Curtis’s gaze zeroed in on his again. “I wanted to be a hero for Meg, you know? Just once.”
Zach’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes briefly. “I know, buddy. I know. But you really were a hero last night. You helped save that girl.” But even as Zach finished speaking, Curtis began to fade away, his lips turning pale, his eyes glazing over, his hand growing still in Zach’s.
Zach sighed the moment he realized Curtis was gone. He swallowed hard. No matter how many times he’d witnessed someone die, it never got any easier. Meghan’s only family was now gone. His heart squeezed.
Meghan.
Zach knew he had to get his shoulder back into the socket or he’d be useless to her. He glanced around for something heavy, a weight he could use. Eying a large rock in Meg’s rock garden near the rear of the house, he crawled over and picked it up. Rolling onto his side, he held the rock in his hand and gently bent his arm down, trying to relax the muscles in his dislocated shoulder. He waited, his arm out, until the muscles slowly relaxed, the weight of the rock helping to maneuver the shoulder back into place. Gritting his teeth at the pain, he waited until his shoulder finally slipped back into the socket. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a dislocated shoulder, but he hoped to God it was the last. He dropped the rock.
Drawing in a deep breath, Zach pulled himself into a sitting position, groaning at the pain in his ribs. Either cracked or broken or both, he couldn’t be sure, but it hurt like hell. His head felt like it had been pulverized through a meat grinder. He hurt everywhere. They’d beaten him severely. Blood continued to flow freely from various wounds. But he was alive, thanks to Meghan. He had no doubt Cummings’ goons would have killed him if Meghan hadn’t convinced Cummings to call them off. She’d given herself up for him.
Her life for his.
His heart squeezed. He sucked in a breath through his battered nose, his aching ribs throbbing in protest.
He hadn’t needed to use his Marine skills since Iraq.
Honor. Courage. Commitment.
He needed to become the elite warrior he’d once been. Long ago.
Semper fidelis.
Always loyal.
Zach was nothing if he wasn’t faithful to those he loved. The Marines had taught him well.
Once a Marine, always a Marine.
Though Iraq had been years ago, it was a time he would never forget. And now he needed those memories to get him into the proper psyche for this mission.
Track the enemy. Using stealth, precision, single-mindedness...
Become the hunter.
Dispatch the enemy using whatever means necessary.
Even my bare hands.
And bring Meghan back.
He needed a weapon. Larry had confiscated his service weapon, but Curtis had dropped the .45 when Cummings’ man had shot him. It had to be around here somewhere.
Pushing the pain aside, Zach stumbled to his feet, his goal clear in his mind.
His body groaned in protest.
He located the gun on the porch underneath the swing. He bent and scooped it up. His body screamed in agony.
Ignore the pain.
Zach stumbled down the steps and into the forest with the .45.
Save Meghan.
You have no other choice.
She wasn’t just an innocent civilian. She was the woman he loved.
And he aimed to get her back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Larry’s men shoved Meg into a raft someone had pulled up onto the bank near the river’s edge not far from her house. Had they come in by river? They must have. How long had they been waiting for her?
They all piled into the raft and one of the guys pushed them out into the water. It was a small raft and barely held all six of them. The river was cold this time of year, the current swift and deadly in some places. Meg clutched a handle on the side of the raft to keep her balance as the current sucked them downriver. The raft bounced and swayed with the rapids, picking up speed, as they rounded the first bend.
They careened past Zach’s house, which Meg was barely able to make out through the trees. Now there was nothing but forest up ahead. What had Larry planned? Didn’t he know they were going deeper into the wilderness? Was he a fool? Or he had planned it this way?
They rounded another bend in the river. Then another. Cold water sloshed into the raft, spraying Meg’s thighs. She held on tighter.
The sudden faint sound of sirens reached her ears. Her heart pounded. Zach must have called for help. They were coming.
Hang in there, Curtis. Zach will help you. I know he will.
Meg tried to picture what Zach was doing at that very moment. She imagined he was leaning over her brother, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his gunshot wound. Larry’s guy had shot Curtis in the chest.
Meg’s heart clenched, twisted, squeezing tight.
Curtis was dead.
She wasn’t sure how she knew that. She just did.
He was gone.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
I’m so sorry, Curtis. So sorry.
She glanced over at Larry where he huddled near the back of the raft. His hands gripped the sides so tightly his skin turned white. His gaze was intense on the water, watchful, uneasy…
Her heartrate kicked up. Was Larry afraid of water? Did he even know how to swim?
An idea struck. What if she jumped overboard? Would Larry go after her? Would he send one of his men in after her? Or would he let the swift current drag her under? Would he sit back and watch her drown? Meg didn’t want to drown, but she’d rather drown than go with Larry. Drowning would be far better than whatever he had planned for her.
She was a good swimmer. She and Evan had spent long summer days diving off his father’s boat and swimming in Lake Coeur d’Alene’s cool waters. She wouldn’t drown. Not today.
But Larry might. If she could find a way to knock him overboard.
But how?
As the raft rounded the next bend in the river, Meg calculated the distance between her and Larry. About two feet. Larry’s hands tightened on the handles of the raft as they surged over another bouncy rapid. His face whitened with strain. He was terrified. If she leapt at him, she might be able to knock him overboard. But she’d probably end up in the water with him.
Which was fine with her. She could swim.
Larry’s gaze jerked to hers, as if he’d read her thoughts.
“I hate fucking water,” he muttered, glancing at the man to her right. “This was a bad idea. We should have just trekked through the trees to the road.”
Meg smirked. Too bad for him.
“It’s only another couple miles until the place where the water gets shallower,” the guy to Meg’s left said. “It’s where the girl got out. We can wade ashore there and make our way to the road. We left the SUV parked in the trees there.”
It’s where the girl got out. Did he mean Kristen? Was he the asshole who had chased her? Meg glared at him for a moment, noting the scratches on his cheek. Were the scratches from Kristen?
Meg turned away to glance into the forest. It was hard to tell where they were with all the thick pine trees. But if the water was shallower up ahead, then she needed to knock Larry overboard now, while the water was still deep and the current still swift. If indeed Larry couldn’t swim—which could only be wishful thinking on her part, but she could only hope—then this would be her best chance at escape. She had to do it now.
Meg drew in a deep breath to prepare herself.
The raft swept around the next bend, bouncing against a rock, then spinning around, splashing water into the raft and onto its occupants.
Meg braced herself.
And leapt.
Larry let out a startled grunt when she slammed into him. His hands broke free from the raft and grabbed at her. His body twisted backwards. He fell into the water, pulling her with him.
Meg gasped as cold water washed over at her, dragging her under. Larry cursed
and sputtered, his arms flapping, his hands latching onto her. His heavy weight pushed her under. Cold water swirled over her head. She fought against his hands, jerking free, and pushed herself to the surface.
“You bitch!”
She managed to drag in a lungful of air before Larry shoved her back under. She fought and sputtered, but he was too strong. His hands gripped her cruelly, holding her down, even as the current swept them downriver after the raft.
Meg was running out of air. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung from the cold river water. But still Larry held her under. The asshole was trying to drown her.
The river sucked them around a bend, then another, the water slamming her into big rocks that bruised her back, her legs, her arms.
But still Larry held her down.
Her lungs screamed for oxygen. Dizziness swam in her head. Her vision became blurry.
If she drowned, she’d never get to tell Zach she loved him.
Zach.
She had to live. There was no other option. She had to see Zach again.
A plan formed in her mind. If Larry thought she’d drowned, he might let go of her. She would have to pretend to drown and hoped Larry fell for it before she actually did drown.
Meg thrashed against Larry one last time, then went still.
Stay calm. Don’t let him win.
Her lungs burned, the pressure building behind her ribcage.
I need to breathe.
Be patient.
I can’t hold out any longer.
Hold on...
Larry’s hands loosened from around her waist.
Meg shoved upwards, kicking out at him as she lunged for the surface. She gulped in air, gasping and sputtering.
Larry cursed. He snagged her foot, yanking her back. Meg kicked out at him. He shoved her under again.
A weapon! She needed a weapon.
She managed to break free and burst out of the water, drawing in another lungful of air.
“You stupid bitch!” Larry snarled. “I was going to give you everything!”
The current pulled them downriver toward a section of large boulders.
“I don’t want anything from you,” Meg screamed. “Except justice for what you did, you murdering bastard!”
They glared at each other as water swirled around them, sucking them away with the current. Meg’s wrist throbbed. She must have banged her cast against the rocks.
And then it hit her.
Her cast. Yes! Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
They reached the boulders. Larry slammed up against a large round rock. The current pulled Meg after him. He grabbed her arm when she crashed into him. The water was shallower here and she managed to get her feet underneath her.
Larry’s lip curled into a snarl. “I will take great pleasure in your death.”
The hell you will.
Meg lifted her arm and slammed the cast into his nose with all her might. Larry screamed. Blood spurted out of his nose.
A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted up her arm. She gasped out a moan. Ouch.
Larry clutched at his face, his eyes darkening with rage. Blood dripped into the water.
Do it again, Meg.
She lifted her cast again. Larry turned his head away. She smacked the cast into his ear. He howled and turned back to her, murderous rage on his face. She hoped she’d shattered his eardrum. Hoped he would never be able to hear out of that ear again.
Larry lunged at her. She swung her arm out again, bracing herself for the impact. The cast crunched underneath his chin, whipping his head back. Pain slithered up her arm. His head slammed back, smashing against the boulder.
His eyes rolled back into his head. His body went limp.
Breathing heavily, her arm throbbing, Meg watched as the current sucked Larry downstream, a thin trail of blood in his wake. She lost her footing in the slick rocks. The current pulled her downriver after Larry into deeper water.
Larry’s men were shouting and cursing in the raft several yards away, trying to get the raft to stop, but having no luck in the swift current.
If they didn’t pull Larry out soon, he’d drown.
If he wasn’t dead already.
As another bend approached, she pushed herself toward shore with all her might, kicking with her legs. Her hands clutched a large rock beneath the surface and she held on tight. Larry disappeared around the bend after the raft of men.
Sighing in relief, Meg held onto the rock. It was slippery. She was only about twelve feet from shore. Bringing her legs underneath her, she pressed her feet against the rock and shoved herself closer to shore, swimming with all her might.
The current sucked her farther downstream, closer to the bend Larry had disappeared around. Meg was determined not to follow them. Her muscles aching, her lungs straining, she kept swimming toward shore, struggling with all her might.
She reached the bend. The current swirled around her legs, sucking her under. She struggled back to the surface, gasping.
She latched onto a tree root beneath the surface. Meg clung tight to the root. Then pulled. And pulled.
Her limbs grew weak from the cold water, but she was determined to reach the shore.
To get back to Zach.
With a final lunge, she reached the bank and dragged her shivering body onto shore. Breathing heavily, she lay there a moment, then slowly sat up and glanced downriver. Her arm screamed with pain. She’d probably re-broken her wrist. She caught a glimpse of the raft as it rounded another bend, then disappeared. She was pretty sure all four of Larry’s thugs were still on the raft.
There was no sign of Larry. Had they pulled him in the raft and he lay just out of her line of sight?
She hoped he was dead. Hoped he’d drowned in the cold water. The bastard.
Meg sat there for another few minutes, catching her breath. She rose. A movement downriver just past the bend caught her eye. Meg stiffened. Larry’s men had reached the shallow section and were wading ashore. Shit!
She lowered herself to the earth and slunk into the trees, away from them, crawling as silently as possible. If they caught her, she was dead.
She would have to make sure they didn’t catch her.
What had Kristen done when she’d been pursued through the forest? She’d climbed a tree. Meg glanced at the huge pines surrounding her. She looked at the water-logged cast on her arm. Though it was made of fiberglass, not plaster, the doctor had told her not to get it wet underneath. Her arm was soaked. Not good. And her wrist hurt like hell. A new cast would have to be applied when she got back. She might even need another surgery to repair a possible break.
How would she climb a tree with a cast on? Meg glared at the cast. It wasn’t worth the attempt. She’d probably fall and snap her neck.
She couldn’t climb, but she could run. Meg had never been so thankful she was a runner until now. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much stamina. After about twenty minutes, she tapped out. Her house was more than twenty minutes away. Probably closer to thirty or forty minutes.
She would just have to push herself longer. Force her lungs and her legs to become endurance queens.
She peered around the underbrush to where Larry’s men had climbed ashore. Two of the men were dragging something out of the water.
Larry.
She held her breath. Was he dead?
She waited, watching.
The guy with scratches on his face, the one Meg was certain Kristen had injured while escaping, swiveled his head around, as if he’d sensed her. His gaze zoomed in on hers.
Meg gasped. She had to get out of there. Now.
“He’s dead!” the man shouted. “You win. You don’t have to run anymore.”
What? Was he messing with her? They wouldn’t just let her go, would they?
But if Larry was truly dead, they had no cause to pursue her any longer. Their leader was gone. No one would pay them to bring her in.
Scratchy Face motioned to the other men
. All four of them turned away from the river and headed into the trees. Meg presumed they were heading for the SUV they had hidden there.
They left Larry’s body lying on the bank.
Meg collapsed back onto the ground. Weariness overcame her. Her chest squeezed. Emotion clogged her throat. A sob escaped.
Larry was dead.
Dead.
She’d won.
But look at the price she’d paid for her revenge.
Her heart pinched. Guilt and shame bombarded her, twisting painfully around her heart, consuming her.
What had she done?
She hadn’t meant to kill him. She’d just been fighting for her life. But she was glad he was dead. Did that make her a bad person?
Another sob escaped.
Larry had taken everything from her. Her parents. Her brother. Her best friend.
Evan was dead. Dear, sweet Evan. Because of her.
Curtis was gone. Troubled, yet harmless Curtis. Because of her. He would suffer no more from his Tourette’s.
All because of her.
Both were innocent victims in her quest for revenge. She’d killed them with her tenacity, her unrelenting desire to make Larry pay.
She broke down then, violent sobs overtaking her entire body.
She was a murderer.
Meg gasped in a breath.
Murderer.
Look what she’d done. She’d killed the two people who were closest to her heart.
Murderer.
It was something she would have to live with.
If she could.
She had no one now. She’d killed everyone she loved.
Except Zach.
Her heart squeezed.
Zach.
If he still wanted her. He might not want her anymore, not after what she’d done.
Zach.
Her heart. Her soul. Her everything.
She needed to go to him now. Try to make him understand what she’d done.
Guilt consumed her again. Zach had been badly hurt. Because of her. Kristen had been traumatized. Because of her. She needed to make sure Zach was okay.
Meg lunged to her feet.
Willing her lungs to expand bigger and fuller than they ever had before, willing her legs the power and endurance to carry her all the way home, Meg surged forward into the trees. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she angled back toward her house.
Deceived (Unlikely Heroes Book 3) Page 32
