Under the Gun

by Lyn Stone

  Her airbag had already begun to deflate when they struck the rail. The impact slammed her forward and back again like a boneless rag doll.

  The seat belt grabbed her as they plunged. She never knew when they hit the water.

  Will struggled to hold on to every lesson he’d ever learned about surviving in a submerged vehicle.

  “Holly?” he said softly, then louder, but got no answer. He popped the catch on his seat belt, leaned across her to release hers, then fumbled for the main switch that opened all the windows. Thank God they were still working.

  The doors wouldn’t budge. The faster the car went under, the safer they’d be. Water gushed in through the open windows.

  He still gripped the Glock she had given him. It felt welded to his hand. He found her purse and zipped the gun inside it.

  Carefully he tugged Holly’s inert form from beneath the wheel to make sure she wasn’t trapped there. He felt her neck and found a strong pulse.

  If their pursuer began firing into the vehicle and they couldn’t get out, they’d be fish in a barrel. No use for Will to fire the Glock on the chance he might get lucky and hit something. It would only alert whoever was shooting at them that they were still alive.

  Holly still had the purse strap around her neck. He made certain it was secure in case they needed the gun later.

  Water engulfed them swiftly. He lifted her as high as he could, feeling her face with one hand, making sure she could get air from the pocket of it trapped under the roof of the car. The door still wouldn’t open. Unequal pressure. That would even out shortly.

  He heard shots, rapid fire from an automatic.

  Again he tried the door. The car seemed to be leaning, sinking fast. He felt for the knob that controlled the lights, and pushed it, turning them off. At least he hoped it was the right one. Activating the cigarette lighter would hardly help.

  Nothing to do but wait until the pressure equalized, then get the door open. Assuming they didn’t sink sideways and land on the passenger side.

  With his arm around her neck, he pressed his palm over Holly’s mouth and pinched her nose shut to keep her from inhaling water as it closed over their heads.

  Again he tried the door. With one foot, he pushed, and felt it give slowly. They were still sinking, more rapidly now, it seemed. Periodic bursts of bullets still thunked against the vehicle.

  Holly remained limp, not offering the slightest struggle to free herself of his grip on her face. He had to release her to get them out of the car.

  He found her wrist and held on to it as he exited, dragging her after him until they were both free. More shots sounded, muffled thumps, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on what he couldn’t control.

  The current was strong, sweeping him too forcefully to fight it. He grasped Holly in a rescue hold and swam with the flow, hoping it would whisk them out of range before they had to surface.

  When that moment came, Will prayed he could tell which way was up.

  He had no idea if the clothing he and Holly wore was light or dark, whether they would be easily spotted. The moon must be bright, since she had identified the shape of the other vehicle on the road at a distance.

  He refused to think about how much water she was inhaling or whether he’d be able to save her once he got her out of the water. If he ever did. He strengthened his grip on her and prayed for all he was worth.

  His lungs were bursting. With all his might, Will stroked with his free arm and kicked hard, propelling them upward. He hoped.

  When his head broke the surface, he gasped. Now which way? He couldn’t see a damn thing. No light. Nothing at all.

  He pulled Holly tight against him and lifted her head out of the water as he tried to keep them upright. The powerful current that had swept them along so swiftly had all but deserted them now.

  The urge to hurry gripped him. Holly was not breathing. How long had they been under? Not more than four minutes, he figured, judging from his own lung capacity. How far had four minutes carried them?

  Will realized that all the time he’d been thinking, he had been moving them along, kicking and pulling in one direction, instinctively going where the water seemed calmest. He went with that and increased his efforts. When his foot struck the river bottom, he wanted to shout.

  He got both feet under him and stood, feeling his way as the water grew shallower. The litter of dead limbs and weeds near the bank impeded his progress, but he soon had Holly deposited on dry ground, facedown.

  Quickly he straddled her and began pressing to force water from her lungs.

  “C’mon, Holly!” He heard a gurgling sound and felt for her mouth, then touched the ground beneath it. She had expelled some. He pressed again and again on her back, moved off and flipped her over to begin mouth-to-mouth, murmuring encouragement between breaths.

  “Breathe, baby, breathe!”

  Just when he thought his efforts were gaining them nothing, he heard her cough, felt her body convulse beneath him.

  “Yes! C’mon, honey. Fill up those lungs!” His voice was little more than a whisper as he ran his hands over her, urging her to suck in life-giving oxygen.

  He still had no inkling how far from the bridge they were or if Odin had been able to mark their progress visually. Will was sure it was Odin. Never had a doubt of that.

  They needed to get out of here. “I’m working blind, Holly, and that’s no damn joke. I need you conscious now! Come on!”

  She sputtered, gagged, groaned.

  He turned her to one side and rubbed her back, caressed her head, touched her everywhere, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

  Again she coughed, this time hard and repeatedly, even as she struggled to sit up. He moved off of her and helped, but not much. He was too weak with relief.

  “W-where are w-we?” she gasped, shivering violently.

  Will lay sideways on the ground, exhausted, shaking. “You’re asking me?”

  He heard her scuffling around, checking out their surroundings. Heard also the zipper on her purse and the click of her weapon. “I can barely see the bridge from here,” she told him, her voice quavery and still a little breathless. “At least I think it’s the bridge.”

  For the life of him, he couldn’t get up. He just lay there, spent and thankful. Holly was alive. Right now that was all that counted.

  “Thanks, Will,” she whispered. “I owe you one.”

  He smiled to himself. She sure did. He was not above patting himself on the back when he did good, and saving Holly was probably the best thing he had ever accomplished in his life. There was that old belief that if you saved someone’s life, he or she belonged to you from that day on.

  Fat chance that would ever happen, but it sure was a nice fantasy to play with.

  “Do you mind?” she said, obviously exasperated with him for some reason. Maybe the goofy smile on his face?

  “We need to find some real cover,” she said, taking his arm. “We’re too exposed where we are. Can you get up?”

  Had he said anything out loud?

  No matter. He was halfway to his feet when something other than their own rustling movements and the sloshing of water against the nearby bank broke the stillness of the night.

  He yanked her to the ground. “Shh! Hear that?”

  “The drone of a motor! He’s coming after us.”

  “Is it light enough to see much?” Will demanded.

  “There’s a moon, but it’s not too bright. You think he saw us swim out?”

  “He must have. Or maybe he just saw us surface. From the sound of it, he’s moving at a crawl, headed this way.”

  “Looking for us,” she added.

  “What’s the terrain like?”

  Holly cleared her throat and coughed again. He felt her stir, guessed she had pushed herself up again to look around. “Tall weeds, but not tall or dense enough to hide us if he passes near the bank. It rises up from where we are, four feet or so at maybe a twenty or thirty degree a
ngle to what must be a road. Woods on the other side.”

  “How far away?”

  “I guess around sixty, seventy feet. No way we can get there without his spotting us as we cross the road.”

  “Any cover over here?”

  There was a slight pause, then she moved again, rustling around. “A fallen tree that’s half in the water. Looks about three feet in diameter. We could lie behind that.” She took his hand and tugged.

  “No,” he argued, halting her. “Too obvious. We’re not exactly camouflaged, are we?”

  “I’m wearing dark sweats, but yours are light gray.”

  “Damn.” He thought for a minute. “Okay. Back in the water. I’ll go first. You slide backward, take a minute to fluff up the weeds we mashed down. Then we hug the bank and work back upstream. When he gets parallel to us, we can submerge if we need to.”

  “He’s getting closer. Let’s do it.”

  Will crawled backward and slipped into the waist-high water, crouching so that only his head broke the surface. He grabbed a handful of cattails and clung to them like a lifeline until Holly joined him.

  He barely heard the slosh, then her hand covered his, removing it from the weeds he was clutching and placing it on her chest. He spread his palm flat, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her generous breasts.

  She was still wearing her purse, the strap crossing her body like a bandolier. He curled his fingers around it and held on so they wouldn’t get separated.

  He listened intently as they propelled themselves upstream, determined to work his other four senses to the max, since his sight was useless.

  A sudden silence halted him. He squeezed Holly’s arm with his free hand.

  “Here. Move backward,” she whispered, giving him a firm shove.

  Will let her guide him until his back was forced against a muddy surface, water lapping at his chin. Her body pressed into his, covering him, her hands anchoring them to the bank by whatever she had grabbed on either side of him.

  He felt her lips brush his ear, her words a mere breath of sound, her scent familiar and precious in the total darkness.

  “The bank’s undercut a little here,” she was saying. “We should be safe.”

  “Even if he strafes the bank?” Will whispered, remembering the shots from the bridge.

  “Let’s hope.” She tensed when they heard a car door shut, and voices. There were more than one of them.

  Will and Holly clung silently, hardly daring to breathe, alert to the swish of footsteps through the tall grass.

  The sudden bark of an automatic made them both jump. Another spate of bullets rent the night. And another. Close. Too close.

  Will pulled Holly tighter against him, wishing he could reverse their positions and shelter her. It was unnatural that she should be between him and the threat, but his light clothing would glow like a beacon.

  Suddenly a violent volley of evil energy hit him like a blow to the gut. Frustration. Fear. Urgency. Vile curses so vivid they might have been screamed out loud. But he knew they were silent, roiling inside the mind of the man who wielded that weapon. Odin.

  The firing stopped. Will couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. He knew Odin was still standing on the bank, not directly above them, but way too close for comfort.

  Will pressed his lips to Holly’s temple and held her, his fingers memorizing the toned muscles of her back. She had her weapon in her hand, he knew. Ready to defend them as best she could, even though she was seriously outgunned.

  The echoes of the shots dwindled, and again he could hear the slosh of waves against their bodies and the bank, the rustle of grass above the undercut bank where he and Holly huddled. Then he heard voices again. No, Odin was not alone.

  “Are you sure you saw them come up over here, sir? I didn’t see anything.” The high-pitched tone could have belonged to a woman, but Will didn’t think it did. He filed the supposition away to examine later.

  “I think so, but it could’ve been my eyes playing tricks. You can hardly see this spot from the bridge, even with the scope, but it’s the most likely spot for them to have climbed out if they didn’t drown.”

  Will detected a slight Southern accent in the deeper voice, a distinctive nasal intonation. Had he heard it before? Something about it seemed familiar.

  “You’ll have to handle this. Can you do that?” Deep Voice asked. “I’m dropping you in Raleigh. Pick up a car and head back here at first light. Look for any sign they made it out. If they did, call immediately and I’ll pinpoint their next location for you. I want them both dead, you hear? The security will be beefed up next time and it won’t be easy.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” the other one assured him.

  “You’d better. I have to get those missiles to Turkel at Hartsfield by the day before Thanksgiving. Timing’s crucial if we want to get paid.”

  More rustling, then the silence stretched out.

  Had they given up?

  Finally a car door slammed, a motor caught and revved. Will could hear the tires digging ruts in dirt, slinging rocks, as the heavy vehicle sped away.

  Holly heaved out a gasp and burrowed her head against Will’s neck. “Thank God they’re gone,” she whispered, as if still in danger of being overheard.

  Will said nothing. He was too busy thinking, trying to remember if he had ever heard the name Turkel before and if so, in what context. And where the hell was Hartsfield? For a few long minutes, he and Holly remained where they were.

  Then she spoke out loud. “I guess we can ditch our fins now. You hypothermic yet?”

  The water was cold, but not unbearable. Will felt a moment’s regret when Holly moved away from him and placed his hand on her purse strap again. She led the way back downstream to a spot where they could climb out easily.

  Exhausted beyond belief, Will levered himself onto the grassy bank and collapsed. He heard her moving around, unzipping her purse.

  “My cellphone’s waterlogged, but looks like it’s working. I’m sending an S.O.S,” Holly told him succinctly.

  “Jack will need to run that name and place. Did you catch it all?”

  “Yep. Turkel and Hartsfield. Any ideas?” she asked.

  “I’m still thinking,” Will told her.

  Odin, or whatever his real name was, would be long gone by now, intent on his other business. He was on a deadline to deliver the missiles.

  Why the rush? Why Thanksgiving instead of an actual date? Wasn’t hard to guess. Threat levels went up during holidays, for good reason. Planes were crowded. Turkel, whoever he was, planned to use those weapons.

  Will listened as Holly repeated word for word to Mercier the conversation they’d overheard. The phone beeped as she ended the call.

  She remained quiet for a minute, then asked, “So why Thanksgiving? You think there’s an attack planned to coordinate with that date?”

  “Sounds like.”

  “Oh, Lord, and within our boundaries, too, I bet, since that’s our holiday,” she said. “Which means we can’t take our time on this. That’s what? Five, six days away.”

  Frustrated as he had ever been, Will pressed his fingers to his eyes and cursed under his breath. What could he do in the shape he was in?

  “We have to let Jack and the others handle this one, Will,” she said gently, brushing a hand over his head as if he were a child in need of comfort.

  He pulled away, liking her touch too much, while at the same time resenting her pity, if that was the reason for her touch.

  “One way or another, I’m going to be in on this, Holly. I’m not too proud to demand your help. You owe me.”

  “I do and I always pay back favors,” she assured him. “After we’re picked up, we’ll figure out what to do next. I’ll swing what weight I can with Jack and see if he’ll let us have a hand in things.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  He heard her soft sigh. “By the way, I really do appreciate the tow out of the
river. And the mouth-to-mouth.”

  “Any time.” He rolled to his back and reached out toward the sound of her voice. “Nice mouth it is, too.”

  “Ooh, Griffin’s kissing up. He must feel better.” She grasped his hand and put it to her face. “Seriously, though, I would still be down there in that car if it weren’t for you. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Then he forced a smile into his voice. “Just act on it. You’re going to be my eyes until we get Odin and those missiles where they need to be.”

  “You’re not up to this, Will. You know that.”

  “I will be,” he promised. “When the time comes, I’ll be ready.”

  “Well, so far we’ve always worked pretty good together.” Her voice sounded odd, its cheerfulness as fake as his. God, what he wouldn’t give to see her face. He caressed it, feeling a warm wetness on her cheeks that he knew was not river water.

  Without warning, she lay down and snuggled close beside him, embracing him fiercely as she let go a little sniffle. It was just one, but he still couldn’t believe it. She didn’t cry. She never cried.

  Should he tease her out of this display of emotion or what? That’s what he would have done before.

  Now he just held her, sliding his hands over her dripping clothes, pressing his mouth to her neck, glorying in the fact that she was alive to cry, to laugh. To kiss.

  He found her mouth with his, at first just a press of lips. Then he tasted her, encouraging her to open herself to him just a little. Then more fully.

  A second later, she threw herself into the kiss with an abandon that proved contagious.

  God, she was so sweet, lush, passionate, everything he could have dreamed of or wished for. Exactly what he had dreamed of and wished for.

  There was no doubt that she was affected by this kiss. He would never have admitted it before today, but he had wanted to kiss her this way since the day they’d first met.

  Chapter 6

  Holly was the first to pull away. “Will?” She sounded unsteady, uncertain, unlike his Holly, who never met a situation she couldn’t handle.

  Will realized things were getting a little too deep for him, too. This couldn’t go beyond the kiss. He had nothing to offer Holly. At least not long term, and she wasn’t the type for short-term attachments.