Kate kept the baton against his throat, choking him down as he struggled. She got a fistful of his hair, too, then drew back the baton and prepared to strike.
“Kate!” a man’s voice boomed from below.
“Hold still,” Kate ordered, pressing the baton’s end against Shane’s throat. He knows my name. Then she realized that Tyler had been yelling for her by name.
Shane froze, but he looked sad. “You should have gone.”
I couldn’t, Kate thought. Tyler’s down there.
“Kate!” the man yelled again. “If you can hear me, listen up! I’ve got your friend down here! If you don’t answer me by the time I count to three, I’m going to put a bullet through his head! One!”
Kate was torn, not knowing what to do.
“Jolly will do it,” Shane said. Blood leaked from his nose and split lips, staining his white teeth.
“Two!” Jolly yelled.
“All right,” Kate said loudly. “I’m coming down.” She let go of Shane and stood.
Shane lay there on his back, staring up at her. Then he did the strangest thing. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Chapter 6
Kate stood at the top of the hill and looked down. “Here I am.”
Jolly, the big man with the scar that cut through his eyebrow, aimed his pistol at her. The other, a thick man with an Elvis haircut and thick sideburns, had a shotgun. Both of them, she supposed, were from the prison bus. Her immediate impulse was to try to hide. She forced herself to stay where she was.
Raymond Jolly looked up at her. A smile split his savage face as lightning arced across the sky and the wind howled through the branches. “Good,” he said. “Your friend should live a little longer. But he’s in a hell of a fix.” He gestured with the big pistol. “You might want to come down here and see for yourself.”
“Kate,” Tyler said softly. His eyes were glassy.
He’s in shock, Kate realized. She pushed away her own fear and thought about Tyler. Carefully, she made her way down the incline, slipping from tree to tree, till she reached the creek’s edge.
The weapons remained pointed at her.
“Can I help him?” Kate asked.
“Sure,” Jolly said. “Gutted on a fishhook like that, should be interesting to watch.”
Kate waded out into the water. “Tyler. Hey, Tyler.” She dug in her pocket for the mini-Maglite she carried. She switched it on. “It’s going to be okay,” she told him gently. “You’re going to be okay.” Please, let him be okay.
Tyler looked up at her. Tears leaked from his eyes, mixing with the rain. “Son of a bitch, Kate. Look what happened.” His voice sounded thready and weak.
Looking down between his cupped hands, Kate saw the hook—as big as her curled forefinger—embedded in his stomach. The tear was already two or three inches long. So far he’d been lucky, the membrane holding his intestines in hadn’t ruptured. Otherwise he’d have spilled all over the creek.
For a moment, Kate thought she was going to throw up. She steeled herself. She’d taken fishhooks out of other people before. Just never one this big.
“We can do this, Tyler,” she told him. “Just stay with me.”
“I didn’t see it, Kate. I didn’t see it.”
“I know,” she told him.
“What are you going to do?” Jolly asked. “Clean him?”
The men laughed at that.
“I could use some help,” Kate said. “He can barely stand. He needs to be still while I get this out.”
“I’m not much into helping other people,” Jolly said. “In fact, my better judgment tells me I should kill you—and him—right here. Right now.” He lifted the pistol and took dead aim at her.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Shane called from the hilltop.
“I’m not you, Shane.”
“Don’t you recognize her?” Shane asked.
Jolly squinted at Kate. “Not really. Should I?”
“This is the woman at the bus crash,” Shane said, making his way down the hillside. “The one we took the Jeep from. She’s been in the news. We saw her on television at the house where we stole the truck. Kate Garrett.”
Jolly laughed. “Damn, some people do have a run of bad luck, don’t they?”
“I just want to help Tyler,” Kate said. “Please.” It was all she could do to keep from breaking down. Shaking, she held Tyler in her arms, helping support his weight so the fishhook wouldn’t accidentally penetrate more deeply.
The pistol didn’t waver from her head. She stared back at Jolly without flinching. More than anything, she wanted to wake up and find out this was all a nightmare, that she was in bed with Steven and Hannah and they had waffles to look forward to. Waffles didn’t include potentially gutting Tyler Jordan.
“You want to keep her alive.” Shane reached the creek bank, then waded out to join Kate and Tyler.
“Why?” Jolly challenged.
“Remember the Jeep? Her business cards?”
“Wilderness guide,” Jolly said.
“That’s right,” Shane said, walking up behind Tyler and taking the younger man’s weight easily despite the fast-running creek. “She’s a wilderness guide. Now that Mother Nature has decided to open up the heavens and let all hell break loose, you might look at it like we’re lucky. Do you know anybody else who would know where everything is around here?”
Jolly didn’t say anything.
“I know you’ve got some unfinished business around here,” Shane said, “but don’t you think a wilderness guide will come in handy tonight?”
Kate resented that, but it was foolish to do so. Still, she didn’t like the idea of helping the man. “Can you hold him?”
Shane nodded. “I’ve got him.”
“I’ve got to cut the hook out.” Kate reached into her pants pocket and took out her utility knife.
“‘Cut?’” Tyler echoed. He tried to move but he was weak.
“You won’t feel a thing,” Kate said. “I promise.” She transferred the mini-Maglite to her mouth and opened the shortest blade, only two inches long. If she penetrated the membrane, she was afraid it would rip completely and Tyler’s intestines would be exposed to massive infections. Gangrene would be the least of his worries.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jolly said. He lowered the hammer on the big pistol and dropped the weapon to his side.
Looking over Tyler’s shoulder into Shane’s hazel eyes and speaking around the mini-Maglite, Kate asked, “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s your stomach?”
“We’re about to find out, lady,” he growled.
Tyler whimpered and pleaded.
Steeling herself, knowing she couldn’t leave Tyler out there, Kate slipped a finger into the wound in Tyler’s stomach. Fat and blood allowed her to slide right through and find the end of the hook.
Groaning, Tyler briefly tried to fight, then went slack.
“He’s out,” Shane growled. “Do what you have to do. He’s not going to feel a thing.”
Crimson blood dripped to the top of the murky water but was immediately torn to threads and carried away. The water was rising. During the short time she’d been standing there, it had risen at least two inches. And the current was getting stronger.
Kate found the end of the barbed hook and turned it outside, away from the protective sheath that held Tyler’s insides inside. She pushed and twisted till the barbed end popped through Tyler’s flesh in another spot. More blood dripped into the water.
There’s too much blood! Kate felt panic well up inside her. She concentrated on her breathing, focusing on that and letting her eyes guide her fingers.
“Just do what you have to do, Kate,” Shane said softly. “Get it done. You can do this.”
Kate resented the confidence he gave her. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know anything about her other than she was a wilderness guide. That was nothing.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said.
/> No it’s not. We’re being held by a group of murderers. And you’re one of them. Kate used the knife to slit Tyler’s stomach, cutting through fat and muscle. If she’d had a pair of wire cutters, she could have snipped the barb off and withdrawn the hook. That wasn’t an option now. She pulled the hook out and threw it away, then took the mini-Maglite from her mouth.
Blood dripped into the water.
“There’s too much blood,” Kate whispered.
“You did good, Kate,” Shane said. “You did good.”
She felt lightheaded and almost fell.
Shane started toward shore.
“Wait,” Kate said. “You’re going to rip him open. I need something to bind the wound.”
“Hold him for a second.”
Kate took Tyler’s weight and watched as Shane shucked out of the top of his jumpsuit, then took his undershirt off. “This work?”
“Yeah,” Kate said, staring at his torso.
Two ugly bullet wounds marred his chest. A knife scar was carved into his left deltoid. Kate recognized both wounds from scars she’d seen other hunters and fishermen around Everglades City display.
“Not too sanitary,” Shane said as he pulled the jumpsuit back on.
“It’ll work. That’s what matters right now.” Kate ripped the shirt into strips, then wrapped Tyler’s skinny middle and tied it together. Blood soaked the material at once. But it looked like it would hold.
Together, each holding one of Tyler’s arms over a shoulder and one of his legs, they carried him to the bank.
“I have to tell you,” Jolly said smugly, “I’m impressed, Kate. Maybe what we needed was a wilderness guide on this little jaunt.”
Go to hell! Kate thought. But she didn’t say a word.
Kate was almost ready to drop by the time they carried Tyler to the truck. Several times, they had to stop and rest, though Kate got the impression that Shane could have continued on without interruption.
The storm’s fury continued to escalate. Dark clouds swirled overhead. The wind howled through the swampland, pushing up vicious sprays of water.
“Hey,” the young man back at the truck called, lifting the tarp over the back. “There’s food back here.”
“You got food in the truck, Kate?” Jolly asked.
“Some supplies for campers,” Kate answered.
The men quickly crowded around the back of the truck and started going through the food.
“Take it into the truck,” Jolly ordered. “You’re going to get it all wet.”
They claimed their prizes and retreated into the truck.
“You too, Kate,” Jolly said. “Get into the truck.”
Kate looked at the sodden mess covering Tyler’s stomach. Mercifully, he was still unconscious, though his color didn’t look good.
“Tyler won’t survive the trip,” Kate said.
Jolly’s eyes tightened. Whatever was driving him, it was harsh. “You’re getting awfully bossy, Kate.”
“I don’t want him to die.” Kate tried to make her voice as non-threatening as she could, talking the way she did to Bryce, but she had to speak loudly over the noise of the storm. Since Jolly had a pistol he could put to her head at any moment, the act wasn’t really a stretch for her.
“Then what do you propose?”
“I’ve got a first-aid kit in the truck,” Kate said. “There’s a surgical needle and thread. I can sew the wound. I’ve had to do it before for clients that cut themselves or got wounded on a wild pig hunt. It’ll hold till a doctor can do a better job.”
“Wilderness guide and seamstress?” Jolly laughed mirthlessly. “You’re going to make some guy a great little wife.”
Black anger filled Kate. Bryce had said something like that when she’d been his guide. But compliments like that had just been chumming the waters.
“Shane,” Jolly said, locking eyes with Kate, “go get the first-aid kit.”
“I didn’t sign on to be a nurse,” Shane complained.
Jolly looked at him. “That’s right. You were the guy who was going to get us out of prison.”
“I did.”
“The explosive didn’t exactly detonate where it was supposed to, 007,” Jolly said.
“Hey,” Shane said angrily, “you can just back it up right there. If it hadn’t been for me, your ass would be in your old cell by now. Maybe the explosive didn’t come off exactly as planned. Maybe the guy that was supposed to pick us up wasn’t there. But that wasn’t his fault. The explosive detonated too early.”
Had it? Kate wondered. She remembered how she’d seen Shane through the window of the bus. He’d been looking at his watch. Expecting the blast? Or looking to see how long it would be before it happened?
Shane continued, “And I don’t blame him for not hanging around to watch us get arrested again. Especially since there was the possibility that he could get arrested with us.”
Jolly just stared at Shane for a moment.
“I’m still the guy that can get us out of Florida and down to Cuba,” Shane said. “Unless you’re not interested in that any more.” The challenge was in every word.
“Deke,” Jolly called after a minute of standing in the driving rain with the lightning flashing and the thunderous booms all around.
“Yeah, boss,” Deke yelled back.
“Lady says there’s a first-aid kit in the truck.”
“I already found it. Took inventory while you guys were gone.”
“Bring me the kit,” Jolly ordered. After Deke gave him the first-aid kit, he looked back at Kate. “Clock’s ticking, Kate. That truck’s only carrying the living.”
Shane marveled at Kate as she set to work by the light of an electric lantern under a plastic tarp that had been in the supplies on the truck. They’d laid the young man on a blanket beneath a towering bald cypress hammock so that he was out of the rain and the wind.
On her knees, hands shaking a little, Kate threaded the curved surgical needle.
“You’ve really sewn people up before?” Shane asked, thinking maybe small talk would help her relax. He didn’t know if he could do what she was about to. It didn’t help that he had to practically shout over the noise of the storm.
“Yeah,” she replied, looking at him. “You ever killed anybody before?”
That irritated Shane. It was one thing to act tough to get through a bad situation, but he was trying to help her. He didn’t have to do that. Except you can’t do any less.
“I have,” he answered, mirroring the same dead tone she had. It wasn’t something he was especially proud of, but he had. He locked eyes with her, wanting to scare her enough that she would run the next time he was able to give her an opening. He hoped that it would come soon.
She was the first to look away. But Shane didn’t take any special glory in the feat. He knew there was every possibility that she simply couldn’t stomach the sight of him.
“I can sew up a cut better than the person who did your arm,” Kate said. She leaned in and pushed the edges of the wound together. Thankfully, most of the bleeding had stopped. Despite the ripping nature of the laceration, the edges of the wound met pretty much cleanly. Shane knew that was important.
Satisfied, Kate leaned down and pushed the needle through the young man’s flesh, quickly pushing through the other side and looping back around to pick up the first side again.
“Aren’t you supposed to make individual stitches?” Shane asked.
“Sometimes,” Kate agreed. “When you’re doing plastic surgery or something else where you care about the scar that’s left. At the moment, I just want to try to save his life. When Tyler gets proper medical attention, the doctor will probably re-open the wound to make certain all the infection’s washed out.” She continued working, slowly and steadily making her way across the four-inch gash.
“My granny didn’t see so good,” Shane said.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“She’s the one who sewed up
my arm,” Shane explained. “Thought maybe you’d understand it better if you knew who did it. My granny was seventy-three. Her best sewing days were behind her.” He still missed talking to her. She’d been the gentlest person he knew, and she was experienced at sewing up knife and gunshot wounds. He hadn’t had a normal childhood or family.
The silence stretched out between them for a time. Shane was conscious of the rain beating down on the tarp and the voices of Jolly and his buddies talking in the truck. Monte Carter had finally arrived back at the truck. He was bruised black and blue, promising revenge on Kate when he found out she was still alive. Shane knew the man was going to be trouble if Kate stayed with them.
“My dad sewed me up twice,” Kate said after a while.
Shane thought maybe she did need to talk. “Twice, huh?” he prompted.
“Once when I was nine I cut my hand while we were out in the swamp on an orchid hunt with a group of professors. It was too far to come back. And once when a wild pig gored me. I was fifteen then.”
“How did you get gored by a wild pig?”
“We were hunting wild pigs. I went into the brush to drive it out, got drove out myself. The pig was faster than I was.”
“Given a choice between hunting orchids and hunting pigs?” Shane laughed. “I’d have stuck with the orchids.”
“In my life I don’t get a lot of choices.”
In that moment, Shane almost felt a connection between them. His life hadn’t exactly come equipped with a lot of choices either. Crime had been in his blood from day one. His father had died in a shoot-out in front of a bank in Mobile, Alabama. Most of the time Clayton Warren had been a confidence man, pulling down just enough to live on. But he liked to watch the horses run, and sometimes he got behind on the vig he owed the bookies. Shane had grown up around murderers and thieves and drug runners.
“I didn’t have a lot of choices either,” Shane said. “My dad was a professional con artist and sometime bank robber. It was the bank robbing that got him killed. My older brother got crossways with a Colombian drug cartel in Miami. I buried him about five years ago.” That had been the hardest job he’d ever done. But in the end he’d gotten revenge on Alex’s killers when he’d infiltrated their organization and set them up to go away for a long time. There were still death threats on his head. The good thing was, those threats were on the false name he’d been wearing then, not his real name.
Storm Force Page 9
