Noah forced his brain to think. Forced his body to move.
Inch by inch, he dragged himself into the cabin.
“Shut the fucking door,” the pilot yelled.
Noah hauled himself onto his hands and knees, crawled into the cabin, and, clutching the rail, used the last of his strength to drag the door up. The wind slammed into him . . . blinding his eyes, screeching in his ears, clawing him from the plane.
“Pull it in!” The pilot screamed.
“I am!”
“Fucking faster! Or we’re both dead!”
The plane shuddered, rattling every bone in his body. Releasing an almighty growl, Noah fought the door upright and latched it closed.
He crumbled to a heap on the floor, and the plane surged higher. It was an eternity before Noah rolled to a standing position and flopped into his seat. When the pilot turned to him and smirked, Noah didn’t know whether to thank him or kill him.
Chapter Twenty-five
Charlene couldn’t believe what she’d witnessed. In the space of about five minutes, eight Cubans and three Americans were dead. One of whom looked like an innocent woman. And then there was Noah Montgomery. If she hadn’t seen him shoot that woman without any hesitation, she would never have believed it. The Noah Montgomery she’d seen on television was poised, distinguished, and respected.
The Noah Montgomery she just saw was a cold-blooded murderer.
When Diego told her that Noah had strangled her mother, she couldn’t imagine the New York lawyer doing that. After all, he fought for the innocent.
She now knew it had to be true. It was impossible to believe that monster was her father. Charlene had never wanted someone dead before, but when Noah had begun running for the plane, she’d screamed at Marshall to shoot the bastard.
Marshall had tried, and he’d cursed at the ancient weapon throughout the attempt.
But, once again, Noah had gotten away with murder.
It wasn’t until the plane was airborne that Marshall stood up. He offered his hand to help her up too. She groaned at the pain searing through her body. It seemed that every bone and muscle was screaming for attention.
Marshall clutched her hand in his. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”
Charlene winced at every footfall, and her bare feet were no match for the scrappy weeds and sharp rocks. The clearing was only slightly better, and she tried to ignore the stabs to her insteps as they made their way toward the massacre.
The scene was unbelievable. Brutal and shocking. She wanted to look away, but at the same time, she couldn’t. Five ghoulish bodies lay in the beams of the jeep’s headlights. All deathly still. The metallic stench of blood and death invaded her nostrils, and silence, as haunting as a graveyard, hung in the air. Charlene made a direct line for the gory mess that was Diego. She had thought witnessing Peter’s bloody death would be the worst thing she’d ever see. But the wound on Diego’s face was much worse. Still, she had to confirm he was dead. What he’d done to her mother was inhuman, and it only seemed fitting that he should die an agonizing death. Blood and gaping holes covered his corpse. His eyes were open, staring into the headlights.
He was dead.
She snapped her head away, fighting a wave of nausea that was stinging her stomach.
A muffled groan broke the silence, and she turned to the sound. It was a couple of creepy seconds before she realized who’d made it. It was one of the American men.
“Marshall, he’s still alive.”
Marshall strode to the muscle-bound brute and nudged him with his foot. “Hey, man, what’s your name?”
The man gurgled a response.
Marshall shook his head. “He’s not going to make it.”
“Good. After what they did to that woman, they don’t deserve any mercy.” It was impossible to comprehend why the woman had been on the plane. They might never know. But it was obvious she’d been as shocked about the killings as Charlene had been.
Marshall turned to her, and the look on his face was a curious mix of horror and justice. “Come on.” Marshall turned from the dying man and strode toward her to clutch her hand again. “Let’s go.”
He marched to the jeep she’d traveled in, reached into the back, and removed a gasoline can. When it emitted a sloshing sound, Charlene wondered how he’d known the can was even there. “Hey, is this yours?” He held up her bag.
“Huh, I didn’t think I’d see that again.” Resisting a look inside, she wrapped it across her chest. The chance of her money still being in there was minuscule, but the fact that Diego had kept it meant there must be something inside.
Marshall clutched her hand and led her toward the bush.
“We’re not taking a jeep?”
“No. Got something better.”
The playful lilt in his voice had her doubting his statement. A dozen questions raced through her brain at once, but she couldn’t voice even one of them. It was like she was swimming through that murky well again. That already seemed like weeks ago.
“Stay here.” Marshall stopped at the edge of the clearing, let go of her hand, and took a step away. Then he turned back. It was too dark to see him properly, but she felt his presence, felt the warmth of his body. His hand touched her cheek, and she leaned into his palm. “Are you okay?”
His concern and careful embrace had all the knots in her mind unraveling. She barely knew this wonderful, brave man, yet she felt like she’d known him forever. “Yes and no,” she finally said.
“I know what you mean. We’re nearly out of this, so I need you to stay strong for a little longer.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll be back in a sec.” He released his hand and trotted away with the gasoline can.
In the last twenty or so hours, Charlene had thought she was going to die several times. But when Marshall had appeared out of nowhere and her breath had caught at the intensity in his eyes, she knew he’d save her. It was six men against one. The odds were against him, yet she never doubted it. Never doubted him. It was strange to be so certain about a man she barely knew.
When she’d started her stupid quest for answers, she’d never stopped to consider the dangers. But the fact that she’d also put Marshall in that danger horrified her.
He could have died trying to save her.
No matter how many words she said, they’d never be enough to thank him for that. But as soon as they had a quiet moment together, she’d try.
She traced his footfalls through the bushes and then frowned as he grunted and cursed for a few minutes before a motor roared to life and a dim light pierced the vegetation. The light was like an alien beam as it wove a path toward her.
When she finally saw what it was, she burst out laughing. “Really?”
He shrugged and climbed off. “Your trusty steed.”
“You want me to get into there?” She pointed at the metal capsule that was about the size of a baby crib.
“Well, unless you can drive this thing, then yes. Come on.” He nudged her toward the sidecar.
Charlene placed her hand on the side for support, and her aching legs seemed foreign as she lifted them up and folded them into the car.
The instant she sat her bottom on the bare metal, she knew this was going to be hell. Her legs were too long to lie flat, and she couldn’t cross them either as the space wasn’t wide enough, so she bent them up beneath the metal cocoon at an awkward angle. She was still wriggling around when Marshall climbed back onto the bike.
“Ready?”
“I feel like a sardine.”
“You don’t look like one.”
“I smell like one.”
Marshall chuckled. The engine roared to life again, and with a jolt, he kicked the machine into gear. She glanced one last time at the bloody scene in the headlights as they pulled away. Eleven people had been killed right before her eyes, and she felt sorry for only one of them. Did that make her a monster too?
It was just another unanswered
question flooding her brain.
The sidecar bounced over the uneven ground, and Charlene felt every single bump. In an attempt to take her mind off the new barrage, she watched Marshall’s battle with the steering. His arms bulged and flexed with each movement. His jaw was clenched, symbolizing his fight to keep the clunky bike on the road. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could easily picture his emerald-green pools, flecked with copper.
When he looked at her, he truly looked at her. Other than Peter, no man had done that.
When the plane had landed, Charlene had thought she’d never see Marshall again. Now, though, as he whisked her away, she never wanted to leave his side. He’d touched something in her soul that hadn’t experienced so much as a flicker before. Yet it was impossible to believe he felt the same way. Marshall was a navy man driven to complete his mission. Saving her was his duty. Nothing more.
It both surprised her and saddened her that she wanted more. On one hand, she told herself that it was her desperate loneliness that was driving her attraction to him. But on the other, she knew it was much more than that.
It didn’t bother her one bit that Marshall had killed people. She would have killed them herself if she’d had the opportunity. It was a case of kill or be killed. Every one of those men deserved to die. She was just lucky she had Marshall on her side.
Or she’d be one of those bodies left to rot in the middle of nowhere.
She had no doubt about that.
It was an eternity before the engine slowed, lurching her from the abyss her brain had slipped into. After a series of serpentine bends, the scenery changed from fields of nothing to streets lined with a mixture of housing. Most were still shrouded in the blackness of night.
Marshall angled the motorbike off the road onto a dirt track, and when she saw Aleyna’s house, Charlene just about cried with relief. The bike shuddered to a stop, and it took all her effort to peel her fingers off the rim of the sidecar.
Despite the engine being shut off, her body continued to quiver. Groaning at the agony in her limbs, she tried to lift herself out, but her legs refused to move.
Marshall raced around to her side. “Okay, here we go.” His voice was a wonderful melody after hours of the roaring engine. He helped her from the sidecar, and just when she thought her legs would buckle beneath her, he hooked his arm around her waist for support.
Aleyna and her siblings appeared from nowhere, and although she was aware of them, Charlene felt like she was in a fog. Between them and Marshall, they spoke a thousand miles an hour in Spanish, and she was helpless to comprehend. Marshall barked orders at them, and they raced back and forth from the house carrying out his urgent instructions.
Within a couple of minutes of arriving, they were on the move again. This time it was back into the bushes and down to the creek where Marshall’s runabout was secured.
Charlene’s trembling legs only just managed to deliver her safely into the boat, and she sat on the middle seat with her suitcase beside her. Marshall accepted a couple of other bags from Aleyna and put them at Charlene’s feet. Next second, he pulled the rip cord and they roared away.
She tried to stay awake, but the lull of the rocking boat had her dozing in and out of consciousness. At one point, she glanced at the horizon and noticed the sun kissing the ocean. It was only now that she realized she’d been awake for over twenty-four hours.
“Okay, Charlene, wake up.” Marshall gently rubbed her shoulder.
Groaning, she opened her eyes and was surprised to see them pulled up alongside Marshall’s boat. “Okay.” She croaked her response, and shoving sleep from her brain, she worked with Marshall to climb aboard and secure the runabout to the back.
He helped her downstairs, and deciding a shower could wait, she poured herself into the bed.
She vaguely heard the rumble of the engines before sleep overwhelmed her.
****
Charlene snapped her eyes open, and it was a couple of thumping heartbeats before she realized where she was. The sound of the engines had her assuming that Miss B Hayve was still motoring toward America.
She dragged herself upright and fought a wave of dizziness by clutching onto the wall. Her entire body ached, yet it was her hunger pains that were commanding attention now. Sunlight streamed in the windows, and she squinted against the glare as she crawled toward the kitchen. At the galley, she pressed the intercom button. “Would the captain like a toasted sandwich?”
“Hey, there.” He chuckled. “I thought you’d sleep for a week.” The boat lurched to a slower speed, and then the ensuing silence indicated he’d turned the engines off altogether. Charlene helped herself to a bottle of water from the fridge, and before she’d even opened it, Marshall had slid down the stairs.
“I can’t believe you’re up.” Marshall had obviously cleaned up while she’d been sleeping. His beard was nicely trimmed, and his manly scent was enchanting.
“My rumbling stomach woke me.”
He placed his hand on her arm, and his warm, tender touch had little butterflies dancing across her stomach. “Here, let me make you something while you have a shower.”
She looked up into his stunning eyes. “I smell that bad, huh?”
“It’ll make you feel better.”
“Just being with you makes me feel better.” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them, and a blaze of embarrassment raced up her neck. She stepped back and cleared her throat. “I’ll, ahh, I’ll go freshen up.”
The copper flecks in his eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “Take your time. There’s a towel in the cupboard.”
Charlene took her toiletries bag from her suitcase, stepped into the tiny bathroom, and cringed at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked like she’d wrestled with a wildcat. A hideous bruise surrounded her left eye, and a dribble of dried blood trailed from a jagged cut on her cheek. Reaching up, she winced as she touched the wound. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten it.
Dragging her eyes away from the mirror, she turned the taps to full, stripped off, and stepped into the shower. The hot needles stung her scalp, and in contrast to the wound on her cheek, she could vividly recall Diego yanking her hair out. Just washing her hair hurt, and the rest of her body was just as painful. Bruises were dotted all over her body.
By the time she stepped from the shower, she felt remotely human again. She dried herself with the towel and then wrapped it around her body. When she went to pick up her clothes, she spied the rolled-up strip of fabric that she’d hidden in her bra. Charlene wrapped her hand around the ragged scroll, clutched it to her chest, and said a silent prayer that this tiny inscription would finally give her answers to the questions that’d plagued her since Peter’s death.
She stepped from the shower, and Marshall’s eyes raced up her body. Her heart danced a jig at the pleasure in his eyes. Never before had a man looked at her with such desire. It took all her resolve not to step up to him and wrap her arms around his body.
He cleared his throat. “Feel better?”
She nodded. “Somewhat. I’ll just get changed.”
“Sure.” He rubbed his hand over his beard stubble and gave her one last glance before he turned back to the kitchen.
Hiding behind the open cupboard door, she tugged on a button-up shirt and a pair of shorts, and placed her filthy clothes inside her case with the rolled-up note. With the towel wrapped around her hair, she stepped back into the kitchen. “Smells good.”
He turned to her, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Bacon always smells good. But before we eat, let’s treat that cut on your cheek.” He placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the bed, and his delicate touch shot unprecedented pulses through her.
“Sit.” His deep voice oozed authority.
She sat on the end of the bed, and he placed a tube of lotion and a few other first-aid items at her side. Then he knelt down in front of her, meeting her eye to eye. When he pla
ced his hand on her knee and she inhaled his glorious scent, her whole body seemed to shimmer.
She watched his eyes as he cupped her uninjured cheek and angled her face to examine the wound. His full, kissable lips were fascinating, and as if he knew she was watching, he ran his tongue over them.
She cleared her throat. “How bad is it?”
“It’s only a flesh wound. No stitches required.”
“That’s good.”
“You’re lucky. You took one hell of a beating out there.” He reached for the tube of cream. “Where’d you learn to fight like that anyway?”
“Self-defense classes.”
“Right.” His eyes flared. “Mental note not to wrestle with Charlene.”
She chuckled. “It’s the first time I’ve ever fought anyone outside of the classroom.”
Using a tissue, he dabbed the cream onto her face, and she flinched despite his delicate touch. The look of concern on his face was really sweet, and she had an overwhelming desire to lean forward and kiss him. But she fought the craziness. They barely knew each other, and in light of what he’d just gone through to save her, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
“You were amazing.” His words caught her off guard.
“Really?” She thought he’d be furious.
“I couldn’t believe it when you took those guys on at the Hershey factory.” His tone was a soothing melody. “You still had your hands tied behind your back.”
“You were there? How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy, that’s for damn sure. What the hell were you thinking going off on your own?”
She clenched and unclenched her jaw. “I am on my own. I told you that.”
His eyes softened, and when he tilted his head and captured her gaze, her heart fluttered. It wasn’t pity in Marshall’s eyes; it was understanding. He leaned forward a fraction, and his tongue glossed his lips. When his gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth, anticipation sizzled between them like a bolt of electricity. Reaching up, she removed the wet towel from her head, allowing her hair to tumble down her shoulders, and when his eyes blazed, Charlene couldn’t hold back a moment more. Hoping she was reading his signals right, she did the craziest thing. She closed her eyes, leaned toward him, and silently begged him to kiss her.
Zero Escape Page 23