Wolf Island

by Cheryl Gorman

  Abby’s head snapped to the side. Hot, grasping pain ignited in her jaw and exploded inside her head, and little white stars danced in front of her eyes.

  Before she could take a breath, he snatched a handful of her hair in his fist and jerked her head back. The tape pulled tighter over her mouth. He drew his lips back from his teeth and snarled at her. “I like a little spirit in a woman,” he said between clenched teeth. “It’s more fun. But if you try that again, there won’t be anything left for Devlin to find.”

  Victor let go of her hair and fisted a hand in the neckline of her costume. Just as he started to pull, Abby jabbed him again, this time with her foot, as hard as she could in the groin. He slumped to his knees in anguish.

  Abby bolted up from the chair and raced through the kitchen door. She glanced at the stairs to her left but figured he would catch her before she reached the top deck. Besides, the rope tying her hands would make the stairs impossible to navigate quickly, never mind getting off the boat. The tape over her mouth prevented her from screaming for help, even if she did make it to the deck.

  So she ran in the other direction, down the dark corridor. She heard Victor cursing and scrambling around in the kitchen.

  “I’m going to slit your scrawny neck, bitch.” The sound of his furious voice echoed down the hallway.

  Abby whipped her head around and stared, wide-eyed, over her shoulder while bone-chilling fear swam through her blood. He staggered through the door of the kitchen and headed straight for the stairs. Abby glanced around frantically for a place to hide. There were several doors along the forward hallway, but only one of them stood open. She ran over to it and looked inside. A bathroom.

  She struggled against the ropes that bound her hands and tried to loosen them, but all she managed to do was dig the rope deeper into the bruised skin of her wrists. A razor lay on the sink. Maybe she could use the blade to saw through the ropes.

  Abby turned and felt around for it with her fingers. Her fingertips grazed the handle, and it spun. She peeked over her shoulder to check the position, then tried again. The razor slipped through her fingers and skidded across the floor.

  Clomp. Scrape. A board creaked. Abby heard Victor’s slow, steady footsteps as he walked down the hallway. Her pulse accelerated until she heard every beat throb in her ears and the breath saw from her lungs.

  “You can’t hide from me, whore.” His harsh, raw voice grated over her already frayed nerves. “You’ve got no place to go. If you come out now, I might go easy on you.”

  Slowly, with her heart trying to climb out of her chest, Abby shifted into the darkest corner of the bathroom, right beside the door. The footsteps moved closer, the sound echoing off the walls. She swallowed hard and tried to control her breathing. The steps moved even closer, then halted right outside the bathroom door. Abby cut her gaze to the left and peered through the crack in the door.

  Victor’s sweaty face grinned back at her.

  · * * * *

  As soon as Devlin reached the stage, he looked toward the face-painting booth. Abby was gone. Panic like he’d never experienced before welled up inside him. Where the hell was she?

  Frantic, he scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Abby’s harlequin cap, expecting to see the sway of her hips, the curve of her fanny in the form-fitting costume. Maybe she’d decided to join the crowd that spread out before him. But surely she would have had one of the cops escort her. He wished with every breath that he was looking into her blue eyes once more. But all he saw was a swirl of color, and all he heard a mixture of sounds.

  Oblivious now to the people awaiting his speech, Devlin leaped from the stage and sprinted toward the tree line, desperate for the sight of her. When he reached the face-painting booth, a surge of icy fear froze the blood in his veins. He stopped and stared at one of Jake’s men lying unconscious on the ground. Oh, Jesus, let him be alive. Quickly, Devlin knelt and laid two fingers on the side of the man’s neck. Relief rushed through him. The man’s pulse thumped against his fingertips. He was still alive. Thank God. But what about Abby?

  Devlin rose quickly and bumped into Otis. “Otis, have you seen Abby?”

  A worried frown creased Otis’s face. “No. I thought she was with you. What’s wrong? Why did you run off the stage?”

  Devlin laid a hand on Otis’s shoulder. “One of Jake’s men has been hurt -- I suspect by Victor -- and Abby’s missing. Have you seen Jake?”

  “Right behind you.”

  Devlin wheeled around. The sheriff stood behind him, dressed as Superman. “Abby’s gone.”

  A frown creased Jake’s brow. “Damn it. I thought something was wrong when one of my deputies didn’t check in.”

  Devlin tried to control the shudder of terror that sliced through him. He hoped to God Abby was okay. “Your deputy’s lying on the ground, unconscious, behind the face-painting booth.”

  Jake snatched the radio hanging from his Superman belt. He spoke rapidly into the radio’s mic, relaying the information about the downed man and ordering the other deputies and officers to begin a search for Abby.

  Devlin gripped Jake’s shoulders as fear for Abby’s life made him dizzy. “I’ve got to find her. I’m scared, Jake.”

  “Go check the road leading to the castle. We’ll find her. I promise.”

  Jake disappeared into the crowd.

  Devlin turned back to Otis. “Come with me.”

  Devlin and Otis raced toward the parking lot and his truck. Something colorful dangled from the truck’s antenna.

  Abby’s cap.

  A scalding breath of panic heaved from Devlin’s lungs. He snatched the cap from its perch, climbed into the truck, and switched on the overhead light. The words scrawled in black across the fabric jumped at him. Your bitch whore is on the boat. Come alone or I’ll cut her to pieces.

  A rush of fear buzzed through Devlin’s head.

  Otis stepped up to the open door and looked at the cap in Devlin’s hand. “You’ll be walking into a trap. You know Victor’s got something real bad planned.”

  Devlin crushed the cap in his hand.

  Sweet Jesus. Victor had Abby.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dammit, he should have stayed with her, and to hell with Jake’s crazy plan. He should have stuck like a burr to her side whether she wanted him there or not.

  He scooted across the seat and pulled a 9mm from the glove box, checked the clip, and shoved it into one of the pockets of his Musketeer coat. Into the other, he stuffed a flashlight.

  Devlin climbed from the truck and slammed the door. “Otis, go find the sheriff and tell him that Victor’s holding Abby on my boat.”

  “I’m coming with you. He’ll never know I’m there.”

  Devlin gripped Otis by the shoulders. The older man’s thin bones dug into his hand. Otis was his oldest and dearest friend. He had to save Abby without anyone else he cared about getting hurt. “If he sees you, he’ll kill her.” He had to make him understand. “You know it and I know it. I can’t take that chance.”

  Without another word, Devlin turned and ran toward the road leading to his private dock. A crack of thunder drowned out any further protests from Otis. Clouds shrouded the moon in a ragged veil of gray, but even in the dim light, Devlin saw his boat, the Sea Ray, sleek and white, bobbing in its slip.

  Lightning popped, penetrating the sky with glowing white fingers. In its wake, a roll of thunder barreled through the air, and the sound vibrated through Devlin’s body like a death knell.

  Oh, God, please let Abby be alive.

  As he approached the dock, all of his senses peaked like finely tuned radar. Sensation and sound magnified -- the slap of wind against his face, the distant cawing of a bird, the hard grip of fear squeezing his chest. Rain streaked down, needling his skin and soaking his hair, but he hardly noticed it.

  Abby.

  I have to save her. I have to. Then my existence will be justified.

  Devlin tucked his hand into the pocket
that held the gun. He gripped the pistol in his hand and curved his index finger next to the trigger.

  He’d never thought he would have to hunt down his own father.

  Darkness gaped from the windows in the boat, like unseeing eyes. Dev flicked his gaze up to the canopy-covered bridge. Too damn dark to see if anyone stood at the controls.

  Had Victor hurt or killed her? The thought of finding Abby with so much as one scratch on her body filled him with a current of anger that made him dizzy.

  Please, God, don’t let me be too late.

  Devlin stepped onto the dock, slick with water, and walked slowly toward the boat’s stern. He heard nothing but the steady hammer of rain and the shrill whistle of wind.

  Water swam over the Sea Ray’s surface, filling the scuppers and draining the rain overboard into the restless ocean. Gripping the metal railing, Devlin swung a leg over the gunwale and climbed onto the boat.

  “Welcome aboard.” The raspy male voice echoed strangely through the curtain of rain.

  Devlin pulled the flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. He swept the beam from bow to stern and back again. “Where’s Abby?” Fear chilled his blood as he waited for Victor’s answer.

  Bump. Scrape. A moan.

  “Right here.” Victor cackled, an eerie sound layered with madness.

  He stepped into the cockpit, which filled with a bright puddle of light cast by the flashlight’s beam. The light illuminated the slippers covering Abby’s feet. Devlin moved the light up her legs to her torso.

  Victor clutched Abby like a shield in front of him; his other hand held a knife just under her left breast. The silver blade glinted in the half-light. Rain sluiced over her terror-filled face.

  A jagged tear marred the front of her costume. Ice swam through Devlin’s blood. He clenched his jaw. Oh, sweet God, had he raped her?

  I’ll kill him.

  I’ll kill him now.

  He very nearly jerked the pistol from his pocket before good sense kicked in. If he fired, he might hit Abby.

  Focus. He had to focus, or Abby was dead.

  Her eyes held a mixture of fear and hope.

  I’m going to help you, Abby, if it’s the last thing I ever do. I promise.

  A bruise marred her face, and a trickle of blood oozed from the tape over her mouth. Fury spewed inside him. For that alone, Victor would pay dearly. “I’m going to kill you.” Devlin growled the words at Victor.

  “Not until you watch me have her in front of your eyes.”

  The truth burst inside him.

  No way in hell was he anything like this monster. Randall Morgan was his father. Plain and simple.

  His grandfather was the man who had raised him, had loved him, encouraged him, and shown him the difference between right and wrong. Why couldn’t he see that before?

  Thunder crashed overhead like hammers pounding on metal. He had to get Victor away from Abby. But how? “Let her go. Have it out with me. I’m the one you want,” Devlin shouted above the thunder and rain.

  “Soon.” Victor’s calculated sneer unnerved him. With Abby still gripped tightly in his arms, Victor shifted to the side and made a motion with his head. There was a set of molded access steps leading from the cockpit to the bridge and the boat’s controls.

  “Untie the boat, then go up to the bridge. I’ll be right behind you. If you try anything, I’ll skewer your little bitch’s heart.” His voice rang with insanity; his eyes were glazed with madness.

  Devlin swallowed and looked from Victor to Abby, weighing his options. Where the hell was Jake?

  “Move!” Victor yelled at them both.

  Devlin walked past them, his gaze fixed on Abby’s face, trying to silently tell her that everything would be okay.

  It had to be.

  When he reached the bridge, Victor shoved him forward. Hard. He slammed into the boat’s steering wheel.

  “Crank her up and head out to sea.”

  Devlin jerked his head around and looked toward the empty dock. If they went to sea, the authorities might not be able to find them in time. Devlin looked back at Victor holding the knife just inches from Abby’s heart. What choice did he have?

  In a moment, the engine roared smoothly to life under his feet. He shoved the control into reverse, backed the Sea Ray from the slip, and pointed the bow toward the open ocean. Swaths of rain lashed the canopy over the bridge. The bow lifted into the air before hitting the crest of waves with a hard slap. With each toss of the churning sea, Devlin’s teeth jarred together in his head. He turned and glared at Victor. “You’re a disgusting coward,” he said loudly.

  Victor’s lips curled in a snarl. “Shut up, or I’ll gut your whore right now.”

  Devlin moved a little to the left. “Only a coward would take a woman against her will. You said you wanted me. Let’s finish this, here and now.”

  Just a little closer to the left was all he needed. Dev kept his gaze pinned on the knife Victor held to Abby’s chest as he stepped slowly toward the outer bulkhead of the bridge. He cut his glance quickly down toward the floor and saw the fire extinguisher hanging in its support. He needed a distraction.

  Devlin snapped his hand out and yanked the steering wheel in a sharp turn to port -- opposite the direction in which Victor was pointing his knife. As Devlin had hoped, the sudden movement dislodged Victor’s arms from around Abby, and he slammed into the radar panel. Devlin made a dive for the extinguisher. He snatched the red cylinder from the wall, pulled out the safety pin, aimed, and fired. White chemical powder squirted from the nozzle and covered Victor’s face.

  A scream like a wounded animal’s emanated from Victor’s throat. With his arms held out in front of him, his fingers curled like thick claws, he stalked toward Devlin. Victor’s big hands grabbed the extinguisher and shoved it toward Devlin’s head. Devlin’s arm and back muscles strained with effort as he worked to hold him off.

  Suddenly, Abby rammed her body into Victor’s, but it barely fazed him. He shook her off like a minor irritation. Abby fell to the floor with a thud. Devlin looked at Abby sprawled on the floor with a red welt forming on her jaw. “Abby! Are you okay?” With her mouth still taped and her hands tied, all she could do was nod. Victor’s fist connected with his jaw. Jagged pain burned through his eyeballs and seared the back of his head.

  Devlin plowed his fist into Victor’s face. The blow only seemed to anger the madman more. Devlin watched as the hot current of insanity blazed in Victor’s eyes.

  Abby tried to stand as the boat swayed roughly beneath them. Devlin stumbled toward Victor and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

  Victor barreled into Dev, knocking him into the steering column. Pain radiated through his ribcage. Using the column for support, Dev lifted his legs and rammed his feet against Victor’s chest, dead center. Victor flew backward and toppled down the stairs.

  In two strides, Devlin rushed over to Abby and held her tightly to his chest for a moment. He yanked the tape from her mouth, and with the knife that Victor had dropped, he cut the ropes binding her wrists. “Get on the radio and call for help. Stay here.” He turned and headed for the stairs. Abby was safe for now, and he knew what he had to do. In the background he heard Abby cut the engine and call in a mayday to whoever was listening.

  He leaped down the short flight of stairs to find Victor. Devlin held the gun out in front of him with both hands. He jerked the barrel to the left and right, looking for his target.

  Behind him, a sound, a scuffle. Before he could whirl around, a rope slipped over his head and looped around his neck.

  Victor yanked on the rope. Devlin’s feet slid out from under him, and the gun jolted from his hands. He hit the wet, slippery deck, and the noose tightened sharply. He clawed at the rope, trying in vain to loosen it, but his fingers slid helplessly over the rain-soaked hemp.

  With every flash of lightning, Devlin saw Victor’s contorted face, his glazed eyes. Victor twisted the rope in his hands, tightening it slowly, caus
ing the rope to cut viciously into Devlin’s windpipe. Devlin struggled to fill his lungs with air, but the breath barely wheezed down his throat.

  Devlin groped frantically around him on the deck, trying to find anything he could use to stop Victor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gaffing pole. Stretching his arms and hands as far as he could, he fought to wrap his fingers around the pole. Oh, God, just a little more.

  The noose grew tighter and tighter. He blinked his eyes as the world slid in and out of focus. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. Abby would be at Victor’s mercy. With that thought blaring through his head, Devlin’s fingers slid around the pole. He gripped it with both hands and swung the gaffing pole upward. It slammed into Victor’s upper arm.

  Victor screamed in fury as his hands jerked from their hold on the rope. Devlin threw him off, pried the rope from his neck, and heaved in a deep breath. Just as he pulled the rope over his head, Victor came at him again. Devlin struggled to his feet and crunched his fist into Victor’s nose. Blood spurted from Victor’s face in a grotesque stream.

  The boat lurched sharply, and Devlin stumbled headfirst into the stern. As his skull bounced against the gunwale, one lucid thought reverberated through the blinding pain.

  Abby.

  He sank into darkness.

  · * * * *

  With her distress call answered, Abby ran down the stairs to find Devlin. Her feet skated over the waterlogged deck, and for a moment, she teetered on the tips of her toes.

  Another wave slammed into the boat, rocking the vessel to starboard. Abby slid over the deck toward the edge and the dark, boiling sea. Her stomach hit the gunwale. Her upper body swung down toward the water, her feet lifting into the air behind her. She clung to the railing for dear life, the momentum of the boat nearly pulling her arms from their sockets.

  The ocean heaved, tossing the boat back to port. Her fingers slipped from the rail, and she hit the deck on her bottom, skidding into the port side of the boat.