by Debbie Burke
Tawny wanted to say as he should but bit her tongue. “What else?”
“Second, Gabriel is a greedy fool. But he is my brother, the only family I have left. If he learns I acted against him, it’s over.” For the first time, Nyala’s calm demeanor cracked. Her chin quivered. “He can never know I helped you. Never.”
Tawny’s thoughts tangled, trying to sort out the complicated double play Nyala proposed. Neither her friend nor her brother could know what she was really doing. Apparently Nyala wanted to prevent Gabriel from killing Tawny. Yet Nyala also wanted to protect him from the consequences of kidnapping.
It sounded crazy but Tawny had no choice. “OK, how do we do this?”
“I’m going to distract Wally and Ezekiel at the bow of the boat. You’ll slip out and over the stern. Ezekiel’s boat has a dive platform. You’ll hold onto that and stay down in the water, out of sight, and we’ll go back to shore.”
Fear clenched Tawny’s throat. “You mean, tow me behind the boat? The propeller will chop me to pieces.”
“It’s an inboard motor. You won’t be near the prop.”
Tawny shook her head. “It’s still insane. Wally said we’re past the twelve-mile limit.”
“You don’t have a choice. If your fiancé doesn’t deliver the baseball card to Gabriel—and we know he can’t—Wally will throw you overboard.”
“When Wally finds out I’m gone, he’ll tell your brother you helped me.”
Nyala tossed her hair. “Wally’s a drunk. I brought him a gift, a bottle of Captain Morgan, spiked with roofies. He’ll pass out and never know what happened.”
Tawny recalled the smell of rum on Wally’s breath. That small part of Nyala’s plan might work but the rest was suicide. “I can’t hold onto a speeding boat that long.”
“Fine. Just choose another of your many alternatives.” Nyala rose from the bunk and started for the ladder.
“Wait!” Tawny stood on wobbly legs and steadied herself on the dinette. “Why can’t I just get on Ezekiel’s boat after Wally passes out?”
Nyala whirled, anger flashing in her green eyes. “I told you—Ezekiel can’t know anything about this.” She gripped Tawny’s aching forearms. “Take it or leave it. This is your only chance.”
The options terrified Tawny: she could die for sure at Wally’s hands or she could likely die from drowning. Guaranteed death or near-guaranteed death. “All right.”
“‘All right’ isn’t good enough. Do you believe in God?”
What was Nyala getting at? “Yes.”
Nyala grasped Tawny’s face between her hands and peered deep into her eyes. “You have to swear to your God that you won’t tell Ezekiel anything.”
She was Tawny’s only chance. “I swear.”
Nyala held her face for a few more seconds, driving home the promise. Then she released her. “I’ll throw a life jacket to you. That will keep you afloat.” She picked up the strap. “Use this to tie yourself to the diving platform. I’ll ask Ezekiel to go slowly, tell him I’m feeling queasy.”
Tawny rubbed hands up and down her sore arms, trying to revive feeling. After being bound for hours, they were weak, flabby noodles. No way could she survive Nyala’s insane plan.
Tillman.
She couldn’t die with an argument as their last moment together.
“Nyala, if I don’t make it, you have to do something for me. I need to write a note.”
The woman shuffled through drawers until she found a slip of paper and a pencil. “Hurry.”
Tawny gripped the pencil. These might be the last words she’d ever say to Tillman. They had to be right.
She tried to print carefully but her still-numb hand trembled too badly.
I love you, Tillman. Here & now. That’s all that matters. No more excuses from me. Forever yours, Tawny.
Without her readers, the words looked blurred. She prayed he could read them.
“I need to go, now,” Nyala urged.
Tawny folded the paper and handed it to her. “Please, if I die, give this to Tillman.”
She was surprised to recognize empathy in Nyala’s green eyes. The cool, impassive woman loved someone, too, as much as Tawny loved Tillman. A flicker of understanding passed between them.
Nyala slipped the note into her cleavage. “I’m going to distract them. As soon as you hear us talking on the bow, go over the side. Stay down.”
Tawny looped the nylon straps around her torso. They had been her shackles but were now her lifeline.
Nyala turned out the light and climbed the ladder. “Guys,” she called, “Ezekiel has a great idea about getting the old team together for a reunion. Wally, how long has it been since you’ve seen…” Her voice grew muffled as she moved forward.
Tawny waited a few seconds for the men’s voices to join in, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She ascended the ladder and peeked out of the hatch that Nyala had left open. A tall flying bridge blocked Tawny’s view of the bow but would also block their view of her. She crouched low and tiptoed across the rear deck. She climbed over the railing and down a ladder into the sea.
Unlike glacial Montana lakes, hypothermia wouldn’t kill her in the tepid gulf water. Still, after being constantly overheated since she’d been in Florida, the shock made her suck in a breath. She swam several yards to the stern of the adjacent boat, a thirty-foot cabin cruiser a little smaller than Wally’s. She looped the strap a couple of times around her waist then wove it through the metal handrail on the dive platform and locked the clamp down.
Crap, she’d never even been water skiing or wakeboarding. She wasn’t that good a swimmer. Soon, she’d be dragged behind a boat, trolling for sharks. The only person who knew she was there refused to tell anyone.
The voices from Wally’s yacht sounded closer now, but only those of Nyala and Ezekiel. No more from Wally. Tawny hoped he was well on his way to being too drugged to notice her disappearance. She ducked lower, eyes and nose barely out of the water. Her ears filled, muffling all sound except a gurgle around her head.
The boats were tied together with two lines, one fore, one aft. White vinyl fenders hung over the sides to cushion the hulls from banging together, leaving a gap of about eighteen inches. Ezekiel stepped across the space first, causing his boat to sink low. In the darkness, Tawny made out his hulking form, bigger than Wally, not as tall as Tillman but much bulkier. Might have once played offensive lineman. The red starboard running light illuminated the nearly-black skin of his shaved head.
He stretched arms across the gap toward Nyala. She grasped his hands and daintily crossed over. The boat dipped much less under her weight than Ezekiel’s. He entered the cockpit and started the engine while Nyala pulled in the fenders.
Her head barely out of the water, Tawny saw the woman quickly glance over her shoulder to make certain Ezekiel wasn’t watching. Then she dropped a life jacket off the stern.
Tawny grabbed it and put it on, fastening the plastic clips. It looked light-duty, too flimsy to prevent her from drowning as the boat rolled through the waves.
She ducked out of sight as Ezekiel leaned over the side and untied the two lines securing the boats together. He coiled them neatly and set them on the deck.
Tawny’s salvation was simple: open her mouth and call to him for help. Ezekiel would take her onboard, wrap her in a blanket, and head for shore, while summoning the cops to arrest Wally and Gabriel. She’d be safe and the kidnappers would be punished.
But…she’d promised Nyala.
She’d given her word, sworn to God.
But that insane promise was going to kill her.
Dammit, no. She had to live.
She pulled herself onto the diving platform and gripped the handrails of the ladder to climb into the boat and safety. She made it up the first two rungs but the tie-down around her torso caught. With still-shaky hands, she fumbled to release the lock but couldn’t see in the dark.
“No! Get out of sight!” Nyala appeared, bending over
the stern, head jerking back and forth, watching Tawny then checking to see where Ezekiel was.
Tawny stepped up another rung. “Nyala, I’m not going to die to protect your reputation with your boyfriend.”
“You swore,” Nyala hissed. She looked toward where Ezekiel had settled in the captain’s chair and was adjusting controls. Her mouth twisted as she again faced Tawny. With both hands, she shoved Tawny backwards.
Tawny’s butt hit the diving platform. At the same instant, the engine roared and the boat leapt forward.
She lunged to grab the handrail of the metal ladder. As the speed rose, the boat jumped over waves while Tawny bounced on the hard fiberglass platform.
She desperately held onto the rail with both hands. The hammering continued, jouncing her up and down, side to side, like being tumbled in a manic clothes dryer. Her hands were still numb, her grip slipping. Only the tie-down strap that looped through the ladder kept her from falling to drown in the frothing wake.
Pain exploded as her elbow cracked on the unforgiving fiberglass platform. Then her knee, her shoulder, her tailbone. Each blow knocked the wind out of her. She struggled to catch a breath. At any moment, her bones could shatter like dry sticks. The bucking of the boat was slowly beating her to death.
If she released the clamp, she’d be free—free from the relentless agony, free to breathe without the air being slammed out of her lungs.
Free to flounder alone, left behind in deep water until she drowned or was attacked by a shark.
She had to hang on. She looped her elbow around the ladder.
All sense of time and place disappeared, only the slamming of her spine and shoulders into the diving platform.
The faces of her children, Neal and Emma, drifted through a gray fog of pain. Then Tillman’s children, Mimi, Arielle, and Judah. They weren’t blood but they were as dear as the two she’d given birth to.
She had to survive.
For their children.
For Tillman.
No, she couldn’t die.
Just hold on. Just breathe.
Her fuzzy mind chanted, naming each inhalation. Neal. Emma. Mimi. Arielle. Judah. Tillman.
She didn’t know how many times she repeated the refrain. A hundred? A thousand? Her strength ebbed, beaten out of her by the pummeling.
The boat jumped an extra-large wave. Her head cracked hard against the stern. Stars exploded in her vision. Her grip on the ladder rail slipped, her hands grasping nothing.
The ladder was gone and the platform, too.
She was down in the water, being dragged, the nylon strap now a tow rope. She extended one arm, reaching for it. Her shoulder wrenched with new pain.
Waves of dizziness crested over her.
Keep your head up. Hold onto the strap.
But she couldn’t feel her hands anymore. Was she holding on?
A black curtain closed down on her vision, suffocating her thoughts. It wrapped around her, dragging her down.
Down into a long darkness.
Chapter 24 – Exit Strategy
While Raul, Jessica, and Churro finished dinner, Tillman hurriedly changed in the bedroom. Navy-colored sweats were the only dark clothes in his roller bag. He hadn’t packed with the expectation of needing camouflage to sneak up on a kidnapper’s home. He tucked Smoky’s little pistol in the pants pocket. Pitiful but better than nothing.
He hustled Raul, Jessica, and the dog out of the suite, down the elevator, and out to the parking lot. No explanations—he didn’t want to implicate them in what he was about to do.
He didn’t wait for the parking valet, nor did he want to be remembered, should the police later ask questions. His size made him instantly recognizable in security video but that couldn’t be helped.
When they reached Raul’s work truck, Tillman barked, “Get in the cab, Jessica.”
She jumped, as if he’d raised his fist to her. The dog emitted a warning growl.
Raul looked sideways at him but gave a single nod. “Ahora,” he said to his daughter. Now.
She clutched Churro’s collar and stared up at Tillman, eyes unwavering even though he’d scared her. “Please find Tawny,” she murmured. She motioned for the dog to jump up in the cab then clambered in beside him and slammed the door.
Regret stabbed Tillman but he didn’t have time to apologize to her. He turned to Raul. “Got tools I can borrow?”
Without hesitation, the man unlocked a side compartment in the truck bed. He understood what Tillman was up to but said nothing.
Tillman rattled through the tool box and grabbed a screwdriver, diagonal cutters, and pliers. With them, he could jimmy a lock, cut electrical wires, and, if need be, convince Gabriel that he’d be better off releasing Tawny than losing his ear or nose.
“Gracias, amigo,” Tillman called over his shoulder as he ran to the rental truck.
“Buena suerte, señor.” Good luck.
Right.
Tillman tossed the tools on the passenger seat. The turbo-charged engine roared to life. Under the pressure of his heavy foot on the accelerator, the truck lurched forward and sped toward the exit, black exhaust spewing out the rear.
He entered Gabriel’s home address in the truck’s GPS and raced toward Highway 60, watching the rearview mirror for cops.
***
Violent choking spasms brought Tawny back to consciousness. Her lungs burned as she gagged, hacked, and threw up seawater.
At last, the choking subsided. But when she gulped in a deep breath, that triggered another coughing frenzy so violent she feared she would black out again. Finally, it eased enough that she dared to inhale—shallow, cautious, slow. She gripped the edge of the diving platform and pulled her torso up onto it, legs still dangling in the water.
Arrows of pain shot through her head. Fingertips found a painful knot swelling under her hair.
Then she realized the boat had stopped. The motor now barely burbled, at idle, coasting. Foamy bubbles dissipated around her.
Her foggy thoughts slowly cleared. She’d fallen from the diving platform into the sea. The nylon tie-down still tethered her to the metal ladder. If the boat had continued at speed, with her unconscious, she would have drowned.
The vicious pounding on her body had stopped but nausea churned in her stomach. Another coughing fit seized her. Pain from her ribs exploded inside her body.
After a moment, she again risked shallow breaths. They gave her enough strength to haul herself the rest of the way onto the diving platform. She released the tie-down clamp and the strap fell free. The tender skin under her breasts burned, rubbed raw by the nylon.
Water muffled her hearing. She tipped her head sideways. Wicked spinning overtook her. She vomited as water drizzled out of her ears. When the worst dizziness had passed, she took a couple more breaths, and gripped the hand rail to pull herself to a standing position. She could barely peek over the stern but lacked the strength to climb up the four rungs of the ladder into the boat.
In the distance, a soft glow of lights marked the horizon. Tawny wondered how far from land they were. Overhead, a waning crescent mood shone down on the ripples. Stars sparkled in the black sky. The engine shut down, leaving only the soft lapping of waves against the hull.
On the mast, a white mooring light shone over the yacht. She could see Ezekiel and Nyala, standing in the cockpit, embracing.
“I love spending the night at sea,” Nyala purred.
“Oh, yeah, baby.”
“How far out are we?”
“At least five miles. No one’s going to bother us.”
“They better not.” She pulled him forward to the bow and down onto the cushioned seats.
Tawny’s stomach clenched in a cramp, causing a sudden inhale that triggered more choking.
“What’s that noise?” Ezekiel’s voice.
“Just a sea lion, baby. Come back down and give me some sugar.”
Coughing spasms gripped Tawny. She doubled over and vomited seawater.
“Who’s there?” The boat rocked as Ezekiel moved side to side, peering over the gunwales, heading toward the stern.
“Help,” Tawny gasped.
Ezekiel shone a flashlight over the side, blinding Tawny. She held up a hand to block the glare. “Help me, please.”
“Sweet Jesus in heaven, lady! What are you doing down there?” He grasped under her arms, yanked her up and onto the deck in one smooth movement, as if she weighed less than a toddler. Gently, he set her down on a padded seat.
Coughs contorted her body as she gagged up more water. He thumped her back.
At last, the choking spasms subsided. She panted, catching a few almost-normal breaths.
Ezekiel squatted before her, his huge hand resting on her shoulder. He had a wide mouth with lots of teeth that made him look as if he was always smiling. “Lady, what happened to you?”
Tawny wanted to sob with gratitude but resisted, afraid of triggering another coughing frenzy.
Nyala stood beside him, staring down at Tawny, concern in her eyes. “Did you fall overboard, dear? Those party boats—someone’s always falling off and everybody’s so drunk no one notices. Is that what happened to you?”
She was feeding Tawny a script. This woman had nearly killed her yet coolly invented an instant excuse to cover her deception.
Tawny wanted to tell Nyala to go screw herself but couldn’t muster the strength. Uncontrollable shivers came over her.
“Babe, get her a blanket,” Nyala said. “And she needs oxygen, too. Bring a dive tank.”
Ezekiel straightened and hurried forward to the bow. Hatches banged as he pulled supplies from storage compartments.
Nyala bent low to Tawny’s ear. “Go along with me. Don’t talk.”
“Call Tillman,” Tawny croaked.
Nyala nodded.
Ezekiel returned, carrying a blanket and a scuba tank. He wrapped the blanket around Tawny’s shoulders. “OK, don’t you worry now. Nyala here is a nurse. She knows what to do.”
Yeah, right, Tawny thought as the woman fitted the mask over Tawny’s face.
