Colder Than Sin (Cold Justice - Crossfire: FBI Romantic Suspense Book 2)

by Toni Anderson

  “The yacht would be easier to swim out to and steal, but they can catch up to us easily in the inflatables, and we’re back to square one.”

  “What bothers me is there are too many men on this island for those two inflatables. They must have access to a plane and runway or bigger boats for moving camp.”

  “But those boats are probably the only way they can catch us in the next hour, assuming we can get to the open ocean,” said Haley.

  “True. Okay. We need to work our way around to the other side of that encampment to those RIBs. I doubt they have more than the minimum number of guards on duty as they’re on home ground, but let’s not assume anything.”

  “Why were those men moving between camps at night do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Quentin answered softly. “We have to get moving though. They’ll reach the other camp soon. Keep the blanket over your hair.” He adjusted it slightly, and Haley felt her breath catch. Crazy under the circumstances, but who wouldn’t fall for a man this handsome and considerate who was also trying to rescue her from ruthless killers?

  She nodded. She wasn’t going to be the dumb blonde who screwed up. Not this time. They were getting the hell out of here.

  They crept through the bushes and skirted an area with tents that seemed to be where the men slept.

  A small, dilapidated, wooden shack sat at the far edge of the camp with a hurricane lamp burning outside. A single guard stood on duty there. He seemed to be the only one awake in the whole place.

  Was that where the camp commander slept? Seemed odd when there was a better house up the hill. She and Quentin both froze when the door opened, and a man slipped outside with a broad grin on his face doing up his zipper. He slapped the other guard on the arm, and they changed places almost furtively.

  That was weird.

  Quentin’s grip on her hand was her only safe anchor in the darkness. They carried on past the hut but both froze when a cry came from inside the structure. It was a woman’s sob of anguish. “Please, no.”

  Haley sucked in a breath. Those men were abusing a woman in there. An American woman by the sounds of it. Quentin’s grip on her tightened, and they moved farther away from the shed, into the bushes that skirted the beach.

  “We can’t leave her,” she whispered. It could have been her back there. Abused. Hurting.

  There was enough light for her to see Quentin’s expression, and she could tell he felt the same way.

  “This might cost us our chance to get out of here,” he murmured softly.

  No matter how desperate she was to get away and avoid the same fate, she couldn’t abandon this woman.

  “Can you handle starting the boat?” Quentin asked.

  She nodded. She’d handled RIBs plenty of times while diving or playing around on the ocean.

  “I didn’t see any guards but check again before you leave cover. If no one is looking, sneak into one of the boats and make sure it is ready to go as soon as I get there with the woman. Tie the other boat to the back of the first so they can’t use it to chase after us. And keep down, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “And if I’m not there in five minutes, leave without me.”

  She shook her head.

  “Promise me, or I’m not going anywhere but with you.”

  Stubborn man.

  “Fine.” Like hell.

  She edged down towards the rocks where the boats were moored. She looked around carefully but didn’t see anyone guarding them—the sentries were apparently doing other things instead. A rush of anger hit her in the throat. That poor woman. That was her fate if they were caught.

  She slipped into the water between the rocks and the boats and undid the knots mooring one of them. Fear was alive and swimming in her bloodstream as she released the rope from the metal loop on the wall and pushed the first craft farther into the surf. It was heavy but deep enough in the water that she could manage it alone. She tied the one boat to the side of the other, knowing that if they had to book it, they might have to dump the second boat. She hoisted herself over the edge of the inflatable that was still attached to the wall. She checked the oars, then crawled to the outboard motor. She did an internal happy dance when she realized whoever had driven it last had left the keys in the ignition. She flipped on the gas line, although she was unable to check the amount of fuel in the tank given the lack of light.

  She unhitched the rope that kept it tethered to the rocks but kept the rope looped through the metal ring so it didn’t float away.

  Ready to go.

  She hunched low in the boat, holding onto her nerves and subduing the rev of her heart. Where was Quentin? Had he been caught? Had he rescued the woman? Was he dead? The idea made her want to throw up.

  She searched the darkness for some hint of him, but all she heard were monkeys in the trees and wild shrieks that scared the crap out of her. The jungle was alive with danger, but it wasn’t half as terrifying as the monsters who’d taken them hostage.

  * * *

  Quentin waited for Haley to move away from the shed, then went back to crouch in the shadows. He couldn’t afford to wait for long. He lobbed a rock into the bushes on the other side of the cabin. The guard stood up and went to stare into the darkness. Behind him, Quentin eased around the side of the building and up the steps. He jammed his hand over the bastard’s mouth to stop him screaming and drew the knife across his throat.

  It didn’t take long for the guy to collapse, dead in his arms. Quentin pushed him off the step into the bushes at the edge of the jungle.

  Swiftly, Quentin headed to the door and eased it open.

  The scene inside broke his heart and enraged him in equal measure. He quietly closed the door behind him. A young woman lay on a thin, dirty mattress, curled on her side with her back to him. The man faced away from Quentin, fixing his clothing. Without looking up, the guy said something and chuckled, obviously thinking Quentin was one of his fellow asshole guerillas here to take a turn. Quentin grabbed hold of the guy, but his hands were bloody, and his grip slipped. He dropped the knife onto the bare wooden floor, and it clattered loudly.

  Shit!

  The man spun around and Quentin hit the guy hard in the face and followed up with a knee to the balls. Quentin fell on top of the bastard, arm pressed across his trachea, cutting off his air supply, not giving him an inch. If the guard caught a breath, he’d scream. If he screamed, Quentin, Haley, and this young woman, who he recognized as Darby O’Roarke, were as good as dead.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the guard’s fingers strain toward the knife, and Quentin gripped harder, unable to let go. Hatred spat at him from that spiteful gaze. The feeling was entirely mutual. Quentin pressed down harder, knowing he was too late. Haley would be leaving any second, and he’d failed to rescue this young woman from her kidnappers.

  The guard’s fingers brushed the knife, but the girl snatched it away. Quentin’s grip tightened even more as the guard started to moan.

  Quentin felt the thrust of the knife into the man’s body beneath him and winced. Quentin held the man as life slowly drained from his body. Finally, the guard went limp. As soon as it appeared the man was dead, Quentin climbed to his feet.

  Darby O’Roarke wore a filthy rag that might once have been a sack. She crouched away from him, brandishing the knife, her eyes wild.

  “Darby. I’m a federal agent.” He spoke in his most soothing voice. “You need to come with me, but we have to go now, and we need to be absolutely silent. We don’t have much time. The woman I’m with is on the boats, and she is supposed to leave if I’m not there in five minutes.”

  Time was distorted in these life and death situations, so maybe they could still make it. If they hurried. He held out his hand for the knife and prayed she understood he was there to help.

  Darby licked her lips nervously, then hesitantly handed the knife over.

  What courage had that taken? To give up her one chance of defense to a stran
ger?

  He wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s chest and stuck it in his belt. “Are you ready?”

  Her eyes opened wide, and she nodded. He opened the door, and she hobbled in front of him. Limping down the steps.

  He went around to her side and tried to help her though she flinched away. She staggered onwards, making more noise than was wise when she fell to the ground. His heart broke for her, but they didn’t have time for anything except getting the hell out of here.

  He bent beside her. “I’m going to carry you, Darby. I don’t mean to rush you, but if we don’t get to the boat in the next thirty seconds, we’re right back where we started, and we will never get off this island.”

  She whimpered in the darkness, and he helped her to her feet and then put her over his shoulder. He jogged down to the beach. As he got closer to the water, he could make out Haley huddled in the stern of one of the boats, even though she should be long gone.

  The water was a cool relief to his skin as he waded through the surf, trying to keep Darby dry.

  “Start her up,” Quentin whispered as he rolled Darby unceremoniously into the boat.

  The engine roared to life just as a radio crackled on the shore.

  Haley was already driving the boat in reverse as he dragged himself up over the bulbous sides and into the hull.

  “Get us out of here ASAP.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. A rope whizzed past his ear as she poured on the gas. The other boat bumped along the side, but it was good cover, and no way did Quentin want the tangos to have a way to pursue them. They needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and this island.

  Bullets whizzed overhead, and he swore, but Haley kept going, hugging the edge of the bay and, as soon as they were able, turning the corner and getting them out of sight.

  “They might shoot at us from the bluff.” He pointed toward the headland in the darkness. “We should head straight out to sea until we’re out of range, and then we’ll figure out which way to travel.”

  He lay there panting for a few minutes, unable to believe they’d escaped and not quite trusting it yet. The terrorists might have more boats in another bay. They might have more gang members on the surrounding islands.

  Remorse hit him as he realized the Alexanders, the older couple whose release he’d been negotiating for months, were probably back on that island too. That was definitely their yacht sitting in the harbor. They’d probably been kept in one of the huts in the makeshift village not a hundred yards from where he and Haley had been confined.

  Dammit.

  “Quentin.” Haley raised her voice above the wind that was whipping past them. “Can you take over?”

  He sat straight up. “Are you shot? Are you injured?”

  “No. No, it’s not that.” He could just make out her features by the moonlight. God, she was beautiful. She nodded in the direction of Darby, who was huddled in the bottom of the boat. “I want to try to help the girl.”

  “Her name is Darby,” he said softly. “She was kidnapped five days ago.”

  The fact they’d got her out of there was a miracle. But now they had to find safety in a remote region where they didn’t know who was friend and who was foe.

  He took the rudder and wished to hell he was back in Quantico negotiating with assholes who didn’t want to pay federal taxes, rather than being in the middle of some unknown sea with two vulnerable women as they all desperately tried to avoid armed terrorists.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Five days… In some ways, that was hardly any length of time at all, and yet, Haley knew the young woman had endured torture for every second of those five days in what must have felt like a never-ending nightmare.

  Her own experience with rape had replayed a thousand times in her head over the years and had almost destroyed her at one point. But she’d eventually found her support system and taken her power back.

  What would this brutal experience do to this woman?

  Haley made her way unsteadily to the front of the boat as Quentin took over the helm.

  “Are you okay, Darby?” she asked.

  The woman curled tighter into a ball, and Haley’s heart clenched at the pain telegraphed by that reflexive movement.

  It was a stupid question.

  She wedged herself next to the woman on the damp floor and used her woolen blanket to cover them both. The woman froze at the brief touch.

  “I won’t hurt you. I won’t touch you unless you want me to, but I am here for you to hug if you need me.” The breeze off the ocean made Haley shiver. “I wanted to share my blanket with you so you don’t get cold.”

  Quentin had slowed the pace of the boat as it was dangerous to travel too fast when you couldn’t spot obstacles in the water. The island where they’d been held captive was a monstrous shadow behind them, bigger than she’d imagined. Thankfully, there was no sign of pursuit but no sign of any other land mass either.

  “I know you’ve been through a terrible experience, Darby, and I wish I could tell you you’re safe now, but we don’t know that for sure yet. We are trying though and will not leave you behind.” She wanted to stroke the woman’s hair, but that was up to Darby. She wouldn’t cross that line without permission. “Quentin and I were taken from a hotel those men attacked late last night.”

  It felt like a lifetime ago.

  She swallowed, and grief for the people who’d been murdered pushed to the surface. Her voice became gruff, obstructed by remnants of fear and a fresh welling of sadness. “We were the only ones taken alive. They killed everyone else.”

  Haley looked up at the endless sky. She felt small and insignificant on this seemingly gigantic body of water. “Quentin works for the FBI. You can trust him with your life, and he will not hurt you.” It was crazy how much faith she had in the guy, but she felt like she knew him down to his DNA. He was a good man. “Can you tell me where they took you from?”

  At first, she didn’t think Darby would answer, but then the woman turned around and faced her. “I’m working on an uninhabited island in the Banda Sea. I was supposed to be there for a month setting up GPS arrays as part of my research.” Her voice was croaky as if her throat was sore. “I study volcanoes. A few days ago, some men came to my tent in the night. T-they attacked me and, and, took me.” She threw herself against Haley’s chest, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

  Haley held onto Darby, knowing she’d give everything she possessed to change what had happened to this young woman, knowing it was impossible.

  “They hurt me.” Darby’s sob caught the wind and echoed hauntingly.

  Haley felt helpless and didn’t know what to say.

  “I didn’t think it was ever going to end. I started praying for death, and then you two arrived.” Darby went to pull away and then changed her mind and tightened her grip instead. “Maybe I am dead, and you two are angels.”

  Haley met Quentin’s gaze across the boat. She wanted to cry along with Darby, but she also wanted to rip those bastards apart.

  She kept a firm hold of the other woman, rocking Darby gently, knowing she would have suffered the same fate if they hadn’t escaped.

  “How hard would it be to figure out which island they are on?” Quentin asked, raising his voice to be heard over the motor.

  “Not hard at all.” Darby wiped her eyes. “We know roughly when the volcanic quakes occurred. USGS should be able to trace the origins.”

  “Good. At least we can tell the authorities where they are.”

  Darby looked up, eyes huge. “Do you have any water? I haven’t had anything to drink today.”

  Oh, god.

  Haley’s stomach twisted. She and Quentin had been shown every hospitality compared to how Darby had been treated. Quentin unhooked the strap from over his head and swung the canteen across to her. Haley caught it and passed it to Darby.

  “We need to either find a town where we can call for help, or hide somewhere safe once the sun rise
s.”

  “How do we know who to trust?” Darby clasped the flask so hard Haley could see her knuckles gleam in the moonlight. After a long swallow, she stopped drinking and capped the bottle, handed it back.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t,” Quentin said pensively.

  “Surely we can find a tourist resort or something? Or flag a passing ship?” Haley suggested.

  The look Darby and Quentin shared suggested it wouldn’t be so easy.

  “How far did they move you, do you know?” Quentin asked contemplatively.

  “Not that long. An hour by sea at most.” She wiped her eyes again. “Why?”

  “Did you travel from the north, south, east or west of the island we were on?”

  Darby cleared her throat. “North.”

  “Think you could find the island where you were doing your research? Know anything about navigating using the stars?”

  Darby snorted out a laugh that gave Haley hope that the girl might get through this, assuming they weren’t recaptured.

  Darby looked up at the sky. “I know we can’t see the North Star, because we’re below the equator, but the Southern Cross is over there.” Darby pointed to a small cluster of five bright stars and then to two shiny stars to the right. “And those are the pointers. So south is that way.” She made a general slice in the direction with her hand. “If we head north, Pulau Gunung Rebi, which is where I was working, should be pretty easy to spot. It has a lava flow that drops straight into the ocean on the north side.”

  Great, another active volcano. Haley refrained from doing a jig.

  Quentin turned the boat in that direction. “I doubt they’ll think you’d return there.”

  Darby’s teeth started to chatter. It was fear, even though she didn’t say anything.

  “Did you have any methods of communication at your field site?” Quentin asked.

  Haley began to see what he was driving at.

  “I had a satellite phone, but they smashed it.”

  Darby responded well to questions, losing some of the traumatized quality that unsurprisingly surrounded her.