Stormy Peril

by Victoria Pinder

  CHAPTER 22

  Kimberly kept her head down against the biting wind that fought against them the second they walked outside. Raphael took the lead and blocked the elements, but the brutal force of nature was relentless. Her every stride was labored, and she did not go fast.

  She kept her nose down and followed Raphael’s back until they walked through a dark part of the forest. The darkness irritated her senses and she kept her hands in her coat pockets to stop the shivers. The beach was to her left as memories of how she came here rushed through her.

  Kimberly’s fingers jittered and her clothes had a sharp sting. She lifted her hand and counted her fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  Splash.

  Water billowed near her feet. She spat salt out of her mouth. Why was there smoke all around? She coughed, but the fire fueled more smoke. She blinked her eyes. The sand against her skin hardly mattered. She swallowed hard and flexed her feet. Had she lost a sneaker?

  Everything happened in slow motion. She sat up, looking away from the rampant fire in the bay that burned her eyes. She stared transfixed at her feet. What had she done with her sneaker?

  The frigid water lapped over her body. Cold. She’d never been so cold. She closed her eyes.

  The roar of an engine boomed in the air. She reached back to brush her matted hair behind her ears and saw the red blood on her palms.

  Kim opened her eyes and scanned the beach. Metallic objects littered the coast. In the distance were pine trees. She stood up and stared at the small plane engine that lapped in the water.

  Without warning, Raphael stopped and she barely avoided running into him. Kimberly darted her gaze to Raphael's face. He stared hard to his right and asked her, "Are you okay? Are you with me?"

  Now the memories surfaced of what had happened? She rolled her shoulders like that might stop the onslaught. "I'm fine. I’m here."

  Her gaze followed into the darkness, but all she saw were dead trees, shrubs, and some evergreens in the far distance. He placed his finger over his mouth, so kept her question to herself. She took a step closer, invaded his personal space, and mouthed, "What's going on?"

  He whispered, "Harry and Roger are about two hundred yards to our right." He leaned down next to her ear. "Can't you hear them?"

  She stilled, but all she heard was the shriek of the wind and his heartbeat. Then he stepped back, and her ears blared with how the dead trees rang hollow. She pressed her lips together, but silence echoed. "I don't hear anything."

  He nodded, like he needed to convince her. "They are not dead. Smell the burning engine.”

  She sniffed the air. She took his hand in hers and held up her chin. "What's the plan?"

  With a sigh, he squeezed her fingers, and her entire body came alive. Her internal warmth was the opposite of the ice cold outside. "Stick to my side. We'll recon what they have first."

  She nodded, and he kept a firm grip on her hand as they trekked toward whatever he’d heard. Despite his lies, in his hands she felt safe. He’d been doing a job and her plane crashed on the island. At first he had owed her nothing, but things were different now. They walked down a dark path.

  Crack.

  A footstep ruined a leaf, and her mind raced. She had to run. Now.

  She raced past a few more trees, but the footsteps drew closer. She needed to run fast again, but her body refused to obey. If she stopped, she'd die. But her breathing became shallow.

  Then she saw him. He still wore his pilot uniform. Her eyes stung and she tried to find a way to disappear.

  He must have seen her. She winced and froze.

  Why hadn't he shot her dead?

  She dove past more rocks, but this time she stumbled and fell to the cold, stony ground.

  This wasn't good. She turned around, but he stood above her.

  She closed her eyes and blocked her skull with her hands. "Please don't shoot me."

  "I'm out of bullets," he answered.

  His voice sent a chill down her spine. Nothing happened. She tried to stand up and run, but then something hard hit the back of her skull.

  Her eyes rolled back and she wasn't cold anymore.

  She closed her eyes and thought that she had died today, after all.

  She rocked to her feet and almost stumbled. The memory of this path hit her hard, and she remembered how Roger had almost killed her.

  A cold ice stayed at the base of her spine. Everywhere she turned, she saw blackness. She swallowed and vowed to herself she’d survive.

  Raphael's green eyes became a beacon she had to follow. She'd get the medicine and help his sister. He whispered, "Should I take you home?"

  Home was a good word, not that she had one. "No."

  He stopped short again. She came beside him and let go of her thoughts. She stepped into his space again, and asked, "What now?"

  His wide eyes were focused on something in the dark beyond them. She turned around, followed his gaze, and jumped back into his arms. She saw the flicker of a campfire. She stepped forward again. Her skin grew goose bumps, and she swallowed. They had found Harry and Roger. With luck, they'd find his sister's medicine and return to the castle without anybody getting injured.

  Raphael clenched his fists and told her, "Stay here. I can't let you get hurt."

  She nodded. "Be careful."

  She patted his hand until he relaxed. He offered her a small sight of his dimple. "I will."

  She almost kissed him, but held back and hugged him instead. "I promised your sister I'd stick by your side."

  He stepped back. "You promised me you'd listen if I brought you. You'll be safe enough here, for now."

  She gazed into his sexy, heroic eyes and sighed. "Hurry back."

  He tipped his winter hat and saluted her. "I intend to."

  He turned away. She watched, and a moment later, he disappeared into the thicker part of the forest. She knelt down to hide in the clearing.

  She waited as the sun inched lower, if the direction of the small beams of light were any indication. What was taking so long? It would be night soon enough.

  Raphael must have found something.

  A bird squawked above her head. It was probably a seagull, as they were on an island. Her feet tapped in the dirt. It was late. She swallowed, and rearranged her jacket. She got up and looked toward the camp. The fire embers were still visible in the distance.

  Perhaps Raphael was there. She could get a closer look at the camp and stay hidden. If Raphael needed her, she'd at least be nearby.

  With her hands clenched, she darted from her safe spot to the nearest tree.

  The only thing she heard was her own heartbeat. She dashed again, and hid behind another tree, but unlike Raphael's crooked path, she went as straight ahead as she could. She jumped behind more bushes, but still heard nothing except her own breathing.

  At the last tree, she heard the crackle from the fire. This was as close as she'd go without getting caught. She stayed quiet and crouched down. She bit her lower lip and peered out. The camp seemed deserted.

  She had a great view of the fire, and the helicopter crash. Unlike the plane, the helicopter seemed to be intact. It must have been a softer landing, but then neither Roger nor Harry intended to kill each other. She continued to study what she saw until the obvious took over her thoughts.

  No one was there.

  She scanned the area for a few more minutes. No one approached, and her gaze found a black Valentino backpack. The bag was beautiful and new. Kimberly blinked. It had to be Michaela's.

  The medicine was the goal. Kimberly rubbed her neck. If she took the bag and made it to Raphael, they could head toward the castle again. So why wasn't he here? She refused to dwell on the question. He was always fine. This was her opportunity to help.

  With a small prayer, she held her breath and then took her first step out from the tree. Her feet crunched on a twig, but no one came at her. She held her head up. Nothing happened except the brutal wind that slapped her in h
er face. She picked up her pace. Her limbs shook the second she went into the camp.

  Still no one stirred. She was alone.

  The crackle of the fire seemed almost alive, but she was oversensitive right now. She swept her hand across her forehead, then ran fast. A second later, she grabbed the bag from behind the pilot's seat, and raced back to her tree, the twigs on the ground sounding like hand grenades. Adrenaline coursed through her.

  With all her noise, no one came at her? She rushed to another tree in the back, but still no one followed. Why? She was almost dizzy, but it was odd no one was here. On the third dash backward to another tree, she knelt down and hid in the scrubs.

  Raphael must be at the clearing. It was hard to judge the sky from the slivers of light that made it through the dark forest, but it might already be early evening. The coast guard should be here soon.

  With luck, she'd get this to Michaela, if her medicine was still in the bag. Kimberly bit her lower lip, then opened the bag and fished around. First she found a pair of scissors and yarn. Strange. Michaela must crochet. Then she pushed past the change of clothes and the makeup and clenched her fingers around some pill bottles that had Michaela's name. She packed everything again but kept her ears open. How come no one was here? She retraced her path to where Raphael said to wait.

  He wasn't there. She drummed her two fingers on her shoulder and scanned the area. He had always shown up and been her hero. She held the bag tight. She had a choice to make. She could run to the castle to give the bag to Michaela. Or she could follow in Raphael's footsteps to find him. He might need help.

  Harry and Roger were not at their camp. Perhaps Raphael had detained them. If he rounded them back up to shove them back in his dungeon, she wouldn’t complain.

  Her fingers inched upward toward her neck and his medallion. This was for his future wife, and she had to give it back to him. First things first: she'd have to find Raphael.

  She scanned both paths one more time. Michaela needed her medicine fast, but she would worry about her brother. Kimberly stilled. She'd not rest either. Something had to be wrong.

  She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and set off into the darkness. Her heart told her to beware. Her mind told her Raphael had everything in order. She argued internally that Raphael knew how to take care of himself. He had been outside numerous times as she cowered in his castle.

  This path was so thick with forest and shrubs that the gray skies almost didn't filter through. It might as well be night. She closed her eyes and let her fingers go into her circle. She needed to find her center.

  A moment later she opened her eyes and her gaze adjusted. She followed the path and hid as best she could. She took the time to listen.

  In the thick of the forest, the winds lessened. She quieted her footsteps as much as she could.

  Then she heard the snap of someone's fingers. She ducked low in the shrubs and reached behind her. She still had her Taser in case someone came at her from anywhere.

  Again she heard the smack of a skin on skin. Her hearing sharpened. A fist pounded against flesh. A fight? She swallowed. Now was not a good time to be found.

  It might be Raphael, though. Her hands shook, but she shoved them in her pockets to retrieve her Taser. She peered around, and made out a heavy grunt.

  Her heart thrashed in her ears.

  Another grunt boomed in the air. There was more than one person, but then that made total sense. Raphael had to be here, and the sound came from the left. Who was he fighting? Roger, or Harry? Or both?

  She stayed low, but crawled toward the next big tree. She peeked her head out, and saw Raphael hung upside down on a huge pine tree at the edge of the clearing.

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. He was the hero. He handled the fights. She clenched her fingers into a ball. Her hands were tiny compared to his. What could she do?

  Roger stepped into her view near Raphael. Raphael's dark hair shook like he was ready to fight the man if he was cut down. Then Roger's hand flew backward. She flinched as his fists landed on Raphael's ribs, and she heard a twig under her foot break as she moved in sympathy.

  She froze. Any second now, someone might see her.

  Every cell in her body urged her to run back to the castle, but her gaze went back to the upside-down Raphael.

  He needed her help. She licked her lips. What could she do? Her eyes scanned the area. Raphael hung in his position from black wiring. She scratched her head. It had to be from either crash. It wouldn't cut like rope. The wire must be strong enough to hold her muscled warrior like that.

  She stilled again.

  Harry walked closer to Raphael, and her gaze sharpened on what was in his hand. Harry held a gun. No. Adrenaline spiked through her. She had to help.

  She clutched her Taser in her hand and readied herself.

  Between Roger and Harry, she'd aim for Harry, who seemed to have a soft spot for her. The gun would kill them. If she could get it from Harry, she’d give it to Raphael. She'd launch a rescue somehow. No plan surfaced, but she had to do something.

  Kimberly needed Raphael alive. He had to be okay.

  She crawled closer as Roger took another swing at her lover. The brutal pounding of flesh boomed in her hearing. He’d saved her numerous times. She'd find a way to free him.

  She caught sight of the embers of the fire. She stopped, refusing to think of what would happen if she was caught. Raphael, she, and Michaela had to survive. There was no other option.

  CHAPTER 23

  At the last tree that hid her from the men, Kimberly ducked. She bit her lip to slow her mind from its frantic pace. A calm, rational person would be the best person to free Raphael from his predicament, and she was far from the ideal.

  Her heart raced. There was no one else. Peace and harmony hadn’t prepared her for the ache of falling in love with a medieval warrior. She had to do this. She clutched the Taser in her hand. Then the twig under Kimberly's foot snapped so loud that all the grunts and noises in the camp stopped.

  She fought back a wave of dizziness.

  Footsteps ran toward her. As they approached, she tucked the Taser under her shirt and pasted on her best smile.

  Roger came behind her. "Boo."

  She held back a scream and turned around. Instead she tried to cover her shaking hands. "I want to go home."

  Harry called out, "Who’s there, Roger?"

  "Kimberly." He stepped backward, realizing she wasn’t a threat. She took a small step into the clearing. Roger bared his crooked teeth. "Can I use the gun to kill her now?"

  Harry lifted his hand and kept his focus on Raphael. "Bring her to me."

  Her stomach was as hard as a rock. She walked toward them with unsure steps. Raphael was upside down and not facing her direction. She held his sister's bag as close as possible. She stilled her racing heart as best she could and turned to face Raphael.

  Harry came beside her holding a gun at his side while the helicopter lay useless on its side behind him.

  Raphael's stare was unreadable. The blackness of his eyes caused her to step back.

  "Don't be afraid of him now, miss."

  Afraid? She remembered Harry asking if she'd been raped. She shook her head. "I can't help it. I never asked for any of this. I wanted to get a ride home, to my mother."

  Harry's arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her skin crawled from the touch. He then whispered, "Soon enough, this ends for all of us."

  She pressed her lips together and looked right at Raphael. Harry had his gun in his holster. She needed to bide her time for Roger to be far enough away. No one saw her as a threat.

  Harry pushed her toward Raphael. "We're having some payback with our jailor, girlie. He thought he was better and smarter than us."

  Her fingers ached to rip off the black wires. Raphael simply needed to get free. She'd find a way. Her eyes went higher, and his ribs were black and red with fresh bruises and probably broken bone. Roger and Harry were true bullies, in every se
nse of the word. Instead she averted her eyes and tried to not give away her intentions.

  Roger asked, "What's in your bag?"

  "Clothes." She clutched the Valentino closer. "I streamlined my suitcase to bare essentials. The coast guard should arrive soon."

  "Doubtful," Harry told her. Then he walked over to his brother and the pair of men whispered.

  Kimberly's adrenaline kept her calm on the outside. She tried not to let her lips move as she whispered to Raphael, "What would cut that black wire?"

  "It's steel cable."

  "What cuts it?"

  "Shears, but I'll take anything sharp."

  She stepped back as Harry came closer. In the medicine bag, she had scissors. Roger walked in a different direction. With her head down, she clutched it close to her chest. The Taser was cool and still tucked in her back pocket. The second Roger was out of range, she'd zap Harry.

  Her hands shook, but she breathed in, slowly.

  Harry grabbed her arm. "Don't worry, the big man won't harm you."

  She hadn't had the chance to give Raphael the scissors.

  "Will you?" The question flew out of her mouth.

  "Now, that all depends on the game we play."

  Her stomach churned. Harry was tall, with gray hair and crooked teeth. She inhaled and went a few steps with him. She'd need her hand back if she intended to use that Taser and knock him out.

  She bit on her lower lip and then told him, "I'm not a fan of games. What do I need to do so I live to see my mom again?"

  Harry released her, but pointed for her to sit on some bench that must have come from the helicopter. With her shaky legs, she followed orders. Then he asked her, "Did the big, muscular guy here have a name?"

  Her eyebrows arched. "Huh?"

  Harry folded his hands. "When he raped you, did he ever want you to call him by a name?"

  Raphael said nothing, but the frown on his face said plenty. She swallowed. Raphael glared at her, and she rubbed her neck. "Yeah. Ralph."

  "Ralph?" Harry turned his back to her and stared at Raphael. It was as close to his name as she could think without giving him away. Raphael’s jaw clenched as his green eyes stared at her hard.