Tensing, she held her breath, closed her eyes, and followed him into oblivion.
Kurt didn’t want to move. Where else would he want to be but buried in this woman whose limbs swaddled him, inhaling the sweet scent of her neck, his hands full of her smooth skin?
They’d gone from “don’t touch me” to “don’t stop” in the space of a few hours, and he was still reeling.
The soft hum of the air conditioner kicking on preceded a blast of cool air from overhead. Goosebumps spread across Caitlyn’s back and she shivered.
He raised his head and she opened her glittering green eyes to look at him, her saucy grin sending a little thrill through him.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice husky as she leaned in for a quick kiss.
“For what?”
She rolled her eyes.
He chuckled. “I mean if there was something specific, I’d like to know so I can be sure to do it again.”
Sobering, she combed her fingers through the hair above his ears, a move that made it impossible to think. “I wish we had the time,” she said, gracing him with a soft kiss.
Gradually, her words sank in, slapping him across the face. According to his watch it was just after eight and fully dark outside. “Shit. We have to move out in thirty.”
And he needed to clean up. Ideally, he would take a break from wearing his artificial legs too, but for one night, he could deal with it. He’d charged them up the day before, so he should be fine.
Before he could rethink his reaction to the time and revel further in Caitlyn’s embrace, she had jumped off his lap and donned her underwear. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” She stooped to picked up her shirt and walked toward the coffee table under which her bra had landed. “You said it yourself. We need to get moving.”
He tried to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. His heart was fragile after his confession, and the sense of déjà vu from the few sexual encounters since his amputation was not serving him well. He snatched a tissue from a box on the end table and cleaned up best he could, then hastily tucked himself into his pants.
Caitlyn fastened her bra and slid her shirt over her head, hiding all the beautiful skin he’d hardly had a chance to explore.
“Okay.” Standing, he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. Why hadn’t he at least removed his shirt so he could feel her naked breasts against his chest when he had the chance?
With a sigh, she slid on her running shoes and kneeled to tie the laces, but toyed with them instead. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“What, the two minutes after?”
Her short laugh carried little humor. “Pretty much.” She sat on the floor with her elbows on her knees and rested her forehead on her fingertips. “I don’t know how to think beyond this…event. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to.”
Well, how was that for a knife to the chest? “Hey, you don’t have to. We didn’t make any promises.”
“I know.” She tied her shoes and stood. “But after what you said…”
“That I love you?” He was done tiptoeing around it.
She nodded and held one arm across her ribs, her focus on his chin.
A boulder lodged in his stomach. “If that was some kind of pity fuck because you can’t return my feelings—”
“No.” She finally looked him in the eye. “No.” Tentatively, she clasped his face between her hands. “I’ve wanted you since the day I walked into your office two weeks ago.”
Not nearly as long as he’d wanted her, but did that really matter? His chest eased a little, and the dark freckle that straddled the edge of her upper lip the way she’d straddled his lap just moments before snagged his attention.
He wanted to lick that mesmerizing dot of color.
She kissed him.
Before he could even get an arm around her waist, it was over and she was backing away with a subdued smile. “I like you, Kurt. And I really like kissing you and everything.”
“I like where this is headed.”
She laughed. “We need to get moving, remember?”
This time he kissed her, hard. “Be safe tonight, okay?”
“You too, Superman.” She gave him another quick peck on the lips and left the room.
It wasn’t “I love you,” but he’d take it.
By ten-thirty, Caitlyn and Kurt were less than half a mile from Zanana Shores, which took its name from the local word for pineapple.
They had left Brandon Marlowe’s Land Rover in a dirt pullout that locals and plugged-in tourists used for easy access to the beaches along Zanana Bay. The sliver of moon low in the sky and the thick spatter of stars overhead offered little light, and the jungle was black as tar.
Keeping her focus on the faint line that marked the edge of the asphalt, Caitlyn trod softly on the sandy shoulder in Kurt’s wake, headed for the pair of lights up ahead that flanked the entrance to the resort.
Without night-vision equipment—and with no help from the moon—they couldn’t risk using the jungle for cover. There were too many hazards, and using flashlights was out of the question.
The road was more exposed but they could move faster.
She tried to block out thoughts of anything else but their surroundings. Thinking about Rose made her restless.
Memories of making love to Kurt had the same effect, though decidedly more pleasant. Sex with someone she truly cared for had been incredible. Mind-blowingly better than anything she’d ever experienced.
Scary.
And absolutely the last thing she needed right now.
But the feel of his hands and mouth on her skin, loving her, moving inside her…
Gah. Stop it.
She pulled herself back to the moment. The noise of the bugs and frogs, the air thick in her lungs, the rustle of the leaves on the breeze. Kurt’s broad back.
He may have transitioned to a desk job, but the need to jump into the fray to protect and save seethed under his skin. He still had the aura of a deadly weapon honed to a fine point.
Yet, he could be so gentle.
And he loved her.
Was that why he’d agreed to help her from the start? And, God, if he’d truly always loved her—as he’d claimed earlier—no wonder he’d taken her rejection so hard. Had he pulled out of her life without a goodbye and thrown himself into PJ training as a form of protection?
Her throat tightened. She understood that as well as anyone.
About a hundred yards from the freshly stuccoed wall that marked the entrance to Zanana Shores, Kurt held up a hand and stopped walking. She barely managed not to collide with him.
Up ahead at the gate, two guards stood on the side of the road, lazily holding rifles and chatting.
Kurt pointed to his left, and they veered into the vegetation just enough to be hidden from the road while using the light from the street lamps to avoid tripping on tree roots or holes in the ground.
Snakes she wouldn’t even think about. St. Isidore had a few nasty ones.
Caitlyn’s heart knocked into her ribs with more force the closer they got. Please let Rose be here.
They had studied the layout of the resort from an aerial map Valerie had found, but had no idea how many of Lambert’s men were guarding the compound. For all they knew, this whole thing was a trap.
No fence encircled the hotel grounds, so they crept past the wall, which bore a sea-themed tile mosaic embedded with the resort’s name. So far, they hadn’t seen a soul other than the sentries, but as they approached the open-air reception building that formed the right-hand terminus of the upside-down-V-shaped string of cabins, low, deep voices stirred the quiet.
Caitlyn grabbed Kurt’s arm to keep herself from running straight toward the sound. He gave her the signal to duck down. They doubled over and jogged toward the first villa, where dim light glimmered around the edges of thick curtains that hung in the front window.
Slipping between the ca
bin and the pool house, they came out on the beach side, suddenly assaulted by a stiff wind, and the shushing sounds of the ocean not a hundred yards from the back patios that lined the spit of land to give each guest a view of either the Caribbean Sea or Zanana Bay.
Vine-covered trellises on either side of the patios provided a measure of privacy between villas, and shielded Caitlyn and Kurt from view.
Bending at the waist, both of them peered through the slats and the glass sliding door beyond, which had no curtains or blinds. Five men appeared to be sleeping on thick piles of blankets spread around the tile floor.
She didn’t recognize any of them, nor the two who sat on folding chairs hunched over a small table playing cards, guns on the table. What she guessed was the bathroom was dark beyond the open door.
No sign of Rose.
They went down the line, finding three more rooms with a similar setup. In one cabin lit only with a nightlight, nine women huddled together in a dark corner—none of them Rose—watched over by two guards.
“The big, white guy is Jack Cartwright,” she whispered into Kurt’s ear. The other she didn’t know.
They moved swiftly down the line. All of the rooms beyond the apex of the V, facing the bay, were dark and devoid of people, but fully furnished and ready for guests.
The pool house was also empty.
“She’s not here.” Caitlyn had known this was a gamble, but she couldn’t ignore the leaden feeling in her chest.
Kurt grasped her hand and whispered, “We’ll find her.”
“We have to do something about the people who are trapped here.”
“Call Shaylee. Have her call her police friend. Then we can check the other buildings. Maybe Rose is in one of them.”
Caitlyn quickly made the call, giving Shaylee all the information they had. Somehow, Rose’s girlfriend held it together. Probably the same way Caitlyn was right now. Sheer will.
Shaylee had no idea how long it would take for her friend to mobilize a team she could trust. For now, they were on their own.
Caitlyn and Kurt jogged in a straight line from the tip of one wing to the other. The only buildings they hadn’t yet explored were the reception center, the restaurant, and the equipment rental shed.
So far they had encountered no perimeter security other than the guards at the front gate, who were probably there to prevent looters and squatters who might stumble upon the operation. Given the setup, Lambert seemed more worried about people escaping.
She and Kurt quickly cleared the areas behind the check-in desk, the tours office, management offices, and housekeeping. The gift shop was stuffed full of unopened boxes, its door locked, no sign of anyone inside.
If her sister wasn’t here—
“Not another step.”
Caitlyn knew that voice, that Aussie accent. She turned. With a rifle pointed at her chest, she’d never reach the knife tucked into her bra before he shot her. She held up her hands. “Hello, Jack.”
CHAPTER 13
FUCK. KURT TURNED to face the big man pointing an AK-47 at them. He’d been scanning their surroundings, watching for guards, but he wasn’t omniscient. And now Caitlyn was in greater danger than before.
“Drop your weapon,” the other man said, jerking his chin toward the Sig in Kurt’s hand.
Kurt laid the gun gently on the ground.
“Glenn died,” Cartwright said, his dark eyes glittery with anger in the lights from the pool deck.
“I know,” Caitlyn said, her voice soft. “I never wished that for him.”
The big man took a step closer. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have shot him. “
She said nothing.
Cartwright frowned and used his free hand to talk into his radio. “Christophe, we have visitors. I’m bringing them your way.”
They needed a way to distract this Hulk so they could run for it. Then again, if Rose were here, they couldn’t leave her behind.
“Couldn’t wait until six o’clock, eh?”
Caitlyn straightened. “Where is she?”
Cartwright’s mouth curled into a nasty grin and he waved them toward the stairs to the pool. “Lead on.”
Kurt could almost feel the hope radiating off Caitlyn, despite the dire situation.
When they reached the stairs, he let her descend ahead of him, then he gripped the rail and took his time going step over step. He had mastered stairs years ago, but that didn’t mean he could race down them.
The big man followed closely on his heels, prodding him impatiently with the barrel of his rifle. Kurt sped up slightly, then stopped abruptly and bent over.
Cartwright barreled into him and they both fell down the remaining few steps onto the pool deck. The Aussie reached for the rifle, but Caitlyn kicked it away. He gripped Kurt’s leg, tugging hard, as if trying to pull off his prosthesis. Instead he threatened to dislocate Kurt’s hip.
Caitlyn kicked the Hulk in the head, and then dove for the rifle. Cartwright grabbed her ankle with his other hand and she went down, kicking at his face until he let go. Kurt levered himself up to sitting and slammed their attacker on the nose with the heel of his hand. The man howled but didn’t release him, dragging Kurt across the rough ground as he rolled away.
Kurt angled for a better position to strike, punching the man’s biceps with a sharp stab of his knuckles.
His grip loosened and Kurt pushed onto his knees, grabbing the rifle and swiveling to face the Hulk, who now held Caitlyn down with both hands, even as she thrashed.
“Let her go,” Kurt said, aiming the weapon at Cartwright’s chest.
The man released her, and Caitlyn scrambled to her feet.
“Where’s Rose?” she asked, her voice steady, sharp as a razor.
“Fuck you.”
“You said it yourself. I killed Glenn. What makes you think we would hesitate to do the same to you?”
Kurt tried to expand his peripheral vision. There had to be a rope or cord lying around that she could use to secure the brute. Had the hotel stocked the lifesaver yet?
Something flashed in the dark to their right. More people. “Shit. Cait, we have to move.”
She shot a look over her shoulder and then nodded.
He handed her the rifle, which she kept trained on Cartwright, and Kurt straightened both legs, walking his hands toward his feet to push himself up until he could stand. Sidling toward the stairs, Caitlyn paralleled him from the other side of the giant, who still sat on the ground. Once up the steps, they took off running.
He glanced back. Cartwright was on his knees holding his bloody nose, waving his team in Kurt and Caitlyn’s direction.
Armed men on their heels, they burst through the opening at the north end of the building and came face-to-face with a wall of men holding rifles.
Footsteps echoed behind them, neatly cutting off their escape.
They all stood and waited, breathing hard.
“Drop it,” said a tall, thin man with skin the color of a walnut, his hair in short cornrows.
Caitlyn set the AK gently at her feet and nudged it in the lanky man’s direction.
“How nice to see another familiar face, Christophe,” she said.
The man’s expression remained stony and his aim did not waver.
If Kurt and Caitlyn could coordinate it so that they dropped at the same time, all these men might shoot each other. But it was too risky. He wasn’t willing to get Caitlyn killed, and despite his nickname, he was no superhero who could take on eight men at once and expect to survive.
Cartwright lumbered into view, his lips and chin bloody, nose red and swollen. He glared at Kurt, but didn’t approach him. “You want to see Rose? Then let’s go.”
So they’d guessed right. Small consolation.
“Pat them down,” the Aussie said to one of the men next to Christophe.
Before leaving the house, Kurt had considered stuffing one of Marlowe’s steak knives in his waistband as a backup, but figured without a sheath, he’d pr
obably just stab himself in the gut. So this lackey would find him unarmed.
They were patted down before being marched along a paved path to the rental equipment shed. Christophe and his men entered first, the bright light from inside spilling out into the darkness. Kurt and Caitlyn entered next, followed by three more men with guns, and the Hulk.
In the far corner of the high-ceilinged-but-empty wooden building, a woman with bronze skin and springy red hair floating in a cloud around her face sat in a plastic chair, arms behind her back. At the commotion, she looked up and her dark eyes widened. “Caity?”
“Rose!” Caitlyn rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her sister, murmuring words that Kurt couldn’t hear.
“Enough.” Christophe crossed the small room and grabbed Caitlyn’s hair, jerking her away from the other woman so hard that she stumbled.
If his hands were free, Kurt would’ve beaten the man into a bloody mess. The last time he’d been this helpless was when he awoke in a hospital without his legs six years ago. Or maybe when Caitlyn had told him about Aaron.
Fuck.
He and Caitlyn were placed in separate corners—him to Rose’s right and Caitlyn diagonally across from her—and tied to their chairs. The men left the room, leaving behind only Christophe and another black man who was short and stout, his head bald.
“You start outside,” Christophe said. “I’ve got this.”
His teammate left, shutting the door behind him and locking it with an audible click.
“I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn said to her sister, ignoring the presence of their jailer. “We were trying to save you.”
“You never should have come.” A tear tracked down her face. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“We looked for you at the party.”
Rose scowled. “A couple days after that morning you showed up at the house, I tried to run, but the guards caught me.” Her gaze dropped and her lips disappeared between her teeth. “I ended up in a clinic for a week, and then I… I stayed in Glenn’s condo until they brought me here.”
Stayed? She made it sound like she’d had a choice, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Kurt tried to unclench his jaw. What had these assholes done to her?
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