by Karin Story
Placing a hand on his chin, she forced him to look at her. "I can't speak for anyone else, Tom, but I have to be who I am. I love you for wanting to take care of me, and I promise, most of the time I'll let you. But right now, we have a lot to do in a little amount of time. We both need to do our jobs, and your need to hold on tight is interfering."
He jerked himself out of her grasp and took a couple of steps away. Turning from her, he stared out into the dark mist. There was nothing wrong with wanting to keep her safe, keep her with him. Nothing. And this wasn't about love. This was about her safety and well-being. As she pointed out, Trent was out there somewhere.
He heard her move behind him, then her still gentle voice, but in a tone that indicated she wouldn't tolerate an argument. "I'm going to backtrack along the river. You take the cliffs. I'll meet you back here in say…half an hour."
He swung around, "Maris!" But she had already turned her back on him and walked away, the rifle settled securely in the crook of her arm.
"Goddamn it," he mumbled again. Anger and fear caused his insides to boil, but as he watched her go, he had to admit that even in the dark, and as small as she was, she was a figure to be reckoned with. When the going got tough, Maris just got tougher.
Muttering a few more well chosen curses, he stalked toward the cliffs. He'd just do his "job," as she put it, and get the hell back here ASAP so he could make sure she was okay.
The thorny little tickle of worry that had been gnawing at him all day continued to grow. Where the hell was Trent? Why had they seen neither hide nor hair of him in the twenty-four hours since they'd escaped from his complex? Yeah, so he'd gone to a meeting, but there was no way his loyal soldiers wouldn't have contacted him and told him the situation.
He looked back over his shoulder and could no longer see Maris. She'd vanished into the mist. Damn her for being so stubborn.
Chapter 29
* * *
He was so friggin' stubborn!
Maris really did understand his need to take care of her. But he'd already forgotten what she'd told him in the apartment over the cantina, about how she needed to be part of the decision making. He was taking charge again, and it frustrated her no end.
Yet a lump settled in her heart for upsetting him. She felt bad that she'd walked away, leaving him to stew. But he hadn't given her any choice. They couldn't stand out there all night arguing.
With a grumbled sigh, she reached the river and started back along it. But instead of paralleling it from fifty yards away as they had on their journey earlier tonight, now she stayed next to it.
The moon had come out from behind the clouds, and she kept her eyes trained on the river, looking for narrow spots, or natural bridges of some sort, or even just a strip of calm water where they might swim across. It looked pretty ugly, however. The river was a roiling, churning mass, strewn with big rocks and even bigger rapids. Not a good sign. She hoped Tom was having better luck finding a way for them to get down by the fall.
Far enough away from the waterfall now, the mist cleared and the rumble of water that had been beating time through her body faded, allowing her to hear other sounds.
Voices whispered in the night.
Stopping suddenly, she crouched near some bushy plants she didn't recognize, her heart pounding double-time. For several moments she concentrated on where the voices were. At last she picked up the direction they were coming from and moved toward the sounds, careful to stay low and quiet.
"Find them, stop them however you have to, but the final kill is mine," the deep, rich voice swirled through the trees and into Maris's ears. "I will have the honor of finishing off both of them. Is that clear?"
Several sharp affirmatives responded.
"Good, then head out on either side of the cliffs. The way I figure it, they wouldn't have traveled during the day, so we should have beat them here. We'll wait until they come to us. But even if they arrived first, these cliffs go for miles in either direction. They can't be far. Even my boy doesn't have wings." She heard the laugh that only belonged to the devil. "Now go!"
Every muscle and nerve in her body stretched tight. Tom! He was out there on the edge of the cliffs. With the sound of the pounding water drowning everything else out, he'd never hear them coming. She had to get to him before they did.
Was that even possible?
Creeping a little closer, at last she could see the tall figure of evil, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. He pulled out a large gun and chambered a round. His minions scattered away from him, most heading toward the fall and the cliffs, but a few plunging into the surrounding vegetation.
She held her position, pressing herself against the ground, trying to imagine herself as part of it, so she'd blend in. The leafy clump of bushes gave her a fair amount of protection.
At last, Montgomery sauntered toward the cliffs, leaving two soldiers to guard the helicopter, which must have landed while she and Tom were near the waterfall because they certainly hadn't heard it.
That helicopter and those two soldiers were between her and Tom. She could get a good sight on the men with her rifle, but if she missed either of them, she was dead. They were soldiers and she was just Maris Rhodes, who'd fired an AK-47 once in her life, sixteen years ago.
That was a moot point anyway, because if she did fire the rifle, it would bring the devil and his little men rushing back here.
Of course…that might not be a bad thing. If they all came back here, it would give Tom that much more time to get away.
No, it would never work, because some of Trent's men were probably already at the fall and they wouldn't hear the ruckus, so they wouldn't come back. Damn, damn, damn, what should she do?
Move it, Rhodes. Time's a wastin'.
Cold metal suddenly pressed into her neck, and a guttural laugh sounded above her.
Panicked, she rolled onto her back and was immediately immobilized by a heavy figure straddling her. The soldier smiled, then pressed the blade of a knife against her neck. A twinge of pain shook her senses clear.
The arm holding the Kalashnikov was crushed by his leg. Her other arm, however, was next to her waist where her handgun ground cruelly into her flesh.
She began to struggle, as if she were going to fight the soldier, turning her body back and forth. Just a little bit more and she'd have her hand on the gun.
He grabbed for her flailing arm, and laughed quietly, obviously not considering her much of a threat. That realization forced a flood of power through her. Jerking her hand free from his, she whipped out her gun, held it against his chest and pulled the trigger before he ever knew what hit him.
His grip went slack. She fired again.
He fell to the side and Maris sprang to her feet. The gunshots would bring trouble.
Sure enough, she already heard shouts and heavy footfalls running in her direction. The two soldiers by the helicopter. If she ran, they'd shoot her in the back.
Taking a deep breath, she shoved the handgun back into the front of her jeans and turned toward them. She braced herself, aimed the Kalashnikov and pulled the trigger.
A spray of bullets cut down the two men in mid-stride.
Gasping for air, hardly daring to believe they weren't going to bounce back up and shoot at her, she stood rooted to the spot. But nothing moved.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Go, Rhodes. Now!
Shaking herself out of a horrified stupor, Maris sprinted through the jungle toward the cliffs. If anyone else had heard that noise they'd be hot on her trail in no time. She had to get to Tom before that happened.
* * *
The cliffs went on and on. No breaks, no gentle slopes, no nothing. Just sharp, unforgiving rock, zooming downward to bottomless depths. At least it appeared that way in the dark.
There wasn't much point in continuing on, Tom thought. He might as well turn back now and see if Maris had found a way to cross the river. A glance at his glow-in-the-dark watch showed him it had only been fif
teen minutes since they'd gone their separate ways.
They obviously were at the top of a huge plateau. They'd either have to just trek along the edge, and eventually it had to taper off, or they'd have to go back into the jungle. Damn it!
The mist filtered around him again, the damp eating through him, causing his mood to deteriorate even further. He grew closer to the waterfall, and its deafening roar obliterated all else. It was sheer instinct that caused him to swing around in time to see the armed soldier slip behind a rock about twelve feet away from him.
Shit.
Tom ducked behind a rock of his own, peered over the top of it, and waited.
Almost immediately he was distracted by sharp popping sounds nearby. He'd barely heard them over the roar.
A small figure burst through the trees not thirty yards from where he crouched. A handful of soldiers followed.
Maris! He raised his gun, but before he could sight it and fire, she turned, dug in her heels, and let loose with the assault rifle, mowing two of the men to the ground.
Targeting, Tom fired and dropped another one. Then another.
As far as he could tell, that left two still in hot pursuit, but they were too far away for him to shoot. Maris turned tail and ran again, heading straight toward the cliffs and the waterfall.
He scrambled over the rocks to get to her, his mind momentarily forgetting his own pursuer.
But the soldier who'd been in hiding nearby hadn't forgotten him.
A searing pain erupted in Tom's shoulder, causing him to stumble and lose his footing. His gun sailed out of his hand and bounced over the edge of the cliff. He fell to his hands and knees on the wet rock, nearly sliding over the edge himself. A small boulder was all that kept him in place.
The soldier leapt at him, but Tom turned onto his back in time to see him coming, and used his feet and legs to deflect the man from landing on him. The man rolled to his side near Tom, but agilely flipped to his feet, and came at him again.
Tom groped around him, searching for something, anything he could use as a weapon. His hand closed on a rock the size of a big grapefruit.
As the soldier loomed over him again with his gun drawn and aimed at his chest, Tom used the rock to smash against the gun, sending it flying. Then he swung again, hitting the soldier on the side of the head.
It wasn't a hard enough blow to knock him out, but it addled him long enough for Tom to use his feet to propel the soldier through the air and over the cliff. He heard the man's choked scream as he disappeared into the dark, roaring depths.
Gaining his feet, he turned back to the last place he'd seen Maris.
His heart throbbed in pain along with his shoulder as he slipped and slid his way behind rocks until he had a view of her. He could just see her crouching behind a rock about twenty-five feet from him, making a last stand with her handgun. He knew she only had two clips of ammunition because the extra boxes had disappeared into yesterday's waterfall. The rifle had been discarded on the rocks next to her.
Two soldiers still faced her, they, too, behind rocks, only a few yards away.
The only sound was the thunderous water.
She clutched the gun, but didn't fire. She must be out of ammo.
With impeccable timing, now that all the shooting was over, Trent Montgomery strolled out of the trees a hundred yards away with a smile on his face. "Enough," he bellowed over the sound of crashing water. He motioned for his men to get Maris. "You're out of ammo, my dear. You're backed up against a death drop. You no longer have any options."
His men climbed over the rocks toward her.
Tom moved in also. He was only a few yards away from her now. Maris saw him, but motioned him back with her hand.
What? Why?
"Trust me," she mouthed silently.
Goddamn it! What was she up to now?
She glared at him, and even in the darkness of the night, through the swirling mist, he could feel the heat of that stare burning into him, daring him to cross her.
He saw blood smeared all over her shirt and jeans, and his heart stopped. Please, God, don't let that be her blood.
"Get back," she mouthed, gesturing with her hand again.
Why now, of all times, did she feel the need to play Wonder Woman? She was telling him with that intense glare that she could damn well take care of herself and she didn't need him. And it hurt more than he could have imagined.
She turned away from him, ignoring him completely, concentrating her energy on the men who were about to come over the rock for her.
Fiery anger swept through him. There was no way in hell he'd sit here and let those men get her.
He lunged toward her just as the two men crested the rock. Then, in suspended animation, he watched her aim the handgun and fire it at point-blank range at first one, then the other soldier.
Watched open-mouthed as the two men slumped to the rock.
Watched as she tossed aside the gun, and then…then…at long last threw herself toward him.
Still in slow motion, he reached out to grab her, at the same time seeing the soldier closest to them use his last gasp of life to pull his weapon up and aim at Maris's back.
Just as he caught her in his arms, the soldier fired. Tom roughly threw Maris to the ground beside him, taking the bullet meant for her in the same shoulder where he'd already been shot.
Maris cried out his name.
Another shot echoed through the air, and a rain of rock fell onto them from the towering boulders above.
One hit him, pinning his right leg to the ground, another struck at the point where he had a desperate grip on Maris's arm. She began to slide backward from the force of the rock. Back toward the edge of the cliff.
With wide eyes, she clung to him, and grabbed for a handhold on anything else she could find, but the avalanche of rock continued, falling around them, driving them farther apart.
He struggled to free his leg, fought to hold onto her, but his arm was giving out. The one he held her with was the one connected to the shoulder which now had two bullets lodged in it.
She hung half-on, half-off the edge, and Tom renewed his efforts to hold on to her and pull her to safety.
Suddenly, she stilled and stopped fighting. In terror, he looked at her, catching her gaze with his, begging her to not give up.
"Tom." She spoke so quietly he could barely hear her over the pounding of the waterfall and rumbling of rock. "Tom, you have to stop him. Stop that bastard, or he'll kill you."
"Just hold on, baby. Hold on."
"Listen to me," her voice sharper now. "You have to trust me. You have to." She squirmed around and slid farther away from him.
"Mare, hold still."
The falling rock had stopped except for an occasional shower of small pellets. But she continued to wiggle and his arm ached in agony. He fought again to free his leg. If he could just get some leverage…but turned at the awkward angle he was, holding on to the most precious being in his life, he couldn't budge it.
Another jerk on his arm sent waves of wracking agony through his shoulder. What the hell was she doing?
At last her other arm swung up and her hand settled near his. She pushed something toward him.
He couldn't quite see what it was, but she spoke again and from the sound of her voice, he could only turn his gaze to her.
"Do you trust me? I mean really trust me?" her voice came out as a tired gasp. She was hurting from the pressure of hanging there.
"Mare…"
"Answer me. Do you or don't you?"
A vision of Genny, standing in the kitchen at May's house filled his mind. "Trust," she'd told him. Now Maris was telling him the same thing.
No. What she was really doing was begging him to believe in her.
Every part of him ached. His body. His heart. His mind. He loved her more than anything in this world. But as she'd told him earlier, love wasn't about holding too tight. He'd suffocate her that way.
He felt his grip on
her slipping. He couldn't hold her like this much longer.
"Tom, you have to let me go. You have to let go and do your job. Please, trust me," her voice was more a sob now than anything.
He looked into those pleading eyes, remembering the deep forest green of them, remembering the humor, the mischief, the passion in them.
He could burn in one hell or another. Which was it going to be?
"I love you, Mare."
"Get that bastard, Tom. Get him for all of us."
"Don't you dare die. I need you," he said softly, his eyes burning with tears.
She smiled. "I love you, Tom Eberson."
"I know, baby." He released his hold on her.
She relaxed her body and dropped over the edge.
"Mare!" His cry echoed off the rock, but was quickly sucked up by the roaring waterfall.
"Well, well, well, one down and one to go." Trent's voice came from above him. He perched on one of the larger boulders about ten feet away.
Tom's hand closed around the object Maris had pushed toward him.
Her knife.
Understanding dawned, and he finally realized what she'd done tonight—everything in her power to even the odds. She'd killed the last two soldiers, and made sure he had some kind of a weapon. My God, what an incredible woman.
"Very touching scene there, my boy. Such a shame to see her beauty wasted. But, you know what they say?"
Tom jerked his leg out from under the rock, ignoring the pain that shot up his thigh. He pulled himself to a standing position and faced Trent. "What's that?"
"You're born, you live, you die. It's as simple as that."
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"
"Quite. Now take your lovely lady for example. She got in over her head. Unfortunate, but true. A pity you got her involved in all this mess. And even more of a pity I didn't finish her off in Denver when I had the chance. Unfortunate that I only nicked her instead of killing her. She was a slippery, hot little thing." He snickered. "But then, I suppose you know that."
