The Only Way Out

by Susan Mallery

  “I thought you were coming with us.”

  “We’ll be fine, Bobby,” Andie said, then touched her son’s shoulder. “We’re going on an adventure.”

  “But I want Jeff to come, too.”

  “He can’t.”

  Jeff squatted down so he was close to eye level. “You’re going to have to be real brave for your mom. Can you do that?”

  Bobby nodded solemnly.

  “Good.” Jeff held out his arms. “Why don’t you give me a hug?”

  The child dropped his bag of toys and flew into his arms. Jeff stood frozen for a moment, unable to respond. He hadn’t thought, he’d just reacted. He was being assaulted by a battalion of memories. Bobby was bigger than J.J. had been when he’d died but the little-boy hug was almost the same. Thin arms pressing so hard, the narrow back, the scent and sounds. Jeff’s heart ached. Slowly he wrapped his arms around Bobby. They clung to each other. He hadn’t expected to care. He hadn’t expected to miss the kid.

  Bobby sniffed once, then stepped back. Jeff didn’t want to let him go, but he released him. “I’ll be good,” the child promised, then picked up his toys.

  Jeff stood up. Andie tried to smile. “I still don’t know your last name.”

  “I know.”

  “I wish—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He stared at her, at her perfect face. He wished it, too. That it could have been different. That she could have been someone else. He thought about kissing her, but he was afraid of what they would feel and say. Better to just move on.

  “I’m going down to the boat,” he said, stepping away from them. “If everything’s all right, I’ll click on my flashlight three times. Walk quickly to the boat. Don’t run on the dock. Once you’re there, get on and get down. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Andie said, and took her son’s hand.

  Jeff hurried down the long bridge. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He didn’t like being that exposed, but there wasn’t another way to the boat without swimming.

  When he was close to the craft, he paused and whistled twice. There wasn’t any response. He whistled again, low and clear.

  Silence.

  He swore under his breath. Not now, not when he was so damn close to getting her off the island. He ran the last ten feet and boarded the vessel. It rocked slightly under his feet. The light didn’t reach here; everything was in shadow.

  “Daniel,” he called and took a step forward. “Where—”

  His toe hit something soft. He bent over and touched a man’s arm. Squatting down, he turned on his powerful, thin flashlight. Daniel’s open eyes stared up lifelessly. His throat had been cut. The job was professional. No one on the island would dare kill someone without Kray’s permission.

  Jeff stayed crouched down, trying to figure out if they would jump him here or wait until he left the boat. He drew in a deep breath and smelled it. Gasoline. The boat’s engine was diesel.

  From under the deck came a faint scratching sound, like a sparking device. He sprang to his feet and jumped out of the boat. He started up the dock. He could see Andie and Bobby standing where he’d left them.

  “Get out of here,” he screamed. “Go! Now!”

  She started to move away.

  “Run!” he called. If she left now she might have a chance. She might—

  The explosion was louder than he’d expected. The sound convulsed around him. It shook the dock beneath his feet and buffeted his body. The wooden support beams buckled. The bridge cracked. He was caught in the second blast and thrown high into the air. The world spun into blackness. He knew he was going to die and Andie would be left alone. His last conscious thought was one of bitter regret.

  Chapter 10

  The blackness was complete. Some still-functioning part of his brain acknowledged that. Then he landed and instantly began to sink. The sensation of regaining consciousness combined with the terrifying reality of saltwater filling his lungs.

  Jeff fought against the instinct to panic. He opened his eyes but it was dark. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. His chest tightened. He had to breathe, cough, choke—anything. The band of pressure increased. Instead, he relaxed, allowing his body to float. He hung suspended in the salty depths. Every cell of his being screamed for air, for life. Training battled instinct. He knew this time, under these conditions, instinct would kill him.

  Slowly, so slowly he almost didn’t notice, he began to move. His body floated up, through the darkness, toward the surface and life-giving air. When he had broken free of the water, he gasped in a breath, then choked on the saltwater he’d swallowed. He treaded water while he cleared his lungs and tried to figure out where he was and what had just happened.

  His arms and legs felt bruised. His head was light, his memory fuzzy. But even if he couldn’t remember, something inside drove him on. Even as he was still catching his breath, he began to move toward the shore. In the faint lights up ahead, he could see the foamy surf slapping against the sand. His shoulders ached as he moved his arms. What the hell had happened?

  To his left the end of the dock burned. A piece of wood floated by. Jeff grabbed it. He looked around. There were more pieces. A boat maybe? An explosion?

  Then the memories returned. Andie—was she safe? Daniel was dead. Kray knew about Jeff hiring the boat. Did he know his old enemy was helping his ex-wife escape?

  Ignoring the throbbing pain in his body, he continued for shore. Dear God, just let her have followed his instructions. If she had, she would long gone by now. It would take her a while to find her way back to the house, but when she made it she would be safe for several more days. By then, he could get back to her and—

  His foot touched the sandy bottom. He gathered his fading strength and staggered onto the shore. His legs were shaking. The concussion from the explosion had hit him like a brick wall. He wanted to lie down and rest but there was no time. He had to be sure Andie and Bobby had gotten away. He had to know they were safe.

  But despite his good intentions, his knees buckled and he went down. He crawled out of the surf, cursing Kray and his efficiency, the bad luck—or bad timing—that had brought him to this. Jeff’s arms shook from the effort, then he groaned once and collapsed.

  He wasn’t sure how long he was out. One minute he surrendered to the darkness, the next, something hard was poking his side.

  “You think he’s dead?” a male voice asked.

  Jeff came awake instantly. He didn’t move.

  “I saw him breathing. He’s not dead.” The hard poke came again, this time bruising his ribs. “Time to wake up.” There was the distinctive click of an automatic weapon’s safety being released. “Or not. It’s up to you.”

  Jeff rolled over and opened his eyes. Two men stared down at him. Their clothes and coloring indicated they were locals, the well-cared-for, expensive weapons told him they worked for Kray.

  “Who is he?” the first man asked. He was short and young.

  His companion reached in his baggy trouser pocket and pulled out a flashlight. He punched a button. Jeff flinched against the intense beam.

  “He looks familiar,” the second man said. The light danced over Jeff’s face, then was shut off. “What’s your name?” he asked, punctuating the question with a jab from his automatic rifle.

  “John Doe,” Jeff said, his voice scratchy from the saltwater.

  “We got us a smart one,” the second man said. “He probably works for the United States government.” He laughed. “You wanted to go fishing tonight, Monty, but this catch will be our best yet.” His grin broadened. Dark eyes stared down at Jeff. “You’re a fool, American. Why are you here? You want to capture Kray on his own island?”

  “I was on vacation,” Jeff said. “Working on my tan.”

  “You’ve come a long way to see Kray, and now you’ll get your wish.”

  “I didn’t come here to capture him,” he said in a spurt of temper.

  “No
? To kill him, then?” Now both men laughed. “You and what army?” The man looked around. “I don’t see anyone else. Your men seemed to have abandoned you, American. And now you die.”

  Jeff closed his eyes briefly. He sent up a quick prayer that Andie was gone. He knew they hadn’t got a hold of her yet. From the sound of things, these two men were alone on the beach. That gave her a fighting chance. If only she had the good sense to take it.

  “Get up,” Monty, the younger man, said.

  Jeff raised himself to his knees. He thought about making a run for it. His body still ached, but his strength was returning. Not that he could outrun fire from an automatic weapon. As he rose to his feet, he strained to listen to the silence around them. Was she already gone? If she wasn’t, the men with him would hear the Jeep start up. She’d had time right after the explosion. If she’d started running right away, she would have reached the Jeep while the boat was still in flames. No one would have seen her leave then. But if she’d waited—He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that.

  Jeff stood between the two men. Monty was facing him. Now they would start, he told himself. He shut down his mind and his fears for Andie’s safety. He thought of nothing. Slowly all feeling fled. He relaxed. He was ready.

  Even so, the first blow to his kidneys caught him off guard. The older man hadn’t hit him himself; instead, he’d used the butt of the automatic. The unyielding surface slammed into his back, driving him to his knees. He exhaled sharply. Pain exploded at the point of impact, then radiated out in all directions.

  The second blow almost dislocated his left shoulder. He braced himself with his right hand to keep from going down. He’d known he would pay a high price if he was caught. His only regret was that he hadn’t had a second chance at Kray.

  “How many men are with you?” the older man asked.

  Jeff didn’t answer.

  “How many?”

  The butt of the rifle swung down and slammed into his ribs. All the air rushed out of his chest and he felt himself falling into the sand. If he’d had any breath left, he would have laughed. Even if he told them the truth, they wouldn’t believe him. No way one man would be crazy enough to go up against Kray alone. He could lie, but he wouldn’t. Once he gave in to the pain, they would have won. It was better to disconnect. Eventually he would fall into unconsciousness. Eventually they would kill him. Then, as he’d promised five years ago, he would wait for Kray in hell and have his revenge there.

  “Can I hit him?” Monty asked.

  “No, you’ll kill him like you did the last one. We need him alive.” The older man stepped back. Jeff knew it was to give him a moment to regain his strength. It was more fun to bring a man to his knees than to keep hitting him while he was down. If they would let him rest there for about a week, he would be ready to take them both on.

  “Stand up, American,” the young man ordered.

  Jeff forced himself to his knees. There was too much pain for him to locate any one place that hurt more than another. Every breath was agony, although he didn’t think his ribs were broken.

  “I said get up!”

  Jeff braced his hands on his thigh and started to push up. When a bullet hit the sand next to him, he was so startled he almost collapsed.

  “Thank goodness,” Andie breathed. She’d figured out how to use the pistol after all. Now she had to distract the men holding Jeff without hitting any of them. She pointed the muzzle toward the sand just to the left of them and fired again. The recoil didn’t surprise her as much this time and she was able to keep her arms out in front of her.

  She felt foolish, standing there, legs spread, knees bent, her arms stretched out like some actress playing a cop in a low-budget movie. All she needed was to yell some tacky line of dialogue like “Freeze, sucker, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Only, this wasn’t a movie, it was frighteningly real. Her heart was pounding too hard, her palms were damp, the fear so overwhelming, she could taste it.

  The men on the beach peered in her direction. She stood in the shadows of a large bush, next to a tree. If they started to fire back at her, she wanted to be able to duck. She didn’t dare call out. She didn’t want them to know who she was. Otherwise she would have ordered them to drop their weapons. She wondered if they would have listened to a woman, then thought the gun in her hand was a pretty decent equalizer.

  “Where’d that shot come from?” one of the men asked the other.

  “Hell if I know. How many are there?”

  At least they thought she was dangerous. That was something. She knew how many bullets she had in her clip. She didn’t want to waste any more than she had to. She might need them later. Or Jeff might.

  Jeff. The light from the parking lot didn’t reach onto the beach. She couldn’t see much more than vague shapes. She prayed he was all right. She wanted him to be healthy enough to be able to yell at her when they got out of this trouble.

  She should have run, she thought, even as she prepared to fire again. When he screamed her name, she’d grabbed Bobby and headed back for the Jeep. The explosion had knocked them both to their knees, but otherwise they’d been unhurt. She’d hidden her son in the back of the vehicle, but she couldn’t leave. Not without knowing if Jeff had survived. She told herself it was because she was afraid they couldn’t make it without him. Her heart told her her reasons for worrying about him were much more personal.

  She saw the men moving. They’d separated. She took aim between them, closed her eyes and squeezed.

  “Damn, that was close,” one of them called out, sounding slightly panicked.

  She smiled briefly, then sobered as she wondered how they were going to get out of this. She hadn’t seen Jeff crawl out of the ocean. She hadn’t been able to see anything until one of Kray’s men had turned on his flashlight. She’d been standing on the dock staring into the blackness, praying for a sign. When it came, she’d been so startled, she’d almost cried out. Almost.

  The men on the beach moved again. She took aim between them and fired.

  “Got ‘em,” one of the men called.

  A bright light hit her full in the face, blinding her. Instinctively she turned away, but she couldn’t see anything. She stumbled over something on the ground, then dropped down so she wouldn’t be a target. She listened, wondering how long it would take them to find her. And where was Jeff in all this?

  Someone swore. “It’s that woman. The one who took the kid. This is our lucky night, Monty.” She heard a metallic click. “Damn fool, put your gun down. We can’t shoot her. She’s got his kid.”

  “I don’t see a kid.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not there. If we hurt him, Kray will kill us himself.”

  Andie kept blinking, trying to see something, anything. The bright light had blinded her. She could hear the men starting up after her. She turned and fired toward the noise. One of them yelped.

  “The bitch winged me. Monty, get your butt over here.”

  Slowly, shapes began to emerge from the muddy darkness. She could see the foamy surf, the lights from the parking lot. Andie peered around the brush. She could see the two men moving toward the broken bridge, but not a third. Where was Jeff?

  She didn’t ask her question aloud, but one of them read her mind.

  “He’s gone,” the one she’d shot said suddenly. “The American. He got away.”

  “We’re in trouble,” Monty said.

  She hoped so. If Jeff had a chance to get away, then he would—

  From behind her she heard the sound of an engine starting up.

  “What’s that?” Monty asked.

  “Run,” Jeff ordered.

  Andie took off toward the sound of his voice. As she reached the end of the broken bridge, the Jeep roared across the parking lot, slowing slightly so she could jump in.

  “Mommy!”

  “Get down,” Jeff said, his voice harsh. As Andie threw herself in the seat, Jeff stuck his hand in the back an
d pressed her son’s head toward the floorboards. “You, too.”

  She heard cries from behind them. She dropped her head to her knees. Automatic gunfire hit the dirt parking lot around them.

  “Are you crazy, Monty? You’ll kill the kid.”

  “They’re getting away.”

  “Let ‘em go. Kray will find ‘em soon enough.”

  Jeff hit the gas and they sped out of the parking lot and onto the road. He slowed as they rounded the first curve, then stomped on the brakes. As the Jeep jerked to a stop, he grabbed her pistol and aimed it out the side. She looked up in time to see him firing into a vehicle’s tires. The worn pickup truck shifted and settled onto the rims. Jeff handed her back the pistol, then pressed the gas. Gravel and dirt sprayed out behind them. Within minutes the beach was behind them and they were swallowed up in the night.

  Andie sat in a corner of the sofa. The lamp in the corner cast a soft pool of light over half the long room. The rest was in shadows. Overhead, the ceiling fan circled lazily, stirring the tropical night air. She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked slightly. There was no sound save for the faint crash of the waves and the steady footsteps of Jeff pacing back and forth on the front porch. He was furious at her. But at least they’d all made it back alive.

  Images sprang to her mind. The fireball of the explosion, the complete darkness and silence afterward. The men on the beach. The spotlight they’d flashed in her eyes. She recalled her terror when she’d first thought Jeff was dead. She hadn’t known what to do. He’d told her to run, to get Bobby away from there. She’d known he was right. She was no use to her son dead. And yet she’d stayed.

  Because she couldn’t stand to face it all alone. Without Jeff she had no way off the island. He was her only hope. She’d also stayed because the thought of leaving him behind had been unbearable. It wasn’t just fear that had made her wait, it was her heart.

  A tremor shook her. She clasped her waist more firmly, hunching her shoulders down and staring at her lap. The fear was still inside, a living being that sucked up her air, leaving her gasping and terrified.