Hustle

by Claire Chilton

  She pulled the key out of her pocket, peering at it. The dial wasn’t moving. She held it out in her palm and turned around, but nothing changed. Maybe the water damaged it?

  She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Come on, please work.

  She flipped the lever, and the compass opened up. She stared down at the dial in the centre of the mechanism. It swung as she turned on the spot. Yes!

  She turned to face the way she had come. The ‘N’ pointed to her left. She turned to face north. West was in the opposite direction she had come from. I’ve been going the right way. I think…

  She faced west and hurried past the lake. It’s gotta lead to the marina, or I’m dead.

  She brushed large fronds of tropical wilderness out of her way as she hurried through the trees. Loud screeches and the sounds of the jungle caused her to jump. Whatever lived in here was noisy and probably dangerous. Her heart pounded as she pushed her way through the thick foliage, forcing one foot in front of the other until the trees began to thin.

  She broke into a run when she saw a roadside ahead. She scrambled up the hill to reach it. Civilisation! The road was a dusty highway that was devoid of traffic, but it was a road.

  She hurried down it, dragging her feet as her body weakened. The sun burned down onto her shoulders and back. She ignored the throbbing pain in her shoulder and her aching muscles, forcing herself to keep walking down the seemingly endless road.

  When a cool breeze brushed over her burning skin, she peered at the side of the road through blurry vision. The jungle had cleared away, tapering off to a shoreline. She stared ahead, her eyes widening. It could have been a mirage for all she knew, but it looked like a marina. This has to be it.

  The sun had begun to sink into the hills on the horizon, and night was swiftly coming. She forced each step to get to the marina, only the stinging in her arm keeping her conscious. Pain is good. It means you’re still alive. A dull ache in her chest reminded her that being shot wasn’t the only way she could be damaged. She didn’t know what she’d thought Jacob was, but a cold-blooded killer wasn’t it.

  I’m such a fool. I was flirting with him, playing around while he was planning on killing me all along. Why didn’t I see it? How could I be so stupid? She’d trusted him to be decent. She shook her head. I should have known better. Dad always told me I should never trust anyone.

  ‘People don’t do the right thing, girl. They do what they can get away with.’ Her father hadn’t been a great humanitarian, but he’d known people, often better than they knew themselves. In England, Jacob may be a decent guy. But out here, there were no rules. Out here, he was a monster.

  She exhaled slowly when she saw a large blue and white sign for the Isla Marina. She scanned the dark lot, seeing a short pier with a few boats moored to it. The pier was behind a six-foot fence that surrounded the marina. She scanned the boats as dusk shadowed them. A small cabin cruiser was the boat closest to the fence. It was called the Celeste.

  She smiled. At least Jimmy hadn’t let her down. That was her boat. He’d told her the keys would be in the ignition. All I need to do is get onto that boat.

  She stumbled down the short hill towards the fence. She tripped when her foot caught on a jutting rock, causing her tumble down the incline. She landed in a heap at the railing and groaned.

  She pushed herself up onto all fours, and then used the fence to pull herself up to standing. Just one more hurdle.…

  She gripped the fence and pulled herself up, using energy she didn’t think she had to climb over the fence into the marina. She managed to get to the top of the six-foot fence, but her vision blurred again. Her head swam as she reached the top, and she toppled over the other side, landing on the hard gravel below.

  She rubbed the back of her head. She could barely focus on the Celeste. There were three of them where there had once been one.

  She shook her head, and the boat came into focus. Get up and get on the boat. She tried to command her body, but it was weak and refused to move. Come on, get up and sort your shit out. You just gonna lay here and die?

  Although the idea of just lying there was appealing, she pushed herself up off the ground, ignoring the aches and pains.

  She gritted her teeth and staggered towards the boat. She climbed over the rail. Her leg caught on it, and she fell onto the deck of the small craft, knocking her head against the cabin. The world became hazy from one fall too many. The last thing she saw was the deck as her face headed towards it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jacob stared at the blood splashes on the fronds of a tree fern. That’s a lot of blood. His pulse raced. How badly wounded is she?

  He clenched his hands into fists. Stupid, stupid girl. Why did she keep running? I could have helped her.

  He turned to Bill, who was still aboard the yacht, which was moored several yards from the shore.

  Jacob held the two-way radio to his face. ‘Take the boat along the shoreline. I’ll meet you at the marina.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Bill’s voice crackled back through the speaker.

  ‘I’m going to take the scenic route.’ He pointed to the jungle ahead. ‘See if I can find her on foot.’ A knot of worry tightened in his stomach at the thought of her being lost in the dense jungle. That blood was going to attract animals. Her chances of survival were getting smaller and smaller.

  From the trace Bill had put on her friend Jimmy, they knew she was heading for the marina. It was just a case of finding out if she made it. The problem was that they weren’t the only people tracing Jimmy’s movements. Someone else was hunting her down. Meyer.

  ‘Call me if you find her,’ Jacob said into the radio before clipping it to his belt and unsheathing his bowie knife. He sliced through the blood-soaked ferns to follow her trail into the dense trees.

  ‘Will do.’ He heard Bill reply on the radio before the engine of the boat roared into life behind him.

  Ellie’s trail was pretty easy to follow. There was a massacre of ripped trees and shrubs where she’d run through the jungle, leaving a trail of her blood on them in her wake. Worry knotted in his stomach. The jungle wasn’t a safe place for anyone, especially not an idiot English girl who’d been shot.

  He hurried through the broken path she’d made, checking for signs of hungry animals along the way. After a short run, he came to a clearing. Her footprints led to the edge of a small lake. He walked to the shore, scanning it for her. When he didn’t see her he glanced down, noticing indents in the earth where she’d knelt at the shore. Tell me she wasn’t stupid enough to drink out of this?

  He frowned. Judging by her outdoors skills, she had never set foot outside a city before. He turned around, scanning the brush to pick up her trail.

  After noticing the ripped branches of a tree ahead, he hurried towards it. He touched the blood on the broken branch. It was still wet. She can’t have gotten far. He headed through the opening in the jungle, glancing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set. Adrenaline pumped through his body. If he didn’t find her soon, he’d lose daylight and have to pick up the search in the morning. The chances of her surviving until morning were not good.

  He hurried through the jungle, pausing occasionally to find a new trail of blood or more broken wilderness. When the trail led to a road, he let out an audible sigh. She made it out.

  His eyes widened when he reached the roadside. There was a trail of blood on the dusty road. She’s losing too much blood! He ran down the road, pumping his arms and legs to get to her.

  * * *

  Jacob ducked behind an old boat in the docks as the headlights of a vehicle lit the road to the marina. Three jeeps pulled up at the gates of the Isla Marina. Several men with guns climbed out of the cars, carrying enough weapons between them to be a small army. The men were most certainly mercenaries. The question was, who was paying them?

  He widened his eyes when he saw Joseph Meyer step out of the last car. He’d suspected that the mob boss was behind all
this, but he hadn’t expected the man himself to leave England. Meyer was notorious for never setting foot outside his well-armed fortress near Rochdale. What did Ellie do that would bring him all the way to Central America?

  Jacob studied the man. He was short with white hair and a craggy face. Jacob watched as he scanned the marina before he turned to speak to the large mercenary beside him. He pointed towards a small cabin cruiser that was docked at the pier.

  Jacob glanced at the small craft. It was called Celeste. He couldn’t see anyone aboard it; Ellie could be hiding—or worse.

  As Meyer and his men walked up to the office of the marina, Jacob moved silently from his position and onto the pier. He hurried towards the small boat, bending low to keep out of sight in the shadows. If she’s here, she’s in worse trouble than I thought.

  He glanced back. Meyer and his men were still inside the marina office. The window lit up when they turned on the lights.

  Jacob turned and peered into the boat, inhaling sharply when he glanced onto the deck. Ellie lay there unconscious, sprawled out with her eyes closed. A small pool of blood surrounded her.

  He quickly untied the moorings and gently pushed the boat away from the pier. Then he stood up straight and leapt aboard before it floated too far away.

  He bent to check her pulse. She’s still alive!

  He breathed a sigh before hurrying to the helm, relieved to find the keys hanging from the ignition. After a quick glance behind him to check the coast was clear, he turned on the engine, quickly steering the craft away from the marina and heading out to sea.

  ‘Er, Jacob. What are you doing?’ Bill’s voice crackled over the radio.

  Jacob snatched the radio off his belt. ‘Getting her out of here,’ he said.

  ‘Do it fast. They’re coming back.’

  Jacob glanced back to see men running towards the pier. Gunshots followed as he pushed the boat to its full speed, heading away from the shore.

  He narrowed his eyes and steered out towards the dark sea.

  Bullets whizzed past his face, and he ducked low to avoid being hit.

  Jacob scanned the sea, looking for Bill. He noticed his yacht come into view as he passed the jagged rocks on the east side of the bay. He pressed the talk button on the radio. ‘Don’t come any closer. You need to stay out of sight.’

  ‘Don’t you need me to come with you?’ Bill sounded incredulous.

  ‘I need you to slow them down.’

  ‘With what, my endearing charm?’

  ‘I was thinking you could use my boat.’ Jacob ducked again as a rain of bullets landed in the water on the port side of the boat. He swung the boat out to the left, making a zigzag path out of the bay to avoid the spray of ammunition.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea.’ Bill’s voice crackled over the radio.

  Jacob glanced back to see three flares shoot off the side of his yacht and fly towards the pier. There was a cry as they landed on the shore, blinding the men standing there. The men covered their eyes and dropped their weapons.

  Using the few minutes he had, he turned the small craft towards the west side of the bay, disappearing around the corner of a rocky shoreline before heading out to sea.

  ‘I hope you didn’t use all the flares’.’

  ‘Nah, I saved enough for you to screw up a few more times. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I need to make sure she’s alive, then I’ll get back to you. Stay out of sight until then.’

  ‘What the fuck is Meyer doing out here?’ Bill’s voice crackled down the radio.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t make sense of all this,’ Jacob muttered as he set the boat on course before hurrying to Ellie’s side.

  He knelt beside her and checked her breathing. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He pulled away the bloody bandage on her shoulder. She was still losing blood. After deciding it was best to get her inside the cabin, he pulled off his t-shirt and padded it up into a ball before pressing it against the wound to stem the bleeding.

  Once satisfied that she was safe to move, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her below deck, frowning at the blood that was already soaking through his makeshift bandage. She looked pale in the cool moonlight, but her skin was hot to the touch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Spikes of pain shot through Ellie’s body. She screamed in agony.

  Hold on. It will be over soon. A voice echoed through her mind, but she couldn’t tell if it was real or part of the nightmare.

  She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy to move. She was aware of sharp pains digging into her shoulder while a dense fog settled over her mind. She panted through the pain until it subsided, collapsing as her mind wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness.

  You’re going to be okay, I promise. I’ll take care of you. Reassured, she let herself drift away.

  When she eventually woke up, she groaned and rolled over onto her side. Every muscle in her body ached. She opened one eye and squinted at the sunlight streaming through the cabin window. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. She glanced around the small cabin, a frown forming on her brow. Where the hell am I?

  Ellie tried to remember where she’d gone to sleep, but she didn’t even remember getting into bed. Her mind was fuzzy. She glanced at the bottle of tequila resting on the bedside table. Was I drunk?

  She sat up and winced as pain shot down her arm. She peered at her shoulder, frowning at the clean bandage taped to it. Her memories slowly returned. I got shot!

  She recalled her escape into the jungle and finding her boat in the marina, but everything after that was a blur.

  She gingerly pushed herself upright. Her legs felt like lead. Pain bloomed around her shoulder, echoing down her arm and her back.

  She sank back into the pillows. Maybe now isn’t the time to get up.

  She glanced at the cabin door. Who patched me up?

  ‘Hello?’ she called out.

  She heard footsteps above her. She saw a pair of tan boots come into view as they climbed down the stairs towards the cabin, followed by a pair of jean-clad legs.

  Her heart sank when the face of her rescuer came into view. Jacob fucking Hawkins! The guy who shot me!

  Jacob looked worried as he hurried down the last step towards the end of the bed, but she didn’t notice.

  ‘What? You’re disappointed I’m not dead yet?’ she asked.

  His concerned expression turned into a scowl. ‘I’m surprised you’re not dead yet. Of all the stupid things to do, you decide to go running into the jungle after being shot.’ He folded his arms. ‘Stay in that bed while you heal up, or so help me God—’

  ‘What? I’ll get shot again by a complete dick?’ she interrupted. She was pleased to see that her parting gift was still faintly visible.

  His scowl deepened. ‘Probably, yes! You’re obviously a pro at putting yourself in the stupidest situations.’

  ‘Funny, the only danger I seem to run into is when I’m around you!’ She clenched her hands into fists, and her arm muscles ached, reminding her that she was too weak to deal with him right now.

  ‘It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long, and you won’t last much longer if you don’t let yourself heal!’ he snapped.

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ She frowned. Was that a threat? She was seriously beginning to wonder if he was unhinged. Does he have a hero complex or something? He shoots me and then saves me, for what? So he can keep me in his bed?

  ‘Just rest. We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better. If that hurts—’ He nodded to her bandaged shoulder. ‘—take those. It’s the only pain killers on board.’ He pointed to the box of co-codamol on the nightstand.

  She glanced at him. He was studying her with his arms folded.

  She nodded, saying nothing. Okay psycho, I’ll play your game.

  He walked over to the nightstand and picked up the bottle of tequila. ‘And take those.’ He poi
nted to a second box of tablets that had been beside the bottle.

  She eyed the box. They were antibiotics.

  She narrowed her eyes at the bottle of tequila in his hand. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘I was going to clean your wound with it before I found the first aid kit.’

  She glanced out of the window. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘A few miles from shore. It’s not safe to go back yet. You need to stay in bed and heal up. Will you do that?’

  Safe from what? The authorities looking for your psycho ass? She nodded again, studying him through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Good.’ He turned to leave, taking the tequila with him. ‘Shout if you need anything. I’ll be nearby.’ He called over his shoulder.

  I bet you will. She scowled at his back as she watched him leave.

  Once he was gone, she sank back onto the pillows. He’s right about one thing. I’m not going to be much use banged up like this. She sighed. I need to play this out until I’m fit enough to deal with him. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her shoulder.

  * * *

  Ellie rolled sideways and got up off the bed. She winced as she used her arms to push herself to standing position. Her shoulder ached, but it had been a few days since she’d been injured.

  She peeled off the bandage, peering at the rough stitches in her skin. The wound had almost closed up. The antibiotics had dealt with the nasty infection she’d had in it. All in all, she couldn’t fault Jacob’s skills at healing her.

  The boat had been anchored off the coast for a few days, and he’d catered to her every need. More and more, she found herself confused by his actions. For a cold-blooded killer, he was being incredibly nice.

  Tired of waiting in bed, she staggered towards the stairs. She wanted some fresh air.

  She climbed up the stairs and peered through the hatch. Her stomach grumbled at the smell wafting through the air. Mmm, bacon. She watched Jacob at the stern of the boat. He was shirtless and leaning over a barbeque on the deck, flipping bacon rashers.

  She climbed onto the deck and wandered over. The food smelled amazing, and the view wasn’t bad either. She stared at his tanned skin as he leaned back, taking a swig from a bottle of beer. Her eyes travelled down his body, from the line down the centre of his back to the waistband of his jeans that were slung low on his hips.