by Cynthia Eden
“I don’t need your promises.” She risked a desperate glance over the boat, toward the ladder. Toward—
“What do you need? Your partner?” He gave a sad shake of his head. “Too bad. Blake went after her. He chose her, even though he had to know I was up here, armed, and would be all alone with you.” Cameron backed up, moving them away from the side of the vessel, and he hit a button near the wheel. Immediately, she heard the grinding of the anchor being lifted up. “He chose her, and I get to keep you. I warned him that you would be mine again.”
He had no clue. “I’m not a thing to be kept.” Her wrist throbbed, the pain making her back teeth grind together, but she thought it had been worth it. She’d distracted him...so he hadn’t seen when Josh appeared for a moment, his tank gliding near the surface as he went after Blake and the victim.
When you have a team you can count on, everything is different.
“Even if Blake gets her back to the surface, we’ll be gone.” The automatic anchor was still grinding away as it lifted on its chain. “We’ll be—”
She slammed her forehead against his and heard the crunch of bones. I hope I just broke your nose again. After last time, you should have seen that move coming. “Guess what?” She jabbed her elbow into his ribs, trying hard to break a few of them. “I’m not sorry, and I won’t fix you.”
He tossed her back, sending her hurtling down a small stack of steps, and then he surged over to grab the wheel. The anchor had stopped grinding. The boat was free to move. He shoved down the throttle and the vessel lurched forward. His laughter rang over the roar of the engine. “Nice one, Sam, but we’re going to be alone soon, free and clear and—”
Blake leaped over the side of the boat. She’d known he was there, waiting, because she’d caught a glimpse of him clinging to the ladder. When the boat lurched, he erupted. He ran hard and fast, heading straight for Cameron. Samantha scrambled to her feet, also charging for Cameron in the same instant.
Cameron glanced back. Surprise flashed on his face. “Tricky bastard!” He lifted the gun, pointing it toward Blake.
But Samantha drove her body against his. The shot fired but went wild. She and Cameron fell onto the deck, limbs tangling. The impact knocked the breath from her. Her head had slammed into one of the stairs, and for a moment the darkness around her deepened.
“Hurting you doesn’t make me happy.” Cameron yanked her to her feet, his hand around her neck, and the gun muzzle pressed beneath her chin. “So stop making me do this.”
Blake had frozen.
The boat kept surging forward. With no one at the wheel, Samantha wondered just where the hell they would all go. And how Josh and his team can keep up.
Simple—they couldn’t. But at least they’d saved the victim. From this point forward, she and Blake would be on their own.
“Listen up, Gamble. Listen very, very well. If I have to do it, I will put a bullet in Samantha. I will fucking hate it,” Cameron confessed. “But I’ll do it.”
Blake’s hands fisted. “There’s no way out for you.”
Cameron laughed. “There’s always a way out. You just have to look in the right place to find it.” He hummed again. “You let the blonde die, huh? I thought you’d splashed after her. But that must have been her, kicking, trying to survive. The instinct to live is so strong in some people. I’ve been surprised by how strong. They can withstand almost any pain, as long as they have the hope that they’ll live. That they’ll escape.”
Chill bumps rose on Samantha’s body.
“Drowning isn’t an easy way to go. I’ve heard it’s quite brutal. And you condemned poor Veronica to that fate. I’m truly disappointed in you, Gamble.” He pulled Samantha even closer, and the gun muzzle just shoved harder beneath her chin. “Aren’t you disappointed in him, Sam? Heroes don’t let victims die.”
And she knew... She knew how Cameron had come to be so twisted. Though the truth had been lurking in her mind for so very long. “It wasn’t your fault.” She stared at Blake as she spoke, but the words were for Cameron. “It wasn’t your fault that they died. Just because you couldn’t save them, it didn’t mean that you were bad or evil.”
His hold tightened on her. “Samantha, stop.”
“Did your mother cry out for help? Is that what happened? Or maybe it was your father? The fire was raging, and you could hear them...but if you’d gone in, you would have died, too.”
The muzzle pressed so hard that she felt the moistness of her blood.
“So you had to stay outside. You had to watch the fire. And that’s not what a good boy would have done, is it?” Her gaze held Blake’s. His face was locked in tense lines, as if he’d attack at any moment.
But he had to wait for the right moment. And she would try to give it to him.
“Heroes don’t let people die, but they died...you had to watch it. Had to hear them and that changed you. I’m so sorry, Cameron.” And she was. “I hate what you became. I wish I could have helped you.” Could have seen the truth.
“They were screaming.” He whispered the words. “I tried to get in... I was outside, just coming home... I tried to get in, but the door was so hot. I didn’t want to get burned. It was so fucking hot, and I could smell the fire, and then I could...smell them.”
Blake edged closer.
“I didn’t cry that day.” He was still rasping out the words. “Not when the fire raged, not when the bodies came out. I should have cried, I knew it. Just as I should have tried to save them. It was always like a part of me was missing. The part that would have let me feel.” The muzzle jammed harder beneath her chin. “I felt when I was with you, Sam. I felt, and then he took it all away.”
“Put down the gun,” Blake barked. He wore his jeans, wet and clinging tightly to his body. She didn’t see any weapon on him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t armed.
Cameron ignored him as he kept talking to her. “I connected with you. When I fucked you, I swear I felt everything. Joy, pleasure, love. I love you, Samantha, and when I have you, I can be normal.”
“No, you fucking can’t,” Blake snapped at him. “You can just do a better job of faking it.”
Cameron jerked.
“You attached to one person, but what you feel for her isn’t love.” Blake’s voice seemed to thunder in the night. “It’s some kind of sick addiction, an obsession. If you loved her, you wouldn’t be holding a gun to her. If you loved her, you wouldn’t have left damn dead bodies in her home. If you loved her—”
Cameron started laughing, and the muzzle moved from beneath her chin. “He doesn’t understand you at all, does he, Sam?”
She stared into Blake’s eyes.
Cameron pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “Does he know about the man you killed when you were a child? About the way you felt—so good inside—when he died in front of you? How you held your father’s gun, cradling it in your hands like it was a special present that night? And when you killed again—the first time you shot in the line of duty—all of those sweet emotions came back. I could see the truth in your eyes. You liked it, just as I like it. We’re the same inside. He’ll never understand that. He doesn’t get to see you like I do. He doesn’t know you like I do.”
“You’re right.” Her voice was soft, tender. Sadness swept through her. “He doesn’t.”
The gun moved again—only this time, Cameron took it away from her completely, and he pointed it at Blake. Because Blake was just steps away, there would be no way for Cameron to miss at such close range.
Besides, he’d always been a good shot. They’d gone to the shooting range together...
“She doesn’t really want a hero in her life.” Cameron’s voice wasn’t a rasp now. It was strong, confident. Arrogant. “You were never what she wanted. You were just...a distraction. If you live in the dark long enough, you wonder
what the light might be like.” He laughed then. “I’ll tell you the truth, though. The light is boring as fuck. It’s much better to stay in the dark.”
He was going to kill Blake. “I’m sorry.” She needed Blake to understand. No matter what happened, none of the guilt could be his.
Alarm flared in Blake’s eyes. “Samantha—”
But she’d already grabbed the gun, using her left hand, since the jerk had broken her right wrist.
She felt the shock rock through Cameron. She yanked hard, trying to wrench the gun from him.
He snarled at her and fought back, jerking on the gun. She swept her leg beneath him, taking him down, but he was still holding tight to her, and she fell, too.
The gun exploded.
It took Samantha a moment to feel the pain. The blast was so loud. Then...then she heard shouting. Roaring.
Her name?
The fire came then, burning in her side. She put her hand on the wound, and blood pulsed through her fingers.
“Look what you made me do!” Cameron screamed.
He still had the gun. He was up on his knees, spinning toward Blake. But he was moving too slowly. Blake launched at him. Their bodies collided with a powerful thud. Blake drove his fist at Cameron, again and again. But Cameron was just taking the blows and laughing. Laughing—then attacking, as if driven by maddened strength.
The gun had flown out of his hand, toppled overboard. The boat was still flying over the water, going straight, heading God knew where. She needed to get control of the boat, needed to help Blake...
And I need to stop bleeding out all over the place.
Samantha grabbed the railing and hauled herself up. Pain burned from her right wrist. Her bare feet slid on the slippery deck, and she almost stepped right on the knife she’d had before. She scooped it up, her bloody fingers curling around the weapon.
Blake and Cameron were locked in a brutal battle. Both men were nearly the same size, the same strength, and their moves—their attacks were even the same. Both had studied the same fighting techniques. Fists pounded, bodies twisted and Samantha crept closer to them. “Stop!”
Cameron didn’t stop. He drove the flat of his palm toward Blake’s nose. Blake deflected the blow and came in fast with an upper cut.
But, at that moment, the boat hit something, a hard, rough jolt, and Blake went flying toward the port side. Using that moment to his advantage, Cameron rushed toward the wheel, and he came back with a long hook—the kind of hook you typically used when you were bringing your boat in at the dock and you needed to reach for the rope on top of the wooden pilings.
“I will cut you open,” Cameron swore as he lifted up the sharp hook. “I’ll make your death so painful that you’ll beg me to end you.”
He rushed right by Samantha, not even glancing her way. He didn’t think she was a threat to him. Not injured, not bleeding...he didn’t think she’d fight him then.
He was wrong.
Using her left hand, she drove her knife into his back, stabbing deep because he wasn’t going to hurt Blake. He wasn’t going to win.
He wasn’t going to walk away.
He whirled toward her, his face slack with shock. “S-Sam?”
“Fuck you,” she whispered. Her side was soaked with her blood.
His face contorted in fury. He drove that hook right at her. She backed away, slipping—and the hook came at her again.
“Samantha!” Blake bellowed.
But the hook hit her. It shoved her right over the side of the boat. She slammed hard into the water, her mouth open, and the waves took her down.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SAMANTHA HAD GONE over the side of the boat. Had that bastard gored her with the hook right before she fell?
Shit. Blake immediately killed the engine. The roar died away, the boat rocked and...
Silence.
Blake surged forward. Cameron was just standing there, clutching the hook, staring dumbly at the water below. Blake grabbed him from behind. He locked his arms around the bastard and heaved him back. But Cameron seemed to wake up from his stupor. He swung the hook at Blake—
Blake slammed the guy’s head into the railing. Then Blake grabbed the fucking hook, he yanked it right out of Cameron’s hands and he shoved the hook up against the bastard’s throat.
Cameron stared up at him—and laughed.
“You’re done, asshole,” Blake gritted out.
“What to do...what to do?” Cameron taunted. “Do you go save the girl? Because I sank my hook so deeply into her...”
Nausea rose in Blake’s throat, threatening to choke him.
“Do you play the hero that she’s always thought she wanted, the one rushing to her aid? Do you dive deep and save her, before she’s swallowed by the water?”
He looked over the railing, searching frantically for Samantha, but he didn’t see her.
“No screams for help,” Cameron said, and there seemed to be...worry...in his voice. “She’s under the water.” His voice rose. “You have to get her.”
He damn well knew it. But he didn’t have anything to secure Latham.
“Get her or hold me...you’re running out of time. Tick, tick, tick...can’t do both. Be the hero or be the agent. Do your job or save the woman that I know you fucking love.”
Son of a—
He grabbed Latham’s head again. This time, he drove the guy’s face into the side of the wheel. Once, twice, three times. Latham’s body went slack, and Blake dived for the side of the boat. He jumped in because there was no choice for him. He had to get Samantha. He had to find her. Fear was eating him alive. He dived into the water, then cut right back to the top. “Samantha!” Where the hell was she? “Samantha!” He sank beneath the waves again, swimming frantically. He struck out with his hands, searching for her. The waves beat at him, surging hard against him as he swept the area. But she wasn’t there. And he wasn’t leaving, not until he found her.
I should have jumped in right away. I should have found her. She is my priority. I need—
He touched her. At first, he didn’t even realize it was her. It felt like he’d grabbed seaweed, but then he realized it was her hair. Floating up, just like Tammy White’s hair had floated around her. A dead woman, staring back at him...
No! Samantha wasn’t dead. He wouldn’t let her die. The bay wasn’t going to be her watery grave. In the murky depths, he couldn’t see her, but he touched her. Samantha. He pulled her close, and he kicked, surging them up toward the surface. Surging them up—
And he heard the boat’s engine, kicking to life once more. The son of a bitch was going to flee.
Be the hero or be the agent.
He’d be the man who’d do anything for the woman he loved. That was who he’d be. Always.
Was Samantha breathing? He pulled her close, squeezed her tightly. “Baby, no, don’t do this—”
She coughed out water. Hell, yes, she was alive. His heart started beating again. Relief had him feeling damn near dizzy. He pressed a desperate kiss to her cheek. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll get you help, baby. I swear—”
The spotlight swept across the water. Latham wasn’t leaving. Not yet. He was—
The spotlight stopped on Blake, pinning him there as he kept Samantha’s face above the water. And he knew what he had to do. “She needs help, Latham!” Blake yelled.
The light didn’t waver. “You broke my fucking cheekbone.”
So very glad I did. “Don’t leave her like this! She’s hurt—badly! You did this!”
“She did it to herself.” The boat’s engine was growling, but Latham wasn’t leaving. Maybe he couldn’t leave. Maybe he can’t leave Samantha. Love, addiction, obsession—whatever it was...that connection was chaining him in place.
&nbs
p; “Do you really want her to die?” Blake roared.
Silence.
Asking a killer...to save a life. How fucking twisted did things get?
But he was desperate, and for Samantha...he’d do anything.
“Bring her to the ladder.”
He swam for the ladder.
“Don’t...” Samantha’s whisper, barely a breath. “He’s...going to kill you.”
He was already a sitting duck. The guy would have a perfect shot at them both because Blake was betting the bastard had another gun up there. Latham was always the prepared sort. He wouldn’t leave something like that to chance. “Maybe he’ll try, but I don’t think he’ll kill you.” And in the end...wasn’t that what mattered? That she made it out of this nightmare?
“No,” Samantha pleaded, still coughing up water, “don’t!”
But he swam closer to the side of the boat.
“Bring her back up.” Latham was back to being calm. In control.
Blake climbed the ladder, and Samantha lay limp in his arms. She didn’t speak again, and when he put her down on the deck, her eyes were closed.
Latham had a gun pointed at him. Just like I thought.
“I learned from Samantha,” Latham admitted, lifting up the weapon. “It’s best to always have a backup. Isn’t that the FBI way?” He looked down at Samantha but kept the weapon trained on Blake. “She’s breathing. I can see the rise and fall of her chest.” His relief seemed real. Or at least, as real as Latham could get.
“She’s breathing, but she’s bleeding out.” Blake didn’t see a slice from the hook. Just the wound from the gunshot. Had the hook missed her when she’d gone overboard?
“I’ll take care of her. I always do.” Latham bent and brushed his fingers over Samantha’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing her back to me.” He looked up at Blake and smiled as he rose to his full height. “It’s just a pity that her eyes aren’t open so that she can see this last moment. I had so hoped she’d be able to witness it.”
