Truth or Consequences

by Diana Duncan

  His velvet voice rumbled out as rich and tempting as imported chocolate. “In the immortal words of Zoe middle-name-unknown Zagretti, ‘you haven’t seen anything yet.’”

  She shivered again as the sensual burn shimmered over her, warmed her from the inside out. Her nipples tightened against the wet cotton. How did he do that? How the heck could he turn her on in the middle of an ice-cold creek while running for her life? Maybe terror had unhinged her mind. “It’s Francesca.”

  He rammed his shin into a boulder, swore and flailed, but kept his balance. Barely.

  She tried not to focus on the yelping dogs chasing them. Had terror sharpened her senses, or did she hear crashing underbrush and men’s voices more clearly?

  The hunters were closing in, yet she and Aidan slowed, both running out of steam. Out of time. Fear coiled tightly in her chest. “I think they’re gaining on us!”

  He urged her to a painfully faster pace. Soon, her legs would give out altogether. “Don’t look back. Keep going.”

  The creek widened and grew more shallow with each step, aiding their flight. They splashed around another bend, down a hill, and then staggered onto a beach.

  The sand bunched and shifted under their feet and made running harder than ever. Zoe swayed against the sharp slap of ocean breeze as they staggered toward the shoreline.

  They’d sprinted halfway down the beach when a pack of leashed dogs broke through the trees. Four yelling men followed.

  Zoe glanced back at their pursuers. Then ahead, at the roaring Pacific Ocean. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  They were trapped.

  Chapter 12

  3:00 a.m.

  Aidan’s harsh breathing rasped over the crashing breakers. He pointed. Fifty yards ahead, a long, thin shadow thrust onto the ocean’s surface. Bobbing objects floated alongside. “Head for the dock.”

  Gunshots roared, kicking up sand beside him. He dodged, and they both ran. Renewed terror hit Zoe with a burst of adrenaline-laced speed. Gasping breaths slashed in her throat, and her sodden rope shoes squished against sand. A sharp breeze whipped her face and wet body with icy tendrils of fear.

  Barely holding their lead, they sprinted hand-in-hand down the beach. They clambered onto the uneven wooden dock. Aidan flung her forward. “Run to the far end,” he panted. “Find a boat with an outboard motor and power up. No key; it starts like a lawn mower. Yank the handle.”

  Her footsteps pounded along worn boards. She risked a quick look over her shoulder before climbing into a rocking boat. Aidan’s knife blade glinted in the moonlight as he zigzagged down the dock, cutting boats adrift. Bullets exploded, and he ducked. Wood pilings splintered beside his head.

  Zoe yanked the handle in a half-dozen frantic pulls, and the motor blasted to life. “Aidan! Come on!”

  He stumbled toward her. “Get in the bow! Get down!”

  She scrambled to the front, and he leapt into the boat. He grunted with pain when he landed, but his blade again gleamed, sawing the rope holding them to the piling. He fumbled for the steering mechanism, and the boat plowed toward open sea.

  Dogs barked, footsteps thundered and gunshots blasted behind them. Miniature geysers sprayed as bullets pockmarked the sea. While she huddled in the bow, the bad guys blazed away at Aidan. A sharp crack jerked her upright, heart in her throat. “Are you hit?”

  His face gray and drawn with strain, he crouched over the motor. “No. Stay down!”

  Other motors burst into roars far behind them, and he snarled in frustration. “Damn! I cut loose as many as I could.”

  Zoe hunkered on the bottom as choppy waves lifted the small craft and then slammed it down, again and again.

  Inexplicably, the boat began to slow. She glanced back at Aidan. “What’s happening?”

  Grim fury set his handsome face in stone. “A round hit the hull. We’re taking on water.”

  She looked down. Her hands were so cold, she hadn’t realized she was wrist-deep in seawater. Her stomach fluttered. “Who said things can’t get any worse?”

  She unzipped her bag, dumped out her makeup case and frantically scooped water with the vinyl pouch. “Even if I had a gallon bucket, it’s flooding faster than I can bail.”

  Growling motors cut through the night behind them. With every passing second, merciless headlights loomed larger.

  Aidan spat a word she’d never heard from him before and steered the floundering boat around a massive rock outcropping. The pursuing lights disappeared from view. Sheltered on the other side, he idled the motor, and the hull scraped rocks. He tossed her the stern rope. “Knot the end. Lasso a boulder.”

  Feet spread, she rode the pitching boat. Two swings later, she caught the crest of a boulder. His grin flashed, white and wicked in his dark-stubbled face. “Damn, you’re good.”

  The grin disappeared, and he scooped three flares, a folded tarp and fishing lures from a plastic bin under the wooden seat. “Put these in your bag.” After she stashed them, he snatched the gun from his waistband, and she zipped it into her bag. He threw her the lone battered life vest. “Put it on. Jump.”

  Her heart crashed painfully against her ribs. Was he going to take the boat on alone? Use himself as bait? “You don’t stand a chance in this leaky death trap! They’ll capture and kill you!”

  “I’ll join you in a minute. Go!”

  Balanced precariously in the heaving vessel, she hitched her survival kit over her shoulder. Her numb fingers fumbled with the vest’s unfamiliar buckles. “If you’re lying, I will follow you into the afterlife and make Heaven a living hell.”

  “A vow you’re more than capable of keeping.” His chuckle was labored. “I’ll warn St. Peter.”

  A hard shove in the small of her back plunged her into the freezing water. The Pacific Ocean never got much warmer than fifty degrees at this latitude, and the icy shock made her gasp. She spat out salty water, battling desperation and despair. Aidan was one-handed, exhausted and beat-up. With no one to help him. If he took off in the boat, he was doomed.

  She clung to a rock and struggled out of the sodden slipper-shoes as relentless waves slapped her against the outcropping. Anxious seconds that felt like hours crawled past. Finally, he splashed into the water beside her.

  He moaned in pain and went under as the boat zoomed out to sea. Zoe’s hand instinctively shot out and caught him by the hair. She yanked hard, and his head surfaced.

  Barely conscious, he coughed and gagged. His face was bleached white in the moonlight.

  “Aidan?” With effort, she tugged him closer and managed to wedge her arm under his. Unfortunately, it was his injured arm, and he groaned. “Sorry.” She cringed. “What’s wrong?”

  He bit out the words through pinched, colorless lips. “Hit shoulder. Friggin’ rock.”

  She clung to the outcropping with one hand and him with the other and fought to keep hold of him in the turbulent waves. “Hang in there. I won’t let you drown.”

  “I’m. Endangering. You.” He coughed again. “Let go.”

  “Not in this lifetime, SWAT. You protected me, now I’ll protect you.”

  “No. You have…a life vest…a good…chance.” He ground his teeth. “I’m strong. I’ll manage. Save yourself.”

  She glanced apprehensively at the dark, cresting waves. They could be miles from shore. No way could he make it. If they were gonna die, they would die together. However, she would do everything in her power to ensure their survival. “Don’t even go there. Because it is so not happening.” She pressed a kiss to his wet, salty brow. “All for one and one for all, savvy?”

  “Damn. Stubborn. Woman.”

  “Ah, now you’re catching on.” She wrestled off the flotation device and put it on him. Looping the handle of her survival bag over his head, she tucked it against his chest. He had a length of coiled nylon rope from the boat draped over his good shoulder. She tied one end to the vest and the other to her waist, going under twice and swallowing a gallon of seawater in the
process.

  Aidan seemed too stunned to do anything but mutter incoherent protests through chattering teeth. Her stomach lurched. The lethal combination of pain and frigid water would send him into shock. If they didn’t drown, shock would kill him. How would she warm him up? She shoved aside growing fear. One problem at a time. First, she had to get them both to shore.

  “Aidan,” she spoke softly into his ear. “I’m going to turn you over. The life vest will support your head. I need you to float on your back and kick your feet, okay?”

  “Don’t. Risk. Your life. For me. Again.”

  “I’m heartily tired of that song.” She sighed. “I much prefer ‘You Really Got A Hold On Me.’”

  He growled faintly, which she counted as progress. Frustration would help keep him warm inside. And the kicking would not only aid her, but warm him on the outside.

  Zoe had always been at home in the water. Everywhere they’d lived, she’d sought out community pools, lakes or rivers. Swimming had fit her youthful needs to a T. It was solitary, didn’t cost anything and satisfied her craving for freedom. She and her mom had spent over a year in Florida when Zoe was a freshman in high school. She’d hit the beach every day after classes, and after her job at a fast-food franchise during the long, hot summer. She could do this.

  She took a deep breath and pushed off the rocks. Towing Aidan, she swam parallel to the outcropping.

  He helped by kicking, but his movements soon grew sporadic. Her pulse thrummed in her ears. The cold water was taking its toll. She had to keep him awake and aware. If he lost consciousness, he could die before she got him to shore.

  “How’d you make the boat go off by itself?”

  A long pause dragged by. She arched one arm over another in a steady crawl. Her nerves wound tighter with each stroke. “Aidan?” She tipped her mouth out of the water and shouted to make sure he’d heard her. “How’d you rig the boat?”

  “Jammed the throttle. Tied down steering mechanism.”

  “Great idea. Won’t it sink, though?”

  “No. Even leaking…she’ll streak without passengers. When bad guys finally catch up…find her empty. Won’t know…where to start looking.”

  Her cop was incredibly resourceful, even under extreme duress. “Brilliant.”

  She was a strong swimmer, but before long, weariness and numbing cold weighted her arms and legs. She didn’t have the energy to speak, and they both fell silent. She could only swim. Only pray.

  On and on. Until she could barely lift one arm over the other. Her strength, energy and optimism faltered. Were they doomed to die together, after all?

  Just as she feared she would sink under the relentless waves and not have the strength to surface, Aidan coughed. “Zoe. Don’t. Surrender,” he croaked. “No matter…how long and dark the night. The sun…always triumphs…in the morning.”

  Not only her own life, but Aidan’s was at stake. No way could she give up. The encouragement spurred her onward. Finally, just ahead, a jagged outline loomed high above her. Cliffs! Please, let there be a beach, and not merely piles of rocks.

  One last burst of energy carried her forward, and her toes brushed sand. Fatigue overwhelmed relief.

  Dragging Aidan behind her, she crawled onto the beach. Gasping, shivering, she lay facedown and collected her reserves.

  Long before she was ready, she pushed up on all fours. Her trembling muscles felt like jelly. Aidan’s legs were still in the raging surf. She grabbed the life vest. Inch by agonizing inch, she dragged him onto dry sand. Gusty wind plastered her wet shirt to her goose-bumpy skin. Shaking uncontrollably from cold and exhaustion, she bent over his head, tried to shelter him. His closed eyes and slack face made her heart lurch. She brought her ear close to his face. He was breathing, thank goodness. “Aidan?” She patted his icy cheek.

  He didn’t answer.

  She had to get him warm. How? She had Muscles’s lighter, but finding wood and building a fire would take too long. Anyway, a campfire wouldn’t do much good when they were soaking wet and exposed to the brisk ocean breeze. Plus, an open fire would draw the bad guys like a beacon.

  The cold, grueling swim conspired with extreme thirst and hunger to make her slow and weak. She lifted her bag from around Aidan’s neck and removed the life vest. Her bag’s contents were damp but not waterlogged, thanks to the vinyl lining and nylon zipper. He’d passed her flares, fish hooks and a folded tarp before pushing her out of the boat. The thick, tightly-woven canvas tarp was waterproof. She spread the heavy material over him. “Aidan, can you hear me?”

  No response.

  The only heat available was body heat. Teeth chattering, she struggled out of her sodden shirt. She didn’t have the energy to wrestle him out of his pants. She crawled under the tarp and loosened his sling, arranged his injured arm beside him. She carefully lay on top of him, then twitched up the tarp to cover them like a tent. Sliding her arms around Aidan’s neck, she nestled her face into his throat and tried to ignore the darkness. Tried to stop trembling. Tried not to dwell on how close she’d come to losing him. Twice.

  Think warm thoughts.

  Her breasts rested against solid muscle, hard and reassuring beneath her. His chest rose and fell with each even breath, and crisp hair gently abraded her nipples. His heartbeat thudded steadily against hers. His cool, firm skin smelled like an intriguing combination of tangy seawater and his own unique scent. Snuggling close to him comforted her. Restored her.

  Sheltered from the wind and pressed body to body, the bone-chilling cold slowly receded.

  She didn’t know how much time passed before Aidan stirred beneath her and mumbled incoherently.

  “Aidan,” she said softly. “Wake up.”

  He shifted again. Muttered. “What—?”

  She smoothed thick, damp hair off his forehead. “Aidan, it’s Zoe. Talk to me.”

  His sharply indrawn breath lifted his chest, and her with it. Skin intimately brushed skin. “Zoe?” His voice grew stronger by the second. “What the hell?”

  Sparkling relief bubbled through her veins, as sweet and intoxicating as the champagne she’d savored at the wedding. She raised her head, but couldn’t see his face. “Welcome back, SWAT.”

  His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, then stroked down her spine. Her body quivered in response, and his hand hesitated north of the damp scrap of satin. “Zoe?” He sounded pole-axed. Poor guy probably felt like he had been. “You’re naked.”

  Weary joy swirled giddily. She couldn’t hold back a giggle. Leave it to her cop to cut to the chase. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your observational skills.”

  His heartbeat kicked into double-time, and she cupped his face and twitched up the corner of the tent in an attempt to assess his condition. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I have a naked woman on top of me,” he growled.

  That explained the bump in heart rate. Oh well, a fast pulse would increase his body heat. She dropped the canvas back into place. “I’m warming you up.”

  “Yeah?” His deep voice vibrated in her ear. “It’s working.”

  It was impossible to be this intimate with him and remain unaffected. Tingles glittered down her spine. She shivered under the delicious onslaught, and her nipples tightened. He made a primitive, male sound low in his throat, and heat washed over her. Clearly, he wasn’t unaffected, either. “Ah…don’t get any ideas.”

  He laughed raggedly. “Too late.”

  “You seem to be feeling a lot better.” Judging by his response, he wasn’t debilitated.

  “You don’t feel so bad yourself.”

  She adjusted her position to accommodate the big, hard bulge pressing into her stomach. Holy smokes. His wet slacks left nothing to the imagination. Supposedly, when men were cold, body parts shrunk. Apparently, her cop was growing warmer by the second. “I saw a hot-water heater in an ad that promised ‘quick recovery.’ A major appliance has nothing on you.”

  He chuckled again. “You�
��re effective medicine, sweetheart.”

  As far as cures went, he was darn effective himself. A spark of vitality flickered inside her, restoring some of her strength. Her hope. “Am I too heavy? How’s your shoulder?”

  “You’re fine. Shoulder’s not as bad. The cold water reduced the swelling and pain.” His fingertips lovingly traced the small of her back as if he were learning the landscape and liked what he found. “How did we end up on dry land? The last thing I remember is diving out of the boat.”

  “You hit your shoulder again and were disoriented. I swam us to shore.”

  His body went taut. A short, sharp silence ensued. “In other words, you took another huge risk with your own life. You should have let me make it to shore myself.”

  “You would have died.” Frustration thrummed inside her. Instead of James, his middle name should be Bullheaded. “Would you leave me to save yourself?”

  “That’s not the same scenario.”

  In a different century, her Dark Champion would have been a noble warrior, wielding a sword in protection of his lady. “Why? Because you have a…ah…big flashlight, and I don’t?”

  Though she couldn’t see it, she felt his scowl all the way to her toes. “Because I’m trained in survival.”

  “Training doesn’t help when you’re incapacitated and shocky. We’re a team, savvy?”

  “One member of this team,” he gritted, “does not comprehend rank and discipline.”

  Losing her temper wouldn’t benefit anyone. “Discipline, huh? I had no idea you were into kinky.”

  He muttered something about spanking under his breath that she doubted had anything to do with discipline. The imp inside her longed to hear it. He sighed. “I’m going to buy you a T-shirt that says, Doesn’t Play Well with Others.”

  “I play just fine…when the game makes sense.” She sobered. “If anyone understands this, it should be you, SWAT. I will only learn my capabilities by facing and overcoming challenges. Don’t try to take that away from me.”

  Clearly startled, he didn’t speak for several long minutes. “I don’t want to deny you anything, sweetheart.” He sounded shaken. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”