving them a chance to try and talk her out of it.

  She went under, kicked her way to the surface and gasped for air, could hear her friends shouting for her but ignored them. They would go. They knew how important it was to get the information to Brant and the commando team.

  The current was stronger here than where she had swum to the yacht with Cal and coming head-on, trying to carry her back out to sea, making it harder to reach sh
ore. She put her head down and gave it everything she had. She was not going to let Cal go into this alone, was not going to let him sacrifice himself, dammit. Who the hell did he think he was? Who elected him hero of the day?

  She hung on to the anger to give her strength and because she couldn’t allow the fear in—fear that she knew well from experience could paralyze a person. Anger was a better emotion right now; it gave her steam.

  She was gasping for air by the time she reached shore. She stopped just long enough to catch her breath and squeeze some water out of her clothes. The shortest way to the bay would have been through the jungle, but could she manage that without getting turned around? This wasn’t the time to take a risk. She moved into the cover of the trees and began walking parallel to the beach, rounding the cape.

  She followed the yacht with her gaze as long as she could. “Good luck,” she whispered as it disappeared from sight and wondered if they would ever see each other again.

  The noise of a helicopter reached her, but she couldn’t see anything from between the towering trees. She broke into a run, ignoring the vines that grabbed at her.

  Tsernyakov was here.

  She ran faster. She had to find Cal and let him know she’d come back. The two of them would have to come up with a plan.

  She made it around the cape in an hour or so, could see the bay finally. She pulled a little deeper into the woods to make sure nobody spotted her. Another half hour brought her in line with the buildings. Where was Cal?

  She watched and waited.

  People were running around, taking care of business. Where was Tsernyakov? Had the buyer’s ship reached the other side of the island yet? How soon was the handover supposed to take place?

  She had nothing but questions.

  Where was Cal, dammit? What if Mark had figured out that he was lying and shot him on sight?

  She continued walking, watching the activity on shore, the people who were coming and going from the bungalows and the main building. Then she caught a shadow moving at the edge of the woods about two hundred feet ahead.

  She stilled for a second but could see nothing else, couldn’t make out a human form among the trees. She picked her way forward carefully, not daring to pick up speed or make too much noise until she was close enough to make a positive ID. Then she began to run.

  Cal whirled on her, his eyes going wide first with surprise, then with exasperation. “What are you doing here? What happened to the boat?”

  “On its way.” She walked up to him, breathing hard. She’d been pushing herself to get here on time.

  He pulled her to him, tight to his chest, and enfolded her into his strong arms. And when she tilted her head to look into his eyes, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. And for those few seconds everything melted away.

  “Where were you going?” she asked after they moved apart.

  “To the helipad to disable the choppers. I want to make sure nobody is leaving before the teams get here. I want to see what I can do about the terrorists’ boat, too.”

  He moved forward and she fell in step next to him. He didn’t admonish her or try to send her back to safety, which she appreciated.

  “What did Mark say?”

  “Haven’t seen him yet. By the time I got here I didn’t have time for explanations. I was going to blow up the utility building or something to cause confusion. But I realized that if I did that now, my cousin would just get back on his chopper and get away.”

  “So you figured you would trap everyone on the island until help gets here?”

  “That’s the plan. Your friends have the yacht. I swam up to the motorboats and took care of those already. I’ll decommission the choppers, then go to the bunkers. That’s where the virus is. Everyone will have to go there at some point.”

  “You can’t blow that up.”

  “Right. The buyers will come to shore in a boat from their ship. All we need to do is to take that boat out.”

  “So basically we will be stuck on the island with a bunch of terrorists when U.S. and U.K. commandos open fire and start World War III?”

  His face turned somber. “That about sums it up. You should have stayed on the yacht.” A world of regret swam in his eyes.

  “And leave you to have all the fun?”

  He mumbled something about the meddling nature of American women but reached for her arm and ran a hand over it gently, skirting her injuries. “The sea cleaned it up fairly well.”

  “Remind me not to swim again with open wounds,” she said.

  They were nearing the stables and the corral, and he turned that way instead of up the hill toward the helipad.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Going on foot would be hopelessly slow. We need horses.”

  “I thought you were scared of them.”

  He glared. “I didn’t say scared. I just wouldn’t go on horseback given another choice.”

  A mite touchy, are we? She turned so he wouldn’t see her grinning. The area was deserted. Everybody was down by the bay.

  They sneaked by the horses in the corral and went straight to the stables, where they would be shielded from view. There were more animals in here, in their stalls. Cal picked two and began saddling them.

  “How do you know how to do that?” she asked as she watched him strap more leather accessories on the animal than a South Street dominatrix wore on her best day.

  “I was made to do it as a child. Very traumatic, actually,” he said, but a smile played at the corner of his lips.

  “Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. Then swallowed when he handed her the reins of the smaller horse.

  She grabbed on. The animal didn’t blink an eye. So far, so good.

  “The idea is to get them into the jungle without anyone spotting us,” he said.

  She tugged at the reins. The horse followed. “Piece of cake.” The horse stopped at the next bale of hay and began to eat. She yanked on the rein without success. The animal would not budge, would not even lift his head. Great. Couldn’t even get the damn thing out of the barn. “Now what?”

  “Maybe you can tempt her with that piece of cake.” His upper lip twitched.

  “Very funny.” But it gave her an idea. She grabbed a fistful of hay, then wagged it in front of the horse. The animal lifted its head. “There you go. Come on.”

  She shot Cal a triumphant look when the monstrous thing followed.

  “Brilliant,” he said and looked outside. “All clear.”

  The first clump of trees was no more than thirty feet away. They reached it without incident.

  “Should we get on?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. The saddle looked way too high. She could certainly understand Cal’s reluctance about all this.

  “Better get farther in. In case the horses rear or whatever. I’d rather be completely out of sight.”

  “Rear?”

  “Not that I think that would happen. Definitely not,” he said, but he did look nervous around the edges.

  They reached the thicker part of the woods.

  “Always get on from the left,” he said and put his foot in the stirrup to demonstrate. “See? Nothing to it.” He sat ramrod straight in the saddle. “Now you try.”

  She heaved, slid back, heaved again and made it this time. The horse swayed under her. “Do they always move this much?”

  “From what I recall, unfortunately, yes.” His horse moved forward.

  “How do you make them go?”

  “With your heel. Lean forward, too, a little. Squeeze your thighs. You stop them by pulling up on the reins and leaning back in the saddle.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “Keep the rein taut. Not loose, not too tight. Tightening the left will make her go that way. Tightening the right—”

  “Okay. I get it.” She touched her heels to the horse’s side and squeezed her thighs.

  Nothing happened. “By the time I figure out how this works…Don’t you think
we could have gotten there faster on foot?”

  “Sadly, no. Squeeze harder. Click with your tongue.”

  She did. The horse began to move.

  “Faster,” he said.

  She squeezed even harder and clicked again. The horse broke into a trot. She held on for dear life, developing a whole new respect for the mounted police.

  “You okay?” she asked him, although he looked fine to her, sitting on the horse securely. Kind of sexy, actually.

  “I have bigger things to worry about.” He held her gaze for a moment. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

  “Get over it. It’s good to have someone to watch your back when you’re going into something dangerous.”

  “This goes beyond dangerous, luv. I would have preferred knowing you’re safe.”

  “I have no intention of coming to harm. And if you even think about some noble English crap like sacrificing yourself, I’m going to be seriously ticked.”

  His lips stretched into a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The sound of a motor came from the bay. She turned back in the saddle and caught a glimpse of a pickup truck. Two guys in camouflage Army fatigues got out, then a tall, dark-haired man in a suit. He carried himself like royalty.

  She looked back to where she was going, not daring to take her eyes off the animal for too long.

  “My cousin,” Cal said, his voice tight.

  She stole a quick glance again. “I pictured him different.”

  “Expected fangs and horns?”

  “Just more…” What? “Menacing-looking.” Sounded stupid now that she said it out loud.

  “Trust me, he’s bloody scary on the inside.”

  She stole another peek. “Couldn’t we take the pickup?”

  “You want to go back for it?”

  She looked at the two dozen armed men swarming on the beach. “Horses are fine,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  She had to admit the horses did come in handy. They were at the choppers in thirty minutes. On foot it would have taken them close to two hours.

  Cal stopped his horse before they got to the clearing and slid out of the saddle.