by Lori Wilde
Barksdale’s boat had several yards on him, but the Jet Ski was souped-up with an extra-powerful engine. He pushed it to full throttle and blasted into the darkness, pummeling oncoming waves. As he closed the distance between them, his hopes soared. He was going to catch up with them! He was going to save Poppy.
Then Barksdale started firing.
#
The blast roused Poppy. Firecrackers? Who was shooting firecrackers?
Her head throbbed. She put a hand to her temple and felt something warm and sticky trekking down her skin. She was bleeding. Groggily, she blinked, trying to process what was happening.
Boat. She was in a boat on the ocean.
Keith, looking like a madman with wind-tousled hair and frantic eyes, was at the helm. He had a gun and he kept turning around to fire at someone behind them.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the lethargy that loosened her limbs.
In the darkness, she saw the small headlamp of a Jet Ski behind them.
Abel?
Hope expanded her heart. But why would Abel be on a Jet Ski chasing after them? She was hoping for a hero rescue from an accountant. That wasn’t going to happen. It had to be someone else. Police? Game warden? But why would they be on a Jet Ski and not in a speedboat? It didn’t make any sense.
Maybe Keith was just firing warning shots at someone who’d gotten too close. Probably no one was pursuing them at all. That thought shriveled her budding hope. If she wanted out of this, she was going to have to save herself. She’d learned a long time ago you couldn’t depend on anyone else to rescue you.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Keith whipped his head around. “I’m kidnapping you.”
That stunned her. “What for?”
“You haven’t figured it out? Are you really that stupid? I knew you were an airhead, but I didn’t think you were totally clueless.”
She couldn’t see his face very well in the darkness, but he was mocking her with an arrogant snarl. “Figured out what?”
“Give me the locket.”
She reached up to finger the chain of the locket. “Sure. Fine.”
“Shit,” Keith said and pushed the throttle on the boat as fast as it would go. It felt like warp speed as they zoomed through the night.
Poppy whipped her head around to see the Jet Ski gaining ground. A fresh flicker of hope flared in the embers of disappointment and fear. “Who’s following us?”
“Not sure, but I’m presuming it’s your boyfriend.”
“Abel?”
“You got more than one boyfriend?” Barksdale stuffed the gun in his waistband and held out his right palm as he kept his left hand on the steering wheel. “Give me the locket.”
This was her chance to act. He’d tucked the gun away. All she had to do was run at him, slam into him with her shoulders, and knock him overboard. She bent her knees and sprung up. Her head spun dizzily, and her wobbly legs collapsed. She fell back against the seat.
Keith laughed, reached over, twisted his fingers around the chain of the locket, and yanked it off her neck. Pieces of the delicate platinum chain scattered in the darkness.
“Stupid bitch, I don’t give a damn about the locket. I want what’s inside.” He jammed the locket in his pocket, then took hold of the gun again.
“What’s inside?”
“My ticket to freedom.”
She was trembling all over. From the cold, from fear of Keith’s gun, from the realization that she had stepped into deep water and was in way over her head. “Why would Abel be following us?”
Keith paused a moment to wave the gun in her face as a threat, then turned to shoot at the Jet Ski. “He’s a Texas Ranger.”
“The law enforcement agency?”
“Ding, ding, ding, Johnny,” he said in a voice like a game show announcer. “Tell Ms. St. John what she’s won. Could it be a one-way ticket to the bottom of the ocean?”
Poppy’s face went icy. Keith was going to kill her. “But why? What did I do?”
“You got caught up in our little game of cat and mouse.”
“Whose game?”
“Mine and Black’s.”
“Will you just stop talking in circles and tell me what you’re talking about? You’re going to kill me anyway and I deserve to know why I’m going to die.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit.” He pressed the hot gun against her cold forehead. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled her nose.
Terrified, Poppy shrank back against the seat, palms raised. “Okay, okay.”
He pulled the gun away to shoot into the darkness again. Gunfire was so damned loud. “But since you asked so nicely, yeah, okay, I’ll clue you in. Otherwise, you’ll never figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“You take people at face value, which is a very stupid thing to do, by the way. Everyone lies.”
“Yes, yes, I’m a stupid idiot for trusting people, for liking you.”
“You liked me only because I’m good at making people like me when I need to be. People are such damned sheep. They see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe.”
That was true enough of her. She felt so wretchedly stupid. Keith was right. She was blind and dumb and trusting. Far too trusting. She’d trusted Abel as well and apparently he wasn’t what he seemed, either. But right now, she took a great deal of comfort in the fact that he was a Texas Ranger and not an accountant.
“What is this all about, Keith? What have I gotten wrapped up in?”
“Prototype military weapons.”
“You stole your country’s secrets? For what? To sell to the highest bidder? You’re a traitor as well as a thief.”
“Sticks and stones.” Keith fired the gun again and Poppy cringed. “Dammit. Time to reload.”
He set the gun on the seat and dug in his pocket for a new clip. Poppy thought again about attacking him or going for the empty gun and throwing it overboard, but Keith wagged his finger at her. “No, no.”
He jammed the clip into the gun one-handed and turned to fire another shot.
She slapped her hands over her ears. The Jet Ski was still behind them. Abel was coming to save her. She just had to hold on a little while longer, keep Keith talking.
“So how did you steal top secret documents?”
“Your boyfriend was working on encrypting the documents. He thought he was so good, such the little rule follower. He had no clue I’d managed to hack into his system until after I’d already stolen the information right out from under his nose.”
“How did you manage to do that?”
He leaned over to caress her cheek with the nose of the gun.
Poppy shuddered. One careless move and the gun could go off. Kill her dead.
He’s going to kill you anyway.
The reality of the situation finally hit her. She was going to die without ever telling Abel she loved him. But did she really love him? She thought she did, but that was before she found out he’d been lying to her. She didn’t even know who he really was.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Barksdale chortled. “Wait, I am going to kill you, so I might as well tell you. Besides, if it wasn’t for you, none of this would have been possible.”
“What?” Poppy blinked, pulling her mind from thoughts of Abel and focusing on Keith. She had to be present and fully alert if she had any hopes of getting out of this alive.
“You’re the one who led me to the people who’re going to pay me six million dollars for what’s inside your locket.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why did you think I dated you?”
“I thought you liked me.”
“Well, you do have one hell of a body; I’ll give you that.” Keith’s eyes raked over her breasts. “But no, I cozied up to you because of your yoga class.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
He proceeded to explain how his job with the governo
r’s office had put him in the position to access foreign nationals on the Texas watch list. “When I found one that had influential connections in a wealthy country willing to pay for the secrets I could provide, I couldn’t really approach him and say, ‘Hi, my name’s Keith. I want to steal U.S. secrets for your government.’ He would have thought I was trying to set him up. Then I discovered he took yoga at your studio. It seemed the perfect opportunity. Take a few classes. Befriend you. Get you to introduce me, then drop a few hints until he approached me with an offer.”
“You used me.”
“Wake up, princess. You were a means to an end. That’s all you ever were. A foil.”
That hit her hard. Why hadn’t she suspected anything? Was she truly that damned gullible? That trusting? Clearly, she was.
“How did you pull all this off?”
Keith looked proud of himself. “I’m an inventive guy.”
“And yet, you didn’t get away with it. The Texas Rangers are after you.”
“Yes. Well, it was unfortunate that I didn’t get more time to pass the microchip to my contact.”
“The locket,” she said as everything finally clicked. “That’s why you gave it to me. You hid the microchip in it.”
“After I downloaded the data onto the microchip, I realized they were already on to me. I left the governor’s office, but I was afraid I was being followed. I didn’t know if they were going to arrest me right then or wait to see if I went to my contact. I was sitting at a stoplight, saw the jewelry store, and it all fell into place. I pulled over, went in, bought the locket—which by the way, has a secret compartment, just perfect for hiding a microchip. I drove to the yoga studio, gave you the locket, and just as I was leaving, they arrested me. They kept me for twenty-four hours but didn’t have enough evidence to hold me.”
“That’s when you came back to the studio, broke up with me, and asked for the locket back.”
“I would already be out of the country if the Rangers hadn’t shown up when they did,” he said. “By then the heat was on. They installed your boyfriend in the apartment across the street to watch your place and they put another agent in your yoga class.”
It all made sense now. She’d thought Abel had been watching her because he was attracted to her. But he’d simply been spying on her, hoping she’d lead him to Keith. He wasn’t following her now to save her. He was trying to arrest Keith. None of this had ever been about her. He’d only been doing his job and she was collateral fallout. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t love her.
A feeling so utterly wretched it was indescribable settled over her. Keith might as well kill her. She had nothing to live for.
“That’s why you came to talk to me when I was out surfing,” she said softly.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know how to ask you about the locket without making you curious. I couldn’t afford to have you snooping inside of it.”
“And you’re the one who texted me and said to meet you at the pier tonight, wearing the locket. It wasn’t Abel.”
“I cloned his phone.” Keith gave a maniacal laugh. “I stole his file, cloned his phone—who’s better than the Texas Rangers? And you fell for it. Dumb blonde to the bone.”
A strangled sob escaped her throat.
“Ah, you’re just now realizing the truth, aren’t you? Poor baby. That bastard Black used you just like I did. He broke your little Pollyanna heart.”
She’d had enough of this. With a roar of anger, Poppy gathered all her strength and lunged at him, going for his eyes with her fingers, gouging and poking.
“Bitch!” he screamed as she knocked him off-balance. The gun flew from his hand, skittering across the floor of the boat.
Simultaneously, they dove for it, struggling and grappling.
With no one at the helm, the boat charged the waves in a crazed bucking bronco dash, then sputtered and slowed from lack of gas.
They rolled. Keith punched her on the jaw.
Frick! That hurt.
He grabbed hold of the gun, then kicked her in the ribs. She absorbed the blow through gritted teeth. He was panting hard.
“On your feet,” he commanded.
She staggered to her knees and used the seat to drag herself to a standing position. From the corner of her eye, she saw a light in the distance near international waters. Another boat? Had this been Keith’s destination all along? A rendezvous with his buyer?
Behind them, the Jet Ski lagged, the small engine overpowered by the heavier waves this far out at sea.
“Okay,” Keith said. “I’ve got what I came for. I’ve had enough of you.” He racked the gun. “Party’s over.”
Poppy closed her eyes. Held her breath. This was it.
She was going to die.
And her last thoughts were of Abel.
Chapter Eighteen
Abel was close enough to see the body go into the water. Emotion slammed into him, a cement truck of fear and pain, heartache and desperation. No. No!
Barksdale had thrown Poppy overboard. Alive? Or had he shot her first?
Please, God, he prayed. Please let her be alive.
Refusing to entertain any other thought, he urged the Jet Ski forward. Barksdale had turned the speedboat and headed toward a yacht anchored in international waters. He could go after Barksdale. Or he could go after Poppy, save her from the water.
Poppy was a good swimmer, and she knew the ocean. If she was dead, she was dead. If she was alive, she could make it until he got back to her or until one of his team could rescue her.
That choice made sense. It was the smart thing to do. It’s what Higgins would order him to do.
But Abel had learned that blindly following orders was not always the right thing to do. He had to follow his heart and if it cost him his career, well then so be it. It wasn’t a choice. No contest.
He let Barksdale slip away, hopped the Jet Ski over a high wave, and went in search of the woman he loved.
#
Poppy came up sputtering, spitting out mouthfuls of salty ocean. Her eyes burned. She was dazed from the blow to the head, the things she’d learned tonight and frantically treading water, but she was still breathing.
What now? She heard nothing but the waves. Saw nothing but the black sky stretched above with a sprinkling of winking stars. She was a very long way from shore. Where was the Jet Ski? Did Abel have a clue she’d been thrown into the water? Or was he at this moment still pursuing Keith?
She rolled onto her back and floated for what felt like a very long time but was probably only minutes.
A thin pencil of light cut through the darkness. Then she heard the Jet Ski. The engine died suddenly, but the headlamp stayed on.
“Poppy!”
It was Abel, calling to her, a heavenly voice in the darkest of night.
“Abel,” she croaked, surprised to hear her voice come out low and scratchy.
“Poppy?”
“Here,” she tried to shout, but she couldn’t. “I’m here.”
The Jet Ski engine revved. The light drew closer.
She waved a hand. “Here, here, I’m here.”
Then miraculously, there he was, right in front of her. He cut the engine again and reached for her, his strong arms going around her tightly, pulling her up onto the Jet Ski amidst the buffeting waves.
“Abel,” she whispered, “I...”
“Shh, don’t talk now. Save your energy.” He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, tucked her arms around his waist, started the Jet Ski, and headed back to shore.
#
They reached the beach some twenty minutes later. Captain Higgins and his team were waiting for him at a makeshift command post they’d set up. A government helicopter was in the air, flying out across the ocean. Poppy had ridden with her face buried against his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Nothing had ever felt so good, so wonderful. The woman he loved was alive. She’d survived.
“Black,” Captain Higgins barked, the minute h
e docked the Jet Ski on the sand. “A word.”
Rogers had a blanket. He wrapped it around Poppy’s shoulders.
“I’ll be right back,” Abel whispered and then allowed Rogers to lead her away to an awaiting medic.
“Barksdale?” Captain Higgins asked, hands on his hips.
Abel shook his head and then explained what had happened. He told Higgins of his choice to save Poppy instead of going after Barksdale. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew by the expression on his captain’s face that his career with the Rangers was over. How could he blame Higgins? Because of Abel, highly classified government documents had fallen into enemy hands.
He’d let down his country in the worst way possible.
“We can’t touch him in international waters,” Captain Higgins said.
“I know, sir.” He stood at attention. “What about the buyer? Did you apprehend him at the airport?”
“It was a red herring. The buyer is on the yacht. He planned on heading back to his country tonight. This was Barksdale’s last chance. Looks like he made it.”
“I have no excuse, sir,” Abel says. “The fault is entirely mine. I assume from the message he sent Miss St. John via my cloned phone that the microchip was in her locket. He must have been the one who tried to mug us last night and take the locket at that time.”
“Did you ask Miss St. John if by some chance, he didn’t get hold of the locket?”
“No, but—”
“Let’s go ask her,” Higgins interrupted.
Obviously, the man was grasping at straws. The microchip was the only reason Barksdale had lured Poppy to the beach. When he’d gotten his hands on her, he’d taken the locket.
Captain Higgins strode over to where the medic was checking Poppy’s blood pressure as she sat in the back of the ambulance. He introduced himself to Poppy and then asked, “Did Barksdale take your locket?”
“He did.” Poppy nodded.
Higgins swore, turning away.
“But” she said, “it wasn’t the locket he gave me.”
