“Rest while I go check the lines.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. It took an effort to climb into the tent with legs that felt like she’d overdone the squat press machine at her gym. With a gusty sigh, she plopped onto the sleeping bag. She thought lying on logs might be uncomfortable, but she was pleasantly surprised. She didn’t even feel them.
Guilt assailed her. While she lounged around like a slug, Quinn kept going like the Energizer Bunny. She should offer to help, but she was wiped. In the midst of building their fortress, he set up two handmade fishing poles to catch dinner.
“Hungry?”
Sticking her head out of the tent, she found him holding up two fat trout. “Yum.” Struggling upright, she started to crawl out to help him, but he stopped her.
“I’ve got this.”
Again, she should protest, but she didn’t. Instead, she took immense pleasure in watching him work. He carried rocks from the shore to create a ring since they’d moved away from the original one. Then he took pieces of wood and started a roaring fire. Next, he brought the grate and placed it over the flames. He made quick work of dressing the fish and cutting them into fillets before placing them in the pan to fry.
She wasn’t positive, but she thought there might be blue tights and a red cape beneath his clothes. He sure acted like Superman.
Dinner was tasty and filling. The dogs enjoyed a mixture of fresh fish and the dry food Quinn packed. They were now full and sprawled out on the ground close to the fire. She tried to clean up, but he rebuffed her again, insisting she stay close to the shelter. He just packed the skillet back into his pack when lightning flashed, and a boom of thunder sounded in the distance.
Quinn picked Rocky up and placed him in the tent. Kilo didn’t need help, leaping the distance effortlessly. Once Quinn was inside, the skies opened up. It wasn’t as cramped as it could’ve been since he relocated their backpacks beneath the platform to keep them dry. The dogs curled up on one side while she and Quinn were forced into close proximity on the open sleeping bag. Lying on his stomach, he kept a small part of the flap open so he could watch for any approaching danger.
The forced intimacy created a sense of calm and peace, with the rain peppering the shelter. It took all her effort not to snuggle close to him, absorb his warmth. It was like sitting next to a toasty furnace. He was so capable and strong. She felt wholly protected with him, and it had nothing to do with the gun he’d placed near the opening. It was all him. What would he do if she rolled against him and ran her hand beneath his shirt to feel the abs she knew would be rock solid? Would he dive out of the tent and jump in the lake to get away from her? It’d happened before, albeit not as dramatically. Back then, he’d just walked away, leaving her embarrassed and heartbroken.
She’d been sixteen and bold and totally, completely in love. The moment she laid eyes on Quinn, she knew he was the one for her. Her dad tried to recruit him to join the Army, but he wanted to finish school first. Knowing she might never see him again when she and her father left town, she called and told him that her dad needed to speak with him. She snuck out of their hotel room to meet him in a nearby park. When he arrived, she threw herself at him. She wanted him to kiss her and touch her all over. To her utter humiliation, he’d gently rebuffed her advances, escorted her back to the hotel and then walked out of her life until yesterday.
To take her mind off the past, she posed the question she’d been dying to ask. “How did you know to come looking for me?”
“Your dad called me.”
Oh yeah, she vaguely remembered him saying something about that last night, but her mind had been murky. Man, she hoped she didn’t embarrass herself while she’d been under the influence. She could’ve done something crazy like confessing her undying love for him. She quickly dismissed the thought. If she had, he would’ve treated her like a pariah.
Rolling to her side, she propped her head on her hand to face him. “How did my dad know?”
“Your assistant called him.”
“Todd?”
“Yeah, he was worried about you trekking in the woods where militias were known to inhabit.”
“He tried to talk me out of it, but I couldn’t ignore a dog in distress.”
“Stealing animals is dangerous, Vanessa, as you’ve witnessed firsthand.”
Great. Just what she needed—another overbearing male trying to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She lifted a shoulder. “They’re worth the risk.” She couldn’t believe her father called Quinn to rescue her. She was glad now but learning her dad thought she needed saving stung. He raised her to be a strong, independent woman. “I didn’t know exactly where I was going, so Todd didn’t either. How on earth did you find me in that bunker?”
He nodded towards Kilo. “He’s not a tracking dog, but he’s had training, so he gets the job done.”
“Remind me to give him extra treats.” She smiled at the Belgian Malinois. “Still, he couldn’t have followed the scent underground, could he?”
“He led me to the cabin, and then I found your backpack.”
“How did you know it was mine?”
“Don’t piss me off, neutering is part of my job.”
She chuckled at the slogan on her keychain. It was a gift from Todd. It never failed to make her smile. “The bunker was hidden. I still don’t know how you knew I was down there.”
“I broke into the cabin and found an elaborate security system hidden in the wall. I rewound the tape and saw the guy carry you outside.”
“How did you know the code?”
“I zoomed in on the keypad when he entered it.”
She closed her eyes, remembering Carla and the others. “They’re selling girls, Quinn.” Tears filled her eyes. “They were so young and scared.”
“I thought as much after seeing the set-up. The rooms were empty. I must’ve just missed them.”
“They were going to sell me, too.”
He jerked upright. “What?”
“They said I was old, but someone would want me.”
Quinn muttered something that sounded like he was going to kill them all with his bare hands. She’d have fought with everything in her if they tried, but if they drugged her, she’d have been powerless to resist. Whatever they injected her with knocked her on her ass.
Her hand shot out and clutched his biceps. It was rock hard under her fingers, and she almost lost her train of thought. “Murder.”
“Murder? What are you talking about?”
“I witnessed the executions of two men. The drugs made my brain foggy, and it all seemed like a dream.”
He rolled until he mirrored her position, with his bent arm supporting his head. “Tell me what happened.”
She closed her eyes to recall the events—had it only been yesterday? “After I found the cabin, I watched from a distance, waiting until it was dark to grab Rocky. A van with four men arrived. They got out and went into the bunker. A few hours later, another vehicle appeared. The men came out to greet the newcomer and then escorted him below ground. When they returned, the new guy was pissed. He took out a gun, shot one of the men in the head, and left. The others buried him. Then another van arrived. When that man got out, the three remaining guys killed him and threw him in the back of his vehicle before driving off. I thought it was safe, so I went to get Rocky. That’s when the other man came out of the bunker and grabbed me.”
She didn’t even realize she was crying until Quinn reached over and wiped the tears with his thumb. “It’s hard watching someone die, even if they are bad guys.”
She nodded and swallowed. It was hard, but their murders didn’t bother her nearly as much as the girls who were abducted and sold. She didn’t even want to contemplate their fates.
“I saw the guy looking at your phone. Did you take pictures?”
“Better. Video.”
“That would’ve made the case against them easier if we had it, but it explains why they are pursuing you so ha
rd. I assumed it was because you saw their operation.”
She wondered if he realized he was still stroking her face. She certainly did. His fingers left a scorching path of heat in their wake. Despite the horror of reliving what she witnessed, his touch was both calming and comforting. She gazed into his eyes, so crystal and blue. He was her dream man, and they were sequestered inside a cozy tent in the middle of a storm. Swaying closer, she intended to taste his lips when thunder boomed so loudly, it sounded as if it were centered directly overhead. With a shriek, she propelled herself forward until she landed against his chest. A weight fell on her. At first, she thought the shelter roof caved in but soon realized it was Rocky. He’d launched himself at her, shaking with fear.
“It’s okay, baby,” she crooned as she released Quinn to calm the scared dog. Kilo had moved over to place his body against his person, but he didn’t look panicked like Rocky. With a sigh, she stroked his back. So close. She’d been so close to doing the one thing she’d wanted for years: kiss Quinn Billings.
Chapter Eleven
Quinn rolled to his stomach, wincing when a particular part of his anatomy protested the move. He reached over to stroke Kilo, taking his mind off the pain. That clap of thunder had been a warning. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mort had somehow summonsed the Heavens on his behalf to issue the rebuke. Quinn had almost made the colossal mistake of kissing the man’s daughter. Her sweet pink lips had been tempting him all day. When they were working outside earlier, she’d stripped to a tank top, and it was all he could do to focus on chopping the wood and not his fingers clean off his hand. She was deceptively tone and fit. He wanted her more than his next breath.
He’d worked her hard constructing the shelter. She never complained. She held her own and would’ve kept going as long as needed. That level of focus and work ethic was what he looked for when he hired personnel to train dogs. She was incredible.
He felt much safer tucked deeper in the middle of the island instead of out in the open. If the men motored past again, they’d assume he’d left. He’d be able to see them, but they’d have a hard time spotting the camouflaged tent. Knowing that made it easier to leave Vanessa alone when he built the raft and sailed off for land.
More thunder sounded, but it was further away this time. They finished the platform in the nick of time. It would’ve been a cold, wet night on the ground otherwise.
“Quinn?”
He rotated his head to face her. Big mistake. Those violet eyes sucked him in again. “Hum?”
“I’m sorry I lost your phone.”
He was, too. Help would’ve been here by now with access to either his phone or his watch. He didn’t mention the latter to her. She didn’t need any more guilt on her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. It can be replaced.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I spotted land to the east. When it stops raining, I’m going to build a raft.”
“Big enough for all of us?”
“No, just me. I’ll find help or a boat and come back for you and the boys.”
#
It was another thirty-six hours before the rain eased enough for Quinn to work on the raft. The tent floor was a muddy mess, mostly from the dogs, and he desperately wanted a shower. He’d ventured out during lulls in the storm to catch fish. There were enough dry logs beneath the platform to start fires. He’d also collected lake water in their empty water bottles. He and Vanessa used the filtration straws, and he added the tablets to the dog’s bowl. He was dangerously low on dog food. He thought he’d packed plenty, but he didn’t account for the additional mouth to feed. At least they were getting protein from the seafood.
In all the time they’d spent marooned on the island, there had been no signs of any other living human beings except for the men pursuing them. No boat traffic at all. The weather had sucked, but he thought some intrepid fishermen might venture out to toss their lines at some point.
The forced time together meant he and Vanessa got to know each other, from likes and dislikes to hopes and dreams. He told her things he hadn’t shared with anyone else. She was easy to talk to, and words just poured from his mouth like water breaching a cracked dam. The more he learned about her, the more he liked. He admired her for rescuing abused dogs and told her so, but he hoped she’d be more careful from now on. This ordeal had been a wake-up call for her.
Hours flew by in her company. He was a little disappointed when the rain let up. Being alone with her had been quixotic, except when it came time to sleep. It was next to impossible to avoid touching in the close quarters. To keep temptation at bay, he slept with his back to her, only to wake up and feel her spooned against him.
As much as he wanted to continue quarantining with her, he couldn’t put off constructing the raft any longer. He had responsibilities waiting on him back home and knew Vanessa did, too. Not to mention the fact that people would be worried when they hadn’t heard from them in days, most especially his sister. He didn’t want anything upsetting her. Todd would be beside himself with worry, too, but Quinn had told him that it might take a few days to find Vanessa and rescue the dog. He assured him that he packed plenty of camping supplies with him, and he’d call if there were any problems.
Clouds still crowded the sky, but blue peeked through here and there. Vanessa helped him gather logs to tie together with rope he’d packed. He’d found several gallon jugs washed up along the shore and used them to keep the raft afloat. Constructing the paddle was a painstaking process with his limited tools. It took several hours, but eventually, the raft was ready.
With Vanessa’s help, they lugged it to the shore. He was happy to see it float when they slid it into the water. Now it just had to hold his weight. He eased onto the logs and found his balance. It felt sturdy and seaworthy.
“Be careful,” Vanessa said.
“I will. Stay inside the tent. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Pushing off, he held his breath, hoping he didn’t sink. When it looked like the raft would hold up, he began the long, arduous paddle to land. A large bird soared overhead. He couldn’t tell from here but wondered if it was an eagle. The water was calm, with only a slight breeze. A strong tailwind would’ve been appreciated right about now. That extra push towards land would save his arms from the grueling workout.
A sound caught his attention, and he paused mid-stroke. It was a motor. A feeling of dread washed over him as he turned and spotted a vessel close to the island. Though he was too far away to identify the men, he recognized the boat. The fact that they came back a third time meant they were suspicious of him. He was glad he’d moved Vanessa away from view.
Holding his breath, he watched to see if they would disembark. It would take him at least twenty minutes to paddle back if they did. He’d have the element of surprise on his side, but they could harm Vanessa in the time it took for him to reach her.
Air whooshed from his lungs when they didn’t pause. They must’ve decided he’d left. Hopefully, they wouldn’t spot him, even though he was out in the open like a sitting duck. Lying back, he tried to make himself as small as possible. Relief washed over him when they motored away.
His arm muscles burned by the time he approached the shore. He aimed for the only dock around. It was rickety and in need of serious repair, but there were structures nearby. One looked like it could be a boathouse, while the other appeared to be a cabin nestled in the trees.
Quinn angled as close to the land as possible and jumped off. Reaching down, he hauled the raft to the scraggy beach in case he needed it again. Shaking out his arms, he removed his Sig Sauer and navigated the worn path towards the shack.
There were no lights on as he approached. He knocked on the door and waited, but no one answered. He tested the knob. Locked. It was a standard model he should be able to pick without difficulty. Placing his hands beside his face, he peered in the windows. The cabin was empty.
Retracing his steps to the boathouse, he headed for the door. Th
e padlock was rusted and took no effort at all to pry open. The inside smelled of mold and fish and gasoline. Taking out his flashlight, he shined it along the walls until he found the light switch. The bulb was dim but provided enough illumination for him to see yard equipment, fishing supplies, an old push mower and—bingo!—an aluminum boat, complete with an outboard motor. He checked the portable tank inside the boat. Empty. Damn. He could paddle it back to the island, but the engine would make the process faster and easier.
Surveying the contents of the shed, he spotted a red plastic container. Hope propelled him forward to lift it from the shelf. Yes! It was full. He removed the cap and popped out the spout before carrying it to the boat and filling the tank. He’d have to leave money under the can to pay for the gas and use of the watercraft.
The boat was attached to a winch. Opening two big doors to access the lake, he moved to the hand crank and twisted until the boat skimmed along the beach and into the water. Removing the hook, he hopped inside and found the bulb on the fuel line. He squeezed it a couple of times to add gas to the motor before popping the choke. After making sure it was in neutral, and the kill switch was in place, he yanked the cord to start the engine. He let it warm up for a couple of minutes before pushing the choke in and putting the gear in reverse. Using the tiller, he angled around, shifted to forward, cranked the throttle, and headed back to Vanessa.
#
Vanessa waited for Kilo to leap into the tent before she lifted Rocky and placed him inside. “Scooch over, boys,” she instructed as she climbed in after them. Rocky tried to lick her face, making the process more complicated than necessary, but he was happy, and that made her ecstatic. She’d watched as Quinn paddled away, the raft holding together like a charm. The journey would be a long one, and he’d be exhausted, but she had no doubt he’d come back for them as soon as possible.
She lowered the zipper, leaving enough room for her to see outside. Quinn had propped more logs along the front of the tent to disguise it as much as possible. He’d also left her his backup weapon. She’d laughed out loud when he asked if she knew how to shoot. Growing up on military bases around the world, she learned how to shoot before she could drive a car. But knowing how to pull the trigger and actually doing so were two completely different things. She’d practiced on paper targets and could hit what she aimed for with seventy-five percent accuracy, but to point at a human being and shoot? She wasn’t sure she could do it.
Worth the Risk (COBRA Securities Book 21) Page 8
