King's Ransom: (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Book 13)

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She was laughing now.

  “Really, though,” he said. “I don’t lie to you, remember?”

  Tasha nodded, her heart right there, in her eyes, for him to see. Funny how that no longer scared the hell out of him. “If you want,” she told him, “we can go faster.”

  Thomas nodded. “You set the speed.”

  She moved out in front of him, candle held high. “Follow meeeeee!”

  Thomas laughed. “Always and forever,” he said, and picked up his pace.

  The prince had left his car exactly where Dave had guessed he would. It was the smartest place to stop on the little back road, to hike up the mountain to the ski lodge. It wasn’t the closest as birds could fly, but it avoided several impassably deep ravines and unscalable cliffs.

  It was next to the ski lodge’s perimeter fence, too—a chain link structure they could see from the road, clearly marked with both Do Not Enter and Private Property signs.

  “Looks like Prince Ted’s not a total idiot,” Rio said.

  His Royal Hiney had even maneuvered his vehicle into a getaway position—heading back down the mountain—as if he’d realized that after finding Tasha they’d need to make a quick escape.

  Dave had gotten out of their SUV before Rio’d even fully hit the brakes, and he now reported, “Engine’s not icy cold,” his hand on the little car’s hood.

  Rio popped the hatch, giving Dave access to the weapons locker that was right there in the back. “Grab and go,” he told the younger SEAL as he prepared to wrestle the SUV into a similar heading-down-the-mountain parking job. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’ve got the good map,” Dave answered as he included ammo and a heavier winter jacket in his grab.

  “Don’t kill him,” Rio reminded him, but Dave was already over the fence and gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was cold and getting colder.

  The afternoon sun was low in the sky and going down fast. In Boston, at this time of year, the sun set shortly after four o’clock. Here in this part of Maine, any extra minutes of daylight’s relative warmth that they gained by being slightly farther west was lost by being significantly farther north.

  Tasha sat with Thomas’s pack and bundle in the hide that they’d quickly thrown together—not too far, but far enough, Thomas’s words—from the pod’s backdoor.

  Thomas had been right in his guess that the hostiles hadn’t yet discovered the location—or possibly even the existence—of the escape tunnel. But at the same time, he’d been eager to move her quickly out of the immediate area—hence the hide—while he climbed to the top of a ridge for a quick “sneak and peek,” to find out which way was up. Or, north, as it were.

  Thomas possessed what Tasha called the map in his head. He always—even back when they were kids—knew exactly where he was at all times. It was a useful skill to bring to his career as a SEAL. So it wasn’t a surprise that he’d learned precisely where the pod was in relation to the destroyed ski lodge. And that he knew where that was in relation to the airfield and the nearby little town at the bottom of these mountain peaks. But their hike through the tunnel had been disorienting. And although the sinking sun certainly helped, the surrounding mountainsides and thick growth of forest turned west into west-ish, which wasn’t good enough for Thomas.

  So Tasha sat and tried not to think about anything but their current Plan A while she waited for him to return.

  Back in the tunnel, he’d laid out a series of his classic Plan Bs along with a crash course in how to survive in the wilderness. He’d covered everything from navigating from the North Star (find the Big Dipper in the sky first), to building a fire pit (only in the daylight; use dry, brittle wood, and keep it as small and smokeless as possible), to how to catch the attention of a circling helo (build the exact opposite of a tiny pit fire; in fact burn greenery from pine trees to make extra smoke to signal the search team).

  And before Thomas had left, he’d given her one last instruction. “If I don’t come back—”

  She’d interrupted. “Please don’t say that.”

  He’d kissed her, an apology in his eyes, but kept going. “Head downhill from here. One thing we know is that the main entrance to the shelter is higher up the mountainside than where we are right now, and you’ll want to stay far away from that and the hostiles who are guarding it.”

  She shook her head no, because she did not want to hear this, but he kept going.

  “And I think—I’m not sure—but if we’re where I think we are, there’s a road somewhere back here, further down the hillside. You’ll probably have to climb the perimeter fence. It’s chain link. It shouldn’t be that hard to get a foothold.” At her WTF face, he laughed a little and explained. “Then follow it—the road, again, head down the mountain. That means when you hit the road from here, go left, and you’ll eventually reach the town.”

  “I’d prefer for that sentence to be we’ll eventually reach the town,” Tasha had told him.

  His hands were warm against the side of her face as he kissed her again, then briefly rested his forehead against hers. “That’s our Plan A.”

  And so here she was, alone under another pile of brush, hoping with all of her heart that the intimacy they’d shared over the past few days, culminating in this morning’s astonishingly epic love-making, was the beginning of their story, not the end.

  Tasha still couldn’t quite believe it had finally happened. She and Thomas. Together.

  And she also couldn’t quite believe that, even though she’d been nearly dizzy with desire, she’d tried to talk him out of it. Thinking about that still made her smile.

  And maybe she was weird. To love that her memory of their first time included what Thomas had rightly called a debate. Stopping to debate during sex wasn’t traditionally romantic, that much was true. But to Tasha it had set the stage for passion that had been beyond perfection.

  Because she hadn’t made love to him with a small voice sounding off in her head, wondering insistently if this was a terrible mistake. She hadn’t surrendered to Thomas’s kisses doubting in the slightest that he truly wanted her, wondering if he was just taking the path of least resistance—if the pressure he was feeling was truly from honest emotion and genuine, heartfelt desire. She hadn’t gasped his name as the world exploded around her while part of her remained apart and worried that he was uneasy or uncomfortable with this abrupt and massive change to their relationship.

  And even now, in this odd period of aftermath, when they should’ve still been sleeping with their limbs entangled and bodies spooned together, waking only to whisper reassuring words of love, but were instead running and hiding for their lives, Tasha wasn’t wondering if she’d pushed Thomas too hard, too fast.

  Because they’d discussed all that up front. Well, more like in the oops-we’re-naked-and-yup-you’re-inside-me-yikes-I-better-dismount-here’s-a-pillow middle. And setting the very permanent memory of the awkwardness of that aside, Tasha had done all of her wondering out loud, right into Thomas’s handsome face. And Thomas being Thomas, he’d listened, patiently and respectfully, and then made it clear that they were, without a doubt, in total agreement.

  At which point, she’d released her anxieties and inhibitions, and allowed herself to love him, completely, with her body, heart, and soul.

  And God, the way he’d smiled as they’d moved together. And God, the heat and love she’d seen in his eyes...

  And when she came—when he came, too—as the world fell apart around them, she’d felt such joy and pleasure. But then, the way he’d sighed, after, as he held her... It was a sigh of such complete contentment. A sigh that she felt, too, with every cell of her being. A sigh that said, I’m finally home.

  They would make it down the mountain. Tasha closed her eyes and made herself believe in that, completely. They would make it. This was the beginning of a long, long story that had started years ago. There were chapters upon chapters yet to come.

  She
would do anything to write that book.

  And she knew that Thomas was on the same page.

  It took Thomas far longer than he’d hoped to confirm their location.

  The tunnel had curved in its seemingly endless path, putting them far from the main entrance to the bomb shelter. They were, in fact, where he’d guessed they’d be—on the opposite side of the mountain from the airfield and the town.

  That wasn’t great. It meant more time, more miles in the frozen woods, as they gave a wide berth to the shelter’s entrance where the hostiles were now encamped.

  What was great was that his internal map was right. They weren’t too far from a road.

  As far as Thomas could tell, it was dirt and gravel—not much more than a single car width—running past the back perimeter of the ski lodge. They’d have to hop a fence to access it, but once they did, their travel would be less arduous. It would be much easier for Tasha to walk for miles on a road than to crash through the underbrush in the woods.

  They’d be harder to track on that road, too.

  Of course, it’d be easier for the hostiles to patrol the road with a vehicle—but the flip side of that was it’d also be easier for Thomas to hear them coming. Plus, patrolling from the warmth and comfort of an SUV or a truck? If you spotted something suspect from the windows—a flash of movement, a patch of unnatural color... If you even noticed such a thing at your much higher speed, you were more likely to want to assume it was nothing. A trick of your eyes, a reflection on the windshield. Nothing to see here, no need to stop and get out into the bitingly cold air, just move it along.

  He was nearly back to Tash, within just a few meters of the hide, when he heard voices and the crunching sounds of movement through the dried leaves. Someone was coming down the mountain, on close to the same path he’d recently taken, clearly uncaring if they were heard or seen.

  Thomas swung his weapon into ready as he crouched and froze, close enough to see Tasha’s eyes through the brambles and branches. He held up a discreet hand signaling Stop, echoing the Don’t move message he was trying to send her with his eyes and face.

  Whoever they were, they came close enough for him to make out the words of an ongoing conversation. “Every fucking time,” a voice groused.

  Tasha heard them then, too, and she nodded just a little, acknowledgement that she understood. Her eyes were wide as she watched Thomas try to melt even more into the late afternoon shadows, grateful there wasn’t snow on the ground.

  Plan A: This patrol would move on past without noticing them.

  Plan B: They’d see Thomas, but not Tash. He’d dive downhill, further from the hide—there was a huge tree he could use for shelter. He’d draw their fire away from her while he took them out. There were at least two—and yeah, it could’ve been one man on a phone, but nah. Not out here.

  “Charlie’s a fucking idiot,” the same man continued. “I saw a car! I saw a car!”

  Thomas saw their movement now. There were four of them, all heavily armed, just about to cross the ridgeline up above the hide. They were already moving away from them, thank God, their backs to both Tasha and Thomas as they started to scramble down the hillside that would put the ridge solidly between them.

  He hadn’t been spotted, thank Jesus.

  But he had a big problem. This patrol of complaining hostiles were now on the exact route Thomas had been intending to take toward the road, after scooping up Tasha and their gear.

  Someone—Charlie, whoever that was—had seen a vehicle, presumably down on that same road. These four men were heading over to check it out, and would likely return to their encampment via this exact route after they were done.

  No way would Thomas and Tasha still be here when they came back. Which meant they’d have to take a different, more difficult route down the mountain.

  So be it.

  Thomas kept his hand up for Tasha to remain both still and silent as the voices from the patrol continued to carry in the cold afternoon air.

  “No shit you saw a car, dickhole, it was just Cody fuckin’ Hooper on another whiskey run, sneaking back in from town.”

  Prince Tedric was not what Rio expected.

  Well, except for the long, dark hair pulled up into a man-bun. That was right out of the rich hipster lifestyle manual.

  But the dude moved through the woods like he was in his element, his pace swift and certain. His skinny jeans were too tight, for sure, but the expensive hiking boots on his feet were well worn in.

  He was also a big guy—tall and solidly built. Which was probably why Dave had chosen to trail behind him silently in the winter-gloom of the afternoon shadows, rather than tackling him to the ground and sitting on him until Rio caught up. Not that he couldn’t do it—but it would’ve required some effort. Add in the fact that they knew the prince was armed...

  Rio was in the middle of using hand signals to let Dave know his plan—he’d move swiftly forward in a wide circle around the prince, getting out in front of him while Dave moved in tighter on his royal six, and...

  Dave grabbed Rio by his jacket and yanked him down, hard.

  Someone was coming. Lots of someones.

  Shit.

  The prince was oblivious—until it was too late.

  It was like watching a disaster unfold—like spotting an avalanche tumbling down a mountainside in seemingly slow but unstoppable, powerful motion.

  “Cody says it wasn’t him.” A deep voice carried through the stillness of the late afternoon as what looked like three, no four men—all in commando cosplay complete with automatic rifles—appeared over the top of a nearby crest of rocks.

  “He always says it wasn’t him,” someone with a higher voice complained. “It’s the same shit, every fucking time. We’re out in the cold, again, for nothing.”

  If Prince Tedric had stayed absolutely still, frozen in place, they might’ve stomped right on past, equally oblivious. But he didn’t. He dove his royal ass down to the ground, noisily scrambling his way to the absolute-non-cover of a nearby pine sapling.

  The four-man patrol both saw him and heard him. And four barrels of four deadly instruments of war went up in near unison. It was immediately clear, despite the earlier lack of discipline, that at least some of these men were former military.

  “Fuck,” Dave breathed and Rio nodded. Yup. As in cluster. And/or goat.

  The four men spread out as they headed toward Tedric. “Freeze! Hands where we can see ’em!”

  If this were a war zone, the solution would be easy and quick—Rio would take out the two on the left and Dave would take out the two on the right. But this wasn’t even close to a battlefield—they were in freaking Maine. And yeah, they might’ve been ordered to protect the prince, but they hadn’t been handed a James-Bondian license to kill.

  Now, if the hostiles started shooting, that’d be a different story.

  Except they, too, were in freaking Maine. No way would they fire at a stranger in the woods. Would they...?

  Rio hoped the hell not, because with Ted’s current lack of cover, if these bozos started shooting, he’d be dead. Come on, come on, come on, Ted, don’t do anything stupid, like pull out that handgun you’re hiding in your pocket...

  “I said hands!” the commando shouted, “In the air! Now!”

  Reveal and distract was their only real option here—although it meant they might get their asses shot—or worse, lose Ted—in the melee, but Rio signaled Dave to spread out and go right while he went to the left.

  But before they could burst out of the brush where they were hiding, the prince surprised them all. He launched himself up off the forest floor and ran like hell, back up and over the ridge, heading toward the ski lodge.

  It all happened so fast.

  Thomas was crouched down, a dozen feet away from where Tasha was hiding as men shouted for someone to freeze; to put their hands in the air.

  At first, she thought they were screaming at Thomas and her heart nearly stopped, but he di
dn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink. His hand was still up in that Don’t move warning as he continued to listen hard. And she realized, over the sound of her hammering heart, that the voices were some distance away from the hide.

  But then she heard crashing noises—like someone was running through the brush. Twigs and branches snapped and broke, dried leaves rattled and crunched. Someone was breathing hard—panting, gasping—as they rushed closer.

  Thomas’s face shifted, hardening in steely realization as he went into warrior mode. He glanced at her only briefly, silently mouthing the words, “Do not move.”

  The crashing and gasping got louder and louder and...

  And oh, God, she saw him then, through the branches of the hide. The man being chased was... Ted...?

  Thomas slipped into firefight mode. Everything around him was sharply, crystal clear.

  A man stumbled into view, less than forty feet from where Thomas was crouching near Tasha and the hide.

  Car. The car that the complained-about Charlie had spotted must’ve belonged to this man, and it was probably parked down on the road, just ready and waiting for Thomas to hotwire and use to get Tasha to safety.

  They just had to stay silent, stay still, let this man lead his pursuers away from them without being discovered.

  Wait. Was that...?

  Fuck.

  Thomas turned to look at Tasha and his worst fears were instantly confirmed. He’d only seen photos of the prince as he’d prepped for this assignment, but Tasha’s wide eyes and expression of shock and horror confirmed his positive ID. She even nodded slightly, mouthing his name. “It’s Ted.”