Storm Force

by Meredith Fletcher

  Trying to knock Ernie out with a rock would have been one choice, but she knew that she couldn’t guarantee unconsciousness. So she chose to incapacitate and scare instead, because she knew she could do those things.

  Pushing aside all doubt, Kate struck, putting her weight into the stick and pushing the sharpened point in deeply. She felt the shock of the stick coming to a stop, not sharp enough to penetrate more than a couple of inches.

  Ernie loosed a bloodcurdling scream and brought the shotgun around. Kate dove to the side, rolling and coming up at once, ducking behind a large bald cypress.

  Jolly came out of the shelter with the pistol in both hands, moving constantly as he tried to find a target. Ernie was jerking around, groaning every time the makeshift spear jerked in his flesh.

  “What is it?” Jolly demanded.

  “Don’t know,” Ernie replied, grabbing for the stick in his back. “Somebody stabbed me.” He finally caught hold of the stick and yanked it out. Blood streamed down his back, not enough to be threatening, but Kate knew the wound was painful.

  Jolly lifted his voice. “Shane! Is that you?”

  Kate stayed flat against the tree, breathing as quietly as she could. She had another stick in her hand. When Ernie turned his back to her again, she launched herself from the brush and stabbed him again, this time in the side as he turned toward the sound of her rushing at him.

  “Damn!”

  Still in motion, Kate ran through the woods. The shotgun boomed behind her. Pellets screamed through the trees overhead, missing Kate by inches, shredding leaves and splintering small branches.

  “Over here! She’s over here, Jolly!”

  Kate dropped to one knee in the brush and held her position. She took up another sharpened stick and breathed out again. As she’d hoped, Ernie and Jolly gave pursuit, cursing her and calling out to each other so that she could have found them in the dark with her eyes closed.

  “Did you see which way she went?” Jolly asked.

  “No, dammit! An’ she stabbed me with another one of those damn spears!”

  “Kate!” Jolly yelled.

  She tracked his voice, guessing that he was twenty yards away, moving almost tandem to Ernie.

  “You’re seriously beginning to irritate me, Kate,” Jolly threatened. “I was going to let you live. Just leave you here in the morning and go our own way. I’m not willing to do that any more. The only way you’re getting out of here now is as ’gator food.”

  Keep talking, Kate thought. That way I’ll know exactly where you are.

  Ernie and Jolly both tried to be quiet as they moved through the brush, but they had no woodcraft. They even stared directly ahead of them, trying to see in the dark instead of letting their peripheral vision do the work.

  Letting Ernie creep past her again, Kate moved quietly after him again, coming up once more before he knew she was there. “Ernie,” she whispered.

  Frightened, already expecting to feel the bite of another spear, Ernie spun around. The shotgun went off, hurling a load of double-ought buckshot over Kate’s head as she ducked and shoved her next spear into Ernie’s stomach.

  He looked down at the spear jutting out of his stomach in horror. “No!” he whimpered, and wet himself.

  Kate reached for the shotgun and tore the weapon out of the man’s grasp as he reached for the spear in his stomach. Like the others, the sharpened point had only gone in a couple inches, not enough to be life-threatening, but more than enough to be scary.

  Ernie’s knees buckled and he dropped to them, pulling the spear from his stomach and looking down at the damage. He whimpered and cried. Then his head evaporated into a mass of splintered bone and blood.

  The sound of the .357 Magnum came almost at once.

  Kate dived away as the corpse jerked to the side and sprawled to the ground. She moved through the forest, circling around behind Jolly as he stood his ground and peered into the darkness.

  “Ernie!” Jolly called. “Ernie! I think I got her!” He took a couple of hesitant steps forward, letting the .357 lead him.

  Kate came up out of the darkness behind him. She wanted to just squeeze the trigger and put an end to him. She’d never felt that way about a human being before. But after what she’d seen him do to Deke, and just now to Ernie, she wanted him dead.

  My Director wanted me to find out where Jolly and his crew left Desiree Martini’s body. I was supposed to get the location so she could be recovered and her parents could get some kind of closure on their grief.

  Shane’s words sounded again in her mind. Jolly was the only one left who knew where Desiree Martini lay buried. She tightened her grip on the shotgun and tried to tell herself that she didn’t care.

  But she did.

  Even if Shane was lying about being an FBI agent, he hadn’t been lying about the parents’ inability to find their daughter. That had been in the news a lot.

  She shifted the barrel slightly, then fired into the ground beside Jolly. The shotgun slammed against her shoulder with bruising force. As she expected, the man dove for cover at once. She moved forward quickly, putting a foot on his gun hand and aiming the shotgun at his eyes.

  “If you so much as twitch, I’m going to blow your head off,” Kate promised. “At this range, double-ought buckshot will get it done.”

  Jolly grimaced at her. “Sure, Kate.” He released the pistol and took his hand away. She didn’t let him up, making him crawl on his hands and knees back to the shelter so he couldn’t try to escape.

  By the time they got there, Jolly had some of his nerve back. He started threatening her. After she tied his hands behind his back with tent rope and secured his feet, she gagged him with a dry sock.

  “Kate.”

  She had the shotgun across her thighs, fully loaded once more, and it came up in her hands naturally. Peering across the barrel, she watched Shane stumble into the light. He had a rock in one hand and a stick in the other.

  “I came to help as fast as I could,” he said.

  Trust him or not trust him? she wondered. Then she realized how long that trip through the woods was in the shape he was in. She didn’t believe what he claimed about being an FBI agent, but she didn’t think that he’d try to hurt her either. At least, not while she had the shotgun and the .357 Magnum. And not while he was so weak.

  “It’s all right.” Kate stood and left Jolly lying facedown on the ground.

  Shane walked into the shelter and gazed around warily. “Where’s Ernie?”

  “Dead,” she answered.

  He frowned.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Kate said. “Jolly did. He thought he was shooting me.”

  “Okay.” Tiredly, Shane dropped to his haunches and sat by the fire. “I’m just going to sit here and try to get warm.”

  Later, Kate woke, surprised that she’d gone to sleep. She hadn’t intended to because it was too dangerous. She didn’t think Jolly could have gotten out of the handcuffs, but she didn’t know.

  She felt immediately better with the shotgun still resting across her lap. Jolly was still where she’d left him, asleep now.

  But Shane was convulsing in the sleeping bag that they’d salvaged from the last mobile home. When she touched his forehead, she discovered he was burning up with fever. That was one of the side effects of being envenomed. Probably by morning he would be better and most of the sickness would have passed. But for now he was in misery.

  He looked up at her as she knelt beside him. His eyes were glassy, feverish. “C-c-c-cold,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m j-j-just so c-c-cold, Kate.”

  He was scared, too. The fire pit had banked low and there wasn’t any more charcoal. With the reemergence of Hurricane Genevieve, the temperatures had dropped again. Now that she was awake, she realized how cold she was too.

  “Roll over on your side,” she told him. “Facing Jolly.” She didn’t want to let Jolly out of her sight.

  When Shane did as she asked, Kate lay on the ground behind
him. Molding her body against his to share their mutual warmth, she held him as he quaked. She left the big pistol between them. Despite the sickness, he felt big and strong, and she could only imagine what it might feel like to be held by him. Right now, after everything she had been through, having someone hold her would have been good.

  If he wasn’t a convict, she told herself. But lying next to him, smelling the musk of him that somehow overrode the dirt and sweat, mixed with a hint of soap left over from that morning, she inexplicably felt comforted. She was asleep in minutes.

  Someone was watching her.

  Kate woke immediately with that sensation. She looked through the opening of the shelter and tried to find Jolly, but the man wasn’t where she’d left him. Panic set in then and she reached for the pistol, only realizing then that she didn’t feel it. More than that, somehow during the middle of the night Shane had turned over and taken her into his arms. He slept now with his head pillowed on her breasts. At least he didn’t feel feverish any more.

  But Jolly was missing and so was the pistol.

  She rolled out of Shane’s arms and looked up to find her ex-husband sitting in the camp chair drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Hello, Kate,” he said with that smarmy smile she’d learned to hate.

  “Bryce,” she said automatically.

  “I remembered how I used to watch you while you slept and it would wake you. Like you were some kind of forest animal sensing a predator.”

  Looking back on things, Kate thought that comparison fit.

  “It makes me happy to see that some things don’t change.” Her ex-husband waved the porcelain cup toward the downpour that was sluicing down the hillside toward the water’s edge. “Particularly dreadful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  “You didn’t come here to talk about the weather.” Kate looked around the shelter and discovered there were three other people in the shelter. It had gotten crowded and she’d slept right through it.

  Two of the men looked like hired muscle outfitted in bush clothes. Jolly, now in handcuffs, stood between them. He didn’t look happy to be there.

  “How did you get here?” she asked.

  “By boat. It’s moored outside. A big, beautiful boat.” Bryce beamed. Everything he owned was big and beautiful. “And through luck. We’ve been searching for you for over thirty hours. Even with an assist from some satellite experts I do business with, I was about to give up. If the storm hadn’t cleared for those few hours, I’d never have found you at all in time.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Bryce frowned. Even here in the swamplands he looked immaculate and clean. He wore expensive clothes, khakis and a heavy black knit shooting sweater with a rifle pad on the right shoulder. He looked like he was on safari. Despite the inclement weather, his dark hair lay perfectly, his gray eyes were clear, and his teeth were immaculately white.

  “A couple of days ago, the Coast Guard rescued a young man named Tyler Jordan who insisted you and he had been taken prisoner by the escaped convicts.”

  The knowledge that Tyler had pulled through thrilled Kate.

  “The young man had quite a story to tell,” Bryce continued. “Of course, with the storm going on—especially this second bout of it—not many people were listening. Hugh Rollins was. He sent for me because he thought I would have better luck finding you, and would be able to recognize and reason with you when I did.”

  “He doesn’t know us very well, does he?” Kate asked acidly.

  “My being here is a direct result of your insufficiency and irresponsibility, Kate,” Bryce accused. “I sent Steven and Hannah down here for you to keep out of harm’s way. That didn’t exactly happen now, did it?” He nodded toward the storm, which chose that moment to unleash a concert show of lightning and a cannonade of thunder that shook the shelter.

  “Maybe if you had told me—”

  Bryce held up an authoritative hand, silencing her. Kate knew trying to keep talking would only have been a waste of time. Even if he’d heard her and understood her, he would have acted like he hadn’t.

  Rain slapped at the tarp overhead and wind tried to suck it away.

  “What I told you or didn’t tell you is beside the point,” Bryce said. “You have endangered my children by not staying with them as you should have.”

  “Where are they?” Kate stood and started toward him.

  One of the bodyguards stepped between them.

  “Please sit down,” Bryce said. “You’re alarming Mr. Fisk, and I promise you you won’t like it when you do.”

  Kate took a deep breath and relaxed.

  “As for Steven and Hannah, that’s a bit of a quandary. For the moment, they’re all right. Fortunately, Rollins got them out of your house before the storm surge flooded all of Everglades City’s lagoons and low-lying areas. Saved them from drowning at the very least.” Bryce shrugged. “The unfortunate part—and there’s always an unfortunate part when you’re dealing with someone of Rollins’s ilk—is that he’s going to kill them if I don’t deliver the Desiree Martini ransom money your friend Jolly hid those months ago.”

  The declaration hit Kate like a physical blow. Her children were in danger. Her mind seemed to lock.

  “He’s not my friend,” Kate whispered.

  “Perhaps Jolly isn’t your friend,” Bryce said, looking pointedly at Shane, who was now starting to wake up, “but you’ve made at least one new friend, haven’t you?”

  “He’s not an escaped prisoner,” Kate said. “He’s an undercover FBI agent.”

  “Enchanting,” Bryce said, letting her know he both didn’t believe her and didn’t care.

  “Who’s our company?” Shane asked groggily. He’d missed out on the conversation.

  “The ex-husband,” Bryce explained. “And a few business associates.”

  “Well,” Shane said, taking in the situation, “this is awkward.”

  Kate hated Shane more than ever in that moment. His presence was bad enough, but he had to antagonize her ex too?

  “Bryce has a problem,” Kate said.

  “We have a problem,” Bryce said.

  “He was short of prisoners so he decided to take yours?” Shane asked.

  “There’s a man holding my son and daughter prisoner,” Kate said, looking at Bryce. “A man named Hugh Rollins.”

  “A true criminal sociopath,” Bryce interjected.

  “Rollins says he’s going to kill Steven and Hannah unless Bryce brings him the Martini ransom money.”

  Shane took that in and didn’t say anything. Kate was grateful for that. She was also glad he seemed to be over most of the sickness from the snakebite.

  “How did this guy Rollins know you would be able to find the ransom money?” Shane asked.

  “The news stories revealed that Kate was with you. And she is my ex-wife. To Rollins, the math was simple,” Bryce said calmly. He switched his attention to Kate. “Rollins means what he says. He’ll kill the children, Kate.”

  And that, Kate knew, meant everything.

  “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

  “Your friend Jolly is going to tell us where the ransom is—” Bryce began.

  “The hell I am!” Jolly snarled.

  Hardly were the words out of Jolly’s mouth before Fisk hit him and knocked him off his feet. Fisk grabbed Jolly by the jacket and yanked him upright again. Crimson threaded down his chin from his split lips.

  “I can do this all day,” Fisk said, smiling. “And if I get tired, my friend can take over for me. Understand?”

  Reluctantly, blood dripping from his chin, Jolly nodded.

  “What do you want me to do?” Kate asked, feeling hollow and empty.

  “This man,” Bryce jerked a thumb at Jolly, “is going to give us directions. I want to know that we’re not being led on a wild goose chase. You know this area. I want you along to do what you do best: guide us to our destination.”

  Kate knew there was n
o choice to be made. Not with Steven and Hannah’s lives at stake. “All right,” she said.

  The storm worsened as they headed north toward Tamiami Highway. Kate knew they wouldn’t go that far. According to the news reports, the night of the Martini kidnapping Jolly and his crew—who were all dead now, she couldn’t help thinking—had been picked up on Chololoskee, the island community southeast of the Everglades National Park coastal area.

  At least, Kate amended, where the Everglades National Park used to be before Hurricane Genevieve came in to rearrange the geography.

  It only made sense that Jolly and the others had buried the ransom and the bodies of the two women—Desiree Martini and the maid, Luisa Becerra—somewhere nearby. The swamps held a lot of secrets, though. Even jetliners had been known to disappear there. A suitcase of money and the bodies of two women were no problem.

  She hadn’t mentioned Jolly’s use of the GPS unit to Bryce. Neither had Jolly or Shane. For the moment, that remained a secret the three of them shared.

  “Do you know where we’re headed?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  He waited expectantly.

  She didn’t say anything further.

  “That’s all you’re going to say?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Kate remembered how good it had felt to rest in his arms. It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in years. If only she trusted him.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your kids,” he said.

  They stood in the stern and the storm drummed into them. Bryce stood back in the pilothouse of the big boat. The boat was either one of his toys she’d never seen or one that he’d recently acquired. Maybe he’d even bought it for the business they were about now.

  “Me too,” she said.

  The sound of the boat’s engine filled the darkness around them while the powerful lights lit up the murky chop of the floodwaters.

  “So answer me one thing,” Shane said.