She had a grip on his good arm, pulling him along, as he kept his back to the jungle, between her and the shooter. Something hot and warm trailed down his arm, and his breath was coming too heavy. He was bleeding. He didn’t know how bad it was, and he couldn’t think about it. His head spun, he was light-headed—loss of blood, maybe shock. He couldn’t let it take him down.
“Josh.”
“Keep going,” he hissed, squeezing her hand, freeing his arm.
“You’re bleeding.”
She stumbled, and he grabbed her with his good arm. He tasted blood as he bit the inside of his lip, matching the pain in his arm with something more acute—a temporary block he’d learned a long time ago, one pain, no matter how small, temporarily masking another.
A man rose from the underbrush not forty feet to their right. Heavyset, he was dressed in what looked like fatigues, with dark hair and an even darker outline of a gun.
Erin screamed and then covered her mouth.
As the man raised his gun, Josh dropped Erin’s hand and raised his Glock. His hand wavered for a moment and one blast of gunfire followed another. The dark shadow on the edge of the jungle fell. And it was as if everything went still.
“I doubt he was alone,” he said and he couldn’t keep the pain from his voice.
“Lean on me,” she said.
He gripped her shoulder with his left hand and even that was painful. He shifted his gun and for a minute the pain put him off balance. He eased up as he realized that his fingers were biting into her flesh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she whispered. “Let’s just get you to that boat.”
He clenched his teeth. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. And again he leaned on her as pain tore through his arm and blood pooled in his palm before dropping to the sand.
“Thank goodness for the morning workouts.” She laughed, a strained sound in the shifting and rapidly lifting darkness.
He let go of her shoulder and stood straight. They couldn’t get to the boat and defend themselves like this. Blood streamed down his side.
“Give me your gun,” she said.
“What?” Now he was sweating, and again the world seemed to spin. His hand went to the Glock. “No way. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re in no shape to use it and if there’s someone else... If he’s not dead...”
A shot sounded to their right. She was flattened to the sand, he was on top of her, firing back. It was the only way to keep her safe, as uncomfortable as it might be for her, his body a shield for hers.
Silence. Seconds ticked by, a minute—the silence continued.
He rolled off her.
“You’re all right?” He would have helped her up, but his damn arm was now almost useless and the other was occupied with the gun.
He could see the raw fear in her eyes and that fear was mixed with disbelief and something else: determination.
She didn’t ask for the gun again. He suspected that was a moot point now. The only point that was relevant was to get to that boat. “We need to get out of here now!”
“You’re bleeding.” She seemed fixated on that. He supposed that was normal. Shock maybe.
“It’s not that bad, Erin. It just needs a bandage and an aspirin—maybe a stitch or two. We’ll have plenty of time once we’re on the water.”
A shot, this time to the left, and he could almost feel the heat of the bullet.
“Hell!” Josh muttered and they hit the sand again. He rolled with her, his arm around her, the gun pointing out, away from her.
Once.
Twice.
This time he was careful to keep his weight from her, but it wasn’t easy and he wasn’t one hundred percent successful. He knew from her stifled groan that he had crushed her into the sand. He rolled again, this time his injured arm took their combined weight and he grunted as pain shot through him. Then they were positioned flat-out on their bellies. A perfect position to take aim, and this time he needed to get their pursuer. He’d already determined that his thought of more than one was wrong. There was one and there wasn’t going to be another chance. Here the jungle met the beach in a triangle, bringing the cover the sniper was enjoying closer to them. Flattened to the sand, they had a chance.
One shot.
Two.
Three.
Again, the shots were coming from ahead and slightly to their left. Now they were against the lower brush that straggled on the outer edges of the jungle as foliage met sand and came close to the ocean.
Complete cover finally.
Josh lifted up, pressing on one elbow, covering Erin as he fired back. He estimated that the sniper was less than twenty feet away. An answering volley again from the left and just behind them as their Malay fisherman joined in. He counted off as silence settled on the beach.
He rose to his knees, pulling her up with him. Blood was streaming down his arm. The boat engine droned in the sudden quiet.
“Let’s go.” He pulled her to her feet.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered, her hair wild and tangled, falling across her face. Her hand shook in his. “You’re okay?”
“That’s my line. I’m fine. Let’s get moving.” He pushed her in front of him, putting himself again between her and the beach. The boat was so close now, not twelve feet off shore. He plunged into the water after her. It was warm on his ankles and he wanted to ram his aching arm into it.
Instead, he pushed her ahead of him while the boat bobbed in the water.
There was silence between them, and he tossed the plan to swim for it. The boat was closer than he thought.
“An armed fisherman?” she asked with a touch of humor in her voice as she reached for the ladder.
He smiled at the effort to find humor in a situation that was outside the reality of a schoolteacher’s norm. He supposed the past five months had all been out of her norm. “Malaysian Special Forces,” he explained.
“Fisherman on the side.” The Malay man smiled and reached a hand over the boat, helping Erin in. He then reached a hand to Josh.
“At least they didn’t get your shooting arm,” he said as Josh swung into the boat with a grunt.
Within seconds they were away from the beach and from the danger that had threatened their lives.
“Who were they?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I can only assume it was another bounty hunter, executioner, whatever you want to call it, sent by the Anarchists.”
“Thank God we didn’t have to swim underwater,” she said.
“That was the least of your worries.” His smile was tight as he held his bad arm.
The boat swung around and headed into the warming light of early morning. The ocean was shadowed and silent.
He grimaced as another pain shot through him and his arm throbbed. Blood seeped through his fingers.
“I need something to wrap this with. Your blouse is cotton.”
“I’ve got one better,” she replied. She opened her pouch and pulled out a roll of fabric bandage.
“Is there anything you don’t keep in there?” he asked and bit his lip as he pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt higher and pain shot through him.
“Fortunately I took some first aid,” she muttered. “It’s bad, but looks like the bullet went straight through.”
He clenched his teeth as she bound the wound, and the blood seeped slowly around the edges.
Erin finished and then held the back of her hand under her nose.
The smell of the fish, the roll of the waves—he imagined it was all getting to her.
“Feeling queasy?”
She nodded. “But I’m still voting no on anti-nausea medication.”
“Don’t feel shy about taking it later. This r
ide’s rough, like I said, and we’ve only just begun.”
“Where are we going?”
He admired the fact that it was the first time she’d asked that question. She had allowed him to take her from apparent safety into danger and with no idea where they might be going.
“We’re going to Thailand. It’s our only option, Erin.”
Ten minutes in and Josh’s arm was a dull throb. Everyone was quiet. Erin, he imagined, was immersed in her own thoughts. He had been going over the logistics of what had just happened and Bob, as he preferred to be called, was concentrating on guiding the boat in a sea that was far from placid. Even in daybreak the water was thick and dark, the waves battering against them. The throb of the engine and the slap of waves was the only sound and it was eerie.
“We’re going to make it, babe.”
“I know,” she said with a smile that quivered. “I never doubted you.”
* * *
THEY’D BEEN AT sea for over an hour. Erin wasn’t sure how much more she could endure without giving in and taking something to stop her stomach from heaving. She reached over and placed a hand on Josh’s good arm as if doing that would somehow settle her stomach and her nerves. His heat seemed to transfer back to her, to give her confidence. The only thing it didn’t do was stop the roiling in her stomach that was a combination of fear and motion sickness. His hand covered hers, and she took a temporary breath of relief. She could make out a fishing boat farther out to sea and watched as it disappeared into the horizon.
Relief swept through Erin, and she released her grip on Josh’s arm. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding on so tightly, but she was still imprisoned by his hand.
“You’re all right?”
“Fine,” she assured him. “How’s the arm?”
“Hurts like a bitch, but the bleeding slowed down.” He held out his arm where no more blood had seeped through the bandage since she’d first applied the wrap. He leaned over and squeezed her hand with his good one. “You’re going to be fine.”
“I know.” She smiled faintly back at him. And what she knew was that if they made it safely home, it was all thanks to Josh. She couldn’t think of it, of what lay behind and even what lay ahead. “You’re going to be fine, too.”
“Thanks to you,” he said.
“The least I could do,” she said and smiled. “Seeing as you wouldn’t hand over the gun.” She paused. “I can use it, you know.”
“I never doubted,” he replied. “But I appreciate your bandaging skills more.”
Bob turned the boat closer to land, and she could see that he was angling toward shore. The voyage was almost over. They weren’t safe but soon...
“Not much farther,” Josh confirmed.
Another wave of nausea ran through her. She swallowed and turned to him. “I’ll be happy once we get off this boat.” He squeezed her hand and said something, she presumed in Malay, to Bob. And she was reminded of how accomplished Josh was, that he wasn’t just bilingual but trilingual and possibly more, that there was much about Josh that she didn’t know, that she would never know. For no matter how she looked at it, they could never be a couple. Josh was a man without home or family, who was definitely much too risky to love.
Well over an hour after they left Langkawi behind they were on land, in another country.
Thailand.
In the distance she could see a longboat, and to the right the distant speck of the boat that had brought them here. Ahead there was nothing to differentiate this strip of beach from the one they had just left. It was deserted, sheltered by jungle that acted as a backdrop.
Around them was the salty scent of ocean. The morning sun gleamed across it as the beach seemed to stretch endlessly.
“Let’s get off this beach,” Josh said, taking her hand and moving forward and toward a break in the jungle that had been hidden by rock and foliage. It was a small rock outcropping where the greenery fell back and sand and rock replaced it. They made their way around the cliff where the jungle fell away and open land stretched in front of them.
“Your arm?”
“Can wait. We’ve got a rendezvous out of here.”
Overhead, there was a sound that was distant and vaguely familiar.
“Helicopter,” Josh said shortly. “I notified Vern. Wade’s been taken out of commission. They’re extracting us.”
“Extracting?”
“This way.” He had her hand in a grip that suggested there was no time for questions. “It’s taking us up to Trang. A city in Thailand,” he answered her silent question. “Where we’re taking a plane out.”
“You’re in no shape...”
“The Anarchists have pulled out the stops. There’s no choice. Thailand is no longer any safer than Malaysia. The only place where you’re safe is in custody in the States. We can control things better there. I’m in no shape to do it here.”
Wind kicked up overhead as the helicopter lost altitude over the beach.
Then it was landing, wind lifting the sand, spinning it, throwing grit into their eyes. Through squinted eyes she could see the pilot, a silhouette against the glass.
It was all too surreal. Erin’s throat was dry and she couldn’t have spoken if she had wanted to. She was moving on autopilot, trusting that Josh would get them out. And she supposed that he trusted the shadowy figure in the helicopter and the fact that he could get them somewhere safe.
Home.
Was home safe?
Was anywhere safe?
They were on board even as the questions swirled.
As they settled in their seats, the pilot reached into a canvas bag at his side and pulled out a manila envelope. “Here.”
Josh took the packet, and the pilot turned around, adjusting his headset.
Erin pulled the safety strap over her shoulder as the helicopter lifted, tilting as it gained altitude. She glanced at Josh, curious as to what he had, what this meant and yet feeling too overwhelmed to ask.
“New ID,” Josh said as he handed her passport.
“British,” she said with a frown. “Ann Worthington? I don’t...”
“Sound British? But you’ve acted.”
She knew that what he said wasn’t a question, that the research he’d obviously done would have more than likely shown that she’d taken an acting class in university; and while it wasn’t a passion or even a hobby, she had acted in more than a few plays.
She nodded. “Amateur.”
“And in real life you were good enough at acting to disappear, resurfacing as someone else.”
She nodded again.
“So now, say as little as possible. And worse case, you’ve been living abroad, the accent diluted as a result.”
She knew that she looked doubtful.
“It’s the last time. We’ll be on a secure flight home by later this morning. And the trial begins in early November,” he said over the noise of the engine. “The fake ID is only an extra precaution. I doubt if you’ll need it.”
Her smile was one of relief as they spoke briefly and easily of other things, their conversation bracketed and secure within the noise that separated them from the pilot.
“A month.” Her heart beat hard in her chest.
“And it’s over. There’s enough evidence with what Sarah saw.”
“I hate the thought of that.”
“I know.” His hand covered hers. “And once she’s testified...”
“I disappear,” she finished for him. “But I disappear with Sarah.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “But if you have to disappear again, you won’t be disappearing alone.”
“What are you suggesting?”
His lips claimed hers and he drew her against him. “You’re mine and nothing’s going to change th
at.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“Confidence has gotten me out of a jam or two.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Josh,” she said honestly. “What you call a jam.”
The ocean sprawled an azure blue to their left, and to their right, as the helicopter tilted into a turn, the morning sun reminding them of a new day as it glared through the window. A new day where there was another land and the hope of home.
His good hand settled over hers. “Maybe I’ve had enough danger for one lifetime.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wednesday, November 17
Guilty—the leader of the Anarchists was going down.
“You’re safe,” Josh whispered in her ear. “Sarah’s safe. It’s over.”
“Safe?” Was there such a thing?
“Yes, safe,” he repeated firmly. “And without Sarah testifying. That’s the beauty of it all.”
She looked around. It was hard to believe. The plain, cream-colored walls hadn’t changed. The box-like apartment had been her home for a month. Outside, snow was falling lightly. The weather was colder than normal for midfall in Whitefish, Montana. This was where she’d been detained, hidden while they were stateside. It was the first time she’d seen Josh since coming home and she’d missed him more than she wanted to admit, more than she’d thought possible.
“There are no others. The Anarchists have been taken out at the knees. There’s nothing you can do to them. And it turns out that one of their members turned state’s evidence. They never needed Sarah.”
“All of it was for nothing,” she murmured.
“Except that no one knew that it would come to that.”
His arm settled over her shoulders, drawing her up against him. “What Sarah saw now means nothing.”
“Thank goodness,” she murmured, leaning into him and all that he offered.
“No more worries.”
“An understatement,” she said and turned to him with a smile.
His hand covered hers. “No more running.”
Her smile broadened. Just that morning, in anticipation of this very news, she’d agreed to a full-time teaching job with kindergarten children. It was halfway across the country from her sister and her new nephew, but at least Tampa was in the country. Her days of running were behind her.
Suspect Witness Page 18