by Rose Wulf
Georgia accepted the keys as she shook her head. “Oh, no. I rent boats all the time. I know what I’m doing.”
He nodded again and turned to head back towards the shop. “Emergency frequencies are taped to the dash beside the radio. Otherwise, the boat’s due back by four o’clock. Enjoy your trip.”
Brooke’s gaze followed him for a minute before she looked back to Georgia. “You do know what you’re doing, right?”
Georgia scoffed and put loosely fisted hands on her hips. “Of course I do. I really do rent boats from this place a lot. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”
“Okay, then,” Brooke replied, accepting her answer. It was understandable, after all. She would certainly have been renting boats for years had she grown up near any large body of water.
“Okay,” Georgia declared, turning and putting her back to the boat. “My car’s in the rental lot, so I left the ice chest with the food and everything in it while I waited for you. All we have to do is go get it, bring it back, and we’re good to go!”
True excitement began bubbling up inside Brooke as her gaze flicked back to the boat. We’re really getting to do this, her mind whispered. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel overly excited about it before, because in the back of her mind she’d believed that something would come up last-minute to make her cancel. And she was glad she’d been wrong. She really felt like she needed a few hours of strict girl-time.
Georgia was two full feet ahead of her as they made their way back down the dock, toward the small parking lot that was designated specifically for boat-renters. “When we get out there,” she called over her shoulder as her feet landed in sand, “we’re going to talk about you and Blake.”
“Don’t we do that practically every day?” Brooke asked with a laugh as she stepped off the dock after her.
“Yeah,” Georgia allowed, “but we only get little snippets of conversation at work. And I really don’t see you very often outside of work. This will give us a good opportunity to really talk! I need details, you know!”
Brooke laughed again even as she countered, “Do I get details about you?”
Georgia turned to throw a deliberate wink back at Brooke over her shoulder as she approached a large rock formation. “Absolutely! In fact, I intend—”
She was cut off as a fist came flying out from behind the rocks, catching her straight in the cheek and sending her head spinning around as far as it would allow. Georgia crumbled, crashing unceremoniously to the ground.
“Georgia!” Brooke cried in horrified shock as she watched. She instinctively sprinted forward in an effort to catch her fallen friend, but she didn’t make it in time. “Georgia!” she called again as she dropped to her knees beside her friend, on the other side of the unconscious woman from the rocks.
Brooke’s head snapped up again as she registered the sound of movement, and she found herself staring into the dark eyes of the Mystery Man. Idiot! Brooke berated herself as a dozen different reactions tore through her. You should have cancelled! But she hadn’t, and now Georgia had gotten hurt.
Mystery Man altered course, clearly intending to walk around the unconscious redhead.
“Stay back!” Brooke demanded automatically, her hands hovering over Georgia’s nearest shoulder. Her eyes staying locked on her enemy.
The man scowled at her as if he were irritated, but his feet paused anyway. And then he opened his mouth, addressing her for the second time. “Brooke Munroe, come with me.”
“Not a chance,” Brooke retorted, not moving. “You stay away from me, or I’ll scream. The shop isn’t that far behind us, they’ll hear me.”
His scowl turned into a sneer. “And if they come to investigate, they’ll die. Alongside your friend. Or you could cooperate.”
“What do you want with me?” Brooke asked, immediately switching to another topic. If he really didn’t care how many people got dragged into this situation, then it was best to avoid bringing them in.
His eyes narrowed, and his feet started forward again. “You’re a means to an end, nothing more.”
“I can’t do anything for you,” Brooke insisted as he slowly, casually, walked around Georgia’s head. Too close, her mind warned her. Reluctantly, Brooke shifted and scrambled backwards, away from him. When she was far enough, she pushed back to her feet, all the while keeping her eyes on him.
“You can,” Mystery Man argued, his tone indifferent, “indirectly.”
“Whatever it is that you’re planning,” Brooke began, taking a step backwards as he continued towards her, “it’ll never work. Even if you kill me, they’ll figure you out and stop you. You and that other guy.”
The man’s lips curved up in a faint, dark smirk. “Your threats might sound a bit more cultured if you actually had the information necessary to issue them.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry,” Brooke snapped, taking another step backwards. “You haven’t exactly introduced yourselves. And by the way, was it you or him who burned down my apartment?”
A flicker of pride lit up his eyes for an instant, and the man replied, “That was Father. But it was me who attacked you before.” He continued forward as he spoke, his pace ever casual, as if he had all the time in the world.
So the old guy’s his father? It wasn’t exactly a revelation, but even a confirmation of their suspicions was something to be grateful for. Or it would be, as soon as she was able to feel anything beyond fear. At the moment, all she could feel was the cold, unshakeable grip of terror around her heart and the squeezing grasp of panic on her lungs. She could barely swallow past the lump in her throat.
Without thinking, Brooke said, “So cowardice runs in your family, then? You wait to strike until you’re covered by shadows and hidden by rocks. Tell me, do you do it because you know you and Daddy Dearest wouldn’t last ten seconds against the Hawke family in a fair fight?”
His jaw tensed and his eyes darkened even more as an expression that could only be described as fury settled on his face. “Stupid woman,” he snarled. “You know nothing of what you speak.” As he spoke, his pace increased.
Brooke took two stumbled steps backwards, and her heel slammed into unforgiving rock before she could take a third. Her back met with the same rock before she’d even registered it. Her eyes widened when she realized that she’d let him back her into the same rock formation he’d hidden behind a minute ago. And she saw the moment he realized that she was well and truly trapped.
“You’ll never get away with this,” Brooke said. She cringed inwardly at the desperation in her voice.
“You’re beginning to repeat yourself,” Mystery Man declared as he stepped up to her. “Now, will you come willingly, or do I have to take you by force?”
Stalling blatantly, Brooke asked, “Come where?”
Without turning or looking away, the man swept his arm toward the dock. “To your rented boat, of course.”
Brooke’s eyes widened as a thousand scenarios raced through her head. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to isolate her in a boat on the Pacific Ocean. But, whatever his reason, she knew it wasn’t one she’d like.
Only one choice, then, she decided as every internal organ she possessed clenched and swirled inside of her. Chances were good it wouldn’t work, but what other choice did she have? Dragging in a deep breath, Brooke said, “Sorry, I get seasick.” And then she threw herself forward, angled to shove him aside. She thrust her feet forward even as she stumbled, knowing she had only seconds to get as far away as possible.
One of the Mystery Man’s hands shot out and grabbed on to her t-shirt, yanking her backwards. But he wasn’t satisfied with simply stopping her, so he shifted his pull and tossed her towards the rock.
Brooke collided with the tall rock formation, barely managing to throw her arm up in time to protect her head. The rock tore into the flesh on her arm, and a sharp stinging sensation pierced through her. She cried out from the impact, too stunned to move right away.
That s
econd was all her opponent needed to wrap his hand around her throat and hold her in place. His touch was scorching, and Brooke reflexively tried to recoil from him, but her head was pressed up against solid rock. There was nowhere she could go.
“Your efforts are in vain,” Mystery Man snarled. His eyes crackled again as he glared at her. “You will die this day, in the name of vengeance—in the name of justice.”
Brooke leveled her best glare at him and spat, “Your ‘justice’ is pretty screwed up, asshole.”
“You say that only because of your unfortunate fate,” he returned, his voice dark but calm once more.
“I won’t go with you,” Brooke reiterated. “And you’ll look pretty suspicious dragging an unconscious woman to the boat dock.”
His grip on her throat tightened, and the faintest little jolt of electricity surged through her. “I’ll risk it,” he replied plainly.
Brooke winced, trying and failing to suck in a deep breath as her body attempted to recover from the shock.
“First things first, though,” Mystery Man declared even as his other hand reached forward. He calmly dipped his hand into Brooke’s right pocket, ignoring her as she attempted to struggle against him, and extracted her phone. “This has to go.”
As he spoke, his fingers sparked and the phone lit up, but an instant later, it made a strange, gurgled beeping sound and the lights snapped off. Smoke immediately began wafting off of it.
Dropping the phone carelessly to their feet, he returned his attention to Brooke and added, “Good night, Ms. Munroe.”
His grip on her throat tightened again, and she knew he was trying to knock her out. And considering that she couldn’t get a proper breath, he would probably succeed. But she wasn’t willing to stand there limply and wait for it.
With one hand latched on to his, ignoring the immediate burning, she tried to loosen his grip on her throat. She lifted her other—injured—arm and shoved at him with all of the strength she could muster. Pain immediately shot through her, not because of the electricity crackling all around him, but because of her still-bleeding arm, but she did her best to push past it. It won’t matter if I fail, she told herself, praying that motivation would be enough.
“Let … go!” she gasped as she struggled. She braced one foot against the rock, ignoring the way the rough texture pushed against her sandal, and hoped the extra leverage would get him off of her.
“Your struggle is useless,” he declared. He wasn’t budging, and his hold on her throat wasn’t lessening. “You are weak, and injured.”
“Who,” Brooke gasped on a shallow intake of breath even as her arm slackened against him. She was losing her strength, and her awareness. Still, she fought to keep herself conscious as she breathlessly demanded, “Who … are … you?”
The Mystery Man cocked an eyebrow at her nearly inaudible inquiry. As Brooke’s eyes began to droop, her arms falling limply to her sides and her foot sliding awkwardly back to the sand, he said, “You may call me Jacob. I suppose you have earned that much.”
Jacob… The name echoed through her mind in a haze, each syllable dragging as though she could barely remember how to pronounce it. His name was Jacob.
****
Blake was restless as he shifted again in his chair. He’d seen what he could only assume was Brooke and Georgia’s boat heading off a couple of minutes prior, and had quickly lost all sight of it. In theory, she would be perfectly safe so far from shore. But something was still not sitting well with him.
Maybe I should call home and check on everyone else? Maybe this feeling has nothing to do with me or Brooke? It was possible, he supposed. And it was just as possible that the feeling was entirely in his head.
He was jerked from his musing as his phone went off, alerting him to an incoming text message. Sitting properly forward, he snatched the device off the small table that also held an unopened bottle of water. He frowned as Georgia’s name appeared on his screen and quickly opened the message.
CAN’T TALK. BOAT DOCK. NOW.
Knowing—whether Georgia had actually been the one to send the text or not—that message couldn’t mean anything good, Blake immediately moved to the ladder and dropped to the beach below his perch. He didn’t worry about disturbing the few people who had already come out to enjoy the late morning, but he did wave to his coworker as he passed the tower. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want the man to follow him.
As he ran, he sent a text of his own, letting Georgia—or whoever might have her phone—know he was one his way.
The swimming section of the beach was separated from the boat-dock section by a chest-high outcropping of rocks that trailed up the sand, almost reaching the parking lot. On the other side, they stretched out to sea far enough that the jagged rocks would provide the only available footing. However, there was a small area where the rocks didn’t meet, a fair distance up the shore. It wasn’t wide enough for an adult to run through, but if he slowed to a cautionary pace and turned sideways, he could fit.
He aimed for that break in the rock, knowing he was being watched by at least one of the civilians on the beach. When he reached it, he slowed and ducked behind the rock. The instant he was out of their sight, he liquefied, using his control of the water to drag his trunks along with him. It was risky, he knew, to come out as a puddle on the other side—but it was faster.
When he reached the other side he saw no one, at least from his limited vantage point, and so he quickly pulled himself back together. As soon as his body was solid, he sprinted toward the docks. His eyes immediately landed on the familiar redheaded figure of Brooke’s best friend.
Georgia was leaning against the railing beside the steps that led to the dock, her shoulders shaking. Her back was turned to Blake as he ran up, but she didn’t startle when he spoke.
“Where’s Brooke?” Blake asked as soon as he was standing beside Georgia. It was obvious, though her face was aimed away from him, that she was crying. And any other day he would have taken a moment to ask her why—though he already suspected he knew the answer—but right now he was more concerned with why Brooke wasn’t there with her.
Georgia sucked in a ragged breath and turned to face him.
Blake’s eyes widened as he saw the dark bruise already mostly formed on the side of her face. Someone, or something, had hit her—and hit her hard. The eye above her bruised cheek was swollen partially shut. “What happened?” he asked, doing his best to take the edge out of his voice.
Sniffling, and cringing faintly, Georgia held out her smartphone without making an effort to speak. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why, what with her already bruising cheek.
Blake took the phone, directing his attention to the screen, and realized that Georgia had typed out the story. She prefaced it by admitting that she was unconscious for most of it, having been blindsided by a man in shadow. But when she’d woken up, and been able to orient herself, she’d seen a male figure stepping into their rented boat, with Brooke in his arms. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him, and by the time she’d pushed herself to her feet the boat was already speeding away, but she was sure she knew who he was.
… MYSTERY MAN.
Dread settled like a lead weight in Blake’s stomach as he read the very words he’d been thinking. And knowing he’d been right about the danger of their trip didn’t make him feel well at all.
Clenching his teeth, Blake handed the phone back to Georgia and said, “Thank you.” He paused, pulling his own phone from his trunks pocket, and held it out to her before he added, “I need you to trust me now. Text my brother, Logan, and tell him that Brooke’s been taken by the Mystery Man and that I’ve gone to get her back. Tell him to come meet you here. And please, don’t call the police. There isn’t much they can do right now.”
Georgia had been nodding with each request, up until the last one. Confusion clouded her good eye, and her question was obvious.
“Logan, or someone he brings with him, can explain everyt
hing,” Blake assured her even as he moved to the steps. “I have to go before they get farther away. Please, trust me.” He didn’t wait for her nod of confirmation before he turned and began sprinting down the wooden dock. And when he reached the end, he dove headfirst into the water without hesitation.
The moment Blake touched the water he shot forth in the direction he’d seen the boat go earlier. In the water, there was nothing that could touch him; he could swim faster than any speedboat. He knew he could catch them. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Are you awake?”
The voice that called to her was male, but not one she immediately recognized. Her mind was still too hazy to really process anything. But she knew, somehow, that she need to be awake, and she willed herself to open her eyes.
Brooke moaned and moved her arm, but her whole body winced with the motion, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
“It is a shame,” the voice declared. He reached out and grasped her upper arm. “You could have lived if you had only had the good sense to keep your distance from the Hawkes.”
Mystery Man! The moment those words slipped across her mind, Brooke was awake, but her body still screamed at her every breath. She pried her eyes open anyway, finding herself unpleasantly close to his cold eyes. Jacob.
“Let … go …” she demanded weakly. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she forced them to stay open, but the glare she attempted to level at him was in vain as he tightened his hold and hauled her up from the bench seat. He held her upright almost entirely, as she was still too groggy to properly get her feet beneath her.
But the realization that the ground beneath her feet was wobbling and rolling, as if it weren’t stable at all, had her eyes opening wide. And she realized that they were in the boat. No…
“Why,” she gasped, still struggling to regulate her breathing. Though now she suspected it was more because of the renewed terror that was squeezing her lungs. “Why did you take me out here?”