Nick stumbled and fell before they reached the rock outcropping. He pushed himself off the ground, glancing over his shoulder at Javier. There was a nasty scrape on his left cheek. Faith made a whimpering sound in the back of her throat.
Javier reached for his gun and came up empty.
Coño!
He must have lost it in the water.
Nick realized what had happened and assumed a ready position, putting his fists up. He was a scrappy fighter—Gonzales liked to trawl the boxing ring for employees—but Javier had more experience.
“Why don’t you just get the fuck out of here?” Javier offered.
“I’m not a deserter.”
Javier wasn’t impressed by his loyalty. Gonzales would punish Nick for abandoning Faith, so he didn’t have much choice. “No, you’re a killer. If those guys on the trail don’t survive, you’ll get the death penalty.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said, breathing hard. He sounded worried.
Javier had helped Owen pull the unconscious man out of the water. He would have died without their intervention. He might be dead now. “What about Alexia?”
Nick’s gaze darkened. “No.”
Although Javier wanted to press him for more information, he doubted any would be forthcoming. He glanced at Faith, evaluating her condition. Her clothes were dirty and she had some minor scratches. “Did he hit you?”
Eyes wide, she shook her head.
Good to know. Javier wasn’t going to take it easy on him, however. He advanced, feinting to the left and following up with a hard right. The first strike connected, but Nick stayed on his feet. Somehow, he also managed to retaliate with a heavy blow to the gut.
Maybe Javier had underestimated him.
Smothering a grunt of surprise, he retreated a few steps. His left side was still sore, and Nick was perceptive enough to recognize the weakness. He pummeled Javier’s left shoulder, striking the tender spot.
Pain exploded on impact. Javier swung out wildly and got lucky with an uppercut. Nick staggered backward.
Faith wasn’t content to sit and watch. She wiggled toward Nick like a worm, positioning herself behind him. When Javier came forward, swinging again, Nick tripped over her and went down on his ass.
Javier seized the opportunity to leap on top of Nick. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he punched him again and again. He punched for Alexia, and for Faith. He punched for Caleb and Ted and the guy Owen had pulled out of the river.
He had a strong urge to keep hitting him, but he slowed as soon as Nick went limp. There was no sport in beating a semiconscious man to death. His fist hovered in the air, waiting to descend. Beneath him, Nick moaned, his head lolling to the side. Blood dribbled down his brow, into his ear.
Javier glanced at Faith. Tears leaked from her eyes, making tracks on her dirty cheeks. She didn’t need to witness any more brutality.
He let Nick go and went to her. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he knelt beside her, reaching out to remove her gag. She made a noise of discomfort as the rough cloth left her tender mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but he drew her into his arms instead. She pressed her face to his chest and wept.
Gonzales stepped into the clearing, his gun poised. “What a touching scene.”
Javier’s stomach clenched with tension. He thought about diving into the falls, but the drop looked deadly, and Faith was still tied up. She couldn’t land safely, or swim. He’d risk his own life to escape, not hers.
He tightened his arm around her protectively.
“Would you care to explain yourself?” Gonzales asked.
Javier expected to be executed on the spot. Gonzales knew that Javier had betrayed him. The proof was right here, in Nick’s blood. He’d come back for Faith, and made enemies of his former comrades. It didn’t look good. If Gonzales waited, it was only because he wanted to interrogate and torture Javier first.
Although he couldn’t change his fate, maybe he could convince Gonzales to spare Faith. “She doesn’t know anything,” he said, holding her head to his chest. She trembled against him. “Let her go.”
“I’d rather let her watch you die.”
“Please,” he said, reduced to begging.
Gonzales gestured at Nick, who was showing signs of life. “Can you walk, or should I save you the trouble?”
Nick staggered to his feet, wiping his bloody eyebrow.
“Get up,” Gonzales said to Javier. “And bring the girl with you.”
Once again, he considered taking a leap off the cliff. It was three short steps to the edge, but Gonzales would shoot him in the back before he reached freedom. He rose and lifted Faith into his arms, ignoring the ache in his shoulder.
A helicopter flew overhead and landed in the meadow nearby. At Gonzales’s prodding, Javier headed that direction, resigned to cooperate.
For now.
* * *
HOPE RELEASED THE clip and checked for bullets.
Two left.
She shoved it back into the chamber, knowing she had to make them both count. While she took aim at his estimated location, ready to squeeze off another shot, Leather slammed his shoulder against the fuselage a third time. The nose tipped over the edge. She careened sideways into the dead pilot.
Her stomach sank.
There was nothing she could do. Momentum would send the plane hurtling off the cliff, whether she fired or not.
Killing him wouldn’t save her now.
If she stayed inside the fuselage, she would die. If she jumped out, she would die. She braced herself for the crash although it wouldn’t make any difference. The plane’s belly scraped along the rocks with a metallic groan.
Then she was airborne.
Her head hit the roof as the wreckage toppled nose over tail, smashing against the cliff wall.
The stomach-curling descent ended before she expected it. One second, she was flying around the inside of the fuselage. The next, she was plastered to the ceiling, stunned. The plane came to a sudden halt.
Hope felt suspended in time and space. Was she dead or alive, up or down?
The gun in her hand seemed real. She tightened her grip, trying to regain her hold on reality. Taking a deep breath, she glanced past the dead pilot, out the broken window. Terror coursed through her veins as she realized what had happened. The fuselage was perched on a precarious ledge, halfway down the cliff.
It wasn’t stable.
Wind whistled through the swaying cabin. Any moment, she could take another plunge. She had to get out—now.
Heart pounding, she tucked the gun into her waistband and crawled along the roof, clawing her way toward the window. The pilot dangled upside down, eyes empty, mouth gaping open. She skirted around him, whimpering with fear. The fuselage shifted, bringing his face closer to hers.
She smothered a shriek and cowered against the ceiling. If she didn’t free herself from the wreckage, she was going to die. She knew it, but she couldn’t move.
“Hope!”
It was Sam. Although he sounded distant, and distressed, his voice was music to her ears. The fact that she could hear him at all encouraged her. He had to be within a few hundred feet. Maybe he was climbing the wall.
A gunshot followed his anguished cry.
She started moving again, spurred by the danger. Glass cut into her skin and tore her clothes as she maneuvered through the broken window. Leather was standing on the cliff about a hundred feet above her, pointing his gun down.
She followed its trajectory to Sam.
He was several pitches below her, his body pressed flat to the rock. Leather’s bullet must not have hit its target, because Sam appeared unharmed. Unfortunately, there were no outcroppings for him to hide behind. He was a sitting duck.
So was she.
Swallowing hard, she studied the wall in front of her. It offered a number of handholds. If the fuselage fell away, she could grab on.
But for how long?
Her anxiety spiked as she looked down. S
he had no idea what the plane was resting on. The fuselage might break away and take her with it at any moment.
Pulse racing, she reached out to touch the dusty granite with her left hand. When her grip felt solid, she brandished her weapon, braced herself against the rock and waited. The instant Leather leaned over the edge of the cliff to shoot, she squeezed the trigger. His head exploded in a violent red burst.
Hope barely registered the lucky hit, or the fact that his body was tumbling toward her. She wasn’t used to firing one-handed, and the gun’s kick was strong. Her arm jerked back and the fuselage shuddered, falling out from under her.
Seconds later, it exploded against the ground.
Screaming, she dropped her weapon and clung to the wall with both hands. Leather flew by like a giant black crow, narrowly missing her. She heard a sickening thunk as his bones and internal organs were obliterated.
Hope shuddered, picturing the same fate for herself.
She couldn’t feel a ledge or any convenient support beneath her feet. The muscles in her arms were already strained, taxed beyond their limits. Trying not to panic, she looked over her shoulder and studied the distance to the ground.
She was doomed.
“Hold on,” Sam called.
“I can’t,” she said, but he couldn’t hear her.
“I’m coming for you!”
The fuselage had been resting on something several feet below her. She wanted to drop down to it, but she didn’t know what was there.
“Stay where you are,” Sam said. “I’m coming.”
Her arms shook, threatening to give out, and her hands felt as if they were bleeding. Maybe they were. The glass had left shallow cuts all over her body. “I can’t hold on,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“There’s nothing under you, Hope. The boulder crumbled down the cliff with the fuselage.”
She pressed her forehead to the rock and wept. She wasn’t ready to die. Faith needed her. But her fingertips were numb, and her strength was sapped.
Sam continued to talk to her in a calm voice. He positioned himself directly under her, and he sounded close. Almost close enough to save her. When her hands unclenched, she cried out for help.
After a nerve-jolting slide, he caught her.
He trapped her between his body and the wall, locking her in a bear hug. Their combined weight sagged against the line, but the gear held tight. Hope dangled there like a rag doll, sobbing hysterically.
“I’ve got you,” he kept saying. “I’ve got you.”
When the feeling returned to her arms, and her hands tingled with sensation, she let him guide her back to the wall. She gripped the rock, blinking the tears from her eyes while he attached her to his harness with extra rope. Using his belay device, he lowered them both down the cliff safely.
The fuselage was still burning, several hundred feet away. Hope wanted to ask about Faith, but she needed a moment to catch her breath.
As soon as Sam removed the gear, she threw her arms around him. She didn’t have any more tears, or any words at all, just gratitude. His shoulders trembled beneath her fingertips. Realizing that he was crying, she reached up to touch the wetness on his face.
A second later, his mouth covered hers. She tasted his fear and desperation. Overwhelmed with emotion, she kissed him back hungrily. His chest was solid against her breasts, his hands strong and his body hard-muscled.
He felt like everything she’d ever wanted, raw and pure and real. The swelling against her abdomen was as life-affirming as the ground beneath her feet.
She couldn’t forget what he’d said before they’d parted, or all the pain he’d caused her in a short period of time. Her interactions with Sam were fraught with conflict. His capacity for hurting her was vast.
But so was his capacity for pleasuring her.
He made her feel—lust, anger, frustration, sadness. He made her feel alive. So she gripped his damp shirt and kissed him harder, drinking him in. Wanting more of his heat and heart and hurt.
His hands roved down her back, cupping her bottom and lifting her against his erection. He seemed frantic, as if he might devour her whole.
She broke the kiss, panting.
When the wildness in his eyes faded, he let her go, raking a hand through his hair. “Jesus,” he said. “I thought you were going to die up there. The fuselage was teetering on a fucking pebble.”
She looked over her shoulder at a boulder the size of an armchair. Hardly a pebble, but small, compared to the plane. “You saved me.”
“You saved both of us,” he countered.
The remains of the man she’d killed were beyond the wreckage. She tore her gaze away. “Where’s Faith?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “I don’t know. I...ran into Owen on the trail. He said he’d look for her.”
She’d wondered where his climbing gear had come from. As he handed her a bottle of water from his pack, she noticed movement in the distance.
Owen.
He must have witnessed the kiss, because he was just standing there, as if reluctant to interrupt the intimate moment. Hope took a long drink of water and walked toward him, tension humming through her body.
More rangers and sheriff’s deputies were coming down the trail. They were specks in the distance, still half a mile away. “Where’s my sister?” she asked Owen.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes pained. “They took her.”
Her stomach dropped. “Who?”
“The men at the top of Mist Falls. Before I could get there, they hauled her off and left in a helicopter.”
“What happened to Del Norte?” Sam asked.
“He was the one carrying her. At gunpoint.”
Hope collapsed against Sam, distraught. He lowered her to the ground, where she curled up into a tight ball. She couldn’t lose her sister. Faith was her entire world. “No!” she screamed, clenching her hands into fists.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AS SOON AS Javier set her down inside the helicopter, his boss hit him over the head with the butt of his gun.
Faith was too terrified to scream. Javier slumped forward, unconscious.
His boss stepped around the body and climbed into the passenger seat. “Nick,” he said, tossing a rope over his shoulder.
The man Javier had beaten to a pulp picked up the rope, tying Javier’s hands and feet. Leaving him on the floor, Nick urged Faith to sit down and took the space next to her. She studied him warily as he reached across her body to secure her safety belt. He smelled like mud and sweat. His chin was scraped raw. Rivulets of blood snaked from his eyebrow down his dirty face. She held her breath until he moved away.
Nick seemed aware of her disgust. Clearing his throat, he lifted the hem of his T-shirt and held it to his brow.
She turned her attention to Javier’s boss. Unlike the unwashed cretin beside her, he was handsome and well dressed, his short black hair cut even more expertly than Javier’s. He wore a flashy platinum watch on his wrist.
If this man had been standing beside “Jay Norton” in a different setting, she might have noticed him first.
Javier’s boss caught her looking and muttered an order in Spanish. Nick didn’t strike her as a native speaker, but he stopped blotting his forehead and leaned toward her. The cut that bisected his eyebrow was still seeping. It needed stitches. When he reached for her gag, she shied away, trying to avoid his bloodstained hands. But she had nowhere to go. He untied the rough cloth and covered her eyes with it, making a tight knot.
She was cast into darkness as the helicopter lifted off.
Javier shifted at her feet, showing signs of regaining consciousness. She didn’t know what to think of him, or how to feel. He was responsible for this predicament. He’d lied to her and put her in danger. But he’d also risked his life to come back for her. He’d fought Nick for her, and begged his boss to leave her behind. If nothing else, the protective streak that had drawn her to him was genuine.
After the
helicopter landed, Nick left her side. Javier grunted in pain, as if he’d been kicked awake, and she sensed motion all around her. When everything went quiet, she knew she was alone in the cabin.
Faith had never been a patient person. This wait was the most uncomfortable of her life. She was tired and thirsty. Her arms ached from being wrenched behind her back. Dirt covered her from head to toe.
The mosquito bite on her face itched.
After an interminable, torturous period, someone returned for her. He picked her up and carried her away from the helicopter. She knew it wasn’t Nick, because she detected a hint of expensive cologne.
The man walked down a set of stairs and maneuvered her through a narrow space. By the time he tossed her on a mattress, he was breathing heavily.
She realized he’d just exerted himself, but the sinister sound, paired with squeaking bedsprings and her bound, blindfolded state, sent her into a panic. She screamed for help and tried to roll away from him.
He tugged the cloth from her eyes.
Javier’s boss loomed over her, giving her an intense study. His interest didn’t seem sexual, or particularly aggressive. “Are you hungry?”
She glanced around the room. It looked normal, if colorless. White walls, beige carpet, tan bedspread. There was a small table with a silver food tray and a large bottle of Evian. She swallowed dryly. “I’m thirsty.”
He took a pair of clippers from his pocket to cut the tie at her wrists. Then he poured her a cup of water.
She gulped in great swallows, liquid sloshing down her face and neck. He didn’t react to the unladylike behavior. Although she wanted to kick him in the nuts, she settled for tossing the rest of the water in his face. He wicked away the moisture with aplomb, his left eye twitching. The response didn’t satisfy her, but it was better than nothing. She reached down to tug at the binding around her ankles.
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Where’s my sister?”
“I’ll tell you, if you cooperate.”
Freefall (No) Page 16
