High Stakes Escape

by Elizabeth Goddard

  Oddly, knowing that she was indeed on a plane headed back to him and to Brighton gave her a measure of comfort.

  This was where she’d wanted to go, even if she’d hoped to arrive secretly and with Ben by her side. She had to save her brother, and if she couldn’t save him, she had to be with him to make sure he was all right. And if he wasn’t all right, she had to be with him to comfort him. They would suffer together instead of alone—and for as long as she had, she’d keep working to find a way to set Brighton free.

  Her thoughts jumped to Ben. She had been counting on him to help her save Brighton.

  Tears welled behind her lids. Was he even still alive?

  Boisterous laughter coming from the men up front startled her out of her thoughts. It also reminded her to refocus her efforts to listen to their conversation to try to extract a few key words. They were speaking completely in their own language, but she heard the word hurricane.

  Just the word made her heart sink.

  If there was even any remote chance that Ben was alive and that he would come for her and Brighton, the hurricane would likely prevent his rescue attempts. She blinked her eyes open and stared out the rain-streaked window. More turbulence shook the plane, and she could feel the fuselage vibrating all the way to her bones.

  Were these guys out of their minds to be flying in this weather?

  One of the men she recognized from the alley glanced back at her and realized that she was awake. He didn’t grin or sneer or laugh. Instead he spoke in hushed tones to his partner in crime. Had they been instructed not to harm Theo Dawson’s niece? It was possible. After all, she hadn’t been handcuffed and she couldn’t feel any bruises to indicate that they’d been rough with her while she was unconscious.

  But why take so much care with her now? What about the previous attempts to snatch her? The man in her house had seemed bent on hurting her, if not killing her. Or so she had thought. But he wasn’t there. These men were, and they seemed to have been instructed to leave her alone.

  She gripped the handrests as the plane descended for a rough, stressful landing. Clenching her teeth, she squeezed tighter, as if her efforts could somehow save her. But her attempts to hide from her uncle had gotten her nowhere. She hadn’t been able to protect Brighton, either. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that she had no control over her life at all.

  Chasey closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. But despite her best efforts, a few tears slipped passed her lids and down her cheeks as she prayed.

  When I am weak, Lord, You are strong. Please be strong for me and Brighton, Lord. Show us a way out of this and please send us some help. And, Lord, I pray that Ben is still alive and that he’s okay.

  The jet landed on a small airstrip. Opening her eyes, she noted a couple of hangars off in the distance. They were heading in that direction. No airport terminal waited for her to enter and collect her nonexistent luggage at baggage claim. The rain slowed, though, as the jet taxied closer to the hangar. Through the window she glanced at the gray sky and noticed the bands of clouds. The hurricane hadn’t even truly started yet. It was still making its approach.

  At least she could take comfort in the fact that her uncle would probably not try to flee the island to another country—say, Lithuania—until the hurricane winds died down.

  The plane taxied right into the hangar. Next to an old blue SUV, she spotted two figures. Her uncle stood watching, and next to him...

  Brighton.

  The tears broke loose then. “Brighton,” she said aloud, although she knew he couldn’t hear her—probably couldn’t even see her from this angle. Just saying his name made her smile.

  A man suddenly took the seat next to her and tilted his head closer. He spoke in low tones, with a thick accent that made it hard to understand as he held up plastic ties. “If you don’t cooperate.”

  She felt his eyes on her, waiting for her acknowledgment.

  She stared at the zip ties then looked up at the intimidating foreigner. “Please don’t bind my wrists. I promise to cooperate.”

  “Good. If you don’t, your brother gets hurt.”

  The cruelty of those words accosted her. She wanted to spit in his face. But she didn’t dare act out. She couldn’t risk any retaliation against her brother.

  And on top of that, she had to admit that she was scared for herself. It seemed all too likely that—given her uncles’ anger with her—the trip to this island had been a one-way trip for Chasey.

  SEVENTEEN

  Legs shaking, Chasey stepped out of the private Learjet and took the short steps to the ground. From where he stood next to the SUV, her uncle’s face projected a weird combination of a smile and a sneer. It was as if he was trying to smile for appearance’s sake, but struggled to contain his anger for all the trouble she’d caused him.

  Brighton’s expression, however, was the complete opposite. Her brother stared at her, unsmiling, which told her he was stressed. What was he thinking or feeling? Was he scared? She hoped he wasn’t, but she couldn’t imagine him feeling comfortable with this much uncertainty. He preferred a rigid environment to feel safe and secure.

  Neither of them had anything like safety or security here on this island in the middle of a storm with Uncle Theo. She wanted to cry, but even she wasn’t sure what she’d be crying for. Fear? Frustration? Relief at seeing Brighton? Anxiety over what the future held for them?

  Chasey chose to focus on the joy of being with her brother for the first time in a year. Ignoring the two henchmen who had remained at her side to keep her in line, she rushed forward and grabbed Brighton, hugging him to her.

  Even though she knew he didn’t generally enjoy being touched, he would often let her hug him and hold him because he knew how much it meant to her. And, at times, being held brought him comfort and soothed him when he was distressed. She couldn’t think of a more stressful situation than this.

  Brighton wrapped his arms around her—which told her that he must have really missed her, as well. She held on to him as if for dear life, and let the tears surge.

  “I’ve missed you so much!” She eased away from her brother.

  He’d always had the brightest joy-filled eyes—to go with his name. She was glad that the brightness hadn’t diminished, even during their abductions.

  “Let’s go,” her uncle said. “We need to get to shelter before the storm hits full-on.”

  The place where they had stayed as kids with their mother was built like a fortress and had already weathered many hurricanes. The fact that it was still standing proved that they had nothing to fear there—nothing except for her uncle.

  Now that she was here on Isla de la Alegría, her memory flashed with her mother’s smile and laugh. She’d been so happy. The place had belonged to a friend.

  A friend. Had that been her uncle? Had it belonged to him? If so, then the feds could easily find it, so she doubted it was in his name.

  She climbed into the back of the Cadillac SUV, right next to Brighton, who sat in the middle. Her uncle sat on the far side of the bench seat, while two henchmen sat up front. The two on the plane with her had taken another vehicle, while another man—the one who had taken Ben out—stayed behind in the hangar.

  Chasey reached for Brighton’s hand and squeezed, but he pulled away.

  Okay, so that touch had gone too far for him. Message received. She’d respect her brother’s boundaries, but still wished she could have the comfort of a hand to hold. Oh, Lord, how are we going to get out of this?

  She stared out the window at the familiar mountainous island covered with a luscious rainforest and palm trees. Rain cascaded down the window, filling her with a sense of hopelessness. But she couldn’t let it bring her down.

  Brighton was depending on her.

  The SUV pulled into the circular driveway in front of the massive three-story plantation ho
use. They exited the vehicle, rushed up the cobblestone walkway and steps and then through the double doors into the foyer.

  She looked up at the spacious house. It looked different to her now than it had when she’d been a child. The biggest different, of course, was that she couldn’t hear her mother’s laughter. Still, Chasey doubted that even if she heard that now, it would extinguish the fear that pulsed inside her.

  “Brighton,” Uncle Theo said, “you understand your sister and I need to catch up?”

  Brighton’s big eyes widened. He pulled out his iPad and typed in “Okay” and the iPad spoke for him. He pressed a few more buttons and the device spoke again. “Going to my room.”

  For all practical purposes, Brighton could communicate—but the activities of daily living, managing financials, knowing how and where to get and make food, and even feeding himself, often failed him. But that was not to say that he wasn’t intelligent. On the contrary, many extraordinarily difficult things came to him with utter ease. He could even be considered a savant when it came to computers. It was with machines, in truth, that he was most comfortable. Social situations tended to make him uneasy.

  He turned and left her standing there with the two henchmen and her uncle. Wow, thanks, Brighton. But even if she felt a little abandoned, the truth was that she didn’t want him present for whatever awaited her next.

  Brighton slowly moved up the massive staircase without looking back at her.

  “In my office.” Her uncle’s tone commanded.

  A henchman grabbed her arm and ushered her through a doorway down the hall. She took a quick look around, mentally rolling her eyes at the lavish carpets and furnishings. The house’s remaining decor made her uncle look like some aristocrat out of place and time.

  He nodded to the man, effectively dismissing him, and settled in the chair behind his ornate desk.

  “Have a seat.”

  Chasey did as she was asked, relieved to have a chance to hide the way her knees shook. She needed to remain calm and strong, and give away as little as possible—all while hoping for someone to make a mistake or slip up in some way that she could take advantage of so she could escape with Brighton.

  He stared at her, trying to browbeat her with a mere look.

  “What are you going to do with me?” She purposefully left Brighton out of it.

  He toyed with a pen on his desk. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You sent someone after me. I was under the impression...” Should she really speak the words and remind him that he’d wanted to kill her?

  “I would never send someone to do a job that I wanted to do myself.”

  “So, you sent someone after me to capture me and bring me to you so you could kill me at your leisure if you chose to—but you are still deciding if you want to kill me or not.”

  “Yes. I’m too frustrated right now to talk without losing my head.” He got up and walked around the desk.

  He wrapped his hands around her neck and started squeezing. What an idiot she’d been to simply sit there and let him approach. But she hadn’t expected him to actually do it.

  Not here. Not now.

  The pressure started building in her head and she tried to pull away from him but his grip was like iron.

  The door opened and Uncle Theo dropped his hands. He smirked at her. “I wasn’t actually going to kill you yet.”

  Wrapping her own hand around the tender flesh of her neck, she gasped for breath. You could have fooled me!

  “What is it?” The way he snapped at the newcomer showed his displeasure. “Never enter my office without knocking.”

  “Someone is landing at the airstrip.”

  “What? Who could possibly...?”

  Uncle Theo slowly lowered his gaze to her. “Put her away.”

  Put her away? Like she was an unattended toy or a dish that needed to be moved to the sink? She was manhandled out of his office and down a hallway, not upstairs with Brighton. Wouldn’t they be allowed to be together? She didn’t like this. Not at all.

  “Where’s Brighton?” she asked the henchman. “I want to be with him. Take me to his room?”

  “We have a special place for you,” the man said. “Your uncle doesn’t trust you.”

  “But I’ve cooperated. Doesn’t that get me any privileges—like time with my brother? Please.”

  The brute continued to escort her down the steps into a basement.

  More like a dungeon.

  “You should be comfortable in this room. You have a bed, chairs, a desk. Paper and a pen.” He opened the door and thrust her forward.

  She stumbled into the spacious room. To her surprise, Uncle Theo hadn’t thrown her into an obvious dungeon, after all. The room actually seemed rather comfortable. Except... “There are no windows. Plus, there’s hurricane coming. What if it floods?”

  He shut the door and locked it from the outside. She heard a bolt, too.

  Chasey wasn’t going anywhere until someone let her out. She curled up on the bed and considered the fact that someone was trying to land. Someone her uncle hadn’t been expecting.

  Someone who had ruffled his feathers.

  Oh, God, please let it be Ben. Please let it be someone to rescue us.

  Ben was the only person she’d told about the island. If he had died in that alley, then their chances of escape had died with him. But someone was here. Did that mean Ben was okay? Well enough to come himself—or at least to send someone else?

  The sound of the door being unlocked drew her up to a sitting position. What now? The door opened and in stepped her brother.

  He held out the iPad, which spoke for him. “I have a plan.”

  * * *

  Ben darted away from the helicopter, the rotors still going. Two more men followed him, splitting up and running for the bushes. Coming to the airstrip was a risk since they had every reason to believe that Dawson was keeping it monitored and would know immediately about their arrival. On the other hand, the airstrip was the only safe place to land, given the wind and the airborne debris. The hurricane was moving in and the ocean waves were growing. He was risking his life and the lives of two additional men by bringing them here. But Chief Calvin had only provided the transportation as long as Ben had agreed to take two additional agents for backup.

  Once they confirmed that Dawson was on the island, Ben would notify Calvin, who would then coordinate with the task force to send in a full strike team to free Chasey and her brother. And to recapture Dawson.

  His small three-man team had donned tactical gear to protect themselves against an assault—weather or criminals. While the rain wasn’t pleasant to be out in, it still felt good to have his feet on solid ground again. The turbulence along the way had mimicked a series of miserably long roller-coaster rides. They’d first taken a jet to Florida and then a military helicopter, capable of handling the winds, had brought them the rest of the way. It hadn’t been a stealth approach, but at least they’d arrived safely.

  Now to get on top of the hard part.

  The entire east side of Isla de la Alegría—Island of Joy—was privately owned by a corporation strongly believed to be a shell company linked to Dawson. A large home—more like a compound, according to satellite images, and almost certainly the plantation house that Chasey had mentioned—was located about three miles from the airstrip.

  He and his team members would communicate via their radios, though he imagined that he would struggle to hear anything in this weather. They planned to split up and search the grounds for signs that Dawson was physically there. They’d then meet at a designated location to check in and plan next steps as soon as their tasks were complete. Ben would head straight for the main structure, believing that Chasey and Brighton were likely being held there.

  After making sure guards weren’t standing around waiting to shoot them near the
airstrip, he took off on his three-mile jog in the rain and wind. He kept his breathing steady as he watched his surroundings. Brighton and Chasey were counting on him.

  He couldn’t let them down this time—his last chance to save them.

  He could only hope that he wasn’t already too late. Ben wouldn’t put it past the man to disappear his niece and nephew.

  Spotting the house that looked more like a well-fortified compound, Ben ducked behind a palm tree that swayed in the wind. The weather was brutal—but as long as he wasn’t washed away in a storm surge, he would endure.

  Besides, an approaching hurricane was probably an advantage. He doubted too many men would bother standing guard at the house in this downpour. And anyone watching through windows or security cameras would have trouble spotting him.

  Ben moved from tree to tree, closing in on the structure.

  Closer to the house was where he was most likely to find trouble. But he didn’t care. He pictured Chasey’s face when he’d found her again at that Laundromat.

  The way his heart had pounded at the sight of her. How relieved he’d been. Her safety was all that mattered to him. Brighton’s safety, too—because he was an innocent who didn’t deserve this, and because he meant so much to Chasey.

  Ben took a step out from behind the tree just as an SUV sped by on the road, heading for the house. He dropped to the ground, hoping to stay out of sight. The rain pounded so hard, he couldn’t hear his heart, but he could feel the pulse in his throat, the beating in his chest.

  His breath caught when he heard the screech of tires, signaling that the vehicle was backing up. He rolled to his back and chambered a round in his firearm. Then he crawled, army-style, through the island grass. With the way the wind whipped around, it was sure to hide any trail he left. From behind a palm, Ben spotted a man in tactical gear, holding a semiautomatic rifle, searching the woods. Looked like Dawson had his goons armed to the hilt.