Arden’s nerves were taut, her composure held together by a thread. She had to believe that Kane and Silas knew where she was. She had to believe they were on the way to help. She had to trust that God was in this, that His way was perfect, that she’d get out of the situation and get back to her life. Otherwise, she might just give into temptation and start singing or talking or spouting useless facts.
That would do absolutely nothing except irritate Randy. She wouldn’t mind that so much, except that she had to focus. What she needed to do—what she would do—was stay calm.
She was where she wanted to be, sitting in front of the stand-alone computer system, watching as Randy logged in as the administrator.
He was nervous. His face was ruddy and glossy with perspiration, his hands shaking as he typed. He looked like an understuffed scarecrow, his suit bagging around his skinny frame, his cheeks gaunt.
She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. If he hadn’t stolen government secrets and wasn’t trying to pass them into enemy hands, maybe she’d have a little more sympathy for his plight.
As it was, she hoped he got every single thing that he deserved.
“How long is this going to take?” Emory asked. He picked up the portable drive that a security guard had taken from Arden’s pocket when he’d frisked her. The rest of what she’d been carrying was spread out on a marble counter nearby—wireless connector, flashlight, screwdriver and prepaid cell phone.
The security team had disappeared. She thought one of the guards was standing on the other side of the closed door. She might be able to get past him, but she’d have to get past Randy and Emory first.
After she infected the system, she was going to be running for her life. Literally. There was no doubt in her mind Emory would kill her once he realized what she’d done.
“Be careful with that,” Arden warned, her heart in her throat as she watched him flip the drive in the palm of his hand.
He met her eyes, his expression cold. “Do I look stupid?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
He slapped her—a quick vicious hit that left the taste of blood in her mouth.
“Hey!” Randy glanced their way. “Careful. If you give her a concussion, she might not be able to access the files. Then what?”
“Sheesh,” Arden said, refusing to let either man know how terrified she was. “Thanks for caring, Randy.”
“It’s nothing personal, Arden. I needed money. This was the best way to get it.” He finished typing in his passcode and took the drive from Emory’s hand.
“By selling out your country?” she asked, and he frowned.
“I’m not a traitor.”
“You’re not a thief, either, but somehow you used my encryption program to help him smuggle classified information to a recipient outside of GeoArray. The initial files that were sent were bad enough, but if the completed application falls in the wrong hands, our national defense systems will be in trouble.”
“I didn’t steal your program. We collaborated. It was ours.”
“Right.” She snorted, knowing that that would get a rise out of him. “We collaborated on a lot of things when we worked on the university’s research team, but that program was not one of them.” She wanted him irritated. Angry was even better. The less time he had to think, the better. She might despise him, but she couldn’t deny his intelligence. If he weren’t working from a place of fear, he’d have considered the fact that the drive he was holding was infected with the worm she’d used to take down GeoArray’s system.
“Enough chitchat. I asked a question,” Emory snapped. “How long will this take?”
“It depends on how intricate her encryption program is.” Randy plugged the drive into the port, and Arden’s heart skipped a dozen beats. She was this close to destroying everything these men were working toward.
Please, God, let this work, she prayed silently.
“Let her do it then,” Emory said. “I want it done quickly, Ms. DeMarco.”
“It will be.” She tried to match his tone, use the same cold, hard inflections he had, but her voice was shaking. She was disgusted to see that her hands were shaking, too.
She knew what she had to do. Fear would not stop her.
Had Kane and Silas seen her taken? Were they trying to figure out a way to save her?
She typed in her passcode incorrectly, knowing how the program would react. It was her fail-safe, her backup plan. If anyone tried to access the files without the code, the worm automatically uploaded to the system thirty seconds after the first failed entry. The only way to stop it was to enter the correct code.
She had no intention of doing that.
“What happened?” Randy asked, leaning in as the passcode prompt appeared again.
“Shaky hands,” she lied, typing in another wrong code.
The server was on borrowed time. Unfortunately, Arden was pretty sure she was, too.
The upload box appeared, ticking off the seconds as the worm infiltrated the system.
“Is that it?” Emory asked, leaning close to the screen.
“I...think so,” Randy responded, but she knew he was worried. Unlike Emory, he understood computers. He knew that her passcode should have opened a screen with file options that she could choose from. This upload was different. This was a one-way ticket to Randy’s failure.
He met Arden’s eyes, and she could see the anger there.
He’d been bested at his game.
He knew it.
The upload box filled, then the screen went black. Randy’s quiet curse filled the sudden deafening silence. The system had shut down completely. No more soft hum of drive fans. Nothing but the harsh sound of Randy’s frantic, furious breaths.
“What just happened?” Emory demanded.
“She compromised the system,” Randy bit out. “She uploaded a worm and destroyed everything.”
“Were you planning to die tonight?” Emory yelled, dragging Arden from the chair and throwing her against the wall. Every bit of air left her lungs at the impact, but she didn’t have time to recover. He was on her again, screaming into her face, demanding she bring the program back up.
She’d been trained for this. Her brothers had made certain she could defend herself. She knew what to do. She just needed her body to cooperate with what her brain was demanding.
She slammed her head into his chin, the force of the blow knocking him backward. The door was just a few feet away, and she lunged for it, praying it wasn’t locked, praying she’d make it out.
She turned the knob, yanking on it with so much force the door slammed into the wall, bouncing back as she darted through. The security guard was leaning against the far wall of the captain’s quarters, his head down.
He looked up from his cell phone as she raced out, stunned confusion crossing his face.
One more door, and she’d be on the deck. From there, she could jump overboard if she had to.
“Don’t just stand there,” Emory yelled as he nearly flew out of the server room. “Stop her.”
The security guard finally moved, darting toward her, grabbing a handful of her jacket as she raced toward the door.
She swung around, using the flat of her hand against his nose. He cursed and fell back, blood oozing from his nose.
She thought she heard footsteps outside the door, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She had the door open and was running, feet slipping on wet flooring as she raced toward the stairs.
She could see the sky through the stairwell opening. The stars sparkled against the blackness. She could feel the cold air wafting down, smell the briny scent of saltwater. All of it was there, clear and crisp and vivid. Freedom. Just a few more yards away.
An explosion rocked the yacht.
Or, maybe, it just rocked her.
She stumbled, falling onto the stairs. Pain stole every thought as blood spurted from a wound in her shoulder.
Shot. Her mind finally registered it, and she was up again. She dodged this time, weaving and ducking even though the stairs were a straight line up and a bullet could easily find her again.
Another gunshot came from the left, glass shattering as a porthole imploded. She wasn’t sure who was shooting at her. She just knew she had to keep moving.
A dark figure appeared in front of her, blocking the sky and the cold. She planned to plow through him because she sure wasn’t going to stop. No way was she going to die in the bowels of Emory’s yacht.
She slammed into a hard body, felt an arm wrap around her waist. And she knew before she saw his face, before he spoke her name. She knew without even knowing how that it was Kane.
* * *
She’d been shot.
Kane could see the blood oozing from a wound in Arden’s shoulder, and it infuriated him. Her face was leached of color. She clung to his arm and offered a smile that made his heart break into a million pieces.
“It’s done. We stopped them,” she said.
“It’s not done until I get you off this boat.”
He helped her up the stairs, keeping one hand on her waist and the other free. Silas had taken out the guard who’d shot Arden, but Emory and Randy were still on the loose. He doubted Randy had a weapon, but he thought Emory might be carrying. The guy didn’t seem like someone who took chances. He also didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be happy to lose out on millions of dollars.
Arden had destroyed the only possibility Emory had of getting the rest of the money. If nothing else, he would want revenge.
They made it onto the deck. The second guard was still trussed up and handcuffed to the railing, the rest of the area empty and silent.
That should have made Kane feel better, but something was off. The skin-crawling, hair-raising feeling of danger seeped through his pores.
“What’s wrong?” Arden whispered as he hurried her across the deck.
“Can you make it down the ladder?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated.
“I want you off this boat,” he responded. The soft clank of feet on metal rungs made his heart race.
Arden must have heard it, too. She lowered herself over the side of the deck, her feet scraping against the hull. Blood was still pouring from her shoulder, and he wanted to tell her to be careful, but she was already moving. She eased herself down one slow step at a time.
He scanned the deck, searching for the danger he knew was there. Metal vibrated somewhere above, and he eyed the bridge, certain someone was there. Pale moonlight filtered down from the clear winter sky. It splashed across the upper deck and silhouetted a man who was walking to the railing.
Not Silas. This guy was shorter, broader, louder. Emory.
He lifted his arm, a handgun glinting in the dim light.
Kane didn’t hesitate. He didn’t issue a warning. His Glock was out, and he was firing as Emory took aim at the ladder and Arden.
“Arden, watch out!” Kane shouted, his words lost in the explosion of gunfire.
His bullet hit its mark, knocking Emory backward.
Emory’s shot pinged off the metal handrail. Arden jerked back, releasing the rail. The muffled sound of her scream was followed by the soft splash of a body landing in the water.
Kane was up and over the railing before the sound faded away. He could see the telltale waves where she’d gone under, the rippling circle spreading into wide arcs that lapped against the hull of the boat.
He tucked his gun in its holster and jumped. Feet first just like he’d done during dozens of training exercises. Only this wasn’t training. This was the real deal. If he couldn’t find Arden, if she was unconscious, if the bullet had nicked a major artery, if any of a dozen things went wrong, she’d die.
He hit the water almost silently, sliding beneath the inky surface, eyes open in the salty water as he searched the blackness for Arden.