by Stella Kelly
Cole lay in the darkness rehashing their intimate conversation. Remembering how her guard was completely stripped away like that – clinging to his shoulder, holding on to him. And that kiss. Incredible. She needed him and it was so intimate. He felt the heat licking at his veins and knew in that moment that he wanted to be with this woman, to know her on every level. His respect for her had grown immeasurably and he’d be damned if their pleasantries would get in the way of that. He would have to make his feelings known, regardless of what anyone else thought. Sure, it may be deemed unprofessional, but Cole was convinced that you only had one shot at true love, and this felt like the real thing.
Chapter Eleven
Katrina lay awake in her bed two rooms over from Cole. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered if he had ever been in a long-term relationship. She realized how much she liked his no-nonsense approach to life and her mind naturally drifted to his physical appearance too. He had nice features; his strong jaw with the cleft chin, straight nose, and full kissable lips. He was extremely handsome. There was no denying how attracted she was, but it was so much more than that. It was a magnetism she couldn’t fight even if she’d tried.
Instant chemistry.
The very thought of him made her feel immense joy. If she hadn’t left his room when she did, she knew she would have seized her opportunity to feel his body pressed against her, the weight of him thrilling her to no end. At this thought, warmth spread to all parts of her body and she realized how much she wanted to really, really know Agent Nielsen. But she also realized it was much more than pure physical attraction. There was a kindness there, something she had been looking for in Cameron but never received. She finally felt she deserved to be happy.
Reaching to turn out the light, Katrina felt her eyes grow heavy. Her exhaustion from the day wrestled with excitable, giddy thoughts about Cole. Her eyes closed slowly, feeling heavy, but sprang open at the sound of a branch hitting the porch rail in the wind. The cassava tree outside her window swayed in the ocean breeze, casting eerie shadows across her moonlit wall. Katrina hunkered down in the cool sheets, feeling a ripple of fear trace up her spine. He was out there, she was positive. Cameron was here in Bermuda and she’d seen him with her very eyes. Her eyes grew wider and her heart raced at the thumping sound she heard on the balcony. That wasn’t a tree branch.
Looking at the clock, it had only been a few minutes since she’d turned out the light. Sitting up, she yawned, feeling groggy. She stumbled in the darkness toward the French doors and cautiously slid back the curtains to see if anything, anyone, was out there. Nothing.
Drawing the curtain back farther, Katrina noticed something perched on the edge of the balcony near the rail. A small white box. Unlatching the lock, she opened the door and walked out. Crouching down, she slowly removed the lid. As she did, Katrina’s breath caught and she went numb. A sharp, silver dagger lay atop a dead rose at the bottom. A note rested beside the morbid objects. Picking up the note, Katrina’s hands trembled uncontrollably. She recognized the writing immediately.
I brought you a gift.
It will slice through your skin effortlessly.
It’s been too long since I’ve heard you scream.
Coming home is the only way to save your life.
Dropping the note, Katrina’s tears clouded her vision. Shaking, she managed to stand upright just as she heard a slight shuffling behind her. Half turning, something large and dark caught her eye at the corner of the balcony. Cameron. He stood against the wall, a smile stretched across his face in the moonlight. Thinking fast, Katrina bent to grab the dagger from the box but Cameron was faster. She cried out, but his strong hand came across her mouth and muffled the last of the cry. Wrapping his arm around her, he immobilized her as he had so many times in the past. Stronger now from all the Pilates, Katrina was able to struggle much more than she ever had, but she was still no match to his overriding adrenaline. He was savoring the excitement of having finally found her, having captured his beloved property.
“You’re mine again, Kat. Don’t fight it or I’ll make you pay,” he hissed in her ear.
Cameron drew her closer to the rail and leaned her over. Katrina’s eyes grew wide in fright. She was certain he was going to throw her off the balcony. Looking down, she judged that the fall was much too short to kill her, but she may sustain a broken leg or worse, a broken neck if she landed the wrong way. Kicking out as he held her, her leg missed Cameron and connected with the open French door, banging it loudly. She did everything in her power to struggle, but it was no use. She tried biting him, but he clamped his hand down harder making it impossible. He hoisted her up, groaning in his efforts. She tried to be as heavy as she could, but this was a tall order being so light and petite. She was no match for his aggressive, enraged strength.
With some difficulty, Cameron scissored over the rail himself and they perched on the tiny outer ledge. Cameron looked down as if assessing his next move. He still had one arm tightly around her waist and the other on her mouth. And then…he jumped, pushing Katrina out in front of him. The fall felt endless, but before she new it they made contact with the bushes below. Katrina felt the branches dig into her skin, the scrapes deep and stinging. Both her and Cameron lay still for a moment, dumbstruck, and then Katrina scrambled to her feet. Shaken, she attempted to run but her ankle was in agony.
“Help!” she shouted with all her might.
Cameron tackled her from behind and they both fell to the grass, her cheek pressing into the soft green with his weight on her.
“Don’t fight this, Kat. You’re coming home with me, or I’ll end it all for good.”
His voice was hoarse in her ear, the spittle from his raging words spraying the side of her face. Katrina closed her eyes and cried, praying Cole or anyone had heard her call for help. Flipping her over, Cameron pinned her arms and legs down with his body. He planted a hard kiss on her mouth, taking her breath away with its crushing force.
“You’re mine,” Cameron barked with venom.
As the moonlight lit the contours of his face, Katrina didn’t even recognize him anymore. His features were contorted in a sinister grin and his eyes were wild and menacing. Seeing him point blank for what he really was, Katrina was certain she was going to die tonight.
<><><>
Between coherency and slumber, Cole was sure he’d heard a knock but drifted back to sleep. And then he heard it again, louder this time. Clearly he wasn’t meant to have any sleep tonight.
Groggy, he got up and pulled on his tee shirt, thinking it may be Katrina again. He opened the door expecting to see her lovely face, but instead he found a distraught looking Jacque wearing a heavy blue bathrobe.
“Je m’excuse, Agent Nielsen, but I think something is wrong with Katrina. I heard strange noises in her room and on her balcony and when I knocked on her door, she didn’t respond.”
Cole stared at Jacque, the last traces of slumber burning off at the mention of ‘something wrong with Katrina’. He raced past Jacque toward her door.
“Katrina,” he knocked. “Katrina, are you in there?”
Not waiting another moment, Cole entered her room and turned on the lights. Her bed was empty and the bathroom was dark. He frantically scanned the room for any signs of a struggle. The balcony door was open, but Cole assumed she had it this way to disengage the air-conditioning in her room because she preferred the natural breeze off the ocean. He noticed a box sitting on the floor of the balcony and approached it. Horrified, he picked up the dagger and rose before frantically reading the note. He peered over the rail and noticed the vines beneath peeling away from the wall. Cameron Kilroy must have scaled up to the first floor balcony. The bushes below were bent and broken.
“Damn!”
“What is it? Is Katrina okay?” Jacque asked from behind Cole’s shoulder.
“He’s got her. I have to find Agent Kensing.” Cole turned to face Jacque. “Round everyone up in a safe place and let them know we ha
ve a dangerous man on the premises. He isn’t after The Secretary after all. Katrina was always his target.”
“Should we call the police?”
“No, Agent Kensing and I are here to take care of it. We’ll involve the Bermuda police if it comes to that later. I know I can count on you, Jacque.”
“But of course!”
Cole turned and darted for his room. He pulled on his khaki pants and shoved his Glock handgun into his belt. Picking up his earphone, he called for Agent Kensing as he exited his room. The veteran agent wasn’t responding.
<><><>
Cameron yanked on Katrina’s arm. He’d removed his hand from her mouth because at this distance, there was little chance of her screams reaching anyone. Katrina had fought so hard that a general fatigue took hold in the void of her spent energy. Emotionally, she found herself right back where she’d been six months ago. Cameron had spun his powerful web and she’d fallen into it once more.
“You bitch. Did you actually think you’d get away from our life together?” Cameron seemed blinded by his fury as he pulled her down the switchback stairs toward the beach. Katrina stumbled and scraped her knee, forcing Cameron to stop and turn. She sucked in an audible breath as her knee throbbed and burned. “Get up, Katrina. We have to go.”
Go where? Katrina wondered. How on earth was he going to transfer her from Bermuda to the United States without the risk of drawing attention? But then again, maybe Cameron wasn’t going to take her home. Maybe he was going to drown her. Maybe she was walking right into her own death. At this thought, desperation crept in and Katrina tried a different approach.
“Cameron, listen, I think we should talk about us,” she pleaded.
He yanked her up from the stair and she winced as her knee straightened. He ignored her pleas and turned with purpose toward the beach. Again, Katrina was forced to follow him into the unknown. She tried to look back toward the mansion, and as she did she noticed several lights on that had once been black. Maybe someone had discovered her disappearance so she tried to stall.
“Cam, I’ve missed you. I was thinking of coming back on my own in a couple of weeks. I was going to call you to see if it was okay, but…”
“Save it. You left and had no intention of coming back, ever. You can’t make a fool of me and get away with it. People have been talking. I had to tell them you got sick and went away on a retreat to get better. No one believes me. They look at me with disgust and suspicion. All because of you!”
Katrina raised her hand across her face in defense as Cameron came toward her in a mock punch. It was a block she knew by heart. He hadn’t usually punched her in the face – that would have shown bruises, evidence. He was prone to striking her in the legs, back, and stomach so she could cover up in her straight-laced business suites. No one had ever been the wiser. But now, Cameron’s actions showed his reckless abandon. He’d passed the point of rationality.
Reluctantly peering through her fingers, she saw Cameron lower his fist and glower at her. The moon cast its pale light across the top of his head as the waves lapped against the shoreline. Katrina lowered her arm and stared right back with a vulnerable intensity. The farther they moved away from the house, the lower her hopes of ever being helped. There was something about the moment, an eerie stillness that disturbed her to the point of acceptance. She was terrified because she’d experienced this pseudo-tranquility before. It was the calm before Cameron’s storm.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you,” she said calmly.
It wasn’t a question as much as a knowing statement. Cameron’s strike was swift. She hardly knew what hit her.
<><><>
Exiting by the side door of the mansion, the noise of tree frogs engulfed Cole as he ran toward the back lawn in the pitch darkness. He knew by instinct that perpetrators tend to grab and run for shelter. It would be Cameron’s goal to get Katrina somewhere secure, away from prying eyes until he knew the coast was clear. Cole would have to start his search from underneath Katrina’s balcony and work his way out from there following any leads. Time was of the essence.
As his eyes adjusted to the night, the stars over the ocean and the three-quarter moon seemed to pop and shed light on his surroundings. Cole pressed on, finding Katrina’s balcony. The long threads of shadows danced on the ground around him as the breeze blew deceiving him into thinking the movements were human. He cocked his head, trying to listen for any indication of a struggle, of footsteps, but the wind made hearing anything impossible.
He searched the immediate area for Agent Kensing’s silhouette but saw nothing. He tried contacting him again on the earphone but received no response. If Agent Kensing couldn’t hear him, then Cole couldn’t be heard in return. He was now incommunicado. Isolation was an agent’s worse nightmare when facing an uncertain situation. Cole assumed Agent Kensing had already gone inside and, if so, Jacque would hopefully inform him of the emergency. Or worse, Agent Kensing had been compromised by Cameron Kilroy. He had no time to waste looking for the veteran agent now. And if by chance Agent Kensing had been ambushed, then he would have to take care of that later too.
Looking ahead, Cole noticed a patch of material in the bush. Running toward it, he realized it was from the pink pajamas Katrina had worn earlier when she’d come to his room. He’d seen the pink garment peeking through the top of her white robe. Turning, Cole frantically scanned the landscape.
‘Where are you, Katrina?’
The beach, he would take her to the beach and away from the house. Cole picked up speed as he raced across the lawn toward the cliffs. Edging the drop, he scanned the beach below for any movement. He stopped, spotting something but still uncertain what it was. Had his hunch paid off? Cole skirted the cliff, his eyes desperately searching the distant sand. As he drew closer to the top of the switchback staircase, he finally registered what it was. A large lone figure hunched over, his back to the cliffs. The figure was standing near the water in silhouette. Squinting, the moon was Cole’s only light source and it was difficult to see anything clearly. And then he saw her. Katrina’s limp body.
Without warning, Cole found his rage mount to the point of recklessness. His urge to kill the man who now held Katrina was borderline blind fury. Testosterone and adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream. He descended the switchback stairs two at a time, reaching the sand in no time. Spotting the darkened figure, a chill ran through Cole as he realized what the man was doing – dragging Katrina’s body toward the water.
“No!” Cole shouted, but the wind silenced his words as quickly as they left his mouth. He ran flat out. He was almost there. As he reached down to grab his gun, to his horror he discovered it had fallen out of his belt in his desperation to get to Katrina as quickly as possible. Stopping, he looked back and saw it in the sand at a distance. Without hesitating, he sprinted again in Cameron’s direction just as Katrina’s body was dragged into the crashing waves. Leaping at him from behind, Cole tackled Cameron with great force and both men fell into the water. As they reemerged, Cole made contact with Cameron’s left cheek sending him hurtling back once more. Turning in desperation, Cole dove under the waves to retrieve Katrina, uncertain if she were dead or alive. Kicking with wide strokes, he was under for a few seconds before finding her under the surface. Holding her limp body in his arms, he waded through the rough waters toward the beach, the massive strength of each wave pulling him back in his efforts.
“Katrina!” he cried over the crash of the waves. “Katrina!” But she was non-responsive.
Laying her gently down on the sand, Cole felt for a pulse and was relieved when the weak thrum under his fingertips signified life.
<><><>
Cameron gasped for air after churning around in the undercurrent. With a ringing in his ears, he was disoriented for a moment and then got his bearings again. The rage he felt replaced any possibility of concussion. Looking toward the beach, he could just make out a muscular figure crouching over Katrina’s body – his Katr
ina. Cameron would have to eliminate anyone who could identify him, and he had to finish off Katrina so she couldn’t point a finger at him either. Wading out of the water, he charged at the stranger, knocking him into the sand. They rolled around, struggling with sand flying in all directions. Cameron finally made contact and punched the man’s face.
<><><>
The blow caught Cole off guard, but being a few inches taller, much stronger, and far better trained for such combat, Cole took the punch easily before reciprocating with a swift punch to Cameron’s spleen, doubling him over. While hunched, Cameron reached down and pulled another silver dagger from a strap around his calf. He’d come prepared for bloodshed. As he swung violently, Cole ducked a couple of his swipes, all the while backing up toward his gun.
“So you want her, do you? Well you can’t have her. She belongs to me!” Cameron came at him again. Cole madly eyed the surrounding sand for his gun as Cameron made contact with Cole’s right bicep, slicing a gash in it.
Cole grabbed his arm and winced, the pain severe and slowing him down a bit. As if seizing his chance, Cameron turned and ran toward Katrina with the dagger raised high. “If I can’t have her, no one will.”
Frantically, Cole dove for his gun in the sand and turned fluidly to aim at Cameron. Firing, the shot was dead-on and in the nick of time. Cameron had just reached Katrina’s body. No amount of wind could disguise the sound the deafening shot produced. The bang traveled from the beach up to the mansion, alerting the others to the dangers taking place there.
Getting up and racing toward Katrina, Cole glanced at Cameron’s body sprawled in the sand – his eyes were open and blood poured from his head wound. There was no mistaking his condition, even in the dim moonlight. He would never abuse her again.
Cole knelt in the sand at Katrina’s side, lifting her head carefully. Looking into her face, he saw a bruise already starting to bloom on her swollen cheek.