The Soldier’s Secret Daughter

by Cindy Dees

  As grim thoughts of what Schroder would do to her if he caught her flitted through her mind, she made her way out the narrow pier to the ski boat. Two lines moored the craft. Despite her shaking hands, she managed to unleash the boat from its hitching post. Now what? Jagger had told her to stay put until he joined her. What did that mean? She risked a look back toward shore and saw no sign of his familiar silhouette approaching.

  And then a voice whispered from practically under her feet, “Push the boat back. Then sit down on the dock and slide into the water.”

  What? She stared down in shock.

  “Move.”

  She lurched into motion at Jagger’s sharp order, doing as he said. Until her feet dangled over the water, that is. “I’ll get my clothes all wet,” she complained under her breath.

  A snort rumbled out of the darkness. “And that’s so much more important than getting shot, after all.”

  She sighed and eased off the pier into the Pacific Ocean. The water was nearly up to her chin here, and when a wave came in, her feet lifted briefly off the seabed.

  “Grab this tow line,” Jagger murmured. “I’ve made a loop in it. Put it under your armpits and that’ll free up your arms to swim.”

  She did as he suggested while he rigged another line in similar fashion for himself. It was slow going pulling the boat out of the tiny marina. They reached the end of the dock and Jagger made to turn left. But then inspiration hit her.

  “Go right,” she urged. “There’s a riptide beyond the marina, just past those rocks over there. AbaCo doesn’t allow any swimming in that spot because of it.”

  He frowned. “That way takes us back toward the buildings.”

  She argued, “Once the tide catches us, it’ll pull us out to sea about a hundred times faster than you and I can swim against the surf to tug this monster offshore.”

  He considered briefly. Then said decisively, “Okay. Let’s go get your riptide.”

  It turned out to be surprisingly easy. One minute they were swimming laboriously, getting nowhere fast, and the next, the boat was floating out to sea so quickly it was tugging them along in its wake. Jagger had to help her make her way hand over hand up the rope toward the boat, in fact. He crawled in first and lowered a ladder over the side for her to scramble up. They drifted for a few more minutes. The riptide petered out about a half mile from shore. As the boat slowed and began to drift south, Jagger started the engine. He left the running lights and instrument lights off, however, as he turned the craft east, and the Rock retreated to a speck in the distance.

  Jagger opened up the throttles, checked the dashboard-mounted compass and made a minor course correction. The craft could make a steady twenty knots, but the sea was choppy enough tonight that he backed off to more like fifteen. At this rate, it should take them a little over an hour to reach Lokaina.

  He kept glancing back over his shoulder behind them. It took her several times looking back herself to realize what he was doing. He was watching for pursuit. She thought of the sleek cigarette boats back at the dock and suddenly her exhilaration at being out here with the wind in her hair and the sea spray on her skin morphed into cold, damp terror.

  But as the miles passed and the sea remained a featureless black sheet behind them, she began to breathe more normally.

  They’d been on the water an hour when Jagger shouted suddenly over the motor, “Are there binoculars on this tub?”

  She indicated that she didn’t know but would have a look. She opened up one of the storage chests under a seat in the back of the boat and fished around. Life jackets, flares and coiled ropes. She shifted over to the other storage chest. This one held a variety of small tools and gadgets…and a nice pair of Zeiss binoculars. She grabbed them and headed back to the cockpit.

  “Here ya go.”

  “Thanks.” He took them and scanned the horizon, first behind them, then in front of them. With a low exclamation of pleasure, he turned the boat to the northeast and pushed the throttles forward. She looked in that direction. She couldn’t be sure, but that might be a twinkle of lights low on the horizon.

  A few more minutes confirmed her suspicion. A line of lights was visible, and before long, the black hump of an island. Lokaina. They’d made it.

  Relief soared through her and she grinned over at Jagger.

  And then he frowned. Lifted the binoculars again and scanned carefully behind them. He swore under his breath. He pushed the throttles all the way to the forward stop and the boat leaped over the waves, jarring her in her seat.

  “Take the wheel,” he bit out grimly.

  She slid over into his seat as he stood up and moved aside. “What’s up?” she shouted.

  “We’re about to have company.”

  Chapter 7

  Emily’s heart dropped to her feet. She looked back over her shoulder but could see nothing through the rooster tail of spray. Not that she needed to. She knew exactly what was back there. A big, black, lethal boat bearing down upon them. Fast.

  Jagger tossed her a life jacket with a terse command to put it on as he fished out what looked like a waterproof bag. He tied it around his waist with one of the ropes from the equipment chest. Quickly, he stuffed the entire knapsack she’d brought for him into the bag and sealed it shut.

  He put his mouth close to her ear and shouted, “I’ll get us as close to shore as I can. They’re probably going to shoot at us. When I tell you to, dive overboard. Stay underwater as long as you can. When you come up, only come up enough to get some air and then go back down. When you can’t hear their boat anymore, surface and swim for shore. It may take a while for them to leave the area, so be prepared to bob in the water for a while. Got it?”

  She nodded, too terrified to do anything else.

  He continued, “It’s me they’re after. Just get away from me as fast as you can and you should be safe enough.”

  Horror flowed through her. “I’m not leaving you!”

  Jagger scowled. “You don’t have to pretend to be a hero for me. I know the score. You drew me out, now they’ll finish me off. No hard feelings, babe. Dying like this is a hell of a lot better than spending another day in that damned crate. I knew what I was walking into when I left that box with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  He frowned but didn’t reply. She opened her mouth to insist on an explanation, but before she could say anything, a roar became audible behind them.

  “Don’t forget what I told you,” he yelled. And then he was behind her, slipping into the driver’s seat as she slid out of his way. He took over the wheel. “Get down!” he ordered. “Lie flat back there and stay out of sight until I tell you to jump.”

  The boat slapped down on the waves, jarring her teeth, but Jagger just continued to shove the throttle as far open as it would go. The boat swerved violently, first left, then right. And the roar from behind them was all around them now. Their small craft rocked violently, as if it had crossed another boat’s wake at an oblique angle.

  Jagger shouted, “Get ready, Emily! Jump over the port side on my command!” He must have realized she’d have no idea what port was, because he shouted again, “Jump over the side opposite me!”

  That she understood. She pushed up to her hands and knees, but the way the boat was bouncing around, that was about all she could manage. She checked the straps on her life vest.

  And then he shouted, “Go!”

  She didn’t stand up and jump so much as slither over the side of the boat on her belly and flop into the water. Except it felt more like crashing into concrete than hitting water. With an oomph, the air slammed out of her lungs and frigid blackness closed in on her. The shock of it stole away what little breath she had left.

  Up. Which way was up? A moment of panic clawed at her until she stopped sinking. The life vest kicked in then, pulling her up toward the surface. She kicked and pulled with her arms. Her clothes were unbelievably heavy, even with the vest’s buoyancy to
help. Her lungs burned and her eyes stung ferociously as salt water hit them. A faint glimmer above caught her attention, and then she broke through to the surface. Her face felt cold air upon it and she drew in a gulping, desperate breath. One more breath, and then she remembered Jagger’s instructions. She pulled in a last deep breath and bobbed under the water, using her arms to push herself down against the upward push of the life jacket.

  She surfaced again, this time registering the roar of boat engines nearby. She said a quick prayer that one of them wouldn’t run her over.

  She’d ducked and bobbed a few more times when, as she held herself underwater, a tremendous concussion of sound and pressure slammed into her just as a bright orange flash exploded overhead. The water around her glowed with it. Ohmigosh. What was that?

  She stayed under as long as she could, but the demands of being an air-breathing creature finally won out and she headed for the surface. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. Their ski boat was split in two, its halves flaming while burning oil and debris littered the surface of the ocean around it. The bastards had blown up the boat!

  And Jagger? What of him?

  She looked around frantically for any sign of him in the water. And realized belatedly that the fires had effectively illuminated the entire area, to include her. She took a hasty breath and ducked under again. The next two times she breathed, she barely broke the surface with her mouth and nose before heading back down. Even then, she still heard the rumble of the AbaCo boat circling the wreckage. Schroder’s boys were no doubt checking to make sure they’d killed Jagger.

  After an eternity, she finally surfaced to the sound of silence. Cautiously, she stayed afloat, turning in a full three-hundred-sixty-degree circle. No sign of the AbaCo boat. A swell lifted her up and she gazed around once more. There. Off to her left. The lights of Lokaina. Jagger had told her to swim for it. And it wasn’t as if she could float around out here indefinitely. She started paddling.

  It was slow going with the bulky life jacket on, but it allowed her to flip over on her back and rest now and then. And in those moments, it was worth its weight in gold. She hoped Jagger had one. Heck, she just hoped he was alive.

  How long it took her to swim to shore was anyone’s guess. Two hours, maybe. Long enough that she was dog tired and never wanted to taste seawater again in her life. But finally, she stretched out on the beach, the cold sand clammy and wonderful beneath her cheek.

  Her clothes were sodden and stuck to her, but as she lay there, they gradually dried out a little. Her shoes sloshed when she stumbled to the edge of the narrow strip of sand. The airport was on this side of the island. Her wallet was still in the back pocket of her sweatpants. Which meant she had a credit card. Which meant she could hire a plane and a pilot to get her the heck out of here. She suddenly felt a burning need to get home. To her family. To safety.

  She stripped off most of her clothes and draped them over bushes to drip while she dried out and warmed up a bit. Then she sat down on a boulder to figure out what she was going to do next.

  Shock was her main emotion. Someone had just tried to kill her. Or at least the person with her. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her! And Jagger? What of him? Was he dead or alive? Floating around out there in the ocean too hurt to swim ashore, or maybe blown into tiny little pieces of shark bait? God, she hated not knowing.

  Again.

  The same questions that had been her constant companions for the past two years surged back, stronger than ever. Where was he? What had happened to him? Was he all right? Did he want to be with her?

  She couldn’t do this again. It would kill her this time, knowing what she did now. She stared out to sea, scanning the detritus of the explosion that washed ashore, watching for some sign of Jagger. An article of clothing or something, anything, to wash up onto the beach that let her know what had happened to him. She couldn’t imagine losing him again like this, without any warning at all. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. Damn her fickle heart. Why couldn’t she just let go of him once and for all and be done with him?

  Of course she knew the answer to that. They had a bond between them that could never be severed, for better or worse.

  After a while, her thoughts began to stray. The AbaCo gig was pretty much a goner. It had been a good job while it lasted. Too bad she wouldn’t be getting a recommendation from her boss. It would’ve helped her when she started job-hunting again. But hey, at least she was alive.

  How long she sat there hugging her knees and shivering, partly in cold and partly in shock, she didn’t know. The moon climbed high into the sky before she finally roused herself and picked up her clothes. Shimmying into soggy sweatpants was the pits, and her T-shirt stunk of seaweed. Yuck. But she couldn’t exactly stroll into the airport in her underwear. She shoved her feet into her shoes and was leaning down to tie them when a voice from nearby startled her violently.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She lurched, laces forgotten. “Jagger!” She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He grunted in pain and staggered, hanging on to her until he righted himself. And then he reached for her wrists and unwrapped them gently, setting her away from him.

  “You okay?” he rasped.

  “Just wet. You?”

  “A little singed around the edges, but I’ll live.”

  “What happened?” she asked urgently. “I saw the boat explode and you weren’t in the water and I was so scared they’d killed you—”

  He cut her off. “That was the idea. To make them believe they’d killed me.”

  “Oh.” A pause. “So are we safe now?”

  He snorted. “I doubt it. AbaCo is nothing if not thorough. Until they find my body, or at least parts of it, they’ll keep hunting me. Speaking of which, I’ve got to get out of here.” He glanced around tensely. “Thanks for your help.”

  He took a step away from her as if he was going to leave her there. Ha! Not bloody likely she was letting him slip away from her again.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked lightly. “I’m not leaving you alone for a single minute. Every time you leave my sight, something disastrous happens to you. Only way to keep you safe is for me to keep an eagle eye on you, mister.”

  He stared in naked surprise for a moment, but then, inexplicably, his gaze hardened. “So. The game goes on, does it? What’s the next gambit?”

  Huh? Half the time she didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. When they got somewhere safe and quiet, she was going to do whatever it took to force him to explain himself. Clearly.

  In answer to his question, she said, “I have credit cards with me. We can hire a plane and get out of here.”

  His right eyebrow arched. “Indeed? They’re really going to great trouble to make me believe I got away. What do they want from me, anyway?”

  He was doing it again. Talking in riddles. She said patiently, “The airport’s on this side of the island. We’re probably a five-minute walk from it.”

  He nodded. “Let me change into dry clothes if you don’t mind.”

  She shrugged and he stepped off into the trees for a moment. The stuff she’d filched back at the Rock didn’t fit him half-bad. Of course, he’d look suave and sophisticated wearing a burlap sack.

  He led the way through a bit of underbrush, and then they emerged onto a dirt road. “Left or right?” he asked.

  She considered briefly. “Left, I think. But I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

  “Good enough for me,” he murmured.

  It turned out to be more like a ten-minute walk to the airport, which wasn’t bad, considering. It was a whole lot better than swimming forever. She pointed out the charter service that AbaCo used, and whose owner she knew fairly well. She told Jagger the guy might do her a favor if she asked him nicely.

  Jagger led the way into the tiny office, which she was surprised was even open at this time of night. It
must be pushing midnight.

  Don Pinkerton, the owner of the island’s lone charter aviation business, emerged from a back room when they walked in the front door of his place. A television muttered in the background. He peered at her in disbelief. She must look like a drowned rat.

  “Emily Grainger? Is that you?”

  “Hi, Don.” She gave him her best smile. He flew most of the AbaCo employees back and forth between here and the other Hawaiian islands, and in the past two years, she’d developed a passing acquaintance with him. He’d flirted with her enough to signal that he’d be willing to turn their friendship into more, but she’d never taken him up on it. Her personal life was complicated enough without adding him to the mix.

  “What brings you here at this hour…and soaked to the skin?”

  She looked down at herself and laughed ruefully. “Long story. I have a huge favor to ask of you. My friend and I need to get out of here as soon as possible. When’s the first flight?”

  “Where y’all headed?” Don asked around the toothpick hanging precariously in the corner of his mouth. “Going home to Kauai?”

  “Uh, ye—”

  Jagger cut her off. “Actually, we could use a lift to the big island. I have to get stateside ASAP.”

  Don shrugged. “How big a hurry are you guys in?”

  Emily exchanged glances with Jagger. She didn’t know for sure how to answer that one. Thankfully, he caught the hint and answered smoothly, “As big a hurry as money can buy. I’ve been recalled to my unit and they’ll reimburse me whatever it costs.”

  Don perked up. “You military? What service are you in?”

  “Marines. I’m stationed at Quantico.”