Authors: Alex Kingwell
A heavy wave washed over her. Gasping, she spat out a mouthful of seawater.
He reached out to her. “If you don’t get in this boat, you’re going to drown, or those men will get you.” Big Guy and his crew would know she was alive. Maybe they would be thinking about getting a boat at the resort so they could finish the job.
The woman looked around and long seconds passed before she seemed to realize she had no choice. He could have killed her already if that had been his goal. Holding on to the life jacket, she kicked her feet as he pulled her in.
Kneeling, he grabbed the woman under her arms and dragged her into the boat. Even sopping wet, she was light as a feather, and not tall, either, five inches over five feet at the most. He plopped her down on a bench seat.
Her skin was as white as her T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the wet, translucent fabric clung to round breasts. She might as well have been naked.
Swallowing, he averted his eyes. Looking at her was a bad idea.
The woman folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward, rocking back and forth. She coughed, lifted her head, and stared at him with the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were big and wild, the pupils just tiny black dots in the center.
Sitting down, Matt wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t say anything, just squirmed under his embrace. She was trembling, her body trying to warm itself. If she stopped shivering, he would worry. Even in August the Atlantic could induce hypothermia.
Rubbing her arm, his hand accidentally brushed the soft curve of a breast. His body responded with a jolt, like a hot signal firing down a wire.
Touching her was a bad idea.
Releasing her, he took off his sweater and handed it to her. She stepped over the seat and sat at the front of the boat, facing him. She had delicate features, soft lips, an upturned nose, and a small chin. But it was those luminous eyes that made him want to grab a camera.
Those eyes measured him as she pulled on the sweater. “Who are you? What were you doing on the rocks?”
“Taking photos.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of photographer takes pictures at night?”
“Not night, twilight. I was there for the sunrise.” He turned around to start the boat’s motor, glanced back at her. “I should be asking the questions. But right now we need to get the hell out of here.”
She looked at him warily, as if she was still deciding whether to trust him. It didn’t look like things were going his way. “Where are you taking me?” She yelled to be heard over the noise of the engine and the waves.
“My campsite, a couple of miles down the coast, on the mainland. I have clothes there, and a car.”
“Why don’t we just go back to where you climbed down?”
“It’s farther and it’d be against the tide. Plus, it’s just barrens up there. Nothing for miles around. I just stopped in to take some pictures.”
The woman tightened her arms across her chest. “I can’t let you get involved in this.”
Matt scoffed. “What do you want me to do, throw you back in? Pretend I never saw you?”
She didn’t say anything, just sat with her body rigid, staring at him. The sweater dwarfed her small, delicate frame, hanging well past her thighs, making her look vulnerable, though there was intelligence and a spark in those electric eyes that told him she was a fighter.
The eyes told him something else. Something about her looks wasn’t quite right. Her eyes didn’t match the dark hair. She’d done a dye job with the darkest color she could get her hands on. Her hair would naturally be much lighter, maybe blond, and the haircut was choppy, like she’d done it herself. In a big hurry. A shiver ran down his back. What the hell was she involved in?
Back on the mainland side now, halfway down the channel, they moved quickly with the current. There weren’t any other boats in sight.
He decided a couple of questions couldn’t wait. “I’m Matt. What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Okay, Emily, who’s after you?”
She didn’t say anything more for a moment, as if she was considering what to disclose. “I don’t know who they are. All I know is they killed my cousin and they tried to kill me.” She looked out at the water a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Now they’ll kill you.”
“I don’t intend to get killed and I don’t want you to get killed either. The more you tell me, the better off we’ll be.”
“Just put me ashore at the closest place you can. I can take care of myself.”
He let out a snort. “Are you kidding? Those guys are serious.” She was in way over her head, and either didn’t know it or was too stubborn to accept help. A recipe for disaster.
“You don’t think I know that?” Her eyes darkened. “I know it better than anybody. But your part in this ends as soon as you put me on shore.”
Shaking his head, he said, “My part in this doesn’t end until I deliver you to the nearest police station.”
The look she gave him was pure terror. His heart squeezed, as if someone had reached in and twisted it. He tried for a reassuring smile, but there was a sour taste in his mouth. Scared of the police? What the hell? He had a bad feeling about this.
In the next instant that feeling went from bad to worse.
At the end of the channel, a boat appeared as a dot on the water. It could have been a sport fishing boat, of course, chartered at the island resort by a group with nothing more than striped bass on their minds.
But this wasn’t a fishing boat. It was headed for them; he’d bet his life on it.
C
ursing under his breath, Matt throttled back the engine of the row boat. The big boat was a couple of miles away, but coming fast in a straight trajectory, the dot growing like a bad stain before his eyes. Ten minutes away at most. How the heck did those guys get on the water so quickly? They must have already had a boat.
Emily’s expression was grim but not surprised. “What are we going to do?”
Slamming his fist against the boat, he racked his brains for options. They couldn’t outrun the bigger boat to the campground. He swore under his breath. There was no choice but to turn around, head back straight into the current. “We have to go back up the channel, try to find a spot to climb on the rocks.” Even as he said it, it sounded hopeless.
Turning around, he steered the boat close to the cliff, where the current wasn’t as strong. It was still slow going, not much better than treading water. This was going to be a huge clusterfuck.
A glance over his shoulder showed the boat gaining quickly. It was under a mile away, its hull bouncing up and down as it sliced through the water like a bullet toward them. It was one of those charters, with a powerful motor for offshore fishing. They didn’t stand a chance. He cursed again, aloud this time.
When he turned back, Emily was standing with one foot planted on the side of the boat. His stomach clenched in alarm. “What are you doing? Sit down.”
Her eyes were calm and cold. “It’s me they’re after. If I jump, they’ll let you go.”
Matt felt himself go sick deep in his gut. “No way.” When she didn’t sit down, he jerked the joystick so the boat swerved hard left. Emily lost her balance, toppled onto her side on the wooden seat.
Pushing herself upright with her elbow, she glared at him. He didn’t care. Sure, his chances might be better alone but he wasn’t about to abandon her. Who did she think he was?
Any fear he’d had was gone, replaced by a cold anger that made his heart hammer. He had to get them out of this. But how? They had to get ashore, but the only place with low rocks along this stretch of coast—where he’d come ashore earlier that morning—was too far.
The other boat was close enough to see two men, one at the wheel, another one leaning against the windshield. Big Guy.
Scanning the coastline, his eyes stopped on a dark shape at the base of the cliff a hundred feet ahead. What was it? A big wave came, and the boat rose up like a bucking bronco. More waves followed. Matt clenched his fist on the steering stick. Seconds later, the waves let up and he found the spot again. A sea cave. Water pounded the rocks, tearing into the small gash.
His mind flashed back two decades, when he and another boy had waded in at low tide. It was deep, with a small opening at the back that gave access above ground. It had been huge then, forty feet high and half as wide, but would soon be submerged at high tide.
Pointing out the cave, he said, “Right now, that’s our only chance. We can get in, but the other boat is too big.”
She stared at the cave, turned back to him, incredulous. “It’s filling with water. We’ll be trapped.”
“I think we can get out the other end.”
“You think?”
“There’s an opening we can climb out of.”
Her eyes got even bigger. She wasn’t buying it. “What about the tide?”
“It’ll be underwater at high tide, but we have a few minutes.”
He looked away, unable to bear seeing the terror in those eyes. God help them. Their only chance wasn’t a chance at all. If they managed to get out of the cave, they’d be easy targets above ground. But what choice did they have?
A noise came, a loud growl over the rumble of the waves and wind. The speedboat was right behind them. Pulse quickening, he pointed the rowboat at the mouth of the cave and rode full speed. A bullet blew a hole through the wood panel at the back of the boat, inches from where he was sitting.
“Duck!” he yelled as the boat shot through the narrow slot. Whirling, he caught a glimpse of the speedboat framed in the opening of the cave before the current sucked them into the murky darkness and out of sight.
Matt cut the engine as the dank, musty smell of the cave assaulted him. “There’s a flashlight in my pack. Can you get it?” His voice bounced off the walls. Every sound amplified, the waves boomed like thunder as they smashed against the walls.
Emily found the flashlight and switched it on. Stalactites hung like icicles from the ceiling, while dark rocks jutted out from the walls.
“How far do we have to go?” Her voice was sharp and brittle as glass. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, and she rubbed her arms.
“Not too far.” What if the hole had caved in? He gave his head a little shake. Better not to think about that. They couldn’t go back.
Emily shone the light at the ceiling. As each second passed, the passage became narrower and narrower. Now, the wet, jagged walls were close enough to touch, the ceiling just a couple of feet above their heads.
A minute later, as the boat reached the far end of the cave, the flashlight picked up a gaping hole in the ceiling. It was large enough at the opening for two people, before it turned a corner and the light from the flashlight bounced off the slimy black walls. He remembered crawling on his stomach as a kid through some tight squeezes. At one point, he’d been sure they wouldn’t make it out. Part of the passage was man-made, carved out decades ago for some reason that escaped him now.
She stared up the hole. “How far is it to the top?”
“Forty, fifty feet?” He pointed to a rock ledge near the edge. “We’ll climb up from those rocks.”
“How small is it?”
“It’s small, but it’s on a slope, maybe sixty degrees, so you can crawl. There’s not much climbing.”
Jamming the boat against the ledge, he picked up his pack, turned to Emily. She wasn’t moving. Hands clamped over her mouth, she gave the impression she was screaming inside.
“What’s the matter? We have to hurry. The cave’s flooding.”
She shifted her hands to speak. “I’m staying here.”
* * *
Emily grasped the side of the boat as it bashed against the cave walls. There must have been a hole in the hull, because icy water sloshed in the bottom, soaking her sneakers and splashing against her legs.
Indifferent to this, she said, “I can’t go up that hole. I will die.”
Open-mouthed, he stared at her as if she were insane. “You’ll die if you stay here.”
The tightness in her chest had become a crushing sensation so intense every breath hurt. But worse, much worse, was the thought of going up that hole. There was no way. She’d have to burrow like an animal to get out. For who knows how long. An image of herself trapped, suffocating, flashed across her eyes.
She didn’t want to die like that.
“I’m not going.” Meeting his eyes, her voice came out strong. “But you have to go.”
Matt sat beside her. Earlier, in the channel, she’d had the impression of a man who was dangerous, capable of violence, as if nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. It had scared her, yet oddly had made her feel safer at the same time. Now, he was like another person, the small smile on his face transforming him into something softer, less intimidating.
He wasn’t much over thirty, but there was a maturity to his hard-boned face, with the two-day stubble, prominent eyebrows, and strong jaw. Framed by longish dark hair, it was a face that said,
Trust me, I’ll take care of you.
It didn’t matter what kind of face he had. It wouldn’t help. A lump clogged her throat, making it hard to swallow.
Go. Leave me alone.
He said, “You can do this.”
There was no trace of panic in those brown-black eyes or that deep voice. It was as if he had all the time in the world, as if the cold, murky water wasn’t swooshing around their legs, rising quickly as the seconds ticked by. “We’re in this together. I won’t go without you.”
When she didn’t say anything, he added with a tight smile, “Hey, I did two tours of duty in the Middle East. If I survived that, I can survive anything. Come on.” He got up, reached a hand down to her.
A hammer struck her heart. It was emotional blackmail, even if unintended. If she didn’t go, they’d both die. She would be responsible for the death of a war vet. How pathetic was that? Tears stung her eyes. There was no choice. And he knew it, damn him.
A new idea surfaced, and she snatched it like a lifeline. She would climb to the high-water mark, far enough to save him. But that was it.
Wiping away tears, she forced herself to her feet, put one hand on the side of the boat to steady herself, and grabbed his hand with the other. She wasn’t sure who she hated more at that moment: him, for forcing her, or herself for being such a coward in the first place.