45

Rain slithered down Cole’s neck, pinging off his forearms and thighs as he and Landon crouched in the deepening mud.

Fog rose in an eerie mist, dancing and weaving between the tombstones—some old, some new. It was hard to believe they’d been standing in the same graveyard less than a month ago burying Agnes. That it had only been a month since Bailey walked back into his life and made it whole.

Footsteps smacked through the mud, and he turned.

Sheriff Slidell crouched between him and Landon. “Perimeter’s secure. Earl is by the front gate. Tom and Thoreau have the other two covered. No one is getting in or out of here without being seen.”

It brought Cole little reassurance. Until Bailey was safe in his arms, nothing would. Against Slidell and Landon’s wishes he had insisted on being at the center of the action so he could be the first one to Bailey when everything went down.

Slidell stood. “I’m going to head to my post. I’ll radio first sign of anything.”

Landon nodded, and Slidell slinked back into the shadows.

“Everyone in position and ready?” Landon asked, double-checking.

A round of affirmations signaled back over the radio.

Cole clenched his fists. “This has to work. We have to be right.” If they’d chosen the wrong location, if their timing was off . . .

He couldn’t let his mind wander there.

“We’ll get her back.”

“Seriously, Landon, if we botch this, if anything happens to Bailey . . .” He couldn’t live with himself.

“I know,” Landon said, his resolute gaze saying even more.

“We’ve got movement,” Slidell radioed.

Cole’s heart lurched, and he scanned the perimeter.

“Four at the east entrance,” Slidell continued.

“Can you confirm?” Landon asked.

“Not yet. Hang on . . .”

Cole feared the silence would last forever.

“It’s our target.”

“Is Bailey there? Is she all right?”

“Her arms are bound, but otherwise she appears to be moving fine.”

Not the level of reassurance Cole had been hoping for. If Grigor had hurt her . . . He clenched his fists.

Please, Lord, let her be unharmed. Please let this work. Don’t bring her back into my life just to rip her from it.

Kiril’s fingers bit into Bailey’s flesh. “Keep moving.” He shoved her, and she fought to remain upright on the slick ground.

The temperature had dropped with the sun’s parting, and the swimsuit she’d been wearing under her dive suit and the oversized T-shirt and men’s shorts Grigor had told her to put on provided little warmth. They clung to her as rain battered the saturated fabric. No shoes on the boat had come close to fitting her, so she trudged barefoot, mud oozing between her toes as Kiril pushed her through a maze of tombstones.

“Which way?” Grigor asked.

“It will be somewhere in the older section.” She pointed east, her body shivering in the damp cold. The tumultuous sea roared in the background.

Agnes’s grave sat on the opposite end of the small cemetery, but Bailey could still see it from her vantage point. She wondered if she too would die at Grigor’s hands?

She prayed she was right about the location. Prayed the orb remained untouched and he’d be satisfied with finding it. Prayed he’d take it and leave Tariuk Island without more killing.

As long as Cole and his family were safe . . . that’s all that mattered.

Thank you, Lord, for this time you’ve blessed me with. For the time I’ve had with Cole.

She just prayed he didn’t attempt anything stupid . . . try and rescue her. She prayed he and his entire family were safe and warm in their beds. But she doubted it. Her only hope was that they hadn’t discovered the location yet.

Please, Lord, let Cole and his family be safe. Don’t let them be hurt. Not on my account. I’m not worth it. Please help him see that.