She blinked at the tears that continued to fill her eyes. She hated them. They were a sign of weakness. She saw the dark bulk of a van approaching and waited for it to go by.
"Sarah, please."
"Go away, Hawk. Just go away and don't follow me. I don't want to see you again."
"Sarah."
"You're making me sorry that I ever slept with you. The sex wasn't even that good. I've had the best. Jackson was a perfect soldier and an incredible lover and you aren't even my type."
He lifted his hand away.
Sarah bit her lip to keep her sob inside. She knew how he valued honesty. She knew why he valued honesty. She prayed that he didn't realize how big a lie she had just told.
The van had stopped to let her cross. She stepped off the curb.
Her vision was blurred. It was the sounds that alerted her. A scuff of shoes on the sidewalk. A cracking thud. She whirled to look behind her.
Hawk was no longer there. Two large, broad-shouldered men were dragging him toward the back of the van that was idling in the lane.
He wasn't putting up a struggle. He hung limply between them, his head sagging forward. A bright patch of crimson coated his hair.
It took a vital second for Sarah to register the scene. Her mind couldn't seem to grasp what she saw. Neither could her heart. This couldn't be happening. The danger was supposed to be over. She was leaving. Hawk was…
Hawk was bleeding. He was unconscious. He was being tossed into the back of that vehicle while she was standing here indulging her emotions and being weak and letting down her guard…
She didn't realize she had said his name until she felt the raw pain in her throat from the force of her scream.
Tires squealed. Sarah threw herself at the back of the van as it passed her and grabbed for the door handle.
They hadn't had the chance to close the door completely. It burst open, swinging her over the pavement. She hooked one leg around the edge.
Tires screeched again. The van careened off the lane into the first alleyway past the bridge. Sarah felt herself fall.
And then she felt nothing.
Chapter 10
Hawk awoke to darkness and agony in his skull. The pain was everywhere, a red haze that was sucking him back down to unconsciousness. It carried him along, washing over him while he fought to gather his strength.
The last thing he remembered he'd been standing on the sidewalk watching Sarah wait for some van to pass….
Had they been hit by the van? Where was Sarah? Was she all right? He had to find out. He couldn't let the pain take him. He concentrated, forcing his mind to keep working.
He was lying on his side. His cheek was pressed against something cold and metallic. He smelled…fuel. It was richer than gasoline. All around him was noise, a steady thwup-thwup drone that rose from the metal floor beneath him and rattled his teeth.
He blinked and raised his head. The darkness wasn't complete. There was a faint glow from somewhere behind him. He could see outlines of objects on the floor, the dull gleam of a curving metal wall….
The floor suddenly tilted. He tried to bring his hands forward to steady himself, but he couldn't move his arms. His cheekbone smashed against metal. Pain exploded. He clenched his jaw, struggling to stay awake, to stay rational.
But this didn't make sense. Where was he? What had happened? This was too real for a nightmare.
The floor tilted the other way. Hawk slid backward a few inches until his shoulders struck a thin strut of metal that was attached to the wall. He groaned involuntarily. The sound didn't get past his lips. A wide band of tape covered his mouth.
He breathed hard through his nose and tried to lie still, tried to gather more data. His mouth was taped. He couldn't move his arms because his wrists were bound behind him so tightly his hands were numb. He couldn't feel his fingers—they were useless. His ankles were bound, too. He was on the floor of some kind of moving vehicle, a large one that sounded like…a helicopter.
This was no accident. He was being abducted.
Why? Who? There hadn't been any warning. Sarah had believed the danger was over—
Sarah. Was she all right? Where was she?
She had been walking away, leaving him.
Where was she now? She'd been so determined to get away from him. He hoped she had. He didn't want her hurt.
But she'd been crying. He'd made her cry. What was wrong with him that he made a woman like her cry?
The floor tilted again. Hawk had no way to stop himself from sliding forward. He tucked in his chin, trying to prepare for whatever he would strike this time.
It wasn't a metal wall. It was something soft and warm that smelled faintly of spice….
His heart froze. He would know that scent anywhere. Sarah. She was here after all. Dammit, she was here. And she wasn't moving.
The terror that seized him was stronger than the pain. He rolled to his knees, bracing his thighs apart to steady himself against the movement of the helicopter. He strained to peer through the shadows. He could see nothing but a vague outline, so he curled forward until he felt the wool of her coat against his forehead.
He inched closer to her, using his nose and his cheek to feel his way along her body. He felt a button graze his temple and realized she was lying on her back. He pressed his ear to her chest, trying to feel movement, praying he would hear a heartbeat, but the vibration and the noise from the aircraft was too much.
He knew he wouldn't be able to help her, no matter what he found. That didn't stop him. He had to know. He worked his way up her chest to her throat. He felt the tickle of her scarf. Her arms were stretched over her head, her head lolled limply between them. Tape covered her mouth.
That was good, wasn't it? If she was bound and gagged she must be alive…or at least she had been alive when she'd been brought here….
Sarah! The wordless cry was strangled in his throat. He rubbed his forehead along the edge of the tape that covered her mouth until his temple brushed her nose. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Please, God. Not again. Don't take another woman from me….
Warm air feathered over his eyelid. Hawk held himself as motionless as possible, hoping it hadn't been his imagination.
There. He felt it again. A puff of air. She was breathing.
Hawk realized afterward he must have blacked out then. When he awoke next, he was still on his knees, doubled over with his forehead pressed to Sarah's side. He sat up. His head ached but it didn't take him as long to get control of the pain this time. The light had strengthened. Sarah was still unconscious only now there was enough light for him to see she was breathing.
Her wrists were tied to the wall above her head with what looked like a cargo strap. A similar strap stretched from the other wall to hold her ankles. That was why she hadn't been thrown by the motions of the helicopter. Someone had wanted to make sure she was immobilized so she couldn't fight. Her coat hung open. She must have been searched and disarmed, too.
Hawk felt a burst of rage. Who had done this to her? And why?
But he knew why. It was because of him. She was here and she was hurt because of him. Why couldn't he have let her go?
Was she right? Was his refusal to let her go tangled up with Faith and his past? Were his feelings for Sarah an illusion, too?
They felt damn real to him now.
Yet Sarah had made her wishes perfectly clear. If he'd said goodbye quick and clean, the way she'd wanted him to, she wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have made her cry. She wouldn't have felt forced to lash out at him in return.
You're making me sorry that I ever slept with you. The sex wasn't even that good.
Hell, maybe he had been deluding himself the same way he had before. Maybe he would never be able to compare to the perfect Kyle Jackson. It no longer mattered. He didn't care if Sarah hated him when she woke up. As long as she did wake up.
He pressed his face to her neck, drawing in her warmth and her scent. H
e felt the steady beat of her pulse against the delicate skin beneath her ear.
He could feel her pulse. Only then did he realize that the vibration of the engine had stopped. So had the noise. They could no longer be airborne, yet he still had the sensation of movement.
He sat up and looked around. They were in the cargo area in the rear of the helicopter. Crates were strapped to the bare metal walls around them. Light seeped in from the front of the aircraft where a curtain was pushed aside to reveal the cockpit. The light wasn't from the sun. It was from an array of floodlights that glared beyond the windshield.
They must have landed while he'd been unconscious, Hawk thought. But why was the floor pitching?
There was a clunk from outside the fuselage. An outline appeared in the wall. A door slid open.
Hawk squinted against the glare of light, trying to focus on the figure who stood in the opening. It was a tall, slender man. Hawk couldn't see his face, but there was something familiar about him….
"Those dolts. I told them to bring you to me undamaged. I do hope your brain is still functioning."
At the sound of the familiar voice, Hawk stared in disbelief.
Prince Jibril Ben Nour pinched the neat crease in his pant legs and climbed through the doorway into the helicopter. He waited for two of his guards to take up positions beside him, then approached to stand over Hawk. "You should have died when you were supposed to, Hawkins. It would have saved us so much trouble." He propped his hands on his hips and leaned down. His grin flashed white in his beard. "But then, for a genius you've never been that smart."
* * *
Sarah had experienced worse pain before, so the dull ache that suffused her body was manageable. She let it flow around her like a river, carrying her forward until she could angle her way across the current to the calm near the shore.
"Sarah?"
The voice seemed to come from a long way off. She let it guide her. Somehow she was certain if she reached it she would be safe, she could stop fighting…
"Sarah, wake up."
Warm fingertips brushed her cheek. She recognized the touch. She moved her head to follow it.
"That's it, Sarah. You can do it."
She cracked open her eyelids.
She was lying on a bed in a strange room. Hawk's face filled her vision. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning over her. A bruise purpled his cheek beneath a dark growth of whiskers.
She lifted her hand to lay her palm over his bruise. "Are you all right? What happened?"
He closed his eyes and turned his head to press his mouth to her hand. His nostrils flared. He breathed deeply for a moment before he looked at her once more. "I'm sorry, Sarah."
Her memory stirred. She remembered the van, the men dragging Hawk, the blood on his hair…
Relief crashed over her. Thank God. He was alive. He was safe after all. Her hand shook as she slid it to his head. She sifted her fingers carefully through his hair. She found a lump on his skull and traced it with her fingertips. There was a crusted scab—the wound she had seen was dry and healing. He should be okay.
But it had been close. Too close.
She blinked back a surge of tears. "I saw them take you. I tried to stop them. I think I fell off the van."
He skimmed his fingertips along her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "You'll be all right. They told me nothing's broken. You hit the back of your head and were knocked out. You have some bruises and a few scrapes but they're already starting to heal. How are you feeling?"
"Groggy."
"It's going to take some more time for the drugs to wear off. You've been out for almost two days."
She struggled to focus. Drugs? The pain wasn't that bad. He'd said she wasn't seriously hurt. But two days? She lifted her head to look past his shoulder.
The room they were in was decorated in white, but it didn't look like a hospital room. It was too large and luxurious. This bed was too big. Instead of medical equipment, there were white padded armchairs and heavy glass tables along the walls. At one end of the room she saw a thickly varnished mahogany door that was slightly open to reveal a marble-tiled bathroom. At the side of the room she saw windows that were…round. She could see nothing beyond the glass but a gray mass of clouds.
She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the same black pants and turtleneck she'd put on before she'd left the hotel. There was a rip over one knee. None of this added up. Either it was the drugs, or something was definitely wrong. "Where are we, Hawk?" she asked.
"This is our room." He straightened up. He smiled. It looked strained. "You must be thirsty. Would you like some water?"
She nodded.
He slipped his arm behind her back and helped her to sit up, then poured her a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. He watched her while she drank. "There's some aspirin if you want something for the pain. Those bruises must be sore."
"No, I'm okay. Nothing a soak in a hot bath won't fix. I can't believe I was out for two days."
"Are you hungry? I'll tell them to bring some food."
"Is this another hotel?"
He took the glass from her hand and set it back on the table. "No."
She looked at the glass. The liquid that was left in the bottom of it continued to move well after he had set it down. She lifted her gaze to one of the windows. The grayness outside appeared to be moving, too. She felt her stomach roll. "Hawk? What kind of drugs was I given?"
"Tranquilizers."
"Tranks? Not painkillers?" She rubbed her forehead as if she could rub away the haziness. "What happened while I was out? And how did you get away from those men I saw at the bridge?"
"I didn't, Sarah."
Her hand fell to her side. "What?"
"I'm sorry. There's no easy way to tell you this."
"Then just tell me. Don't make it worse by dragging it out."
Beneath the bruise and the bristling beard stubble, his cheek twitched. "We've been abducted," he said. "We were brought by helicopter to Jibril's yacht."
For an instant her brain was too sluggish to grasp what she had just heard. It was like that moment at the bridge when she'd seen Hawk injured and bleeding.
Her heart started to pound. No. Oh, no.
It still wasn't over.
She did another survey of the room, forcing herself to absorb the facts. They were onboard the Faith. That explained the movement and the windows that looked like portholes. "Those were Jibril's men in the van?"
"Yes."
"Why would he do this? It couldn't be for ransom. This boat alone must be worth close to a billion."
"I don't know what he wants yet."
"Why not?"
"I haven't seen him since we were brought here. I think he's waiting until we're out to sea. Or maybe making me wait is a ploy to unnerve me. That might be why they were keeping you sedated." He paused. "Sarah, Jibril admitted he was the one who tried to have me killed."
"What? Then why…"
"Why are we still alive? I don't know for sure." He lifted his palm to her shoulder, then eased a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry you were drawn into this. It's likely me he wants. I never wanted to see you get hurt, but I seem to keep doing it, anyway."
"It's not your fault, Hawk."
He hesitated, then swore under his breath, slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her onto his lap. Pressing his cheek to the top of her head, he held her to his chest as if she were something precious.
This was how he always held her, as if she were fragile and feminine and didn't have to be what she was supposed to be…
That was when she remembered the rest of what had happened before Hawk had been dragged into the van. The harsh things he had said. The hurtful things she had said. The tears.
Oh, God. She should have been paying more attention. She should have been more aware of her surroundings. Instead she'd let her feelings jeopardize her judgment. She had failed. She and Hawk were in more
danger than ever.
How could he be holding her like this after the way they had parted?
And how could she let him?
Sarah pushed out of his embrace and got to her feet. The room wobbled.
Hawk caught her arms to steady her. "Take it easy, Sarah. Give yourself some time."
We need more time, Sarah. We need to figure out what's going on between us.
She pulled away, wiping her eyes against her sleeve. Damn these tears. Damn these feelings. "We don't have time. We have to make a plan. We have to escape."
"We will. I promise you."
I didn't make any promises.
No, she wouldn't think about what had happened the last time he'd held her in his arms. She had to keep a clear head. His life as well as her own could depend on her ability to be objective.
She leaned over to brace her hands on her knees, taking deep inhalations, hoping the rush of blood to her brain would help wash away the haziness from the drugs and this horrible, persistent urge to cry. "What time is it?"
"I don't know. They took my watch. Early afternoon."
"You said we've been here two days. That makes it Tuesday."
He laid his hand on her back, rubbing gently. "People will be looking for us by now."
"Not for me. I wasn't due to report until Wednesday, and even then the Major might assume…" Her words trailed off, but she completed the thought, anyway. When she didn't show up for the training exercise in Dartmoor, Redinger might assume she had decided to take the extra few days leave he'd offered her. He might even decide to cut her some slack and not immediately put her down as AWOL for not confirming it. He hadn't understood that what had happened between her and Hawk was over.
And it was over. It had to be. She dug her fingers into her thighs. "Hawk, please don't touch me."
His fingers tensed. "Sarah."
"I mean it. Keep away from me. I was groggy when I woke up, but now we don't have time for this."
He lifted his hand.
She straightened up and moved to the door. She tried the handle but it wouldn't turn. It was a simple tumbler lock, not a big obstacle with the right tool. "Where does this lead?" she asked.
"A narrow corridor. There are other similar doors along it. We're on the first level below deck."
Aim for the Heart Page 13