Raw Talent

by Debra Webb

  “Dogs.”

  She grabbed his hand. “We have to run!”

  A.J. plunged forward, pulling her along behind him. There was no time to discuss the issue or to consider other options. The baying howls grew louder with each passing second. There were no other options.

  They pushed through the thick growth and the gray mist still hanging in the early morning air. The dampness surged in and out of his lungs as he pushed harder, careful of the sudden twists and turns in the path that wound around chillingly steep cliffs. One wrong step and the race would be over.

  Loose rock combined with the wet earth made going hazardous at best. A.J. kept her hand tightly clasped in his own. He couldn’t afford to slow down and yet their efforts would be for naught if he didn’t find a way to get those dogs off their scent.

  Another sound distracted him momentarily. Just ahead. Water. A few more yards and A.J. skidded to a halt. Beyond the precipice where they stood, a waterfall rushed over the cliffs of the opposite rock face. The water fell for a hundred feet or more, some of it atomizing into mist before it hit a large plunge pool on the canyon floor below. The wildflowers and conifers all around gave the place a serene-like ambience. But the dogs howling in the distance shattered that lovely vision.

  The plan materialized instantly. He knew what he had to do. Protecting the children, as well as Gabrielle, was his primary objective.

  “Give me your sweatshirt.”

  She started at the demand. Looked up at him as if she’d just snapped out of a trance the incredible view had lured her into.

  “My sweatshirt? Why do—”

  “This is the bottom line, Gabrielle. No way can we get out of here together. Not with those dogs on our trail,” he said before she could interrupt. “One of us has to get word of what’s really going on to the agency.”

  She looked increasingly skeptical.

  “Whatever your original agenda,” he said, understanding what was going through her mind, “right now the main goal has to be protecting the children.” He knew she wouldn’t argue with that.

  “What does my sweatshirt have to do with your plan?” She looked outright suspicious now.

  “One of us has to play decoy while the other gets away.”

  “I’ll be the decoy,” she challenged. “I can run faster than you anyway.”

  For two seconds A.J. wondered how the woman who wanted to have her vengeance on a man like Sloan could offer up her life to save someone else’s. Didn’t add up. He wondered if she understood that yet.

  “Give me the sweatshirt, Gabrielle,” he ordered. “We don’t have time to argue or we’ll both end up dead.”

  She glanced past him, in the direction of the yowling that grew ever closer, chewed her lip as if she couldn’t decide what was the right thing to do.

  “Men,” she huffed. “They think they’re the only ones who can play the hero.”

  She ripped off her sweatshirt, leaving a form-fitting tee behind. Before he could stop himself his gaze had dropped to her breasts.

  She flung the shirt at him. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ll keep going,” he explained, dragging his attention back to her face. “I’ll drag your shirt behind me so that the dogs don’t miss your scent.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get that part.”

  “You…” He hoped she wouldn’t have a problem with this part. They were running out of time. He couldn’t risk her getting caught. If she couldn’t withstand the interrogation, she might just give up the location of the children. “You jump into the water below and stay out of sight until they’ve passed. Be sure to wait ample time. You don’t want one of the dogs picking up your scent and turning back.”

  She waved her hands back and forth as if to erase all that he’d just said. “Wait just a minute.” She hitched her thumb toward the cliff behind her. “You want me to jump in there.” She glanced down. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s not that far from this side. The water is deep.”

  Her gaze swung back to him, her eyebrows raised in obvious skepticism. “And you would know this how?”

  “By the way the water in the pool reacts when the water from the falls hits it.” He looked back as the sound of the pursuing dogs grew even louder. “Trust me, Gabrielle, I wouldn’t have you jump if it wasn’t safe. It’s not nearly as far down on this side.” He reached behind him and withdrew her 9 mm from his waistband at the small of his back. “You might need this.” He shoved the weapon into her waistband, next to her bellybutton. He trembled inside as the back of his hand grazed her flat belly.

  Gabrielle couldn’t believe she was doing this. For one thing, he had just outlined a suicide mission for himself, maybe even for her. But it was the only way to see that one of them survived without capture. She understood that.

  “All right. But don’t hold it against me when they catch your ass.”

  He grinned, a totally lopsided gesture that took her breath away. “The only thing I’ll hold against you is the way you tortured me this morning in that damned hole.”

  “Like you said, Braddock,” she quipped, time was short, she had to do this, “that’s just another thing we’ll have to finish when this is done.”

  She wanted to grab him and kiss the hell out of him. Just looking into those eyes made her ache with yearning. But there was no time. She pivoted on her heel and, without bothering to assess the situation further, jumped.

  The cool mist-filled air rushed upward around her as she plummeted toward the foaming pool. The water’s cold embrace enveloped her as she sliced into it.

  Down, down, down she plunged. She arched her body and kicked hard. Harder and harder she kicked, forcing herself upward, away from the rocky bottom of the natural pool.

  But she didn’t surface immediately.

  Cutting through the cold water, she swam toward the rock wall. Her lungs burned with the need to drag in a breath of air.

  Not yet, she ordered. Just hold on.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d swam, much less dived. But when lives were on the line, a person could do most anything.

  Stroking harder still, she finally reached the rock wall that surged up to where she’d left A.J. standing.

  She surfaced. Coughed. Gasped for air.

  She blinked, looked around to get her bearings. An inset in the mountain allowed the pool to slip beneath the rocks, like an underground cave with about two feet of space between the surface of the water and the rock ceiling overhead.

  When she’d caught her breath, she dared to edge closer to the opening. She treaded water just enough to keep her head above the surface and listened.

  The dogs were close. Not directly overhead but very close.

  As her heart slowed to a normal rhythm, she silently prayed that Braddock would outmaneuver his pursuers.

  She almost laughed when she considered that she’d just prayed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. Maybe it was after that time she’d gone to Sunday school with a friend from school—one of the few normal friends she’d had. She’d listened to the priest talk about how important it was to pray for forgiveness among other things. She’d come home psyched about talking to God. Her mother had scoffed in her face and proceeded to explain how prayer wasn’t for people like them. God didn’t bother listening to those who couldn’t tithe or didn’t attend church.

  Gabrielle had cried that night. She’d been twelve. As far as she could remember it was the last time she’d ever cried. She’d decided her mother was right. And after that she stopped caring a little…maybe a lot.

  What was she doing going there? She banished the memories and focused on the here and now. Shouting echoed into the canyon along with the howling of the dogs. Damn. They were practically on top of her now.

  Should she duck back under the water?

  Not taking any chances, she eased deeper beneath the craggy overhang. No way was she going to risk getting caught and render Braddock’s sacrifice moot.
She owed him her best effort. She had to get out of here and call for help.

  Then she could finish her business with Sloan.

  She couldn’t make out any of the shouted words above the barking. But she could hear them tearing through the foliage, the dogs as well as the men. She struggled to make out how many men…three…four.

  Maybe more.

  As hard as she tried to block the images, her mind created the pictures and she just couldn’t stop them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away. It wasn’t as though he could climb a tree and escape. Who knew if there would be another pool to disappear into up ahead? Not likely. She’d been over this terrain and this was the only waterfall she’d encountered.

  Braddock was screwed.

  Those guys would interrogate him and when they didn’t get what they wanted…he would die.

  Her stomach clenched at the idea.

  Tired of treading water, she held on to a jutting rock. She had to get back to Sloan’s and give Amy a headsup on what was going on and then she was going to track down these sons of bitches and kick their asses.

  Surely, Braddock could hold out for a few hours. She doubted they would kill him until they had the location of the children. He would recognize that. Hell, he was an ex-marine. He’d probably kill at least two of them before they gave up on him anyway.

  Following Braddock’s final orders, she waited until the sound of the dogs diminished in the distance. Then she glided through the water to the closest shore. She scrambled onto the lush bank and got to her feet.

  Taking a moment to get her bearings, she drew in a couple of deep breaths. Go back the way they came or head in the direction of the hunters?

  Well, she’d never been a Girl Scout so looking for which way the moss grew on the rocks wouldn’t help. And it wasn’t dark, so she couldn’t look for the North star. But her instincts told her to go back the way she’d come until she found something she’d encountered before and recognized. Always worked in her favorite video game.

  A.J. DIDN’T BREAK his stride in spite of the treacherous terrain. A scream behind him let him know that one of the men chasing him hadn’t made the twisting descent as easily as A.J. Also lucky for him, they were all pathetic shots.

  Or maybe he’d just been lucky so far.

  The men likely had orders not to shoot to kill. They needed the children’s location and killing him wouldn’t give them that.

  Getting caught wasn’t something he could avoid. He wasn’t cocky enough to think he would get out of this. What he needed was to lure them as far away from Gabrielle as possible.

  He was counting on her to get back to civilization, whether it was Sloan’s residence or back to Florescitaf, to get a call through to the Colby Agency. Victoria needed to understand what was really going on down here.

  A branch slapped him in the face and his eyes burned, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

  The incline dipped downward sharply, the goat trail he followed twisting dangerously. A.J. pushed harder, didn’t let his mind dwell on the risk. Dead was dead. He could go this way or he could endure hours, maybe days, of torture.

  His right foot slipped on a scattering of loose rock, the surface beneath damp from the rain that had finally stopped. He scrambled for purchase. Couldn’t quite make it. He went down on his butt. Bounced down the slope, almost bounded over the edge of the cliff.

  Digging into the rocky earth with his fingers, he dragged himself back onto the ledge.

  The snarling and barking of the dogs was louder.

  He had to get moving.

  His heart thumping against his sternum, he raced downward. He didn’t have to look at his hands to know they were skinned and bleeding.

  The ping of a bullet bounced off a rock next to his knee. Close. Too damned close.

  He glanced over the edge of the ledge…considered what might lay beyond the trees and underbrush visible.

  Might as well find out.

  He jumped.

  He hit the ground rolling. Saplings, bushes, rocks, he spun over and over and through a tangle of nature’s barriers. A tree stopped his tumble. Knocked the breath out of him.

  Doubling over, he coughed and sucked in a breath. Couldn’t just lay here. He clamored to his feet and started to run again. Through the bushes. Plummeting more than running. His control over his descent was nonexistent.

  But he couldn’t give up, had to keep going.

  It wasn’t until he fell again that he realized how weak his legs had grown.

  When he stopped tumbling downward, rolled to a jarring stop, he looked down at himself. Blood oozed from his right side.

  Damn.

  He’d been hit, after all.

  The sound of the dogs howling and shouted voices tugged his gaze upward.

  He had company.

  He tried to get up…couldn’t do it.

  Well, hell.

  He closed his eyes and surrendered to the inevitable.

  Trampling foliage and curt Spanish echoed around him. He ignored the demands. Didn’t get up as he was ordered. Let them think he was unconscious.

  A kick in the ribs made him grunt but he still didn’t respond to their demands.

  The metal-on-metal slide of a 9 mm being readied for firing didn’t do the trick, either.

  If they shot him now it would save them both a lot of trouble.

  But life was never that simple.

  GABRIELLE PLUNGED through the woods. She’d found the original trail she’d taken when leading the boys from their initial hiding place to the village. All she had to do was to keep going and she would reach the area near where she’d left the Jeep in ten maybe fifteen minutes.

  She gasped for breath, felt as if her lungs would explode for sure. But she couldn’t slow down. Her clothes were still wringing wet and her body felt numb with exhaustion.

  She couldn’t think about Braddock right now. She’d heard the gunshots.

  Worry twisted inside her.

  Surely they wouldn’t kill him…not yet.

  Call Victoria first. She would know what to do. Then try to pick up the trail of the guys who had taken Braddock. He wouldn’t like that part of her plan, but too bad. She wasn’t about to leave him to the wolves.

  Her feet slipped out from under her and she bounced down a steep ridge on her bottom. When her bumpy journey ended, she struggled to her feet, grimacing with pain. Damn she would have scrapes and bruises big-time.

  As she neared the place where she’d parked the Jeep, she slowed down and caught her breath. If someone was still watching her Jeep, she didn’t want to be caught.

  She wiped her face with her arm and scanned the area. She didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone there, hiding, waiting for her to show up.

  Slowly, noiselessly, she inched her way toward the Jeep.

  She froze when she saw the lone guard leaned against the rear bumper of her Jeep.

  Swearing softly, she considered her options.

  She couldn’t shoot him, it would make too much noise.

  She couldn’t take him physically, he was much bigger than her. Stronger, too.

  But if she could sneak up behind him, she could whack him over the head and at least render him unconscious.

  She could do that. No problem.

  As she eased closer to her target, she looked around for the right kind of weapon. A nice, heavy rock, but not so heavy that she couldn’t wield it with enough force.

  The crackle of a voice over a walkie-talkie shattered the silence.

  Gabrielle stilled, listened.

  The orders to the man were given in Spanish and Gabrielle didn’t get much of these. She caught “hurry” and “return” but nothing else.

  The guard agreed to whatever he’d been told. When the call ended, to her supreme astonishment he gathered his stuff, a bag and a rifle, and started off into the mountains.

  To rendezvous with his compadres?

  She couldn’t say for sure. But rath
er than risk it, she sat still and watched him go.

  When he’d disappeared over the ridge she finally moved, using extreme caution. When she’d reached her Jeep, she looked inside and found her stuff still there. Incredible. Money, passport, everything was right where she’d left it. Everything but the keys to the Jeep.

  She slung the shoulder strap of her bag over her head and quietly closed the door to the Jeep. If she really tried, she might be able to hot-wire it. She’d watched it done a couple of times. But taking the vehicle would be a dead giveaway that she’d escaped. It would be best for the bad guys to believe she was dead. That she’d fallen over the cliffs or something like that. Or that she was lost.

  Why would they bother looking for her body if they had a live one they could question?

  She could walk back to Sloan’s and take one of the cars from there. Pablo’s or something from the garage. All she had to do was to get there.

  When she reached the last of the trees and any decent cover, she hunkered down and surveyed the terrain. It wasn’t noon yet…nine or ten o’clock maybe.

  She looked down at her clothes. The khakis and filthy T-shirt would blend with the sand, but not her dark hair.

  What the hell?

  She peeled off the T-shirt, leaving her nude-colored bra. Careful to get all of her hair hidden, she twisted the tee into a turban. Good enough.

  The shoulder bag wasn’t a problem since it was the natural-colored crocheted type anyway.

  She took a long look around the terrain between her and Sloan’s property once more and then did what she had to do.

  She ran like hell, careful to keep her head low.

  She didn’t slow down until she’d reached the rear gate. Despite the early hour, the sun felt hot on her back. The sand warm beneath her feet.

  After she’d reached the gate, she tugged the T-shirt back on and retrieved her handgun, the one Braddock had given back to her. She still had the .38 that Mark had given her tucked into her sock. She hoped she wouldn’t need a backup piece but she might.

  She moved through the gate, careful to stay against the wall. No sudden moves. No noise.

  Voices echoed from somewhere beyond the building on the back of the property.