Charlotte had been surprised Mark hadn’t been stealthy when he returned to her hiding place. She’d been downright shocked when he dropped several items to the ground and pulled her into his strong arms. His heart pounded and his breath sawed in and out of his lungs. He might as well be her personal furnace in the chill of the heavy rain.
What had happened? She decided the details were irrelevant at this point. He was here and in one piece. Stepping back, she ran her hands lightly over him to check for injuries. He didn’t seem to have a scratch, but his gaze was grim.
“I took one of Eaton’s motion-activated cameras down,” he said. “Got the spotter with the flare gun too. Any sign of trouble here?”
“Someone was close. I heard footsteps over that way,” she said, pointing.
“To the west,” Mark supplied with a quirk of his lips.
Without the sun, she had to take his word. “I was sure they’d see me, but then they turned back and hurried away.”
“West again?”
“Mostly, yes. I think.” She wrinkled her nose at her less than helpful answers. “It is raining pretty hard and I was trying not to get caught.”
“Fair enough.” He caressed her cheek, and his dimple flickered as he smiled. The expression was so tender butterflies soared through her belly. But he didn’t kiss her again. “Try on the boots.” He sat down and moved them toward her. “They’re too small for me.”
“Muscle’s boots might fit you,” she said, distracting herself from the idea of wearing a stranger’s shoes. A stranger who’d cooperated with Zettel to hunt them.
“Got a good look at his feet, did you?”
“Actually, yeah. Sizing up people is part of the job.” She routinely studied her environment as a puzzle, fitting together what she saw and how she would focus it on a canvas.
“When?”
The boots were a little too wide. “When what?” She set to work on the laces to see if she could improve the fit.
“When exactly did you size up Muscle?”
She peered up at him through the dripping rain. His jaw was set and his hands, tender a moment ago, were curled into fists now. “Are you jealous?”
“He had no right to touch you.” Mark surged to his feet and paced away from her.
A bright red dot of color caught her attention. Another camera must have gone live. “Mark,” she said.
“That one I’ll kill,” he muttered. “You’re innocent. Off-limits.”
She could see the rant brewing in the tight muscles flexing under the scrub top plastered to his skin. She didn’t want to recall those terrible moments in Eaton’s office and she certainly didn’t want a burst of misplaced rage to bring Zettel and his men straight to them.
“Mark,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Stop. Moving.”
He halted. She wondered that the rain, growing heavier again, didn’t just steam off his shoulders. Mark’s contempt for Muscle and the others was understandable. And despite the odds against them, being under his protection made her feel treasured and adored.
That kernel of romantic optimism that they might have a future, the secret dream she’d harbored for most of her life, was ready to explode like a fireworks finale on the Fourth of July. She had to keep it under wraps long enough to get off this island.
“There’s a camera at my eleven o’clock,” she said.
He stared at her and then turned. She watched him stalk straight over to the camera and dismantle it. With luck, that view would give Eaton a long-overdue moment of terror. Mark added the stake to the first one he’d secured through a loop on the pack. The camera he dropped at her feet.
“Stomp it.”
She obliged, putting her borrowed boots to good use, and was rewarded with a hot, lingering kiss that left her speechless. He picked up the smashed camera and walked away, toward the east side of the island. At least that was her best guess.
“Are you looking for the dock?” she asked after several minutes of his broody silence.
He grunted. “Might as well. Whoever didn’t go out to help the spotter I wounded get back to camp is probably warm and dry, waiting out the weather on the boat.”
Granted, he was the experienced part of their team, but she thought that sounded like an excellent reason to avoid the area. “And we’re going to do what? Walk in and stage a mutiny?”
He stopped short and swiveled around to face her. “Boats have radios and charts. We can call for help, pinpoint our position or steal it outright.”
Hope swelled; his confidence was her own personal rainbow in the gray, miserable day.
She’d painted rain-soaked cityscapes in Paris. Lightning storms in the Midwest. Foggy valleys in the Appalachian Mountains. Weather could be both treacherous and inspiring. She hadn’t decided if she could do this weather justice. As a victim, she was too conflicted about the entire situation.
Despite Mark’s presence, fear dogged her heels, enough that she wasn’t sure she could find the beauty in all these layers of gray and green. On the flip side, with Mark right here and those kisses keeping her warm, she ran the risk of turning this hazy scene into a wondrous fantasy world. Neither portrayal was the whole truth.
“Why didn’t you and Maria get married?”
He stubbed his bare toe on a root and she winced.
“I thought we were talking about stealing a boat,” he said. “Why does it matter?”
They hadn’t been talking about anything for several minutes. “I was curious. Our mothers are best friends,” she replied. She’d tried her hardest not to hear about his dating life, but there were times, before she’d cut herself off for the show, that it was impossible to tune out. “You brought her out to Cape May and she was with you again at Labor Day the year before last.”
He slid a look her way. “You weren’t there.”
No. She’d canceled when she’d heard he wouldn’t be alone. “Mom mentioned it.” She should drop it, but as she’d said, she was curious. The first kiss had changed everything for her. The fact that he didn’t want to talk about Maria seemed important.
“We had different expectations,” he said, his voice hard and tight.
Maria had hurt him, and Charlotte was filled with an outrageous urge to track her down and make her apologize. Everyone was so sure nothing really troubled Mark, but she’d learned early on, by watching him, that his humor was often a protective measure.
She didn’t have time to ask for details. They’d reached a jagged line of wind-shaped palms leaning more than usual under the weight of the rain. On the other side of a ridge of tall grasses, a small cove welcomed the Atlantic. There was no dock in sight. Relief and disappointment warred for dominance.
“Guess we keep walking,” she said. With the ocean in sight as a reference point, she had a better sense of direction. Based on where they’d been, she assumed the dock would be farther south.
But Mark didn’t move. He pushed his toes into the sandy soil under his feet. “I meant to. Propose to Maria,” he clarified, his gaze on the cove. “I shopped for diamonds and settings.”
With her heart aching at the pain constricting his voice, Charlotte knew that given a canvas and time, she’d paint sorrow into the gray surrounding them. “What happened?”
He wiped the rain from his face. “Marriage isn’t right for everyone.”
“It’s right for you,” she blurted without thinking. With the right person. Of course, she wanted to believe she was that person, but even if she wasn’t, Mark was built for commitment and a forever kind of partnership. The same core values held both of them upright as surely as bone and muscle. There was something more to the story, something she probably shouldn’t poke at.
“What happened?” she asked again, despite her misgivings.
His gaze touched on her and then slid away. “We broke up.”
Mark claimed to be the extroverted twin and he embraced the assumption that he was carefree, a slave to wanderlust. She’d watched him and loved him long enough to know better. She laced her hand through his and repeated her question one more time.
He didn’t move, but his whole body seemed to slump, defeated. “She left me while I was deployed.” He didn’t turn from his study of the water. “I thought she was pregnant, but didn’t ask before I left.”
Charlotte’s heart clutched at the pain in his eyes.
“I spent that whole operation grinning like a fool. I rushed home, ready to pop the question.”
A hard shudder rippled through him and Charlotte held his hand, rode it out.
“Maria wasn’t there,” he continued. “I was so excited to go home. So damn sure she’d be showing. Eager to tell me.” He cleared his throat. “And she... She was gone. Moved out. A few hundred phone calls and texts later, she finally agreed to meet with me.”
Charlotte held her breath and prayed, for his sake, that she’d misunderstood what was coming next.
“She was pregnant when I left.” Mark’s big voice, all his normal vitality, faded on a shaky sigh. He’d had more life in the cage. “While I was gone, she got scared about being a single mom. In her mind, SEALs weren’t good daddy material.”
“She said that to you?” Charlotte couldn’t suppress the indignation.
He squeezed her hand. “The divorce rate among Special Forces is pretty high.”
Charlotte snorted. “She must’ve been pretty high if she couldn’t see how you are different from a lousy statistic.”
His lips twitched. “Ever the loyal one,” he murmured. He finally dragged his gaze away from the ocean to look at her. His rough thumb wiped the rain from her cheek.
“That’s right.”
“Thanks for that.” He seemed to pull himself together, though he still held tight to her hand. “Long story short, she ended the pregnancy. Ended the relationship. I just got the memo a few months too late.”
“She...” Charlotte couldn’t say it. It took several seconds for her to absorb what he’d said. Her heart broke for him and the child he never met. “You never told anyone?”
“Where would I start?” he asked. “Hey, Mom, you’re not having a grandkid after all.” He slid his hand free and raked his hair back from his forehead, scattering raindrops. “At the time, sympathy wasn’t what I needed.”
Sympathy was exactly what he’d needed. He should have had support and love and the reassurance from his amazing family, and hers by extension, that the woman had been heartless, cruel and all wrong for him.
“Luke must have suspected something,” she said.
“We were on opposite sides of the country at the time,” Mark said. “The Continental Divide messes with the twin telepathy thing.”
“Stop,” she snapped, startling them both.
“Stop what?”
“Belittling what you went through.” Her temper was running away from her and she couldn’t quite catch it. “When we’re out of here, I’m going to track down that woman and kick her butt for hurting you.”
“My fierce artist.” He laughed, the sound rather strangled. “You’d do it too.”
“You bet I will do it,” she said. “It’s one more thing to look forward to.” She was angry enough that if Muscle jumped out and attacked her now, she was sure she could take him down.
“I hate to disappoint you, but it’s long over,” Mark said. “I’ve moved on.”
Right. He didn’t speak about it like a man who’d moved on at all.
She was still fuming when he slipped an arm over her shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Thank you for listening,” he said. “I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
She thought of his words to her this morning. “You’ve carried that secret long enough all by yourself. Even with your amazing shoulders, it had to be getting heavy.”
This time his soft chuckle sounded more amused and less pained. “Guess so. You won’t mention it to anyone?”
She didn’t want to keep something that big to herself, but it was his secret and therefore she would. “Not a word. It’s not the kind of gossip artists are into,” she promised.
Tears prickled in the backs of her eyes and she looked up at the sky. The breeze off the ocean kept the worst of the rain behind them. It was damp here, but they were no longer in the downpour. Out on the beach, it looked almost dry. And if they strolled out there to dry out and enjoy it, they’d be sitting ducks.
She plopped down and leaned back against a palm tree. “Do you think they’ve stopped for the day?” she asked.
“I imagine the injury I inflicted gave them something to consider. Why?”
“It’s caught up with me,” she admitted. “We can keep moving if that’s best, but I wouldn’t argue with just sitting here for a while.”
“Wherever you are, it’s a paradise,” he agreed, dropping to sit beside her.
The quiet companionship was lovely, but she could tell he was antsy, deliberating over their best next move. “You’d like to leave me here and just go handle things, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“But you haven’t.”
“Those cameras changed the equation,” he said. “Eaton loves a show and a SEAL on a rampage without any context would ruin me, Dad and put a significant dent in the program.”
She hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense in a sick way. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t have any helpful suggestions.
“Does death really increase the value of an artist’s work?” he asked. “I hated that Eaton said that to you.”
She nodded. “It’s the law of scarcity. The painting I did for him won’t be my last,” she said. “And there are some pieces in my studio that I didn’t think were ready for the show.” She cocked her head, studied his striking profile. “Don’t tell me you have one of my paintings.”
“All right, I won’t.” She gawked and he chuckled. “Just hypothetically, how much would it be worth if you died?”
“Far more than it’s worth now.” Which painting had he bought and when? “Hey, maybe we should use the cameras and fake my death so we can all be rich.”
“I’d give you a cut,” Mark teased. “Of course, Eaton’s rich enough thanks to Zettel’s perverted hunting habit.”
“True.” She picked at the mud under her fingernails. “Even before Zettel, if you think about it. He had to have capital to set this up. Are snipers that well paid?”
Mark shook his head. “Eaton went into mercenary work after he blew up his army career. He’s made some powerful and ugly friends in the years since.”
An understatement if ever she’d heard one.
“I think,” Mark said, rolling to his feet, “with some scouting and planning, I can make this cove a safe place for tonight.”
“If you disable the cameras we find, won’t it be obvious we’re here?”
“They’re motion sensitive. If we block the lenses, they would come on when the wind blows, but they wouldn’t show us moving.”
“That’s brilliant,” she exclaimed, jumping up. “How can I help?”
He smiled. “We’ll start with the closest camera and then I’ll scan the cove for others. Then if there’s enough light, we can see about finding the dock and a boat.”
The encouraging plan gave her the second wind she desperately needed.
“Mark and Charlotte are being hunted?” Patricia didn’t shout. She didn’t panic. There were no tears. She spoke with the quiet, contained calm that was far more dangerous than any outburst.
Ben had been dreading this conversation from the moment the video clip had hit his phone. He and Luke had managed to get the information to Hank first, but as the day wore on and the plan came together, there was no keeping Patricia out of the equation.
He’d brought his wife into the office and prayed she wouldn’t ask to see the video. It helped to know Hank, still working the investigation in Virginia, was on standby to answer any questions he wasn’t comfortable with.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
If he knew that, they’d be having this talk on the boat and underway. “Based on the information from Charlotte’s painting and the video clip Eaton sent this morning, Hank is narrowing it down. It is likely Eaton has them on a barrier island south of here.”
“And when are we joining the search?” she asked.
“We’ll leave in the morning.”
She pursed her lips. “Sue Ellen and Ron are in town. I have our gear and food packed. We’ll leave tonight.” She stalked out of the office, giving him no chance to argue.
He didn’t want to argue. Like her, he wanted to get out there and find the kids.
For the first time since Mark and Charlotte had disappeared, Ben hoped he and Patricia wouldn’t be the first to find them. His wife would happily kill Eaton with her bare hands and then Ben wouldn’t have a chance to beat the man senseless before the authorities locked him up for life.
Mark felt pretty accomplished by the time the storm blew over. It had rained inland all through the afternoon, which only made it easier to screen the two cameras he’d found.
They had a base camp, if woefully underequipped, but feeling safe in this protected corner of the island perked up Charlotte so much he didn’t dare point out what it lacked in amenities. She made an adorable picture in her borrowed boots with her hair braided back and her muddied scrubs. He had to work not to stare.
Between the steady sound of the ocean rolling in and the quiet task of searching for the cameras, he’d shaken off the embarrassment of telling her about his ugly failings with Maria. Of all people to confide in, he wasn’t sure why he’d unloaded on Charlotte.
Luke had pestered him a bit when he’d heard about the breakup. Mark had tried more than once, but he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it at the time. And, after several months had passed, bringing it up felt like wallowing. It was done, she was gone and no amount of picking it apart would change anything.
Blocking the cameras also gave him time to realize Charlotte was right. At the core, he was built for traditional family dynamics. A wife and kids, and that house he kept picturing in his head. He still had a few years in an intense career, but maybe someday that vision would come to pass.
This was a strange time and place for epiphanies.
He’d honestly thought Maria had been the one. Someone who could commit, love and compromise as they built a life together. Hurt by her rejection and devastated by the loss of a child he would never meet, he’d locked away those wounded pieces of himself and vowed never to let anyone in again. Charlotte made him want to reconsider, to break that vow and try one more time.
Did he have the guts for that?
As they split a meal bar, conserving their resources, he watched the sky. Dusk was falling and lead-colored clouds were breaking apart to the north. In a few hours, he could head out for some recon, maybe impair a few more spotters.
“You’re thinking of leaving me here again, aren’t you?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes,” he replied. She’d see right through any attempt to lie.
“You have to stop doing that.”
“Can’t. Keeping you safe is my primary objective.” Her lips tilted in a way that made him forget all about looking for an escape. He started to lean in to kiss her and pulled back.
He couldn’t keep kissing her and expect to survive. Outwitting Eaton was enough of a challenge. With Zettel on the island, their odds of escape dwindled considerably.
“Don’t go alone. I can help,” she said. “Be a lookout or whatever.”
“I’m sure you’d be an incredible lookout,” he said. “I’m second-guessing the whole idea to find the dock right now.”
“Why?”
“Ideally, I’d stay right here and forget about everything but you.” She blushed and his blood heated. With a weapon and ammunition, it was a defensible position. Unfortunately they only had a flare gun, a knife and two ground stakes.
“You had a valid point earlier. If the boat is at the dock, everyone else is likely there too. No reason to have more than one guard at the office. Eaton must be using the boat as a staging point. How else would he have been able to pick up painting supplies or bring in the hot fresh food he tortured me with?”
“If Zettel did give up the hunt for today, I doubt he’d settle for a lousy outdoor camp when he could be warm and dry on the boat,” she said. “He thinks he has all the time he needs. I’d rather not walk right into his rifle sight.”
“I don’t know the man, but I know the type. He isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty or suffer for the sake of the hunt.”
Her eyebrows flexed into a frown. “You realize that’s not exactly comforting?”
“Wasn’t meant to be,” he said. “I said it mostly to remind myself what’s at stake.”
She pulled the tie from her hair and started untangling the mass of rose-gold waves with her fingers. The rain had washed away the mud she’d used to dull the color earlier. “I think we’re better off sticking together.”
“You don’t approve of how I disabled the guard dog with the flare gun?”
“Of course I do.”
She shook back her hair and then began weaving it into a fresh braid. It was all he could do not to help. He’d seen his sisters do the same countless times. Her too, but not like this. Not when all he could think about was how it would feel to unwind that braid again.
“You do what’s right, no matter who or what you’re up against,” she said.
The all-encompassing confidence made him want to live up to her high opinion. “That’s flattery,” he teased. “You’ve only seen me at my worst. Ninety-nine percent of the good work I’ve done is classified.”
She tied off the braid with the dirty scrap of fabric. Given a chance, he would dote on her and spoil her with the best of everything. But solid family values or not, he wasn’t sure he was her guy. Not yet. There was still more he wanted to do with his career and his SEAL team. Could Charlotte be patient through that, or would she have second thoughts on lonely nights like Maria?
Charlotte wasn’t Maria, but it would be worse to make the wrong moves with her. A mistake between him and Charlotte would have repercussions through both of their families. Did they have anything in common beyond a talent for kissing and a mutual belief that he could do anything? She was built to create and develop and celebrate life. He was trained to kill. She deserved a man who would be home for her every night, a man who could give her a real relationship.
What had she planned for her career? He knew about the art therapy, and the year in her studio, but what was next? He caught himself before he asked. The idea that her work or her heart would carry her out of his reach was a hard pressure in his chest.
He had to be overreacting. Pain, stress, lack of sleep and the emotional conversation about Maria’s choices were obviously impairing his judgment. Feelings weren’t his strong suit. Better to focus on what he did right.
“Are you fishing for compliments?” She tossed her braid over her shoulder.
“What?” It took him a second to pull his thoughts back in order. “No.”
“I’ve seen you play just about every sport either casually or competitively. I know what you can do. And I watched you repeatedly draw Eaton’s attention from me.”
“Yeah, that worked so well,” he grumbled.
“Worked well enough that we’re both still alive,” she said. For a quiet girl, she suddenly had a lot to say. “I know you took every beating Eaton dished out, all the while thinking about how you’d save me.”
“That’s a no-brainer. You’re precious—”
“So are you, Mark.”
Shocked by her declaration, he gaped at her.
“Yes, I said it. You’re precious to me and plenty of other people. Looking for the dock on your own is too risky. We don’t have a way to communicate if one of us gets hurt or found,” she said. “Leaving me sitting here fretting over you won’t do either of us any good.”
And there was his answer about the future. Leaving her sitting at home fretting while he was deployed would drain her wonderful, vibrant and creative spirit. He wasn’t the guy for her.
“If we go together, we could just as easily be caught together.” He felt obligated to point out the obvious.
She spread her hands wide. “So far, we’ve made together work in our favor.”
He knew when to compromise. “All right. Let’s go.” He caught the flash of victory in her blue eyes before he ticked off the ground rules. She listened attentively, promising to follow his directions and bolt if he told her to go. He carried the pack, though they left half of the remaining water and meal bars hidden at the camp. Better odds for her survival if they did get separated.
“The general plan is to follow the coastline to the dock,” he explained. “That way all you have to do is retrace the route if there’s trouble.”
Her lips pursed. “Relax. I’ll only send you back if absolutely necessary.”
“And what if you’re the one who has to retreat?” she asked.
He supposed such a scenario was possible, but the idea made him queasy. “I’ll do it,” he promised.
They left the cove in silence, both of them on high alert for any sound that didn’t belong in the maritime forest or the sloping beaches where the island met the ocean. He made note of the first camera they found on their route, but he didn’t block it. It was aimed inland and they were able to maneuver around it.
“Do you think he has someone watching the beach?” she asked in a whisper.
She never ceased to impress him, though it was odd to hear her voice the question that was at the forefront of his mind. “It would be the best way to keep an eye on these open stretches. I looked for camera gear in the trees around the cove. Either the person who staked the cameras on this side is afraid of heights or the breeze off the ocean renders them useless.”
They walked on and he resisted the urge to take her hand and pretend they were just two people out for a stroll.
At the first sound of voices, he stopped moving and tucked Charlotte behind him. The speakers were too far away for him to pick up particular words, but there was definitely more than one person. Under the voices, he heard the break of soft rollers coming in from the ocean and the random squeak of plastic bumpers designed to protect boat hulls from a dock. He crouched low, signaling Charlotte to wait. Inching forward, he crept to the edge of the trees to see who was there.
Mark had to give Eaton a gold star for organization and planning. The dock was sheltered from open water on one side by a sandbar. He’d used the island topography to great advantage. The odds of being noticed from anyone out on the ocean were slim and day travelers cruising between the mainland and island would never see it.
Eaton had guards posted at both ends of the dock and Mark smiled. The man had prepared for an assault from the water. So he was smart enough to respect Mark’s training.
The boat tied up now wasn’t the glamorous yacht he’d expected to see. Maybe Zettel would prefer camping to the cramped and worn cabin cruiser that would benefit from some serious maintenance and a fresh paint job.
Looking back, he motioned Charlotte forward. She soaked up details like a sponge. “Is that the boat you arrived on?”
“Yes.”
His body came to attention as she stretched out beside him, brushing against his leg, hip and side. Her cheek was close enough to kiss and if he leaned in just an inch or two, he could bury his nose in her hair.
“We won’t get on that boat tonight,” he whispered, focusing on their immediate crisis. They’d wasted time and energy on this hike after all.
“What about the modified container? If everyone’s here, we could send an SOS through the cameras there.”
“I’m not convinced everyone is here,” he replied. “That’s Muscle at the ocean end of the dock. I’ve never seen the guy closest to us, have you?”
She paused, studying the scene. “An extra from Zettel’s team?”
“Possibly.” Eaton seemed to have a steady supply of mercenaries ready and willing to cash his checks. “The spotter I wounded needs a doctor. They wouldn’t have been able to get him out by plane during the storm.”
“I never heard the plane leave after Zettel arrived.”
He’d been thinking the same thing. “But where did they land? There must be a clearing on this side of the island.”
“Or it’s a seaplane. Either way, he’ll have it heavily guarded.” She wriggled, her hip bumping his. “The supplies must be on the boat,” she said. “They weren’t in the container where we were held.”
“Then we must be close to a good-sized city for Eaton’s men to keep things stocked. In a small town, that crew would stand out too much.”
She nodded her agreement. Resting her chin on her stacked hands, she watched the activity on the dock. “I have this urge to ask you to go all covert ops and take that vessel.”
He smothered his laughter in his arm. “The kiss was that bad that you’d send me on a suicide mission?”
She turned her head and met his gaze. He was instantly lost in those blue depths, deeper in the fading light. “I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Same,” he said. He forced his gaze back to the dock and watched for a few more minutes. Was there anything he could do tonight without getting captured, killed or putting Charlotte in grave danger?
“What I wouldn’t give for binoculars.” He eyed the worn footpath from the dock, across the dunes and into the trees. The trek wasn’t a total loss. He now had a mental map of this segment of the island, but could only guess as to the full length, breadth and location. Having actual coordinates would mean a faster rescue if they could snag a radio or phone.
As far as Mark had seen, Eaton didn’t trust anyone else with the radio. That posed a problem for Mark, who wanted to steal it, but it made things challenging for Eaton, as well. His men couldn’t call for backup or to clarify orders if they got in a bind. Mark intended to put them all in a bind in the days ahead.
His pulse settled as a loose plan took shape in his mind. Before he and Charlotte retreated, he’d give Eaton something to think about overnight.
“I’m taking the flare gun,” he said, reaching into the pack she wore. “You start back—” He stopped talking as someone approached.
“I want the cameras disabled,” Zettel was saying.
“No,” Eaton replied. “If you want a fair hunt, don’t look at the feed or read the movement reports.”
Charlotte trembled and Mark rested his hand between her shoulder blades, keeping her still, offering reassurance.
“That’s impossible,” Zettel roared. “Your men gossip like schoolgirls.”
He pointed to the camera stake nearby. It wasn’t facing them or the bullets would be flying by now.
Mark embraced the familiar battle calm, shifting into fighting mode. At his side, he felt another tremor ripple through Charlotte. What he wouldn’t give to have her anywhere else right now. He pressed his leg to hers in silent reassurance. She stilled.
The light was nearly gone and the men were little more than loud shadows among the thick brush and trees.
“You never said anything about watching the hunt,” Zettel bit out in a tone bordering on petulant. “I can track the man without this junk you’ve tacked up everywhere.”
One of the shadows bent and struggled with something. Leaves rustled and Eaton swore.
“Put back my equipment, Zettel. If you don’t like the parameters here, get out of the game.”
“I wanted a hunt, not a shooting gallery. I have a reputation.”
“So do what you came to do,” Eaton said. “Enjoy your hunt, make the kills and no one will be alive to speak ill of you or your reputation.”
“You have a reputation too,” Zettel countered, his voice full of threats. “I should have listened to the naysayers before wiring the money.”
“If you’re unhappy, leave.”
“I am unhappy with the cameras.”
“Will you continue to disable them?” Eaton asked.
Mark cringed. That was a trick question if he’d ever heard one. Although it was nice to know Zettel was interfering with Eaton’s observation tactics, this wasn’t going to end well. Eaton was addicted to the power high and looking for another hit. No way would he allow Zettel to mess with his ultimate plan for vengeance against the general.
Mark had a flare loaded in the chamber and the hammer cocked. He aimed the flare gun at the men, prepared to offer a temporary end to the argument.
“I paid for a fair hu—”
Two quick gunshots cut Zettel’s words short before Mark could fire the flare. The man slumped to the ground. Eaton used the radio and snapped out orders. Mark wondered who would answer. He’d never seen a radio on Quick-Punch Kid or Muscle.
The answer became evident as a man stepped out of the boat’s bridge and shouted to the man posted at the near end of the dock. Mark and Charlotte had to get out of here before they were spotted. He signaled her to back up slowly, keeping to the darkness created by the trees’ shadows.
Every foot of distance gave Mark options and Charlotte a chance. Another few yards and they could make it out unnoticed.
Eaton was muttering at Zettel’s lifeless body when his radio crackled. He toggled the switch. “Say again?”
Mark knew they’d been spotted. Zettel must not have disabled the camera when he pulled up the stake and when it fell, the field of view must have changed.
Mark shot the flare, aiming for Eaton’s feet. The signal projectile wasn’t known for accuracy and it floated and tumbled through the air in a shower of sparks and a trail of smoke. A split second later, it flared as designed and simultaneously lit up the area. The red plume burned and skittered across the ground, creating a bank of foggy smoke.
Eaton’s night vision would be compromised and the sizzling flare made enough noise to cover their escape. Mark urged Charlotte up and into a run. “Go! Go!” Yes, their rapid retreat meant they’d leave a trail. They might even get picked up by a second camera, but he’d blow up that metaphorical bridge when he got there.
One gunshot, then two more sounded. Fired from the dock, based on the sound. None of the bullets landed close enough to worry him.
“Keep going.” They were almost out of range.
Charlotte tripped and went down, sprawling across the ground before he could do anything to keep her upright or cushion her fall. He helped her up. “Go straight to the cove,” he said. “Don’t argue,” he added. “I’ll hide our trail and then I’m right behind you.”