Always

by Ginna Gray

  Meghan cast a nervous glance at the cabin cruiser bobbing beyond the reef. "After we capture them, then what? We still have Virgil to worry about.''

  "We'll have to play that by ear. Now c'mon, let's get ready. We'll sit down and pretend we're eating. Above all, act natural."

  Act natural? Blessed hell. How was she suppose to do that, when her heart was about to club its way right out of her chest?

  Shaking, Meghan sat on the log. Rhys sank down on a grass mat across the fire from her and took up a casual cross-legged position. They kept their heads down and Rhys, who had a better view of the surf, kept up a running low-voice stream of chatter that was part commentary and part encouragement.

  "It took three tries but the pea brains are finally over the reef. It'll be easier the rest of the way in. No, don't look. Keep your head down. That's it. Just take it easy, sweetheart. Pretend to take a bite of something. That's it. They're making good time now. They're almost to the beach."

  Meghan groaned and twisted her fingers together. "Easy, love," Rhys cautioned. "We can do this, don't worry. Numerically the odds are even, but remember who we're dealing with here. Us against those two half-wits makes it more like twenty to one, our favor, even if they are armed. It'll be like taking candy from a baby.

  "Okay, they've made it to shore, and they're securing the dinghy. Get ready, here they come. No, don't look. Not yet. We'll let them get about halfway here. When I say now, we'll both take off at once."

  A whimper escaped Meghan as her stomach did a flip-flop. She wasn't sure her legs would even hold her, if she tried to stand. She watched Rhys as he watched the pair out of the corner of his eye, her nerves screaming.

  "Well, well. Lookie here, Scratch," Harley called out as they approached. "They done made themselves right to home. Built 'um a regular little love nest, looks to me like. An' you was worried they might not still be alive."

  "Now!" Rhys snapped, and shot up off the mat like an uncoiling spring.

  The barked command catapulted Meghan off the log and she found herself pounding for the side trail before she even realized she had moved.

  "What the-!"

  "Hey! Come back here you two!"

  "Uh-oh. They're splittin' up, Scratch!"

  "I kin see that, you fooL You git the woman. I'll take care of Morgan."

  Meghan glanced over her shoulder as she entered the secondary trail and saw Hariey lumbering after her, gun drawn. Beyond him, she caught sight of Scratch loping after Rhys, who had already disappeared up the trail to the waterfall.

  "Come back here, you ornery female! It ain't no use'n you runnin'. You cain't git away no how."

  Harley's footsteps seemed to be receding and another quick glance back confirmed that the gap between them was growing wider. Grimly, Meghan clenched her jaws and forced herself to slow her pace.

  The narrow path wound through a bamboo grove before entering the forest, where it widened somewhat. About twenty feet inside the first stand of tall pines, the pit straddled the trail.

  The skinny bamboo poles, towering a hundred feet or more above her head, created an airy screen that did not completely conceal her movements. She darted agilely along the twisting path, while behind her Harley thrashed his way through like a bull elephant. He had given up yelling at her. Meghan suspected he did not have the breath for it.

  She shot out of the bamboo grove, tore across a small clearing and headed into the forest just as Harley stumbled into the clearing. She had barely taken two steps inside the trees when there was a loud bang behind her. A bullet gouged the tree just ahead and a chunk of bark went frying.

  Blessed hell! The idiot was shooting at her!

  Her heart leaped right up in her throat, and she poured on the steam. The devil with staying in sight; she was getting the hell away from this idiot.

  Up ahead she saw the blaze on the tree that marked the location of the pit. She detoured around it, jumping on the rocks that Rhys had scattered randomly around the sides of the pit for that purpose, so they would not wear a new trail.

  About fifteen yards beyond the covered pit the trail made a sharp curve. Rounding it, Meghan skidded to a halt and stepped off the path behind a tree. Breathing hard, mentally counting the seconds, she pressed against the rough bark and waited for the crash.

  It had not occurred by the time she reached thirty. At forty-five there was still only silence behind her, and at sixty she quit counting. Where was Harley? Was he sneaking up on her through the woods at that very moment?

  Harley? Sneak? The thought was so ludicrous Meghan had to stifle a snort

  Unable to stand the suspense, she crept back along the edge of the trail and peeked around the curve.

  Harley was standing on the other side of the pit, his hands on the roll of blubber that hung down over his hips, Ins chest heaving. If he moved six inches forward he would topple into the hole.

  Come on. Come on. Just take one step, Meghan urged silently, but Harley just looked around with a stupid expression on his face. He even looked up into the trees, as if he expected her to drop down on him at any second.

  It became apparent to Meghan that she had to do something before Harley gave up and went back to the beach to wait her out. She looked around for a weapon and picked up a fist-size rock. She hefted the stone, gave it an experimental toss, then leaned back against the tree and sent up a silent prayer. She was a much bettor batter than pitcher, but maybe—just maybe—luck would be with her.

  Drawing a deep breath, Meghan stepped out onto the trail in plain site of Harley. "Hey!"

  He started and his head whipped around. At the same instant Meghan drew back her arm and let fly.

  She'd aimed for the gun he held in his right hand, but the rock went high. The result, however, was just as good. Harley screamed, dropped the gun, and grabbed his upper arm. A second later, he looked up at Meghan with blood in his beady, little porcine eyes.

  "Why you— I'll get you for that," he bellowed and charged forward like a rampaging water buffalo. On the first step his foot met the flimsy pine branches covering the pit, then air. He went down like a stone and hit bottom with a loud "Oooff"

  Meghan tore back down the trail, skirted the pit and snatched up the gun from where it lay beneath a bush. She peered over the edge of the pit and saw Harley sprawled on his back, arms and tegs outstretched, his enormous gut heaving. "Are you okay?"

  He gave her a venomous look, but the only sound that came from him was a wheeze, and she knew he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

  She opened her mouth to tell him it served him right but before she could make a sound she heard a volley of loud pops in the distance. .

  Oh, dear Lord! Gunfire!

  "Reeeese!" she screamed, and pelted down the trail at breakneck speed, arms and legs pumping, the 9-mm automatic clutched tightly in her hand. She forgot about her own safety. She forgot about Harley. She forgot about everything but getting to Rhys. If Scratch had hurt him, she'd kill that scrawny, flea-ridden poor excuse for a man!

  Without slowing, she tore across the clearing, through the bamboo forest, and shot out onto the beach. She strained to keep the same pace across the beach to the other trail, kicking sand up behind her in a plume like a rooster's tail.

  "Reeeese!" she screamed again as she pelted up the trail to the fall. "Reeeese!"

  Heart pumping, fear clawing at her throat, she rounded a bend in the trail at top speed and slammed into Rhys's chest.

  "Hey, take it easy." He grasped her shoulders to hold her away, but she ran her hands over him frantically. She didn't even noticed when he pried her fingers apart and took the automatic from her. He looked at the gun and shook his head. "I thought I heard a shot. What did you do, blow old Harley away?"

  She ignored his teasing; "Are you all right? Are you hurt? I heard the gunfire— Oh, Lord, Rhys, are you wounded?" Wild-eyed and frantic, she searched his body for a sign of injury."

  "Hey, I'm fine. Everything's under control. See," he said, gesturing
behind him as he stepped to one side.

  Meghan's eyes widened even more and her mouth fell open at the sight of Scratch dangling upside down ten feet above the path.

  Spewing livid curses, he thrashed and bucked and threatened dire retribution, but Rhys merely laughed. "When the trap caught him it scared him so much he emptied his gun into the air."

  "You cut me down from here right now, Morgan. You hear me? You don't, an' Harley'll skin you alive when he gits here! I swear he will!"

  "I don't think so. From what I've seen, your partner in crime isn't too crazy about you." He cocked an eyebrow at Meghan. "Old Harley, is in the pit, I take it?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Then c'mon, let's get out of here. We're going home, sugar." Grinning broadly, he took Meghan's elbow and turned her back toward the beach.

  "Morgan, you come back here!" Scratch shrieked. "You can't leave me like this!"

  "Don't worry. That pit is in relatively soft dirt. It shouldn't take Harley more than an hour to carve out some steps in the side and climb out."

  "An hour! I can't hang here th— Hey, wait! You're not gonna leave us here on this island, are you? Man, you can't do that!" Stark fear had replaced the outrage in Scratch's voice.

  Rhys stopped and turned back to face him. Every trace of amusement vanished from his face. "Why not? You left us."

  "No, wait! Come back! Don't leave me here! Please!"

  Ignoring him, Rhys took Meghan's arm and towed her down the path at a lope.

  "R-Rhys, what're we going to do about Virgil," Meghan panted.

  "We don't have to do anything about him. If what Scratch told me is true, he's not with them."

  "He's not? Then where is he?"

  "In the hospital. It seems that on the second day of negotiations, after making contact with Quincy and stating their demands, the three stooges were involved in a serious car wreck. Virgil was critically injured. He was in a coma for weeks. Scratch and Harley don't have enough intelligence or nerve to act without him, so they just waited for him to regain consciousness."

  They reached the hut and Rhys stood guard with the gun while Meghan gathered up their valuables and threw them into the garment bag. "The FBI must've been going nuts, trying to figure out what was going on," he said over his shoulder as he scanned the beach.

  "How can you be so sure that the FBI was called in?"

  "Oh, they were called in all right. Our contingency plans ate for Quincy to cooperate fully, but to notify the authorities immediately if I'm snatched."

  Meghan stopped what she was doing and gaped at him. "You have standing orders for this sort of thing? You actually anticipated being kidnapped?"

  "Sure. Hey, don't look so stricken, sweetheart. It's a necessary precaution when you're famous."

  Meghan was appalled that anyone had to live with that sort of threat hanging over him. She was beginning to more fully appreciate Rhys's complaints about the negative aspects of stardom.

  "Oh, dear Lord." She stopped short and gave him an appalled look, as a horrifying thought occurred to her. "If the FBI was baffled, imagine what our families have gone through these past months. First they receive a demand for ransom, then nothing. They must have been frantic."

  "Yeah, I know. They didn't hear a word until yesterday. When Virgil came out of the coma he made Harley and Scratch contact Quincy again, but because of the length of time that had elapsed, my grandmother and your family refused to reopen negotiations until they had proof that we were still alive.

  "According to Scratch, Virgil didn't like it, but they left him with no choice. He sent the two nitwits to get you and take you back to the mainland, so that you could speak to your family over the telephone."

  "So they didn't come back to kill us, after all. That's something, at least."

  "Very little," Rhys said with a snort. "You got everything?" At Meghan's nod, he took the bag from her and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, let's get out of herei"

  They ran to the dinghy sitting at the water's edge. Working together, they pushed the small boat back into the surf and jumped in.

  It took them only half the time it had taken Harley and Scratch to row the distance to the cabin cruiser. Once there, they quickly scrambled on board, stowed the dinghy and got underway.

  "Lord, what a piece of junk," Rhys grumbled when the Six Pac's engine coughed and wheezed, then finally sputtered to life. "I just hope it'll get us back without conking out."

  "Where are we going?"

  "I'm not sure. But I figure we've got to be in the Gulf of Mexico. If I set a course due north we're bound to hit the southern coast of the States sooner or later. But just to be on the safe side, I'm going to see if I can't radio someone and let them know we're on our way. I just hope this thing works."

  Meghan was doubtful. The scratched and dented radio looked as disreputable as the rest of the boat.

  Steering with one hand, Rhys picked up the mike and flipped a switch. Static spit from speaker, the harsh sounds mixing with the noisy chug of the boat's engine and the splash of waves.

  "Mayday. Mayday. This is the Six Pac calling. Mayday. Mayday."

  Rhys spoke into the mike in a calm but firm voice, repeating the message over and over. Finally they heard a disembodied voice above the crackling static.

  "We read you, Six Pac. This is the US. Coast Guard. What is the nature of your problem and your position? Over."

  "I have no idea what my position is. That's my problem. Over."

  "You are lost, Six Pac? Over."

  "You could say that. This is Rhys Morgan. My companion and I were abducted about four months ago. We just escaped and are heading north, somewhere in the Gulf. Over."

  For several seconds they heard only static. Then the voice asked cautiously. "Did you say Rhys Morgan? Over."

  "That's right. Over."

  "The Rhys Morgan? The singer? Over." You could hear die rising excitement in the man's voice, even above the radio interference.

  "That's right. Miss McCall and I have been on a deserted island for months. We just overpowered our abductors and took their boat. I think we're somewhere off the lower Texas coast. Over."

  The coast guardsman lost it then. "Oh, man! I don't believe this! There was a massive search for you guys for over a month! Police, FBI, you name it. The feds and the cops practically turned this country upside down, looking for you. Holy Hannah! Waif 11 the big boys hear about this!"

  Rolling his eyes at Meghan, Rhys pushed the mike button again and broke into the man's excited babble. "That's great, but could you get us some help out here? Over."

  "You bet! We'll get choppers in the air right away. You just keep sending about every minute or two and our guys will zero in on you. Over."

  "Thanks. I will."

  Rhys put down the mike and hooked his hand around Meghan's neck, hauling her in for an exultant kiss. When it ended he grinned and crowed, "Hallelujah! We're going home, sweetheart!"

  "Yes. Home." Her voice quavered with emotion and tears filled her eyes. Her wavering smile was part boundless joy and part utter despair.

  When Rhys picked up the mike again, she could not resist looking back at the island one last time, and she felt her throat close up. As they chugged north, the island grew steadily smaller. It looked so peaceful, so incredibly lovely, a verdant cone surrounded by lacy white beaches and awash in sunlight. Meghan's nose burned and her eyes grew misty. The time she'd had there with Rhys had been the happiest of her life. Now the idyll was over.

  Though he was talking on the radio, Rhys did not miss her melancholy look. When he put the mike down again he pulled her close against his side and kissed her temple. "Don't be sad, sweetheart. We'll come back someday. I promise."

  Meghan was too choked with emotion to speak. She gave him a wan smile because she knew he believed that, but she had a horrible feeling their romance was coming to an end.

  When they got back things would change, whether they wanted them to or not. Rhys would get sucked back into hi
glamorous, jet-set life, he'd meet other, prettier women and see that she was merely ordinary and perhaps change his mind about wanting her.

  It wasn't as if he had made any commitment to her. He claimed to love her, true, but he had made no mention of marriage or of them building a life together.

  "Cheer up, honey. I know you'll miss the place. So will I. But just think, in a few hours you're going to see your family again."

  "Rhys...about that," she began tentatively. "You do realize, don't you, that we are both going to have to spend some time alone with our folks."

  "Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed, though grudgingly. "Your family is going to want you all to themselves for a while, and I need to see after my grandmother."