Don't Look Down

by Jennifer Crusie

  LaFavre shook his head. "Probably on the speedboat. It's by the big ship."

  "That's where we're going. We head for the ship and we get J.T. Go."

  "Not the plan," LaFavre said.

  "Fuck the plan."

  He shook his head. "Trust J.T. We stand off, watch and wait for the call. This is about the little sweetie."

  Lucy swallowed. "But he's out there alone."

  "No, he's not," LaFavre said. "We're here." He nodded to a pair of binoculars hanging between them. "Take those. See if you can find him. It's light enough on that ship."

  Lucy picked them up and trained them on the brightly lit ship. "I don't see him."

  "Keep looking," LaFavre said, and Lucy leaned forward, her heart pounding as she searched.

  Wilder wished he had his night-vision goggles but the ship had its lights on and there was a lot of glow from the bridge overhead, thanks to the burning car. He was pissed. On top of kidnapping Pepper, Nash had been more than willing to blow up Althea, Bryce, and Lucy. What the hell was worth that?

  He moved across the top of the stacks of containers, finger on the trigger, wishing the goddamn SEALs would get there, knowing they wouldn't because they had goddamn orders and goddamn Crawford had them winging out toward goddamn Letsky while things were going to shit here.

  Over the throb of the ship's engines, he heard a splash off the starboard side and knew he was very close to Nash's position. Another splash. Nash was offloading the cargo, probably for pickup by Doc in the speedboat. Then the boat would go to the rendezvous with the chopper. As long as Nash kept moving and didn't stop to check that the jade was in the boxes, it would work out. Wilder realized the whole cargo-net-on-the-bridge thing had been bullshit. Misdirection by Nash. He wouldn't need the net until the rendezvous. No wonder he was pissed that LaFavre had pointed that out.

  Wilder gave a nervous glance to his rear, knowing the ghost might be keeping watch, ready to pick off anybody who interfered. He'd yet to play his hand, which was good since it upped the odds he was actually going to bring Pepper to the rendezvous. And somewhere ahead was Nash with his back pressed so hard against the wall, he was probably through it to the other side. And the other side was pure desperation. And desperate people were the most dangerous of all.

  Wilder heard a speedboat cut through the water and thought, Nash's pickup. He worked his way around the last container to see the boat, hearing its engine cut before he got a good look.

  It was a cigarette boat, the one favored by drug runners, sleek and fast, stopped now, and Bryce was on the fantail, picking up one of the boxes Nash had dropped. What the hell? Two more boxes were already in the boat, and while Wilder watched, Bryce reached for another one, working fast, faster than Wilder had ever seen him do anything.

  Bryce is working with Nash? Wilder thought, dumbfounded.

  The world really was screwed up. So much for wingmen.

  Then his sat phone vibrated in his pocket, making him jump. God damn. Wilder kept the MP-5 in one hand and pulled it out with the other.

  "Wilder," he hissed.

  "We got him."

  Wilder blinked. Despite the static, it had to be Crawford because no one else would send such a vague message. "Who?"

  "Letsky. He put up a fight and we blew his yacht right out of the water. Mission accomplished."

  "That's great but-" And then he heard the slightest of sounds behind him and he swung around, dropping the phone and bringing the MP-5 to bear on Nash and pulling the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  He automatically began to clear and recock the gun but Nash slammed the stock of his own MP-5 against the side of Wilder's head, dropping him semiconscious to the deck.

  "Removed the firing pin the first night you were in the hotel," Nash said. "Before Althea distracted you for me. So busy checking her gear, you never checked your own." He kicked the sat phone overboard.

  Wilder blinked, trying to clear the fog, and looked up into Nash's crazed eyes. He could hear a helicopter coming close. Gotta move, he thought, but his body wouldn't obey.

  "Got a vest, don't you, mate?" Nash said it almost matter-of-factly, dropping his submachine gun to the end of its sling and drawing his big-ass pistol with one smooth motion, faster than he had in the parking lot. And Wilder knew that Nash was just like him-had hot loads that would cut right through his body armor like going through butter.

  "We've got your chopper," Wilder managed to croak out.

  "You're a damn liar," Nash said and pulled the trigger.

  "I've got Wilder," Lucy said, seeing him on the deck. "He's-" Then her glasses moved to take in Nash, who lifted his gun and fired a single shot, straight into J.T.'s chest. "NO!"

  "What?" LaFavre asked.

  "He shot him," Lucy screamed. "Get down there."

  LaFavre swore beside her. "Who shot him? He has a vest, what-"

  "Put me down on that ship. "

  They were two minutes out, two minutes that lasted a lifetime for Lucy, who kept her glasses trained on J.T. sprawled unmoving on the deck and fucking Nash, who jumped over the side of the ship and clambered on board the speedboat, which roared away.

  LaFavre brought the chopper in just above J.T., and Lucy jumped out, stumbling, her heart in her mouth. She ran to J.T., dropping down beside him when she reached him. "Damn it, you're not dead, you have your vest on." She tried to pull him upright and his head lolled back, but he was breathing, that was something, he was breathing. "Oh, God, don't die, I love you," she said, and held on to him, dragging him toward the chopper, not sure she was doing the right thing.

  He coughed, and she thought, If he's got internal injuries, I'm killing him, but then he coughed again and grabbed on to her.

  "Are you shot?" she said, supporting his weight. "Are you hurt?" Of course he's shot, you idiot, you saw it. "Can you make it to the chopper?"

  She supported him as they lurched together toward it. Way upriver, she could see the disappearing wake of the speedboat heading for the swamp, Nash and his damn jade aboard. Well, he could have it as long as J.T. was all right and they got Pepper back. That was all that mattered, J.T. and Pepper.

  She pulled J.T. over to the chopper and all but shoved him on, her adrenaline surging.

  "Where's he hit?" LaFavre yelled over the rotors.

  "He had his vest on," Lucy yelled back.

  LaFavre shook his head. "Nash had a pistol. Those were hot loads. He's hit."

  Lucy ripped off J.T.'s shirt and checked his vest as he tried to sit up. There was no sign of a bullet wound.

  "What the hell?" LaFavre said to him. "Why aren't you dead?"

  J.T. winced and tapped Bryce's knife. The leather sheath was split and the blade was bent to hell.

  "Bet that hurt," LaFavre said, grinning.

  "Bryce's stupid knife saved you?" Lucy said and swallowed back tears.

  J.T. blinked at her. "No crying in Special Ops, Lucy, he said, his breath coming better now. He patted her on the back.

  She nodded and swallowed again. Fucking Army asshole, you scared the hell out of me. "Nash got away." She blinked. "But we've got Doc and Karen."

  "Throw 'em off," J.T. said, sitting up with great care.

  "Into the water?" Lucy said, more than ready to.

  "Onto the ship," J.T. said. "By the time they get out of the cuffs and find their way back to land, it'll be over."

  LaFavre nodded and rolled a now semiconscious Doc out of the helicopter onto the deck of the ship. Doc hit the deck hard and swore, and Lucy thought, Good.

  Karen looked up at LaFavre and smiled. "You thought I was pretty sweet once."

  "That was before your buddies kidnapped a friend of mine." LaFavre dragged her to her feet and pushed her out, too, watching her stumble onto the deck, mad as hell. He turned to J.T. "I got the RV coordinates. I can drop you nearby, wait for your call for the trade."

  J.T. nodded. "Do it."

  Lucy strapped herself in beside him. "What's going on? I found Doc i
n the water. Who's driving the speedboat?"

  "You are not going to believe that," J.T. said and put a headset on as LaFavre lifted off. "Where's the boat?"

  "Out of sight," LaFavre said. "I'll head for the RV."

  The helicopter gained altitude and Lucy looked down at Doc and Karen on the container ship. Good riddance.

  Beside her, J.T. reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. "Proof of life," he told her.

  Just get her back, Lucy thought and stared across the water as the swamp rushed toward them.

  Tyler held the unconscious Kid in his lap as he revved the three-wheel ATV's engine and raced down the dirt track he'd scouted out through the swamp. He loved it when a plan came together. Even the improvising shit like snatching the Kid had worked out.

  "Out-fucking-standing," Tyler screamed, the sound mixed with the sound of the engine echoing through the swamp. "I am The Man."

  The cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he reluctantly brought the vehicle to a halt. "What now?" he demanded.

  "Proof of life," the Stranger said.

  "She's breathing," Tyler said. "All her fingers and toes. Still got her head."

  "Proof of life. "

  "Proof of helicopter," Tyler said, and then the Kid began to stir. "Hold on." He shook her a little to wake her up, her head wobbling back and forth. "Hey, Kid. Your pal's on the phone." He put the phone up next to her ear. "Talk."

  "J.T.?" the Kid said, all her sass gone. "J.T!"she said and began to sob. She listened to him, gulping back tears. "Okay," she said and cried again.

  Tyler took the phone back. "Helicopter. On the road where the first stunt was fucked up. By me. Great shot to that skid, eh?" He clicked off the phone before the Stranger could say anything. He'd been bitched at enough today. "You hang on," he told the Kid. "You fall off, the gators can have you."

  Then he revved the engine, racing along the berm that paralleled the Savannah River, heading for the RV point, with the Kid clutching him and crying.

  Finally, it was all coming together. There was going to be money, lots of it. And women, lots of them.

  Everybody's gonna want a piece of me, he thought and leaned forward, triumphant.

  Wilder shut off Lucy's phone and looked over at her, trying to look calm instead of insane with fury. "Pepper's all right." He turned to LaFavre, who had the chopper in a hover about fifty feet above the river and to the ease of the Talmadge while he checked the glowing screen of the GPS.

  "Got the bridge as a waypoint, naturally," LaFavre said. "Also got a spot uprivcr. Near the old bridge."

  Wilder nodded, putting Peppers misery out of his mind. This was why they had done the hill-out-of-the-helicopter stunt there and why Karen had been punching in the waypoint. It had been a rehearsal for their linkup after the heist. A boat could pull up right to that berm at the spot where the chopper would land. "That's the rendezvous point. Let's go." He glanced at Lucy and gave her a smile, trying not to think about Pepper's sobs.

  "Roger that," LaFavre said. He banked the chopper and they flew under the bridge, heading upstream.

  "Okay," Wilder said. "Here's the plan."

  Chapter 21

  Five minutes later, Lucy stepped out onto the helicopter's right skid, and thought, This isn't good, and mentally apologized to Bryce for ever thinking he was a wimp.

  "On our next date," she yelled across to J.T. on the opposite skid, "we are not going anyplace that has a swamp or guns."

  He yelled back, "I'm partial to room service now."

  LaFavre laughed. "I find this strangely romantic."

  "You would," Lucy yelled. Don't look down, she thought. Ground very far below, moving very fast, do not look down.

  "Ten seconds!" LaFavre said.

  J.T. looked down into the swamp. "Ready?"

  Lucy swallowed. There was a low bridge ahead, and she blinked as she realized it was the one where Stephanie had had her accident. The chopper banked slightly right. She took a deep breath and looked down and tried not to throw up. Directly below them, moving fast, was a gravel road-the same road on which Bryce had almost splatted just two days earlier. Oh, God.

  "Five!" LaFavre called.

  I hate this.

  "Four!"

  "You can do this," J.T. called.

  "Three!"

  They were less than ten feet above the road, still descending way too fast in her opinion. The helicopter shuddered and the nose began to lift.

  "Two!"

  "Follow me," J.T. yelled and disappeared from the other side.

  "Now!"

  "Oh, just hell," Lucy said and stepped off the skid.

  She dropped less than six inches from skid to gravel, stumbling into a crouch as the rotors whipped overhead, then the engine whined in protest as LaFavre powered it to max and the chopper roared back into the night sky. J.T. grabbed her and pulled her down in the grass on the side of the berm so they were hidden, and she huddled against him gratefully.

  "I miss my night-vision goggles," he whispered.

  "I miss the dogs," Lucy whispered back.

  "I didn't think we'd be in the swamp," he went on. "Bridge with lights, yes. Ship with lights, yes. Swamp, no."

  "Okay," Lucy whispered. "Next time, I'll pack the night goggles."

  "Next time," he said and laughed quietly. "God, I love you."

  "What?" Lucy said.

  He was quiet for a minute, and then he said, "I love you," and kissed the bridge of her nose. Then he pointed right, while Lucy was still breathless. "The speedboat is that way. I saw it coming in. Less than-"

  "Wait a minute," Lucy said. "Do you mean-"

  "Fuck you!" Nash's voice echoed through the air, and Lucy forgot everything else as J.T. froze and then pointed toward the other side of the berm and down about ten yards.

  "The happy people are over there," he whispered. But then he nod-ded the other way, left along the road, back toward the Talmadge. "The crazy person and Pepper are probably coming from that way if they're not already here." He reached in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, but before he could punch in the ghost's number, Lucy saw something move in the darkness and hissed a warning. J.T. looked right and nodded as he saw what she did: a figure staggering up onto the road, dropping one of the heavy plastic cases onto the gravel.

  The figure straightened, and Lucy recognized Bryce. The actor turned and disappeared back down the other side of the berm. "Bryce?" she whispered, dumbfounded.

  "Yeah, I was surprised, too," J.T. whispered back and finished punching the quick dial.

  "Yep?" the ghost said, loud enough that Lucy could hear just from being close to the phone.

  "We're at the RV," J.T. said, talking low. "Where's the girl?"

  "Where's the chopper? You were supposed to land it, not do a touch-and-go."

  "It's nearby. I'll tell you where it is when we have the girl."

  Pepper, Lucy thought. When we have Pepper. She shivered. So close. So many things to go wrong.

  "The girl's nearby. I tell you where when I get the chopper. And I don't see you at the RV. I saw three people at the boat. But not you and your lady friend. So let me see you." The phone went dead.

  J.T. took the black case off the side of his pack and opened it, revealing the pieces of a sniper rifle set into the foam. He pulled out the stock.

  "Where's Pepper?" Lucy asked.

  "Close."

  "Close, which way?"

  "Since he's probably got this under cover with a long rifle, that way." J.T. nodded to the left. "I think we need to split up. I go after the ghost and Pepper, you stay here and watch if anything happens with our friends in the boat."

  "No," Lucy said. "We're a team. We're not splitting up."

  Wilder was silent for several moments. There was a distinct click as he slid the barrel into the receiver and locked it down. "All right. Got your gun?"

  She fumbled with the holster and pulled out the Beretta, feeling about as stupid as she had the last time she'd held
it. "Yes."

  "Round in the chamber?"

  "How can I tell? It's dark." Jesus. It's not like she did this every day. Only when she needed Pepper back. Hold on, honey, she thought.

  "Here." J.T. took the gun, did something, and then handed it back. "You got a round in the chamber and the safety is off. So it's hot."

  "Right."

  "Put it back in the holster, carefully, and take this." J.T. held out his little machine gun. "It's also got a round in the chamber, safety off, set on automatic. You're going to spray a lot of bullets if you pull the trigger, so make sure there's a lot of people you want to shoot in the direction you aim."

  "Thank you," Lucy whispered, thinking, I'm gonna trip and take out half the swamp. "But won't you need-"

  "I've got this." J.T. held up the long rifle he'd just bolted together.

  "Oh, good, yours is bigger." Lucy hefted the submachine gun. "You know, it's damn dark out here." She could hear the voices of Nash and Bryce and Althea, but she couldn't make out what they were saying, except that Nash was furious and Althea was bitching. They must have taken her hostage. Should have thought that one through, boys. She was pretty sure the swamp was not up to Althea's standards.

  And the ghost, the fucking ghost had Pepper in this hellhole, all alone in the dark. "Pepper-"

  "Ghost wants us over at the boat."

  "With Nash?"

  "Yep." J.T. got slowly to his feet, the long rifle in his hands. Lucy stood, too, trying desperately not to jar either gun and kill him. The submachine gun, in particular, felt wrong in her hands. Hell, nothing felt right at the moment, except for J.T. at her side.

  "Let's go get our girl," J.T. said to her, and Lucy bit back tears.

  "I love you, too," she said.

  J.T. nodded. "Yeah, I know. Come on." Then he walked up onto the road.

  Tyler slowed the ATV, cutting the engine noise, then finally killing it and letting the three-wheeled vehicle roll to a stop. He knew from his recon that he was about a hundred yards short of the rendezvous point.