by Dani Pettrey
Landon clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast.”
Kayden paused at the door, her eyes rimmed with dark circles. “I don’t feel right leaving.”
Cole squeezed her shoulder. “I know, but Landon’s right. We all need some rest or we won’t be at our best when Bailey needs us most.”
“What if something changes? What if he shows up at the cemetery before nightfall?”
She echoed his own concerns, but he’d chosen to trust Landon.
Landon had never let him down before.
His head was so clouded with worry, he couldn’t trust his instincts, and that left him floundering. Landon had his back. Even during his downward spirals, he had always been there for Cole.
But if Landon was wrong . . .
If anything happened to Bailey . . .
“He won’t show up without the cover of night,” Landon said at Cole’s silence. “He’s too careful. Besides, we’ve got two undercover deputies staked out over there just in case.”
Cole braced his hands on Kayden’s shoulders. She was looking to him, as they all had ever since Mom and Dad passed. He was their guardian, their protector, but he felt utterly helpless. Piper nearly shot before his eyes. Bailey kidnapped. He’d never felt more inept. Now he truly understood what it meant to rely solely on Christ. “You get some rest, Kayden. I need you at your best.”
A weak smile flickered across her lips.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“I love you, bro.”
His knees nearly gave way. Kayden hadn’t spoken those words in as long as he could remember. He knew she loved him, loved them all, but to hear her say so touched his soul. “I love you too.” He let her step back from the embrace, let her save face as she straightened and cleared her throat to hide the tears threatening to fall. He softly slugged her arm. “Now get out of here.”
She nodded, her eyes expressing gratitude at his accepting her loving gesture without making a fuss over it.
Gage clasped Cole in his arms. “We’ll be back with the equipment before sundown. Try and get some sleep.”
Like that was possible.
He shut the door behind Kayden and Gage and leaned against it, the weariness of it all crushing down on him. “This better work.”
“It will.” Landon steadfastly held his gaze. “We’ll make it work.”
Cole nodded. The plan was solid, but it was the woman he loved whose life was at stake.
“You two get some shut-eye,” Landon said, “I’ll take the first watch.”
“No.” Cole stepped from the door. “I’ll take it. We both know I’ll never sleep.” Not with Bailey out there.
“It’s my shift. I’ve got to coordinate everything for tonight.” Landon grabbed his cell, brooking no argument. “Go. You’re no good to Bailey exhausted.”
Cole sighed. “Fine.” No sense arguing. “I’ll see you in a few.” He strode to the stairs and paused at the creak of the bottom step, remembering how Bailey’s eyes had lit when she discovered Agnes’s hollow hiding spot. He had to get her back. He’d be half a man without her. “If any word comes . . .”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Cole tapped the banister and looked at Piper still seated on the couch. “You gonna rest?”
“Yeah, I’ll be up soon. Just gonna grab a cup of tea first.”
“All right, you take Bay’s room. I’ll bunk on the couch.”
Piper gave a sleepy smile. “Gotcha.”
He climbed the remainder of the stairs to the living quarters Agnes and Bailey had shared. A galley-style kitchenette ran along the north wall. A simple sink, dorm-size fridge, and a couple cupboards . . . more a wet bar to supplement the full kitchen downstairs than a kitchen in its own right. The table and chairs sat nearby, a half-finished puzzle of Big Ben on top of it. He wondered if Bailey was working it or if it’d been Agnes before her demise.
A brown tweed sofa, seventies in style and softened with age, sat in the center of the room—sheets, blankets, and a pillow piled on it. An older TV on an equally old TV cart sat against the tiny wall separating the two bedrooms.
Agnes’s appeared untouched since Bailey’s arrival, and he had no desire to disturb that. Bailey’s room looked equally untouched, and he wondered why. Why had she opted to sleep on the couch instead?
He kicked off his shoes and lay back on the sofa. He rolled on his side and inhaled the scent of Bailey from the pillow.
Lord, I can’t do this. Not without you. I see that so clearly now. But through you I can do all things. Please strengthen me and please protect Bailey. Let her feel your abiding presence. She must be so scared.
I know I’m terrified.
Piper tapped the empty mug in her hand.
“You’d better head up now,” Landon said, wondering why she was stalling.
She stood slowly, her hair tousled from leaning against the couch for hours. She looked sleepy, sweet, and sexy.
Piper, sexy? I’m losing my mind.
Maybe he needed some shut-eye after all.
“What about you?” she asked, her voice a soft purr that tickled his ears.
“I . . .” He cleared his throat.
“Hmm?” She glided toward him, her scent of honeysuckle growing tantalizingly stronger, closer. What on earth was wrong with him? This was Piper. Annoying, busybody Piper.
Obviously he was overworked, exhausted, and clearly still in shock from seeing her nearly killed. When everything went back to normal, so would he. He just had to ignore the feelings, the extremely unwanted urges to be near her, to pull her close.
“Landon?”
“Sorry. What was the question?” He was behaving like an idiot. Embarrassment and anger mixed through him.
“When are you going to rest?”
He thumbed through the stack of papers nearest him. “I’ll grab some later.”
She crossed her arms, the stubborn set of her jaw returning. “We both know you won’t.”
“There’s a lot to do. I can sleep tomorrow.” He moved for his coffee cup.
She intercepted his path. “You never look after yourself, do you? You’re too busy worrying about us.” She tilted her head, a lock of her auburn hair sliding across her brow. “You know, you aren’t nearly as annoying and gruff as you let on.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I have my moments.”
I have my moments? What was he going for . . . cute?
“Yes, you do.”
He’d never seen her look at him like that before.
No. His head was playing tricks on him. He was tired, distracted, coming off an adrenaline high. “You . . .” He cleared his throat, the words feeling thick. “You’d better get up there.”
She nodded. “Thanks for being such a good friend to Cole.” She slipped the loose strand of hair behind her ear, sweeping her gaze down before bringing it back to his eyes. “He really needs you now.” She rose on her tiptoes and planted a feather-soft kiss to his cheek.
He stood stock-still as she climbed the stairs, terrified to move . . . his cheek, his entire body, aflame.
45
Rain slithered down Cole’s neck, pinging off his forearms and thighs as he and Landon crouched in the deepening mud.
Fog rose in an eerie mist, dancing and weaving between the tombstones—some old, some new. It was hard to believe they’d been standing in the same graveyard less than a month ago burying Agnes. That it had only been a month since Bailey walked back into his life and made it whole.
Footsteps smacked through the mud, and he turned.
Sheriff Slidell crouched between him and Landon. “Perimeter’s secure. Earl is by the front gate. Tom and Thoreau have the other two covered. No one is getting in or out of here without being seen.”
It brought Cole little reassurance. Until Bailey was safe in his arms, nothing would. Against Slidell and Landon’s wishes he had insisted on being at the center of the action so he could be the first one to Bailey when ever
ything went down.
Slidell stood. “I’m going to head to my post. I’ll radio first sign of anything.”
Landon nodded, and Slidell slinked back into the shadows.
“Everyone in position and ready?” Landon asked, double-checking.
A round of affirmations signaled back over the radio.
Cole clenched his fists. “This has to work. We have to be right.” If they’d chosen the wrong location, if their timing was off . . .
He couldn’t let his mind wander there.
“We’ll get her back.”
“Seriously, Landon, if we botch this, if anything happens to Bailey . . .” He couldn’t live with himself.
“I know,” Landon said, his resolute gaze saying even more.
“We’ve got movement,” Slidell radioed.
Cole’s heart lurched, and he scanned the perimeter.
“Four at the east entrance,” Slidell continued.
“Can you confirm?” Landon asked.
“Not yet. Hang on . . .”
Cole feared the silence would last forever.
“It’s our target.”
“Is Bailey there? Is she all right?”
“Her arms are bound, but otherwise she appears to be moving fine.”
Not the level of reassurance Cole had been hoping for. If Grigor had hurt her . . . He clenched his fists.
Please, Lord, let her be unharmed. Please let this work. Don’t bring her back into my life just to rip her from it.
Kiril’s fingers bit into Bailey’s flesh. “Keep moving.” He shoved her, and she fought to remain upright on the slick ground.
The temperature had dropped with the sun’s parting, and the swimsuit she’d been wearing under her dive suit and the oversized T-shirt and men’s shorts Grigor had told her to put on provided little warmth. They clung to her as rain battered the saturated fabric. No shoes on the boat had come close to fitting her, so she trudged barefoot, mud oozing between her toes as Kiril pushed her through a maze of tombstones.
“Which way?” Grigor asked.
“It will be somewhere in the older section.” She pointed east, her body shivering in the damp cold. The tumultuous sea roared in the background.
Agnes’s grave sat on the opposite end of the small cemetery, but Bailey could still see it from her vantage point. She wondered if she too would die at Grigor’s hands?
She prayed she was right about the location. Prayed the orb remained untouched and he’d be satisfied with finding it. Prayed he’d take it and leave Tariuk Island without more killing.
As long as Cole and his family were safe . . . that’s all that mattered.
Thank you, Lord, for this time you’ve blessed me with. For the time I’ve had with Cole.
She just prayed he didn’t attempt anything stupid . . . try and rescue her. She prayed he and his entire family were safe and warm in their beds. But she doubted it. Her only hope was that they hadn’t discovered the location yet.
Please, Lord, let Cole and his family be safe. Don’t let them be hurt. Not on my account. I’m not worth it. Please help him see that.
46
Cole slouched farther behind the gravestone and adjusted his headset as the men and Bailey approached. It took every ounce of self-control not to spring up and rush for her.
Landon signaled for everyone to remain steady.
After searching for a bit, the party stopped in front of Princess Maksutov’s grave. Anton dropped an equipment bag on the ground, water splashing in its wake.
Grigor seized Bailey from Kiril, and pressed his gun to her side. “You had better be right. And don’t even think about trying to run, or you’ll get more than the knock Kiril gave you on that pretty head of yours.”
They’d hurt Bailey. Cole fought every instinct tearing at him to race for her, to wrap her in his arms, but Landon was right. They had one shot and he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. Too much was at stake.
“Start digging, boys,” Grigor instructed, and the other two set to work as he kept Bailey pinned to his side. She stood stiffly beside him, wearing an oversized white T-shirt, her dark swimsuit showing through the drenched fabric. Shovelfuls of mud flung past them, and Grigor scanned the perimeter intermittently, his right leg shaking as they waited.
Thirty minutes passed, an hour. Cole would have chosen to rush the men sooner, but Slidell and Landon had insisted that they wait until the optimal moment. So . . . they waited.
Kiril and Anton were starting to move slower, each mound of mud appearing heavier and denser than the last, until finally a thump pierced the silence.
“I think we’ve got something,” Kiril said.
“Faster,” Grigor urged.
“When they reach down to lift the casket lid, we move in,” Landon instructed. “That should leave only Grigor freehanded.”
“And what if he shoots Bailey?”
Landon patted his sidearm. “I’ll have him in my sights the entire time.”
Cole nodded, adrenaline and fear racing through him.
“I can see the casket,” Kiril said.
“Clear it off,” Grigor clipped.
Landon lifted a hand. “On my mark.”
“We’ve got trouble,” Slidell radioed.
Grigor shifted his gaze in their direction.
Landon cut the volume.
Cole slouched down beside him, his heart thudding in his ears, afraid to even breathe.
Seconds passed excruciatingly slow, but finally Grigor shifted his attention back to the dig.
Landon turned the volume back on its lowest setting and whispered, “What?”
“We’ve got company.”
Cole lifted his head and scanned the area. “There.” Someone staggered across the cemetery. He was young, clutching a bottle in one hand.
The boy took a large swig and stumbled. “Here’s to you, Dad.” He lifted the bottle in the air. Grigor’s head whipped in that direction, and he stilled Kiril and Anton with his hand.
He waved his gun at Bailey and signaled for her to be quiet.
The boy stumbled closer, mumbling under his breath. He finished the bottle off and smashed it against a tombstone, sending shards of glass flying.
Cole’s stomach lurched as he came into view. Jesse. It was the anniversary of his dad’s death. With everything going on, he’d completely forgotten.
Jesse pulled another beer from his cargo pants pocket and wrestled with the cap.
Grigor signaled to Kiril. “Take care of it.”
Kiril nodded and stalked toward Jesse.
Cole’s heart lodged in his throat.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” Landon said. “We’ve got to help Jesse.”
“I know.” He just prayed that Grigor wouldn’t react by killing Bailey.
“I’ll take care of Kiril,” Slidell instructed. “Landon, you neutralize Grigor. Tom and Thoreau have Anton.” He exhaled. “On my mark . . .”
Jesse spun around. “Who’s there?” His hazy gaze fixed on Kiril. “Who are you?”
“The last person you’ll ever see.” Kiril raised his gun.
A shot pierced the night.
The bottle dropped from Jesse’s hand.
Kiril stumbled back, then slowly slumped to the ground clutching his chest.
Slidell appeared out of the gloom, his gun still leveled on Kiril.
In horror Cole lunged toward Grigor. If he couldn’t reach Bailey in time, he could at least give Grigor another target.
Grigor’s arm lifted, his weapon shifting toward Cole.
“No!” Bailey screamed, struggling in Grigor’s hold.
Grigor’s hardened gaze met Cole’s, and a smile flickered across his lips.
“Down,” Landon roared, barreling at Grigor from behind.
Shoving Bailey to the side as he turned, Grigor fired.
A bolt of heat and pain collided with Cole’s arm, jarring the breath from his lungs. He hit the ground, the shot reverberating in his ears.
Bailey raced to his side, tears streaming down her face. “Cole, are you hurt? You shouldn’t have come.”
Shots rang out in quick succession, like a rifle’s report.
Cole rolled over, pulling Bailey to the ground and shielding her with his body.
“Get her out of here,” Landon shouted.
Scrambling to his feet, Cole wrapped his arm around Bailey’s waist and they ran, heads ducked as bullets sailed overhead. With a lunge, they landed in a heap at the base of a tombstone. “Are you all right, Bay?”
Rain streaked down her face, her eyes wide with horror. She nodded frantically, wincing with each gun report.
He peered over the concrete marker.
Flashlights flooded the cemetery. Backup had arrived.
He slouched back down.
“You’re bleeding, Cole.”
He followed Bailey’s gaze to the blood pooling at the base of his arm.
“You’re shot. You should’ve stayed away.”
“How could I? I love you.”
“You love me?” Her eyes widened. “No, I’m not worth it. Can’t you see that?”
Heat and pain seared down his arm. “Bailey, you are worth it—to me, to us all.”
When she reached down to explore his wound, he moved his arm away. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. What’s important is that you’re okay.”
“Piper, stop.” Landon’s anguished admonition rent the air.
Cole staggered to his feet, assessing the situation. What was Piper doing? She was supposed to stay at the Post. “Bailey, don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“No.” Tears rolled down her face. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve got to.” He stumbled forward, his gaze blurring. “Landon?”
“Over here.”
A shot pierced the night.
“Piper, no!” The terror in Landon’s voice cut Cole to the quick.
He ran blindly forward.
Another shot and another.
His heart pounding in his throat, he came upon Grigor, dead at the foot of a tombstone, a bullet square between his eyes.
He rounded the stone and his heart lurched.
Landon cradled a body in his arms, tears streaming down his hardened face. He looked up, his hand covered with blood.