She couldn’t imagine her strong husband succumbing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost him.
As the boat rolled over the waves that bumped it against the dock, Mallory shivered on the carpeted floor of Valentine’s opulent oak paneled cabin, her back against the door to prevent Valentine from walking in. She’d resisted sitting, but she was so tired, so cold.
So heartbroken.
Only common sense had her dragging the Egyptian cotton comforter from Valentine’s bed, wrapping herself in it after she stripped off her wetsuit. She wasn’t able to find anything warm in Valentine’s closet, and being naked but for the comforter left her vulnerable, but she had to warm up.
She felt selfish about being warm when Adrian was alone, hurt, cold.
No. That was not what she was going to do. She knew this boat because she’d stayed on it before. She knew where Valentine kept the gear. She could refill two tanks without being seen. As rain beat down on the deck outside, she flung the comforter aside, cringing at the cool air hitting her naked skin, and pulled her wetsuit on. The neoprene chilled her skin and she shivered to fight her body’s reaction.
She had to escape. Once she was in the water, she could get to the cave, to Adrian. First, she needed to get to the tanks.
She looked for something to jam against the door, but the heavy furnishings, even the Tiffany-style lamp, were bolted down. Growing more and more desperate, and so cold and hungry she could barely think, she scrounged for anything to brace between the door and the bed, to slow anyone who might come in as she crept out the window.
A scratching at the window caught her attention and she snapped her head up. A ghostly image glimmered through the wet glass.
Adrian.
He was dead.
She shook off the thought that she was seeing his ghost and hurried to the window, relief making her muscles weak, clumsy. Adrian was there, flat on his stomach on the deck, in the flesh. With stiff fingers, she fumbled the window open, reached through to touch his pale skin, desperate for the feel of him, rough and real, desperate to reassure herself he was whole.
“Come on, we’re going.” His voice was rough over the sound of the rain as he held a cold hand to her.
“How?” She took her eyes from him for a moment and sought a foothold to boost herself through the window.
He dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Land Cruiser. Might be tricky in this rain, and we might get stuck, but beats the hell out of being here.” He closed his hands around her arms and pulled, his expression determined.
She hesitated. She needed to tell him. He might not forgive her if he found out later that the treasure had been within reach and she’d known all along. “Adrian, he has the last casket. All of them are here.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched and he blinked the rain from his eyes as he looked past her to the door. He must have been thinking about going after the damned thing.
But Adrian turned his attention to her, tightened his grip on her arm to help pull her free. “We’ll come back for it.”
She knew what that cost him, that choice. He’d go after Valentine on his own if she wasn’t here, no matter how hurt he was. But now was not the time to question his motive.
Both of them were so weak, so tired, and with Adrian in pain, what should have been a simple exercise of climbing through the window took too long, required more energy than they had to give. Desperation showed in the lines around Adrian’s eyes, compelling her to shove harder against the nightstand. She pushed herself out the window into the open air and found herself wrapped in Adrian’s arms as he knelt on the deck under the driving rain. A shudder ran through him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling her to her feet.
“Gotcha,” he murmured.
She looked up at his strained smile, and past him, saw movement. Immediately she stiffened, but she realized the danger too late.
“Well, well. I knew the ocean wouldn’t take the great Adrian Reeves.”
Adrian released Mallory and shoved her against the cabin wall, putting himself between Valentine and her. He was in no shape to fight, and she scrambled in front of him, ready to defend both of them.
Valentine and Linda—she could imagine Adrian’s shock matched her own at seeing Linda alive and aiming a gun—stood before them, and one of the hired muscle stood on the pilothouse, aiming a third weapon at them.
Considering Valentine had seemed upset when she’d told him Adrian was dead, he sure seemed to wish him dead now.
“What do you want with us? You’re done with the site. You have what you came for. Let us go.” Adrian’s voice was weary, and he swayed where he stood, beyond the movement of the ocean. He needed rest, food and a trip to the hospital. He had reached the end of his endurance, and she didn’t know how to help him.
“There’s something you must see.” Valentine reached forward and grasped Adrian’s arm.
Mallory turned in time to see Adrian’s eyes roll back in his head before he went limp and tumbled over the rail into the water.
Chapter Twenty
The cold water closed over Adrian’s head, his vision darkening as he struggled to remain conscious. He couldn’t let himself go under, he had to get to Mallory, had to get her away from Smoller.
Using every ounce of strength, in short supply after this hellish day, he held on to his senses and pushed himself toward the surface. He kicked weakly, needing air, struggling to get to Mallory.
Someone grabbed his bare foot and dragged him downward, beneath the boat. The air punched out of his chest at the sudden movement. He blew out a breath—his last, goddamn it, unless he could kick his way free. He was running out of fight, his body trying to quit on him.
Hard plastic bruised his lips. He jerked his head away but a hand grabbed the back of his head to hold it still. Air bubbles tickled his mouth and reason returned.
A regulator. Whoever was holding him was trying to give him a regulator. He opened his eyes against the salty water as he accepted the regulator, and looked into his brother’s eyes.
Oxygen and relief eased his chest and he gripped his brother’s shoulder, squeezed as hard as he could. Safe. Thank God. Safe. Toney wrapped his arm around his shoulders, his eyes crinkling slightly, encouragingly, behind his illuminated mask.
Adrian backed away, saw Jacob hovering at Toney’s elbow, each breathing through his own regulator, which meant they had equipment. Adrian nodded his relief at seeing the younger man. But now wasn’t the time to celebrate. He made the sign for Mallory’s name, pointed up. Toney nodded, motioned toward the bow of the boat. Adrian shook his head. She’d been closer to the stern.
Since Toney and Jacob were safe and here, with equipment, they could help him get her back.
Mallory stared at the dark water where Adrian had disappeared. She tensed, ready to dive after him, but Valentine wrapped an arm around her, holding her tightly against his body. The waves caused by Adrian’s fall had stopped lapping at the hull, and she strained to hear him surface somewhere, anywhere.
Adrian’s body couldn’t take another trauma. He was alone, hurt, and she couldn’t get to him. Helplessness replaced her earlier relief, and her knees sagged. She’d had him and lost him once more.
Now Valentine shoved her roughly toward the stern of the boat. She slipped on the slick fiberglass, went down hard on her knees and one hand, sending a shooting pain up her arm. The pain dulled her mind for a moment, and only when Valentine jerked her to her feet did she realize she’d missed her chance to go into the water.
Cradling her aching wrist against her, she staggered onto the deck, fighting past the pain to form a plan. She couldn’t count on Adrian to help her. He was too weakened by injury and blood loss.
If he was dead, maybe she should just let Valentine kill her so she and Adrian could be together forever.
Only Adrian—even in spirit—would kill her himself if she gave up.
She had to know what she was up against. She scanned
the deck, the dock. This would be easier if she knew the odds, if she knew how badly she and Adrian had injured his men. Valentine had a gun, and she couldn’t overcome that, but she could outsmart him.
Before she could act, a wave rolled beneath the boat, sending her legs from under her. The rail of the boat rushed up to her, and everything went black.
Adrian, Jacob and Toney reached the beach, up against the cliff, away from Smoller’s boat, sheltered from the wind that drove sand across the beach. Already, Adrian’s brain whirled, bouncing from one idea to another, trying to figure out how to get Mallory to safety while staying conscious. His head spun and his stomach roiled—if he’d actually had anything to eat today, he’d be puking. Damn, he’d kill for some beef jerky.
“He’s got Mallory. Need to get her back. Safe.” He could barely put words together. “We have to move.”
“They have guns,” Jacob pointed out.
“But we have the element of surprise.” He swept his palm over his mouth, not wanting to take time, knowing they should strategize but itching to move. “I can’t tell how many men they have left. I saw one, in addition to Smoller and Linda.”
“Linda!” Jacob’s eyes snapped wide. “She’s all right?”
Adrian cursed himself for his callousness. He’d forgotten about the boy’s connection to Linda. Regretting that he couldn’t elaborate now, he waved a hand. “Long story. She’s on their side. Always had been.”
“No.” Jacob shook his head wildly, dislodging curls that tumbled into his face, his brow furrowed. “What?”
“Not now,” Adrian said through his teeth, his attention on the boat. No activity. Were they still on board? Had they realized he’d disabled it, seriously this time? They wouldn’t be getting far with water in the gas tank. He smacked his brother’s arm and inclined his head toward the beach.
The sand dug into his already mangled feet, making each step excruciating. He should have sent Toney ahead to see if Mallory was on the boat, but he couldn’t have borne waiting another moment longer. He had to get to her. No one else was coming to their rescue. The storm whipping to a frenzy overhead would keep help away.
Beneath his neoprene, he was sweating, partly because the sucker was damn hot and partly because his body was fighting the infection in his arm. But the black suit offered camouflage against the shadowed cliffs and that element of surprise was crucial when he was unarmed and weak.
“Now what?” Toney whispered as they watched for movement on deck, in the boat.
Adrian rubbed his eyes and scanned his memory for anything he and Mallory might have left behind in camp when they packed up. He was certain they’d been pretty thorough—they always had been, especially on remote digs like this. Damn their tree-hugger tendencies.
He’d have to find something on board to battle with and hope only the one bodyguard—looked like Brutus—remained besides Smoller and Linda, though, shit, they were probably the bigger threat. He couldn’t write off someone desperate to earn a father’s love.
He clenched his jaw and sat back on his feet as he considered.
“We need a distraction so Toney and I can get on the boat, get to Mal,” Adrian said.
“We don’t have weapons,” Toney muttered.
“We didn’t have tanks and we managed to escape,” Adrian reminded him.
“We had more time then.”
Adrian pushed to his feet. “Then we have to think fast. Jacob, you’re the distraction.”
The kid opened his mouth, but Adrian cut him off with a slice of his hand. “I want to keep you out of danger if I can help it.” He’d already risked too much for these boxes. “Go on now. Make some noise.”
Adrian drew in a deep breath as Jacob ran toward the boat. God, keep the boy safe. As he watched, Jacob slipped into the water, and moments later pounded on the fiberglass hull. Adrian, who’d crept across the beach toward the stern, heard the alarm in Linda’s voice—Linda, who he’d mourned, goddammit—and took advantage of the noise to haul himself onto the boat. His weak arm made the task tougher than he expected, and he landed with a thunk. He rolled to his feet, searching the deck for a tank, something heavy to swing. Toney landed beside him more quietly, his pony tank in his hand. He rose up and used it to strike the first man through the door in the stomach first, then the chin, dropping him to the deck, unconscious.
It was indeed Brutus, Adrian saw as he closed his hand around a weight belt stored under the bench along the rail. Please, God, let him be the only one on the boat. As Toney dragged Brutus to the edge of the boat, Adrian scrambled to the other side of the door. Footsteps approached from the cabin, but Adrian held a warning hand to his brother. They didn’t know Mallory’s whereabouts.
The first thing out the door was a gun, and Adrian brought the weight belt down with all his strength on the wrist. The gun skittered across the wet deck, the sound almost masked by the cry of surprise and pain.
Linda.
Adrian gripped her injured wrist and dragged her against his chest.
“Hello, Linda,” he growled into her ear. “Good to see you healthy. How many on the boat?”
“More than you can handle.” She gripped his forearm where Mallory had taped his suit closed and squeezed. He swore as the pain blinded him, and released her, only regaining his breath as Smoller came through the door with Mallory in front of him, her arm twisted behind her so she stood on the balls of her feet, angled across Smoller’s chest. Fear and exhaustion darkened her eyes, almost blotting out the pleading.
Christ. Every ounce of willpower kept him from looking in Toney’s direction. So far Linda and her father hadn’t seen him.
“Hiding behind a woman, Smoller?” Adrian taunted, bracing his feet on the deck as the boat rolled, the waves increasing in intensity as the storm built. “First you send your daughter as a spy to my camp, then you try to protect yourself behind my wife? What kind of man are you?”
“Adrian, no!” Mallory protested, as Smoller swung the gun in his direction.
With reflexes he didn’t know he had, Adrian crouched as the shot went off and barreled toward the man, low, knocking both him and Mallory to the deck. Adrian shoved Mallory aside, toward Toney, as Smoller brought the gun up.
Terror clenched Adrian’s gut for a terrible moment as he looked into that barrel. It was over. He would die now that he’d found Mallory again.
With a cry of rage and pain, he swung the weight belt, knocking Smoller’s gun hand to the side just as a crack of thunder reverberated overhead. He punched the man in the face three times, as hard as he could with his good hand, before Smoller finally went limp and dropped the gun to the deck. Adrian snatched it up and staggered to his feet. He turned to look for Mallory, needing to feel her in his arms, only to see her crouched beside a fallen form, pressing frantically against it in a rhythm he recognized as CPR.
Linda.
Mallory lifted her gaze to his as the rain washed over the boat and she shook her head in despair. The girl was dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mallory opened gritty eyes in a dark room. A quiet beep pulsed, a fan whirred and the sharp scent of ammonia stung her nose. As she focused, hard to do since her brain floated, she took inventory of her body. Dull throbbing in her wrist and side, both bandaged, and an ache in the crook of her arm. The IV.
Another sound registered, soft breathing. She immediately tensed, which hurt every muscle, tendon, even her skin. Memories pierced the haze in her mind and flooded her consciousness. Terror, certainty she would watch Adrian die as he faced off with Smoller, the three of them falling to the deck, the sound of gunshots, looking into Linda’s lifeless eyes as her blood ran over the deck.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Adrian had remained conscious while Jacob fiddled with the boat enough that it could hobble along the shoreline, but his skin was cold and clammy by the time the Belize Defence Force encountered them to escort them to civilization. She didn’t recall much after that, floating in and out of consciousness
herself, only remembering Adrian trying to explain why they had the body of a dead girl and two injured prisoners in the cabin.
Adrian. Exhausted, hurt and still in charge.
She shifted onto her back and her shoulder bumped a warm body.
A familiar warm body. She opened her eyes and slit them against the light coming through the open door to look into Adrian’s slack, pale face. Her pulse kicked in fear until she felt his breath, warm against her skin. She rested her bandaged hand on his chest. He grumbled something in his sleep. Ignoring her own pain, she edged closer and pressed her mouth to his, then whispered his name.
He grunted and tried to turn onto his back, too, but flailed when he lost his balance over the edge of the bed. He sat up with a snort.
“Hell of a way to wake someone up, Mal.”
“I didn’t expect you’d try to squeeze into a hospital bed with me.” She smiled, but even that movement hurt. Still, she kept her hand on his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. “Is there a bed shortage?”
He eased onto his hip, slid his hand across her belly and flinched when his fingers brushed the bandage on her ribs. “I’m not leaving you again.”
She couldn’t think about that now, how close they’d come to losing each other forever, what it meant for the future. This was not a conversation she could have while who-knew-what pumped into her blood. The whole thing felt so familiar—how many times had they lain like this in the dark, talking, touching? Never in a hospital room, though. “How are the others?”
“Good. Dehydrated but released. Promised to bring us food later.”
“And Smoller and Brutus?”
“In custody and in better shape than they deserve to be.”
“And you? Your arm?”
He guided her hand to his own bandaged arm and IV. “Taken care of.”
Somehow she doubted that. “Adrian, Linda—”
“Not something I want you worrying about now.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about everything in the morning.”
Beneath the Surface Page 24
