They finished their coffees and were headed back toward the house when his phone chimed. It was a text with a video attachment. Exchanging a wary look with Luke, he pressed the arrow to play the video.
The twenty-second clip showed Mark and Charlotte standing in front of a modified shipping container. They both wore hospital scrubs and slip-on shoes and it looked like Mark had a light pack on his back. They were confined by bulky handcuffs that appeared to have electronic locks in the center of the bars.
“You’ll have an hour head start,” Eaton’s voice said from somewhere off camera. “The cuffs will open in five minutes. Evade the hunters for three days and you’re both free. Good luck.”
Mark and Charlotte hurried out of the frame and the camera followed their movement into the tree line.
“We have to get this to Hank right now,” Ben said, as he forwarded the message. Then he and Luke raced for the house.
It was time for action.
* * *
Mark could indulge his temper later. Anger was a perk reserved for survivors. At the moment, all of his focus was on keeping them both alive. He’d watched Quick-Punch Kid fill the pack before settling it on his back. Several bottles of water and meal bars were more than he expected. If only the guard had included an inflatable raft and radio.
The hour’s head start was almost fair, if Mark had been alone. Always harder to hide with multiple people, but he wasn’t about to suggest he and Charlotte split up. Having the cuffs programmed to fall off at an appointed time wasn’t as fair. He kept expecting the cuffs to zap one or both of them, but the hunter’s money probably kept Eaton’s urges under control.
He suspected the handcuffs, pack and clothes were tagged with trackers of some sort, yet Zettel had seemed all about a pure test of skill. Technology would go against his competitive nature.
Did the man hunting them have more favorable ethics than the man who’d kidnapped them? There was a curious thought. Philosophy was for survivors too, Mark decided, shifting to the west.
“You holding up?” he asked Charlotte, as they scrambled over a fallen tree.
“Hasn’t it been five minutes?” she countered, shaking the cuffs.
“Probably. That’s one reason I’m circling the starting point, so I’m sure we stay in range of the signal.”
She shook her head and peered up at the blue sky peeking through the treetops. “I hadn’t noticed we were circling.” Her freckled nose wrinkled.
“That’s not your job,” he said, as they kept moving.
“What is my job?”
“I’m working on it.” His fierce artist. He couldn’t shake the possessiveness or protectiveness he felt for her. Sure, he’d want to protect anyone from Eaton, but this was new and specific. Something had shifted for him at the gallery, when he realized she was so much more than the neighbor he’d known as a kid.
In the days since, stuck in this impossible crisis, he’d really dialed in to both her and his gut instinct. Thinking about her was the sweet mental retreat he’d needed when he was pummeled by Eaton’s men. Growing up, she’d always drawn him in. Not through any one moment or action, just by being herself. He’d always loved Charlotte; now he found himself almost willing to admit—to himself—that he’d fallen in love with her.
He couldn’t say it; what woman would believe those words in this situation? It was a burden she didn’t need. He wasn’t even sure he could live up to what that meant. His first commitment was still to the navy and his team. Whether or not they had a future beyond one kiss and a sunset cruise, he could put his professional skills to use and get her off this island safely.
“Follow in my footsteps as closely as possible,” he said. “It won’t make a big difference, but every little advantage will help.”
They zigzagged through the trees, loosely circling the starting point. Once the cuffs unlocked, he could get more aggressive about their escape. He hadn’t seen any sign of a camp beyond the container where they’d been held. The underbrush was as thick as the humidity and the live oak, pine and palm trees told him they weren’t as far south as he’d first thought. Good news on both counts.
He moved around a fluffy pine sapling, careful not to bend the branches, and helped Charlotte do the same. “You didn’t see anything in the office that resembled a map or location?”
“No. His computer was password-protected. I saw the board with all your faces and found the note with Zettel’s name and sale price. And a couple of pictures similar to the one he was having me paint.”
“I wish you hadn’t kept that to yourself,” he said, aching for her all over again.
“We were being observed,” she began.
“I get it,” he said, cutting off any explanation. “I can still wish.” She had such a big heart and so much compassion. Despite her incredible inner strength, it felt grossly unfair for her to bear that information alone.
Suddenly a loud whistle sounded from their handcuffs. The shriek was surely magnified by their proximity to each other and likely the origin of the signal. No, Eaton wasn’t playing fair at all.
The restraints fell away, and he and Charlotte were finally free. Or they would be in three days, unless Eaton changed the rules. Mark didn’t plan on sticking to any rules other than his own, not when saving Charlotte was paramount. He picked up both sets of handcuffs and threw them, one at a time, in opposing directions. Odds were slim that anyone would believe they’d split up, but it was worth a try.
He pressed a finger to his lips. She nodded once. From here until they found a hiding place, they had to stay quiet.
Standing out there while Zettel and Eaton postured had given him time to get his bearings. From Charlotte’s description, he knew the ocean and dock were east of where they’d been held. The way most of the barrier islands were formed, he had a fair idea of the terrain they’d find to the south. The island had to be of a decent size or the hunt posed no challenge. He’d caught the disappointment in Zettel’s eyes when Charlotte refused his offer. Though the hunter wanted her for himself, he’d also wanted an exciting hunt. Zettel doubtless believed Charlotte would slow Mark down and dull the thrill of tracking and killing a Navy SEAL.
Mark would give them a chase, but they wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy the memory.
He led Charlotte almost due west now, pausing occasionally to listen for Zettel or his trackers. They were still alone, but he didn’t expect it to last much longer. Hearing moving water, he smiled to himself. A fresh-water creek could be a great resource. It could also indicate the island was bigger than he’d hoped or even closer to the mainland.
He glanced over his shoulder. The trees provided decent cover. A person in the right camouflage would disappear a few yards in. Although the scrubs they wore were a drab olive, he knew they’d stand out to the men with the guns.
Zettel and Eaton were accomplished marksmen who knew how to spot their prey. Mark and Charlotte needed to find not only a place to hide but some effective camouflage. He touched her knee where she crouched beside him and felt the now-familiar current of desire zip along his arm. “This way,” he said soundlessly, moving only his lips.
They reached the creek and he dipped a hand in to smell and taste the water. Brackish and slow moving and no help if they ran out of the bottled water in the pack. The good news was that they were definitely on a barrier island. The mainland, and an escape route, might be within reach.
Provided they didn’t encounter any aggressive or territorial wildlife along the way.
He shrugged out of the pack and stripped off the scrub top, stepping into the creek. Mud squished under his soft shoes. Dipping the top into the water, he pressed it under his feet, getting it good and muddy.
He rinsed out the worst of it and twisted the fabric in his hands, working the dark stains in.
Shaking it out, he liked the mottled result that would make i
t easier for them to blend into their surroundings.
He held out a hand for Charlotte’s top.
Instead she waded into the creek on her own and slowly sat down in the muck. The water wasn’t deep and she leaned forward, picking up mud and rubbing it into the scrub top. Her hands moved under the water and he assumed she was pushing the grime into her pants, as well.
When she stood up, the cotton clung to her, making it evident she wasn’t wearing a bra. It made sense considering the dress she’d worn to the gallery. As she bent over to rinse the mud from her hands, he discovered he could see the outline of lacy panties.
This was the wrong moment for a bolt of lust to distract him, but his body had other ideas. He turned away to muddy up the backpack and hide his immediate and obvious response to her. They were both a mess when they came out of the creek, but the end result would work in their favor.
“What about my hair?” she asked.
His fingers itched to touch those wild curls and find out if they felt as warm as the rosy sunset they made him think of every time he looked at her. If he told her to, she’d muddy up all that glorious color. He couldn’t do it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We’ve done all we can.”
Her lips canted to the side. “Give me one more second.” He watched, caught somewhere between curiosity and regret, as she muted the light of her hair with mud and water. Her fingers deftly wove a braid through the long locks and she tied it off with a scrap of fabric.
“Better?”
She had a smudge of mud on her cheek, another on her chin. He couldn’t explain why those imperfections drew him in or reminded him of the promise he’d made to her last night.
He wiped away the mark on her chin as he tipped up her face. He moved in slowly, watched her eyes go wide as his intent registered. He gave her room to change her mind, to say no. Instead her lips parted ever so slightly as he set his mouth gently to hers.
After holding her fingers each night, he’d anticipated the flash of heat and welcomed it. From the moment he’d seen her in the gallery, an island of beautiful calm surrounded by the sea of color and noise, he’d longed for a place where it was just the two of them. No distractions, no expectations.
One mistake out here with Zettel and it could all be over. If this was his only chance to keep his promise, he’d take it. He seized the moment, let it roll through him, and it was more than he’d known he could have. He breathed her in, finding her scent under the muck of the creek. Her fingers curled into his damp, muddy shirt and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She moaned as her body came flush to his and his tongue slipped into that soft heat to twine with hers.
What he hadn’t expected was how fast and deep the first flash would burn through his system. All he could think was more, all, everything, right now. He cupped her face in his hands and forced himself to reel it in, to ease back. This wasn’t the time or place to indulge in every vivid idea pounding through his bloodstream.
Safety was one hell of a motivation. Safety and that five-star hotel with clean linens and a big bed he and Charlotte had fantasized about while trapped in the cage. An hour ago, he’d been ready to sacrifice himself to save her. That option was still on the table, and odds were good it would come down to that. But now, after this taste of his glorious, fierce artist, he couldn’t let the hunter win.
He rested his forehead to hers. They were both breathing hard. When he leaned back, he saw her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils and smiled. That kiss had rocked her world too.
There was something special between them. It would be a travesty if they never had a chance to learn how great they could be together. Everything inside him laid claim to her, clamoring that she was his. Today, tomorrow, always.
The new awareness prickling through his system pushed his past failures aside, redefined the limits and decisions he’d made. It was as if one kiss with Charlotte reset his view of the future, but they had to survive the immediate danger before he could figure out what came next.
“We have to get going,” he whispered.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Neither of them moved. “I wanted to keep my promise,” he said.
“I’d say you um…you definitely did that.” Her gaze was fixed on his chest.
He grinned. She’d turned shy on him. “You know, in case something else happens.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Did you know all of that was lurking under the surface?”
“N-no.”
“Charlotte—” he tipped up her chin “—I’ll make you another promise.”
She stared at him, her blue eyes wide and waiting.
“That wasn’t our last kiss.”
CHAPTER 9
Wow. The man knew how to keep his word. It was Charlotte’s only clear thought as she followed Mark, matching his footsteps as closely as possible. Not an easy feat considering that the whole world felt off-kilter and her lips tingled every time her mind strayed to that kiss.
Kissing Mark had fulfilled a fantasy she’d harbored deep in her heart for more than a decade, since the first time she and her friends had giggled over the mystery of kissing boys.
It had been worth the wait.
She wasn’t motivated to think of other things. The immediate danger wasn’t a pleasant diversion and so far there didn’t seem to be much she could do to assist in Mark’s escape plan. Far more enjoyable to trail after him, keeping her eyes on his broad shoulders and strong back while the anticipation mounted for their next kiss.
He stopped short and she almost ran into him on purpose just so she could touch him. She’d been too stunned and pleased and enthralled by the feel of his mouth covering hers to let her hands get in on the action.
What were the rules? They’d held hands every night when they’d been in the cages. Could she reach out and touch him whenever and however she wanted? A crazy new worry popped into her head. Did he expect her to make the next move? Probably best to pull herself together and focus on surviving this crisis than whether or not they’d just started a romantic relationship.
“Thank you for being here,” she whispered, standing with him at the edge of the trees.
A marsh stretched out before them in all directions with no sign of civilization anywhere. The air smelled different and she couldn’t hear the ocean at all anymore. Swathes of green-and-gold grasses were highlighted by the glint of sunlight on the water. It was a brilliant landscape full of wonders both seen and hidden, above and below the surface. She tried to commit it to memory so she could paint it once they were safe again.
“Can we cross it?” She’d never tried to cross a marsh on foot.
“I’m thinking.” His rugged profile set in stern lines. He was listening and assessing, and though he had yet to suggest anything, she believed he would find a solution. That was a combination of her faith in his skills and expertise, as well as her lifelong affection for him.
She listened as well, trying to convince herself they’d found this place during a day sail and all she had to do was appreciate the wind in the trees and the birds calling back and forth. A great blue heron glided down into the marsh, settling near a wedge of grass to wait for an unsuspecting frog or fish.
Mark slipped the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a water bottle for her. “Quick-Punch Kid packed this,” he mused, showing her the contents.
About to take a sip, she sniffed the water first. It smelled normal enough. “Did he booby-trap it?”
“No, he made a point of opening a fresh case of both,” Mark said.
“You’re kidding.”
“It was a shock to me too. Drink up.” He opened a second bottle for himself. “It threw him when Muscle attacked you. I get the feeling this assignment hasn’t been what he expected when he signed on.”
“Please.” At his quizzical look, she explained, “He was too well-trained to be a rent-a-cop and
he was more than happy to use that training against you.”
“Attacking women and hunting people for sport is a big leap from kidnapping or roughing me up.”
“True.” She thought about her interactions with the skinny guard. “If he has grown a conscience, maybe he’ll notify the authorities.”
“Personally, I’m hoping the live feed was enough for Hank and his team to find us.” He gave a nod to the far side of the marsh. “We’re on a barrier island. If we got through the marsh, we could swim for the coast.”
“I have no problem wading through the marsh,” she fibbed. This wasn’t the time to get squeamish about snakes and other creatures that lurked in the thick grasses and dark water.
“I don’t think so. We’d be sitting ducks.” He laughed softly. “Big targets, easy to see. No, I’m trying to figure out how we make it look like we tried to cross the marsh.”
“We could loop the pack around a clump of grass.”
“I’m not ready to leave it behind,” Mark said, brow furrowed in thought. “Eaton thinks he knows how I operate.”
She recalled the bulletin board in the office. “He only sees you through the scope of your military service, if that helps.” She closed her eyes and gave it more thought.
“You saw his notes on me?”
“Yes,” she said, eyes still closed. “The bulletin board behind his desk had pictures and notes on all of you from Matt to Jolene. He even included Hank.”
“The man’s crazy if he thinks Dad will sit by while he tries to plow us all under.”
She opened her eyes. “Agreed.” She’d do everything possible to ensure Mark didn’t become Eaton’s first Riley kill. “I only had a minute or two to look, but I got the impression he wants to pit his skills against yours. When they dragged me along, it threw a wrench into the works.”
“One he profited from.” Mark massaged one palm with the opposite thumb. “If he wanted to go head-to-head with me, why sell that opportunity to Zettel?”
“Maybe it came down to cash flow.”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 85
