Kidnapped Hearts

by Cait Jarrod

  Jake grimaced.

  “When you boarded the boat, I followed the assholes boarding the second boat.”

  “We need to get out of here. Pamela needs clothes.” Jake pulled off a boot and turned it upside down. Water puddled below.

  “Geez, man, you sat all this time with water in your boot?” Steve chuckled. “You must have been starved.”

  Jake shrugged. “Didn’t notice. I lost both guns in the water. Got an extra?”

  Steve tilted his head toward a small pouch on a nearby log. “That’s yours.”

  “It’s as if you have a bag of tricks,” Pamela said, sipping the last of her soda. “Where’s mine?”

  Steve’s eyebrows arched. “Yours?” He cut his eye at Jake. “You gave her a gun?”

  “Wait a minute. I used to go to the range with you all the time.”

  Steve considered this. “You did. Pamela, these men aren’t the same as the stationary targets you shot at. They’re real people.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Stephen Anderson.”

  He shook his head. “I hate when you play that card, just like my mother.” He zipped up his bag. “I don’t have any more guns. I’m going to go get us a boat. We can’t take the Jet Skis all the way back to Fredericksburg. Besides, I’m sure they’re on the police radar as stolen vehicles.” He slung his bag over his shoulder as he stood. “I’ll be back. I left some necessities for you in the bag by the log.”

  “Where will you find a boat?” She paused, looking dazed. “Are you going to steal it, too?”

  “No choice.” Steve kissed Pamela’s cheek. “You okay?”

  She knew he was actually asking if she would be okay to stay with the Jake. “I’m good,” she said, sending Jake a smile.

  Steve grumbled, and Jake helped him push his ski into the water. A second later, he rode away, a rooster tail of water following.

  Pamela faced Jake. Something flashed in his eyes, and her heart fluttered. She sashayed into the shelter of the oaks. He followed. With hooded eyes, he crowded her until she bumped a tree. Like when Sam had attacked her, yet, his face didn’t appear in her mind’s eye. For the first time in months, she was certain that Sam wouldn’t be able to haunt her anymore. She stroked Jake’s cheek. She had him to thank.

  “We might as well make use of our time alone.” He cleared his throat. “That’s if you want to.”

  Pamela looked around the deserted island. Trees, sand, and water. No one was around for miles. It would take Steve a minimum of an hour to find civilization, then he had the chore of finding a boat. They had plenty of time do as they pleased. Instead of responding, she rose up on her tiptoes. The tip of her tongue brushed the skin on his neck.

  A low, husky moan was her reward. His forearm settled on the tree above her head. The other hand hugged her body to him as his mouth moved swiftly and efficiently over hers. A tremor rippled across her skin as his hand slid to her butt.

  ****

  Jake watched Pamela’s eyes darken, the pulse in her neck quicken. A sheen of sweat pebbled his forehead. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Ever since he’d gotten his first taste of her, his body had been on fire. He wanted her naked, wiggling under him in the throes of an orgasm she wouldn’t ever forget. With the sand and no blanket, that feat would be about near impossible.

  Pamela took matters into her own hands. Her fingers worked fast on the button of his pants and his zipper. She shoved them down along with his briefs. He leaned his forehead on the bark beside her head. “I don’t have a condom.”

  A wicked grin stretched across her face. “Not a problem.”

  In the second it took to register what she meant, she was kneeling in front of him.

  “Christ, Pamela.” His fingers threaded through her hair, making their way to hook under her shoulders. He tugged. Having sex was one thing, but this was altogether different. “Not that way.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry.

  She kissed his lips and disappeared once again. Breaking out into a sweat, he resumed his former position, leaning his arm on the tree. His head fell against it.

  The sensation she inspired drove him crazy. This was not the time or place, but it felt so good. He couldn’t. One last tug on her end and he did what he told his body not to. He came hard and fast. His knees buckled, and he sank to the sand next to her.

  To hell with the sand, he’d deal with the nuisances of where it landed later. His bare butt hit the ground, and he pulled her into his lap. Time to repay the favor.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The afternoon sun cast its beams on Jake, and he wiped the sweat off his brow, receiving a handful of sticky sand in return. He swiped his hand on his shorts, took a deep intoxicating breath of Pamela’s mango and salt scented hair, and looked out at the smooth surface of the Chesapeake Bay. The calm before the storm.

  Mallards quacked above, and gentle waves hit the shore. Everything was quiet and peaceful. If only life could be this serene. Absently, he rubbed Pamela’s back. Her skin was soft, like touching a basketful of silk scarves, just like the ones his mother had kept on her dresser. Mom would have loved Pamela. However, she’d have gotten after him for dating such a superficial woman as Jennifer. Jake shrugged off the direction of his thought. He needed to concentrate on the case.

  With Wine out of the picture, he wondered about the Black Scorpion members that had befriended him. Who would they form their alliance with now? And where had Jameson been all this time?

  Pamela shifted on top of him, and his wayward thoughts returned. Their bodies still entangled from their last intimate encounter, the comfort he felt was unlike any he’d ever experienced. He slid his hand out from beneath her shirt and pulled her closer to him. After pleasuring each other, they had dressed and curled up. Pamela lay on top of him to keep her wounds clean, then they both had fallen asleep.

  From the position of the sun, he’d figured it was about three o’clock. Steve should be back anytime. He and Pamela needed to get moving.

  He nudged her. She mumbled something about flying squirrels, but didn’t move. Last night, they had only gotten two hours of sleep. Not enough for either one of them, but they needed to be ready to leave as soon as Steve arrived. “Pamela, we need to get up.”

  “Owwww,” she groaned as she moved her arm.

  Jake slid his hand under her, helping her to a sitting position.

  “No flying squirrels?” she mumbled.

  One eyebrow lifted along with the corner of his mouth. “Haven’t seen any, but I wasn’t in your dream either.”

  She grinned. “You were. We were doing the flying squirrel.”

  The other eyebrow shot up. “You’ll have to teach me that one.”

  “I will.”

  The sun was strong this time of year. The evidence was clear when he looked at Pamela. One side of her face was a nice shade of pink while the other was pale. “Ummm.” Maybe he’d let that go until later. As he overheard earlier, she had enough to deal with.

  He brushed the hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m doing okay.” The pain was visible in her face, but he found her tough act adorable.

  “What happened to my face?” She patted one side, then the other. “I’m sunburned on half of my face.”

  “Afraid so. Try not to touch it.”

  “You could’ve told me. Now, I have sand stinging the burn.”

  “Let’s check the bag of tricks for ointment.”

  They stood, and she wiped the remaining sand off on her shorts and looked at Jake. He shifted, his pants suddenly becoming uncomfortable. Her eyes narrowed, then her head cocked to the side.

  “Pamela, what are you looking at?”

  She tucked her chin. “Does your face hurt?”

  “No, but I think I have sand in my pants.” He wiggled his nose. The right side of his face stung. He touched the area, landing on a bump. His fingers trailed along the bridge of his no
se, then his cheeks. “Son of a bitch. I have poison ivy.”

  Pamela nodded, giggling. “I’d say. You look as if you have the chicken pox.”

  “Let’s find that bag,” he growled, pulling her along behind him.

  Antiseptic wipes, Band-Aids, Motrin, eye drops, cold packs. “Found them. Poison ivy medicine and here is the Solarcaine. I’ll spray it on your hands then you can dab it on your face.”

  Damn, he needed to get the sand out of his pants. He jostled things around down there, then sprayed Pamela’s hands.

  His underwear was bunched, and he shifted from side to side, trying to straighten them as he rubbed ointment on the bumps on his face.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Sand.”

  Pamela’s eyebrow quirked a second before she started to laugh.

  He screwed the top back on the tube. “What’s so funny?”

  “Jake, you might want to check yourself.” Her eyes drifted to his midsection.

  He looked at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about, then it hit him. “Shit.” He popped the button and unzipped his pants, then yanked them and his briefs down. Damn, damn, damn.

  “Do you want me to put the ointment on for you?” Pamela asked, gulping for air between bursts of laughter.

  He held up his hand. “No. I got it,” he said through clenched teeth. Finished, he zipped his pants and sent Pamela a sideways look. A playful smile brightened his face. “You know,” he hit the tube of ointment against his hand, “if I have it, there’s a good chance you do, too.”

  Pamela’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Ye-ep, that’s what I thought. Not so funny now.”

  “I don’t get poison ivy,” she retorted as she walked behind a tree and one-handedly lowered her shorts.

  “I’ve seen everything. I’ve even tasted it all. Why are you hiding behind the tree?” he chuckled.

  She slid her underwear up, then tugged on her shorts. They didn’t budge.

  He joined her, and slid her shorts up, then buttoned and zipped them.

  “Just ‘cause. I can’t drop trou anywhere like you.”

  He lifted his hands, palms out, and looked around. “There’s no one here.”

  In the distance, a stick snapped followed by the shuffling of leaves. Pamela’s eyes bugged out.

  Jake ducked behind a tree and gestured for her to stay behind him.

  “Do you think it’s Steve?” she whispered.

  Not again. He put his finger over his lips. “Shh.” He pointed to the junior size bag of tricks on the log next to them.

  She handed it to him, along with the gun pouch, and picked up her life jacket. She slid her strong arm in and stopped.

  Jake removed the sling and helped her into it. The hair on his neck stood on end.

  Not good.

  He pulled out the gun that Steve left him. Cautiously, he shuffled backwards. Pamela mimicked his movements without question.

  Back on the other side of the island, he saw the tracks in the sand from where they’d slid Steve’s Jet Ski into the water. Didn’t I clear them away afterwards? Pamela’s devilish smirk flashed in his mind. No, he hadn’t thought beyond his dick once they had the island to themselves. Dumb shit.

  They walked to where they had left the other Jet Ski, hidden under a covering of bushes. It was MIA. WTF! He raced to the water. His eyes landed on another path in the sand made by a ski, then into the water. Their ride floated upside down a hundred yards off shore.

  He grimaced, and he felt Pamela’s hand tighten on his arm. If he were alone, he would secure the ski and confront whoever was here. With Pamela next to him, he couldn’t take the chance. As he saw it, he had one choice—swim to the ski and get Pamela to safety. He stuck the gun back in the bag, tugged the duffle’s strap around his neck and shoulder, and entered the water without making a sound.

  Pamela followed, but she hadn’t been trained to be quiet. The thick muck on the bay floor grabbed at her feet, making it impossible for her not to be heard.

  She bit her lip and looked up at him, her eyes saying oh shit. Despite her disheveled appearance, his torn shirt and too baggy shorts, she was a vision. He shoved down his physical reaction and demonstrated how to walk quietly. Together they moved through the water. As soon as it hit his knee, he lowered himself, taking Pamela with him. Jake tapped his shoulder, motioning for her to climb on. With her good hand, she slid onto his back. His strokes were fast and efficient. Twenty yards out, he heard voices and dipped beneath the water. He hoped she had a strong lung capacity. They emerged on the far side of the ski just as Pamela’s hand tightened on his shoulder. She gulped for breath, coughing and sputtering.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sucking in more air, the cough slowly quieted, and she nodded, relaxing in her life jacket. A few feet away, he studied the Jet Ski’s quandary. He could rock it back and forth until he could flip it over, but it’d make too much noise and bring them unwanted attention.

  No solution came to mind. He’d have to leave her behind the ski. As much as he couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone, he needed to get rid of the evil on the island. “I have to go back. I can’t right the Jet Ski by myself without being noticed.”

  “You’re leaving me out here?” Her breathing had evened out a second ago. Now, she was rapidly taking in air.

  “You have a life preserver on. You won’t have to do anything to stay afloat. Hang on to the side of the Jet Ski.”

  She nodded, but he knew she was scared to her core.

  He kissed her cheek, then submerged beneath the water. Every protective muscle tightened in his body. Leaving her with the use of one arm and no means of escape ate at his center. He had a job to do. Once again, he shoved away his emotions and brought out the fighter.

  Minutes later, his eyes peeked above the water. The island looked deserted. Jake exited the water, barely making a splash, and slinked to a tree. Waves began to crash on shore, and leaves rustled in the wind. The earlier tranquil island was beginning to rumble. He sprang out from his protective cover and raced to another tree ten yards away.

  Spotting nothing, he moved to the next tree. No sign of life. How could anyone be there undetected? Thirty minutes later, after he had searched the entire island, he had made a complete circle. The only evidence he’d found was footprints in the sand. One sunk lower than the other two, so he concluded that man was taller or heavier than his friends. Whoever had been here had left the island. But how? He had scanned the water as he circled the island. No watercrafts were near for a possible escape. No sounds of any life. The wildlife noises he heard earlier had even waned.

  The sound of a motor followed by a high-pitched squeal spun him on his heels. He rushed to a spot where he could see the Jet Ski shielding Pamela.

  His body went weak. He locked his legs, preventing his knees from buckling. The Jet Ski had been righted, Pamela on the seat with a piece of duct tape stretched across her mouth. A man was plastered to her back as they sped away in the opposite direction.

  Son of a bitch! The duffle he had wrapped around his neck and shoulder flew into the water. How in the hell had he not heard them?

  Jake wiped his hand down his face as Pamela vanished around the bend. Another Jet Ski followed, carrying two men.

  With no way off the island and no form of communication, as he’d lost his cell sometime back, he was shit out of luck. “Motherfucker, son of a bitch, damn it all to hell!”

  Reeling himself in, he forced himself to relax. He had no choice. He would swim after them. He could swim the two miles to the building Sanjar had had his eye on when Jake, A.K.A. The Warrior, had worked for him. Time was the factor. He couldn’t swim there fast enough.

  Storming through the water, he snatched the bag and headed west. His thoughts kept up with his aggressive strokes. No notes, no threats, they outright took her. What were their plans? To beat her into telling them where the bonds were or to use her to lure him to them, so they could aven
ge their leader’s death? Whatever the reason, her life was in peril.

  The sound of a motor halted him two hundred yards out. He ducked beneath the water until only his eyes were above the surface. Two Jet Skis, one he recognized as theirs, and another, paused. A man on each ski slid off the backs of them and waded through the knee-deep water toward the island.

  “The Warrior is a dead muther fucker,” a rough voice growled.

  “Yo, he’s there!” the bastard shouted, pointing at Jake.

  The two Jet Skis drove straight for him.

  Jake sunk beneath the water.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The murkiness of the water didn’t aid in Jake’s swim. It hadn’t hindered it either. He used it as shelter from the Black Scorpions as he swam beneath the surface toward the shore. A vibration pulsed through the water followed by several small surges darting around him.

  Bullets.

  Shit!

  He swam faster. The bullets stopped popping around him.

  He tried to touch the floor of the bay. The shore had to be close. Moving a few feet, his foot touched his target. He waited for the inevitable vibration to come near.

  Through the muffling of the water, he felt rather than watched the movement in the water encroached then slowly dissipate. A lone Jet Ski had stopped. Shuffling up the slope until the bottom of the Jet Ski came into view, he shoved off the sandy bay floor, springing his body out of the water. Taking a fortified gulp of air, he wrapped his arm around the Black Scorpion’s neck, jerking him off the Ski as they dropped back in the water.

  The Scorpion didn’t have the lung capacity to fight under the water.

  One down, who knew how many to go. First, he had to find Pamela.

  Shoving against the bay floor once again, he lunged out of the water, climbed onto the seat, then revved the engine.

  Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat.

  Jake dove into the water as bullets pinged into the ski. He swam to what he felt was a safe distance and slowly eased his head above water. A single man sat with his back to him with a machine gun in his lap, searching the water. The engine had been killed. This will be too easy. Under the water again, he grabbed a handful of sand mixed with a few broken shells, and rose just behind the man who still searched the empty waters. Jake tossed the handful to the left of the Jet Ski. The man’s head twisted as he pulled the gun to the side.