No more parts meant no more rides. Mitch zeroed in on the fact that none of the other team members would be able to head out with him. Okay. Most of the time he preferred being alone anyhow. No one there trying to tell him what to do.
“Help me get this Q40 in the water,” Mitch shouted as Stealth ran up.
“Even if the thing starts, you won’t have sonar. Lights are a question,” Reese said.
“No problem. Josh is on top of computer tracking. I got my earphones. He’ll guide me.”
Stealth and Reese dragged the Q40 to the edge of the Gulf. Helped Mitch onto the machine so he didn’t have to hoist himself up and walked him out past the waves.
He pressed the ignition. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing. He opened a compartment on the dash panel, banged on the inside a couple of times, then pressed the ignition again. The engine roared to life. Lights came on. Radio crackled then cleared to a fine hum.
Shifting settings, he gave it a little power, and the runner lurched forward. Lights went out. He pushed to full throttle. “That’s okay. Just means the son of a bitch won’t see me coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
For the past hour, Mitch had fought the sharp raindrops hammering his face. Clouds had moved across the Gulf, blocking what little light there’d been from the moon. Wind had increased. Waves were choppy bordering on straight, long, and powerful. Unseen until they were on you. He’d ridden a couple of them up their sides. Luck had been with him, and they hadn’t broken before he’d shot across the top.
With nothing visible on the screen, he was at his mind’s mercy. Gripping the Q40 handles wasn’t bad, but the slam back on the water from the waves kept his wounded shoulder in constant pain. Suffice it to say, running flat-out in the pitch dark—alone—sucked.
“Mitch.” Josh’s voice sounded loud and clear through the earphones.
“Yeah.”
“You got two choppers heading your way. Both from the same general direction.”
“Who?”
“One is for sure Water Patrol.”
He liked the sound of that. Maybe they’d be able to give some assistance if necessary. “What about the other one?”
“Don’t know. They’re both a few miles off.”
Specifics would have been better, but he’d take everything he could get right now. He was responsible for all this. Responsible for his team. Responsible for Liz.
“You guys need me for anything, let me know,” Mitch said.
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Josh sounded amused.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Still telling us what to do when you’re out in the middle of the Gulf and we’re here safe in your house. Don’t you ever think about yourself?”
What had he told his brother back in San Diego? No, what had his brother told him? About not needing his help. Said he should get his own life. Think about himself.
Hell, how could he have a life of his own when all he’d ever known was how to be responsible? Even before the night his dad had been killed, he’d always felt responsible. For his siblings. For his parents. For everybody and anything. That’s why he’d even been at the grocery store with his dad—he’d felt responsible for him working the extra hours. One of the mouths needing to be fed.
“Just remember I’m still the team leader for this assignment.” Mitch made sure his tone said he was in control.
“Try to remember that you’re only human, too.” Drake’s tone gave no room for rebuttal. “Keep us informed on your status.”
Mitch felt like he was running on empty. “You mean let you know if I start to bleed out?”
“Something like that.”
“By the way, where’s Reese? I don’t hear his sarcasm in all this.”
“He headed to town as soon as you left,” Stealth answered. “Said he’d see if there was a boat or chopper he could borrow. And the perimeter guy took off to see what’s happening in the other direction.”
For some reason, that made Mitch feel better. Just like these few minutes of talk had helped. He really wasn’t in this alone. “Anything else?”
“Going by what I’ve got on the computer screen, stay on the same trajectory you’ve been following,” Josh said.
“Seems strange. Wouldn’t Russ have had a boat waiting for them closer to shore?”
“Probably. But you’re not dealing with Russ. You’re dealing with Slugger. He may have no idea what had been set up for escape. In fact…” Josh paused. “It looks like the raft with Liz and Slugger on board might be slowing down.”
“Got it. Talk to you later.”
Mitch didn’t like the sound of that. Could mean Slugger was ready to ditch Liz and make a run for it. Could also mean the man knew one of the choppers was CT coming to haul them both to safety.
What was it Russ had said about getting to a ranch? Closest ranches Mitch knew about were in Texas and places west. If he didn’t get to them soon, finding her might take a lifetime.
Didn’t matter. He’d take however long was needed to get her back. She belonged to him—he grinned—of course he could hear her giving him an earful about how she didn’t belong to anybody.
All he could do was hope she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. Maybe they could spend half their lives arguing and the other half having hot make-up sex.
He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead just like he’d done a couple minutes ago. Sweating like a sprinkler while cold as ice wasn’t a good sign. A power drink sounded awful good at the moment. Too bad he was fresh out. Snaking the flat of his hand inside the jacket, he pressed on the shoulder bandage. Nausea shot to his stomach, and his palm came back sticky. Bad news, he was bleeding. Good news, not too much—he hoped.
“Hey, somebody talk to me,” he shouted into the mic.
“I got you, man,” Stealth answered. “What’s going on?”
“Just needed to hear a voice.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Mitch. Tell me what’s happening.”
He grunted, rummaging in the extra storage bin looking for anything. Carbs. Protein. A damn stick to chew on. “Got a ballbuster storm going on out here. Can’t see a damn thing. Bleeding.”
“How much?” Drake shouted.
“Doesn’t matter.” Mitch slammed the bin closed. Nothing. He gripped the handlebars tighter. If he passed out and fell off the Q40, he’d be of no use to anyone. “Come on, guys. Talk to me. What’s going on there?”
“FBI, CIA, locals, they’re all arguing over the garbage you left lying around. Trying to figure out who’s in charge of what,” Stealth said. “One thing for sure, your house is a big-ass mess, man. Needs a lot of…clean up.”
Mitch laughed then sucked in a breath. Let his mind wander. “Guess that means I’ll need a decorator…” He let his mind wander. “Maybe Liz can…”—cough, coughed again—”Hey, guys, I don’t feel so good…think I’m bleeding more than…brother…hypothermia…Hell Week…”
Like playing the movie version of the past few days, the miles passed while his grip on reality wound in and out. He smiled at the memory of sliding on the seat across from Liz back at the Mariner’s. She’d looked so serious and sheltered. She’d called him Dance Man…and he’d called her Liz. Funny how they’d never danced except that so-called dance in the pool. They’d need to do that more often. No, there wasn’t time for fun in his world. His world was…and the first time he’d kissed, no, she’d kissed him first. They’d need to do a lot more—
No time, no time. The world had problems. His world had danger. Danger meant more assignments. No time, no time… He swayed with the memory of the first time they’d made love. She was so beautiful. So intelligent. So strong-willed. So everything he needed.
Spray from a splashing wave brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced around in the darkness. Drifted with his thoughts once again. Memories of teaching her to swim. Of this afternoon on the beach. In the waves. When he’d said goodbye. Goodbye. Why? Why did he alw
ays have to— The look on her face when she slipped him the sharp piece of broken glass. The scream when he was shot. The fear on her face as she was ripped from his house.
He couldn’t lose the one thing he’d searched for his entire life. Without her, he’d be nothing. Nothing… He jerked himself upright. Shivering and confused. What had happened? Had he lost focus? Nodded off? He reached into the small pocket on his swim trunks and pulled out the piece of glass. Moved it to the pocket on the sleeve of the jacket then checked his bandage. Hurt worse, swollen and more blood. None of it good.
Control. He needed to stay in control. Control and responsi—
The world in front of him spun in his head. He closed his eyes to orient himself. Still the world spun. Widening his eyes, he tried to stay focused. Lightheaded, clammy and cold, he couldn’t stop the feeling that he was about to lose the battle. About to—
Team. SEAL training marched through his thoughts. Team. Let the team help you. He sucked in a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he realized he needed to ask for help. His team didn’t need him right now. He needed his team. He needed Liz. He needed to stay alive.
“Stealth!” Mitch fisted his hand in front of him. Willed himself to feel the grip of his teammate.
“I’m here, man. Talk to us. You’ve been babbling something crazy for the past ten minutes.”
Drake cleared his throat. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know if I’m gonna make it. The wound’s bleeding a lot. The world’s spinning. Feels like a freezer out here in this storm.” Gasping, Mitch concentrated on his words. “I need help. There’s no way I can do this by myself.”
“All you had to do was ask. What do you need?”
“Tell me what to do. Which way to turn. Keep me alert. Help me, guys. I need help.”
In the far distance, Mitch picked up on the searchlight from an approaching chopper sweeping the surroundings. At this distance, the eyes-in-the-sky crew still couldn’t get a visual on him. But they didn’t need a visual, they had radar and sonar zeroed in on everything in the area. He hoped like hell those were the good guys. If not, CT would blow him straight out of the water.
“Mitch! I’ve got you on the computer screen.” Josh’s calm tone had upped a notch. “You’re close. Veer right twenty degrees. There you go. Stay straight. You may be able to see the raft from where you’re at. Take a shot.”
“Seeing double now. Can’t take the chance of shooting Liz.”
Josh sighed. “Sorry. All I can do is guide you. I can’t aim the gun.”
“You got your knife?” Stealth asked.
“Yeah.” Mitch had no qualms about a hand-to-hand blade fight if he could get close enough. Hopefully, he still had a keg-load of adrenaline left to fuel his muscles.
“Then follow my lead. Don’t think, Mitch. Just do everything I say.”
“Got it.”
“Keep the Q40 straight. You’re right on target.” Stealth sounded like he was ordering dinner for take-out. Calm. Matter-of-fact. “Turn slight left…back a bit. Good. You’re closing. Closing. Accelerate. Accelerate. Click on the OPAQUE auto drive. Stand on the Q40 platform. You ready?”
“Yeah.” Years ago, Mitch had dreamed he’d die fighting in the ocean. Not today, though. Please not today. “What next, Stealth?”
“Unsheathe the knife. Feel the weight of the hilt in your palm. How do you plan to attack? How do you plan to fight? Grip the hilt. Tighter. Tighter. You can do this. Get ready…get ready…”
“I see the raft. See Liz. Slugger’s shooting wild in my direction.” Mitch fought to keep the world at a standstill. “Hell! Now I’m seeing triple.”
“Good! Target the center Slugger. And don’t miss. Jump!”
…
Cuffed to the pull rope at the side of the raft, Liz kept her eyes turned on Slugger and her mind trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. The sight of a bleeding Mitch on the floor back at his house kept flashing through her mind. He’d already been battered by Keith and Slugger, but that he could have survived. Being shot in the chest by her father was another thing entirely.
She’d been surprised when Slugger had dragged her down to the beach and tied her hands to the rope along the edge of the assault-style motorized raft. They’d waited a couple minutes for her father. But when there were more gunshots up at the house and no one from CT came out, Slugger had looked nervous. Kept checking his gun. Glancing at her. And the moment he’d caught sight of Reese, Josh, and Stealth swimming steadily closer to shore, he’d gunned the raft’s engine and headed across the Gulf. That had been well over an hour ago.
First, her captor had tried to talk to someone on the raft’s communication system. When he told them how things had turned out, they’d hung up on him. Hadn’t answered or called back since. And for the past ten minutes, the raft seemed to be slowing down. Almost like its battery had run out of energy.
Slugger kept working on the motor. “Son of a bitch. What the hell’s wrong with this thing?”
Pretending to be incapacitated by the blinding rain and cold wind, she’d been able to huddle against the side trying to cut the rope with a piece of glass from her pocket. She’d given Mitch the sharpest chunk, and the small round pieces she still had didn’t work so well. Might take days to make a dent in the binding.
“Hey, I’m really cold. Have you got a solar blanket or anything I can use?” She tried to calculate how long until hypothermia might set in.
“If I had one, don’t you think I’d be using it?” Slugger steadied the portable spotlight and bent back over the engine then suddenly stood. Turned. Stared back in the direction they’d just come from.
She saw only darkness through the rain. But…she heard a distant hum coming closer and closer. Slugger pointed his gun at the oncoming sound and fired again and again. Lightning crackled across the sky. Illuminated the surroundings. Thunder rumbled as loud as fifty kettle drums being pounded in sync. She held her breath at the sight of a Q40 speeding out of the dark as it flew up and across a wave.
From the side of the machine, Mitch catapulted across the patch of water between the Q40 and the raft. He plowed into Slugger, ramming the knife deep in the man’s shoulder. Pulled the knife out, ready to strike again, but Slugger kicked the blade out of his hand then crashed the portable spotlight against his shoulder. Mitch roared like a wounded bear, wrapped his arms around Slugger, and took both of them over the side of the raft.
Liz stretched her leg toward the knife, reached it with the side of her foot. Carefully scooted it to her hands and cut herself free. Grabbing the spotlight, she pointed it at the two men battering each other in the rocky waves. Tossed the knife in Mitch’s direction fifteen feet away, but her aim took it to the water instead, and it sank.
Anger and hate covered Mitch and Slugger’s fight. Their noise of battle overrode the fury of the storm—grunts, shouts, fists hitting skin, gurgling as waves crashed over them. Gasps for air as they resurfaced. There was nothing she could do to help. Her insides tightened with the one sure factor—one of the men would not be getting back in the raft. It all depended on strength, power, and instincts for survival.
In the glow from the spotlight she still held, she saw the two men both seem to push away at the same moment. Slugger swam a few strokes to the side. Mitch paddled backward halfway to the raft, close enough to be heard, too far away to touch.
He glanced in her direction, his expression filled with pain and exhaustion.
She longed to reach out and touch him, but he was a few arm lengths away. Yet close enough to hear her. She pointed the spotlight directly on him. “I thought my father had killed you back at the house. But you’re here. You’re here.”
“Don’t ever forget I came for you.” He swiped his palm down his face, his eyes conveying sadness and love. “Not because you were my client. But because you’re everything I could want. Everything I ever needed.” He gasped for air. “I love you, Liz.”
Why did thi
s sound like a dying man’s declaration? Where was he heading with this? What was he planning to do? She glanced over at Slugger then back at Mitch. The two of them seemed to be giving each other space. Like a pair of boxers who’d each gone to their corners, waiting to fight the last round.
Slugger looked like he had another round in him. Mitch looked determined, but he had to be tired. He had to be losing blood from when her father had shot him.
“I love you, too, Mitch. Swim to the raft. Come on.” Bracing herself against the side of the raft, she reached out to him.
He shook his head. Slipped his fingers into the small pocket on the sleeve of the jacket and pulled out the shard of glass she’d given him back at the house. He grasped it between his fingers, sharp point outward, and fisted his hand around the larger end.
In that moment, she realized the fight for survival was bigger than both of them. He was willing to give his life. She couldn’t imagine living without him.
“Please. Please…get in the boat.” Tears streaming down her face, she leaned over the side of the raft, beating the water with her fists. Screaming. Begging. “Swim…to the raft…Mitch…please…” Her heart was breaking. “I love you. Forever…”
“Forever.”
“Ain’t that sweet?” Slugger shouted, inching his way forward as the storm seemed to settle. The waves smoothed out instead of crashing. “Let’s get this over with, Agent Granger. Be daylight soon.”
“Yeah. I’d hate to miss a beautiful sunrise.”
Mitch sucked in three deep breaths as he whipped around and dove. A few seconds later he shot up through the water right next to Slugger. Mitch backhand raked the fisted shard of glass across the man’s chest and pulled him downward. They both sank beneath the surface. Neither popped back up.
“Nooooo!” Her heart and soul felt as if they’d drained from her body. Like they’d followed Mitch down into the dark water. Left her battling for the will to breath.
She stared at the exact spot where the two men had disappeared. Counted the passing seconds in her head. How long? How long could he hold his breath? Hold his breath and fight? Thirty—sixty—ninety. Background noise of a hovering chopper sounded above her. Their search light panned the area.
Dangerous Lies (Shades of Leverage) Page 28