After the note she’d found in Eaton’s desk drawer yesterday, Charlotte had only slept in fits and starts. Still, as the faint light filtering through the vent woke her, she knew she’d dreamed of Mark’s kisses. Sitting up, she pressed her lips together gently as if she could preserve the dream kiss.
It hardly mattered what Eaton overheard or saw on the cameras now. According to what she’d found, their path was set. As if the universe concurred, she heard the engine of a small plane overhead.
“Too small for a rescue,” Mark said, coming to his knees. He scowled at the ceiling. “Supplies?”
Her pulse skittered. She should tell him what she’d found and what she suspected. Before she could start, Quick-Punch Kid walked in. He unlocked her cage and led her out of the room.
He escorted her to the latrine. “Take a shower,” he suggested. “And I recommend you use what Eaton brought in to look your best.”
She glared at him and saw the pity in his gaze. He knew the plan. “Would you want to look good for a potential buyer?”
“Better to be seen as valued than disposable,” he said. “Get going.”
She quickly made the most of the facilities, fully aware it could be her last chance for some time. Or ever. Eaton had provided fragrant soap and shampoo and a deep conditioner, as well. A glimpse of heaven before they were tossed into hell. She kept the scrap of fabric she’d torn from the hem of her scrub top and used it to tie her hair into a ponytail.
More guilt surged through her as she brushed her teeth. She should have told Mark what she’d seen in the desk, given him time to prepare.
Quick-Punch Kid led her outside into a morning so bright she shied from the sunlight. He clamped her wrists in a heavy restraint. These cuffs had a solid bar that kept her hands about a foot apart and what appeared to be an electronic lock in the center. He tested the lock, then removed the other handcuffs.
“What are you doing?” Panic was a hot spark under her skin at the back of her neck.
He shook his head, completely unsympathetic. “Deal with it.”
“No.” The regular cuffs had been bad enough. She tugged one wrist and then the other, only to feel a small jolt of electricity that made her pinky fingers numb. “What’s going on? Please, please take these off.” She couldn’t survive in or out of the cage with her hands in this contraption.
Muscle walked up from the direction of the dock and laughed. “Go on and get the other one,” he said to Quick-Punch Kid. He aimed a Taser at her. “I’ll keep her in line.”
Being alone with Muscle again made her whole body quiver. She shifted her gaze slightly, keeping him in view, but deliberately focusing on the beautiful day. This was perfect weather for a picnic on the beach and here she was on what might be the last day of her life.
“You noticed the new cuffs have a sting?”
She cursed her knees for wobbling. She could not expect Mark to fight all of her battles or be her sole source of courage. Unpleasant as it was, she stared directly at Muscle and rolled her shoulders back. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her tremble or cower. Not today.
“I can drop you with the press of a button and do whatever I please.” He tapped her temple. “You’d have to watch, trapped right there in your head.”
The door opened and Mark appeared just ahead of Quick-Punch Kid. His electronic cuffs were already in place and he wore a small backpack. She had no idea how he would reach it. They’d given him clean scrubs, including a shirt this time, and slip-on shoes. His beard hid some of the bruising on his face and the shirt covered the damage Eaton’s guards had done to his torso.
“You’ll never touch her again,” Mark said to Muscle.
“Shut up,” Quick-Punch Kid responded. “He’s all talk,” he said to Charlotte. “He knows if he messes up the merchandise, he’s a dead man.”
As the horror of that statement slid through her, she watched Mark’s expression go from fury to the blank mask she knew was even worse.
“Don’t try anything, tough guy.” Quick-Punch Kid shoved Mark to stand beside her, close enough that his shoulder bumped hers.
Just having him close gave Charlotte a boost of hope, though she still had no idea how they’d find a way out of what was coming.
“Merchandise?” Mark asked under his breath as the guard walked away.
“Eaton arranged for us to be hunted,” she whispered. “I saw the note in his desk.” She swallowed. “And the negotiated price.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His lips barely moved as he answered his own question. “You didn’t want him to know you found out.”
“I heard the plane this morning, but by then it was too late.”
“Ah, Lottie.” He rubbed his shoulder against hers. “That’s a heavy burden to carry alone.”
She sniffed back the tears that stung her eyes. Was that admiration she heard in his voice? “It certainly fixed any cash flow issues.”
“Let’s hope the check bounces,” he replied. “It’s not a shock to me. I heard him take the call and haggle over the price.”
“And you didn’t mention it either.” She rolled her eyes.
“Didn’t want to make things worse for you.”
They were a pair, each of them too willing to protect the other.
A trio of men approached along the path she’d walked from the dock. The man in the lead carried a rifle, with a handgun in a holster at his hip. He wore forest camouflage pants and boots, a khaki long-sleeved shirt and a vest that matched the pants. Take away the weapons and put him in business attire and he could be mistaken for an accomplished executive. The men flanking him were similarly dressed, but neither was visibly armed.
The man with the rifle stopped beside Muscle and smiled at her. She forced herself to be strong and not shy away.
“Miss Hanover. A pleasure to meet you at last.”
“You know this guy?” Mark whispered.
She shook her head. “Only by name. Mr. Zettel reached out, asking me to paint one of his dreadful trophy kills.”
“Your agent was dreadful, if you’ll forgive me for saying so,” Zettel said politely. “Before our host arrives, I’m compelled to offer you an alternative, Miss Hanover. I am here to hunt a SEAL. I have, in fact, paid dearly for the privilege.”
She tipped her head. “Is that some sort of declaration of decency?”
“You must choose,” Zettel continued. “Choose now to be hunted or spared.”
There was no choice. She wasn’t leaving Mark. He’d been a fixture in her life from day one. She was fully aware he wanted her out of harm’s way, but Zettel was not what any sane person would consider a safe alternative.
“No, thank you.” She’d rather be hunted than taken for a fool. Being spared wouldn’t end well for her.
“I don’t lose these games, Miss Hanover. Please take a moment to reconsider.”
She pretended to indulge him. “If I choose to be spared, can I go home? You’ll allow me to return to my family, resume my career and spend time with my friends too? Naturally, you’ll have me sign a nondisclosure agreement or something similar to prevent any discussion about what’s happened here. We wouldn’t want to risk any tarnish on your reputation.”
“Admittedly, your life would be different. You would remain in my company,” Zettel said. “But you would be alive. You would be provided for and free to paint and travel. You will, in time, make new friends and, hopefully, a new family.”
Her stomach twisted at the idea of bearing Zettel’s children. She didn’t know what would happen next, but anything was preferable to the life he offered. “No, thank you,” she managed, her throat dry as sand.
Mark shifted as though he were bored, his shoulder brushing hers again. The unspoken support bolstered her courage.
Eaton came out of the office-prison, smiling. “Did you get your girl, Zettel?”
“No.” His displeasure only fueled her will to survive whatever Eaton threw at them next.
“That’s a pity. She’s so talented. You should see the painting she did for me yesterday.” His calculating gaze landed on Charlotte. “That’s your final answer?” At her nod, he continued, “Not surprising, though it is unfortunate. I liked you, Miss Hanover. I’ll console myself with the increased value of your final painting.”
She silently vowed the painting she’d done for Eaton would not be her last. They would find a way to survive.
Eaton eyed his phone, then walked over and shifted Mark and Charlotte closer to the trees near the modified container. “Yes, perfect.” He stepped back and did something with his phone. A moment later, he smiled as if he’d won the lottery. “We’re live, gentleman.” He tipped his head. “And lady.”
Once more, Eaton had put them on display to continue tormenting Mark’s dad. Apparently that was more important than exposing their location. Beside her, Mark twitched. He must be looking for the camera too. Eaton was talking, but Charlotte was too overcome to listen. Fury was scorching away her fears and for the first time, she felt absolutely capable of killing someone. If she’d had a gun, she would have aimed and fired and hit her target square in the chest. No regret, no guilt. Eaton and Zettel and their evil-minded cronies needed to die.
“Breathe.” Mark said the word so quietly she thought she’d imagined it. “We’re almost out of here.”
This time she believed him.
Ben walked along the beach behind the house, periodically checking his cell phone to be sure he had a good signal. He did. Unfortunately no calls, texts or pictures were arriving on the device.
The live feed had been cut off shortly after Charlotte started painting. Hank’s opinion of the clues she’d provided on the canvas had been backed up by the investigation team. Everyone was in agreement that Eaton was holding them on a barrier island south of Virginia.
That still left a great deal of coastline to cover. Ben and Patricia had returned home immediately to prep the sailboat for an extended cruise to help search. He wasn’t leaving the fate of those kids to strangers—no matter how qualified or capable. The more eyes scouring the area for any sign of Eaton, Mark and Charlotte, the better.
Charlotte’s parents would arrive this evening and the four of them would set out. Unlike previous trips, this time it wouldn’t be as simple and pleasant as a long weekend with their best friends.
“Dad!”
Ben turned toward the shout and saw Luke coming down the steps from the deck. He carried a mug in each hand, but he didn’t look happy about bringing out the coffee this morning. Matt, Grace Ann and Jolene were keeping tabs on the situation from their respective locations, all of them planning to gather here as soon as Mark and Charlotte were found.
“Mom wants me to tell you that staring at the ocean won’t bring him back,” Luke said.
“She should talk. The whole time Mark was in training, she’d watch the surf, shake her head and say a prayer.”
“I did the same thing.” Luke grinned. “Praying he’d scrub out.”
At times like this, Ben was sure Mark went into the navy just to stir things up. “Don’t let your mother hear you say that.”
“I doubt she’d be shocked,” Luke said. “Mark was all SEALs rock, Deltas suck when you were deployed. The weeks while he was out of touch in training were so peaceful.”
Ben sipped his coffee. “Your mother and I have always wanted each of you kids to achieve your own goals and dreams.” He wrapped his cup in both hands. “Did we push too hard?”
Luke eyed him as if he’d sprouted a third eye. “Push us? Yes. Push us toward the army? No.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah, well, four out of five kids made the smart choice,” Luke joked. “That’s a pretty good success rate. If one of us had to buck the system, it makes sense it was your favorite kid.”
Ben arched an eyebrow. “You know your little sister is my favorite.”
Luke nearly choked on his coffee. “Wow,” he said, recovering. “I’d be offended by that if I didn’t know about her psychology experiment in high school designed to favorably influence parents. Guess it finally paid off.”
Ben couldn’t quite manage the laughter over the old joke, consumed by a sudden image of his youngest girl caught in Eaton’s net. They needed to put the man behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.
“We’ll get him, Dad,” Luke said confidently. “Mark won’t quit until Charlotte’s home safe. His team is on standby, as is mine.”
Eaton had been part of a team once, an excellent sniper Ben had counted on. “He’s not the first soldier to snap under combat pressure,” Ben mused.
“He’s a disgrace to the uniform and the mission,” Luke said. “You didn’t send him off the rails. He did that on his own. Right mind or not, there are consequences.”
“True,” Ben agreed. “This feels all wrong with Eaton. It’s unimaginable to be sure, but this entire ordeal has been too organized to blame on a broken mind.”
“No one sane does what this guy has done to our family,” Luke countered.
Ben stared out at the ocean, turned south as if he could see far enough to spot Mark and Charlotte. “However he’s justifying his actions, his goal is to break me, to destroy our family.”
“The Rileys stand together. We won’t let him break any of us.”
Ben was afraid Eaton was closer than ever with this game he was playing with Mark. The thought alone felt like a defeat. He had to stay strong. For all of them.
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 it 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.”