“Hey!” Randy glanced their way. “Careful. If you give her a concussion, she might not be able to access the files. Then what?”
“Sheesh,” Arden said, refusing to let either man know how terrified she was. “Thanks for caring, Randy.”
“It’s nothing personal, Arden. I needed money. This was the best way to get it.” He finished typing in his passcode and took the drive from Emory’s hand.
“By selling out your country?” she asked, and he frowned.
“I’m not a traitor.”
“You’re not a thief, either, but somehow you used my encryption program to help him smuggle classified information to a recipient outside of GeoArray. The initial files that were sent were bad enough, but if the completed application falls in the wrong hands, our national defense systems will be in trouble.”
“I didn’t steal your program. We collaborated. It was ours.”
“Right.” She snorted, knowing that that would get a rise out of him. “We collaborated on a lot of things when we worked on the university’s research team, but that program was not one of them.” She wanted him irritated. Angry was even better. The less time he had to think, the better. She might despise him, but she couldn’t deny his intelligence. If he weren’t working from a place of fear, he’d have considered the fact that the drive he was holding was infected with the worm she’d used to take down GeoArray’s system.
“Enough chitchat. I asked a question,” Emory snapped. “How long will this take?”
“It depends on how intricate her encryption program is.” Randy plugged the drive into the port, and Arden’s heart skipped a dozen beats. She was this close to destroying everything these men were working toward.
Please, God, let this work, she prayed silently.
“Let her do it then,” Emory said. “I want it done quickly, Ms. DeMarco.”
“It will be.” She tried to match his tone, use the same cold, hard inflections he had, but her voice was shaking. She was disgusted to see that her hands were shaking, too.
She knew what she had to do. Fear would not stop her.
Had Kane and Silas seen her taken? Were they trying to figure out a way to save her?
She typed in her passcode incorrectly, knowing how the program would react. It was her fail-safe, her backup plan. If anyone tried to access the files without the code, the worm automatically uploaded to the system thirty seconds after the first failed entry. The only way to stop it was to enter the correct code.
She had no intention of doing that.
“What happened?” Randy asked, leaning in as the passcode prompt appeared again.
“Shaky hands,” she lied, typing in another wrong code.
The server was on borrowed time. Unfortunately, Arden was pretty sure she was, too.
The upload box appeared, ticking off the seconds as the worm infiltrated the system.
“Is that it?” Emory asked, leaning close to the screen.
“I...think so,” Randy responded, but she knew he was worried. Unlike Emory, he understood computers. He knew that her passcode should have opened a screen with file options that she could choose from. This upload was different. This was a one-way ticket to Randy’s failure.
He met Arden’s eyes, and she could see the anger there.
He’d been bested at his game.
He knew it.
The upload box filled, then the screen went black. Randy’s quiet curse filled the sudden deafening silence. The system had shut down completely. No more soft hum of drive fans. Nothing but the harsh sound of Randy’s frantic, furious breaths.
“What just happened?” Emory demanded.
“She compromised the system,” Randy bit out. “She uploaded a worm and destroyed everything.”
“Were you planning to die tonight?” Emory yelled, dragging Arden from the chair and throwing her against the wall. Every bit of air left her lungs at the impact, but she didn’t have time to recover. He was on her again, screaming into her face, demanding she bring the program back up.
She’d been trained for this. Her brothers had made certain she could defend herself. She knew what to do. She just needed her body to cooperate with what her brain was demanding.
She slammed her head into his chin, the force of the blow knocking him backward. The door was just a few feet away, and she lunged for it, praying it wasn’t locked, praying she’d make it out.
She turned the knob, yanking on it with so much force the door slammed into the wall, bouncing back as she darted through. The security guard was leaning against the far wall of the captain’s quarters, his head down.
He looked up from his cell phone as she raced out, stunned confusion crossing his face.
One more door, and she’d be on the deck. From there, she could jump overboard if she had to.
“Don’t just stand there,” Emory yelled as he nearly flew out of the server room. “Stop her.”
The security guard finally moved, darting toward her, grabbing a handful of her jacket as she raced toward the door.
She swung around, using the flat of her hand against his nose. He cursed and fell back, blood oozing from his nose.
She thought she heard footsteps outside the door, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She had the door open and was running, feet slipping on wet flooring as she raced toward the stairs.
She could see the sky through the stairwell opening. The stars sparkled against the blackness. She could feel the cold air wafting down, smell the briny scent of saltwater. All of it was there, clear and crisp and vivid. Freedom. Just a few more yards away.
An explosion rocked the yacht.
Or, maybe, it just rocked her.
She stumbled, falling onto the stairs. Pain stole every thought as blood spurted from a wound in her shoulder.
Shot. Her mind finally registered it, and she was up again. She dodged this time, weaving and ducking even though the stairs were a straight line up and a bullet could easily find her again.
Another gunshot came from the left, glass shattering as a porthole imploded. She wasn’t sure who was shooting at her. She just knew she had to keep moving.
A dark figure appeared in front of her, blocking the sky and the cold. She planned to plow through him because she sure wasn’t going to stop. No way was she going to die in the bowels of Emory’s yacht.
She slammed into a hard body, felt an arm wrap around her waist. And she knew before she saw his face, before he spoke her name. She knew without even knowing how that it was Kane.
* * *
She’d been shot.
Kane could see the blood oozing from a wound in Arden’s shoulder, and it infuriated him. Her face was leached of color. She clung to his arm and offered a smile that made his heart break into a million pieces.
“It’s done. We stopped them,” she said.
“It’s not done until I get you off this boat.”
He helped her up the stairs, keeping one hand on her waist and the other free. Silas had taken out the guard who’d shot Arden, but Emory and Randy were still on the loose. He doubted Randy had a weapon, but he thought Emory might be carrying. The guy didn’t seem like someone who took chances. He also didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be happy to lose out on millions of dollars.
Arden had destroyed the only possibility Emory had of getting the rest of the money. If nothing else, he would want revenge.
They made it onto the deck. The second guard was still trussed up and handcuffed to the railing, the rest of the area empty and silent.
That should have made Kane feel better, but something was off. The skin-crawling, hair-raising feeling of danger seeped through his pores.
“What’s wrong?” Arden whispered as he hurried her across the deck.
“Can you make it
down the ladder?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated.
“I want you off this boat,” he responded. The soft clank of feet on metal rungs made his heart race.
Arden must have heard it, too. She lowered herself over the side of the deck, her feet scraping against the hull. Blood was still pouring from her shoulder, and he wanted to tell her to be careful, but she was already moving. She eased herself down one slow step at a time.
He scanned the deck, searching for the danger he knew was there. Metal vibrated somewhere above, and he eyed the bridge, certain someone was there. Pale moonlight filtered down from the clear winter sky. It splashed across the upper deck and silhouetted a man who was walking to the railing.
Not Silas. This guy was shorter, broader, louder. Emory.
He lifted his arm, a handgun glinting in the dim light.
Kane didn’t hesitate. He didn’t issue a warning. His Glock was out, and he was firing as Emory took aim at the ladder and Arden.
“Arden, watch out!” Kane shouted, his words lost in the explosion of gunfire.
His bullet hit its mark, knocking Emory backward.
Emory’s shot pinged off the metal handrail. Arden jerked back, releasing the rail. The muffled sound of her scream was followed by the soft splash of a body landing in the water.
Kane was up and over the railing before the sound faded away. He could see the telltale waves where she’d gone under, the rippling circle spreading into wide arcs that lapped against the hull of the boat.
He tucked his gun in its holster and jumped. Feet first just like he’d done during dozens of training exercises. Only this wasn’t training. This was the real deal. If he couldn’t find Arden, if she was unconscious, if the bullet had nicked a major artery, if any of a dozen things went wrong, she’d die.
He hit the water almost silently, sliding beneath the inky surface, eyes open in the salty water as he searched the blackness for Arden.
SIXTEEN
She came up gasping and choking, water in her nose and her throat and her lungs. Lights splashed on the surface of the harbor—blue and red flashes of color against the darkness. For a moment, she thought they were Christmas lights and that she’d somehow found her way home.
Except that she was sinking in the black and brackish water of the harbor, her body weighted down by her coat, ski pants and boots. She tried to tread water, but her left arm didn’t seem to be functioning.
“FBI! Drop your weapons!” someone ordered.
Whoever it was couldn’t be talking to her. She didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t have a life vest, either.
Which shouldn’t have mattered. She was a good swimmer. She’d always loved the water. But the frigid temperature had stolen her energy, sapping her strength so effectively she slid under the water again.
Don’t inhale, her sluggish brain screamed, but her body had other plans.
She sucked in a mouthful of water, probably would have sunk to the bottom of the harbor if something hadn’t snagged the back of her coat. She was hauled up, and water spewed from her mouth as she gagged up half the ocean.
“It’s okay,” someone said. “You’re okay.”
Kane. Of course it was Kane.
He pulled her against his chest, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other paddling to keep them afloat.
“You’re my hero,” she tried to say. But she was coughing so hard, nothing came out except a horrible croak that sounded like the death knell of an ancient tuba.
“Throw me a life preserver,” he called to someone. His voice was hoarse with what sounded an awful lot like fear.
“Are you all right?” she managed to ask.
“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“You’d better be,” he growled as a life preserver landed in the water beside them. He grabbed it with his free arm and tugged her even closer.
“Are they going to pull us up?” she asked, so cold that the words only barely formed through chattering teeth.
He must have heard. “No. The paramedics have a boat in the water.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“The Christmas lights,” she slurred.
“Christmas lights?”
“On the water. I thought that’s what they were.” She sounded as confused as she felt. Nothing felt real. Not the water or the cold. Not the throbbing pain in her shoulder and chest.
She took a deep breath, trying to ground herself, but she was floating somewhere between here and there. This world and another one.
“Hey!” Kane said, his voice sharp with concern. “No closing your eyes.”
“They’re open.” Only she couldn’t see anything. So maybe they weren’t.
“Arden!” he said again, and she did open her eyes. Realized they were still in the water, bright lights moving toward them.
“The boat’s almost here,” he said. “We’ll have you home in front of your Christmas tree in no time.”
A fiberglass water rescue boat pulled up alongside them. Kane cradled Arden tightly as they bobbed in the choppy wake of the boat. The pain in her shoulder was getting worse. Every bounce and jostle sent shooting pain through her chest and down her arm.
“Arden!” Kane barked, and she realized she’d closed her eyes again.
“They’re open, okay?” she snapped. Or tried. Nothing came out. Not a word or a sound, and she was floating again, the water tugging her out of Kane’s arms and into the blackness.
She tried to grab his hand, but she felt paralyzed, leaden.
“Don’t fight them, Arden. We’ve got to get you into the boat,” he whispered in her ear, and she realized that she was still in his arms, clutching his coat with her right hand.
Two other men were beside her, a backboard between them.
“Ma’am, try to relax,” one of them said, his face pale in the flashing light of the boat.
“Is she conscious?” a familiar voice called from the boat. She thought she must have closed her eyes and drifted off again. It sounded like Grayson.
“We’re going to float you on your back,” the man was saying. “And strap you onto the backboard so we can lift you onto the boat. It’ll be easier if you let go of your friend.”
She did what she was told mostly because she had no strength left to hold on.
“It’s okay,” Kane said again as if saying it could make it so.
Maybe it could, because she was suddenly on the backboard, floating above the water, cold air flowing across her nearly frozen skin.
She felt the backboard slide up on the boat’s access ramp. Hands grabbed the board and pulled it into the boat.
“Hey, kid,” Grayson said, his face suddenly in her space, his eyes filled with worry.
“Is this a dream?” she asked as he dropped a blanket over her.
“If it were, it would be a nightmare,” he said grimly.
“So...you’re really here.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Laney?”
“Still on bed rest. Aunt Rose is taking care of her until I get back.”
“You should be with your wife. Go home to Laney,” she tried to demand. The words came out so slurred even she wasn’t sure what she’d been trying to say.
“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Grayson called, and someone shoved in next to him, kneeling beside Arden.
“Ma’am, I’m going to apply pressure to your shoulder. It may hurt a little.”
“Logically speaking—” she began, but a finger pressed against her lips, sealing in whatever she was going to say.
“How about we save your logical assumptions for a time when you aren’t attempting to bleed to death?” Kane as
ked grimly. She turned her head. He was right beside her, water dripping down his face, a blanket around his shoulders.
“You saved me,” she said.
“Not yet,” he responded. He looked...scared. Terrified, really, his gaze sharp, his expression hard.
“You did. Emory was trying to shoot me. I saw him on the bridge.”
“Emory is dead,” Grayson said bluntly. “And the Feds and local law enforcement agencies are going to want to know why. You’re both going to have a lot of questions to answer once we get back to the dock.”
“Once she’s stabilized, you mean,” Kane corrected. His fingers trembled as he brushed damp hair from Arden’s cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” she tried to reassure him.
“That’s my line,” he responded with a tender smile.
She wanted to return the smile. She wanted to tell him how thankful she was for what he’d done. She wanted to say a dozen things, but they were all lost as someone pressed against her shoulder.
Pain exploded through her chest, and she was gone again, floating in the black water of the harbor, reaching desperately for something to hold onto.
* * *
She was out cold.
No response at all as the EMT put pressure on her bloody shoulder. Kane had felt fear before, but never anything like this. Arden was still, lips blue from cold, her right arm hanging limply from the backboard. He lifted it, holding her hand and praying in a way he never had before, with a desperation he’d never felt before.
Please, God. Save her.
Her fingers twitched, and then she was squeezing his hand. Her eyes were open and she stared straight into his face.
“Don’t let me go,” she said. “If you do, I’ll float away with the Christmas lights.”
The words were the first clear, crisp ones she’d spoken.
“I won’t let you go,” he promised. The boat bumped against the pier as it docked.
Her eyes were already closed again, and he wasn’t sure she’d heard.
He’d keep his promise anyway. Just like he kept his promise to Evan.
He could still remember every detail of that night. A lone figure silhouetted on the windy bluff. Evan. A half-empty bottle of vodka next to him. A gun in his lap. Waves crashed loudly on the rocks below. Evan lifted his head. Saw Kane. Pointed the gun at his own chest. There’d barely been time for Kane to scream his cousin’s name.
Off the Grid Christmas Page 17