by S. M. West
Spittle flies at my face and I flinch, biting into the soggy rag and wrestling for air, unable to take in enough to fill my lungs and steady my heartbeat.
His other hand slides under my arm and he finally releases my throat. Arms around me in a bear hug, my arms stuck to my sides, he lugs me across the floor like a rag doll, leaving Kit unconscious on the ground.
Tears are coming too fast, hair sticks to my face, and I can’t tell if he’s breathing. What if he has a collapsed lung? Or a concussion. He could choke to death.
I grunt and growl, trying to get Elliot to stop, to not leave Kit like this. I scream and beg for mercy, all stifled by the gag, for Elliot to let me make sure Kit’s alive.
He doesn’t care. After getting me on my feet, he yanks me upstairs, dragging me through the cockpit and out into the maelstrom of ice, wind, and snow. A blast of icy flakes cut at my exposed skin, nipping at the thin material covering my body, rapidly dampening my clothes. Frosty air rushes at me, chills racing down my arms.
God, I’ll get hypothermia if I’m out in this too long. I can’t see more than a foot in front of me, and even if Elliot were to release his hold, I’m useless. Hands bound, mouth gagged, and no coat, I’ll be lucky to stay alive.
He pulls me along the deck and a man in a dark hooded jacket lunges from the blustering storm. He tackles Elliot and I’m knocked onto the deck. My teeth grind together, causing me to cringe as I’m pulled up by someone behind me.
Oh shit. There are two men? Victor?
He could kill us both right now, no question. I strain, muffled pleas trying to escape from my mouth.
Elliot’s on his back, wailing and kicking at the man in the dark jacket, who’s now straddling and punching him unconscious. The man on top of Elliot’s prone, motionless body looks at me and I expel a muted cry of joy. Logan.
The person at my back turns me to face them and I’m stunned. Willow.
“Oh my God, are you all right?” She pulls the stiff, damp cloth from my mouth and down past my chin.
“Kit’s…” The corners of my mouth are cracked and my throat’s dry.
“You have no coat, we need to get you inside.” Her arms wrap around me but I’m still freezing.
“Willow, Kit…he’s downstairs, badly beaten.” I quake and my teeth chatter. “I need to go see if he’s okay. Can you untie me?”
I push away from her, holding up my bound hands, fingers unmoving, and she works to free me. At my back, Logan leans into me and his warmth is a welcomed relief.
“Are you okay? You can’t stay out here.” He squints past us, from left to right. “Where’s Kit?”
“He’s—” I croak, moving my legs in place to keep my core body temperature up.
“Where is he?” At his feet, Elliot’s passed out, and Logan takes over from Willow, untying me quickly.
“He’s below deck. Elliot knocked him out. I have to check on him.” Uncurling my fingers is torture. My bones ache and joints crack, frigid and numb.
Logan squats to secure Elliot’s hands with the rope used to bind me. “Is anyone else down there?”
“No.”
“Go. Get inside. You’ll freeze to death. Willow, go with her.”
My body is sluggish and mind foggy from the cold but the warmth of hope glows within me, forcing me to put one foot in front of the other. Once inside and at Kit’s side, everything will be all right.
From the bitter, wintry gloom Victor Walsh steps into my path, gun aimed at me, and two muscled men are at his back, each with their own gun.
“Caro, stay where you are,” Victor says.
Blood thunders in my ears and sharp fingers of icy terror stab my heart. Kit needs me. I can’t get to him.
Logan wraps his hand firmly around my arm, pulling me behind him, now blocking Willow and me from Victor and his men. I’m trembling uncontrollably and I can’t tell if it’s only from the cold or the raw, frigid fear coursing through my body.
“Who the fuck are you?” Logan snarls, and while he saw Victor at the investor party, it’s hard to make out anything or anyone in this weather.
Victor laughs, motioning with his gun for his men to grab Logan and Willow. We couldn’t run for it even if we tried, and one of the men grabs Logan’s gun and tosses it onto the snowy deck.
We’re all captured. The men have Logan and Willow and that leaves Victor and me. All I can think about is Kit.
If he stumbles outside, into this mess, he could get himself killed. But that’s if he’s even conscious. He took a brutal beating.
What if…no, I can’t think about what ifs—I’ve got to get to him. But first I need to get past Victor.
I swallow thickly, a dry iciness coating my throat. I’m not afraid to die; right now with the way I feel, dying might be a mercy. But what I can’t fathom, won’t accept, is losing Kit.
He’s finally back in my life. I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him.
“I wanted to thank Mr. Jensen for leading us to Elliot. Where is he?” Victor glances around the boat, straining to see more than a foot in front of him.
“He’s hurt. Victor, please let me go to him.” My tears sting my cheeks like icy darts.
“Victor, drop the gun.” Kit’s large frame breaks through the whiteout.
Dried blood sticks to one side of his face and I want to cry tears of joy. Kit is free. He’s here. Alive.
An abrupt bark of laughter ruptures from Victor. “You’re quite funny, Kit, I’ll give you that. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one with the gun.” He waves it around for good measure.
Kit is unarmed, hobbling toward me, and slides an arm around my shoulders. The weight and heat of him…I’m still cold but a little warmer with him at my side. He drops a kiss on my chilled lips, unzips his coat and drapes it around me.
I cling to the warmth of him, biting my lip to keep my sobs from escaping.
“Kit, you work fast, finding Elliot like you did. It’s a good thing I had you followed.” Victor grimaces.
Elliot, now awake, shivering and glowering from the deck, says, “Victor, we need to talk.”
“The time for talking is done.” The older man’s eyes darken and narrow into thin slits of hate. “Your time is up, Foley. As for you,”—he turns to face Kit and me—“I’m generally a man of my word…”
Despite what he says, I get the sense this will be one of those instances where he won’t follow through on a promise. Although I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“I’d like to say I’d leave you and Caro alone, but this is far messier than anticipated. I recognize my man, Foley, made the mess that it is, but you inserted yourselves into this business.”
I tense and my fists curl. He makes it sound like we wanted to be involved. As if reading my mind, Kit says, “No, we did nothing. Elliot framed Caro. He wanted you to believe she was part of the operation and that she took the drugs. She didn’t.”
“Ah, that may be the case, Kit, but the problem is you now know about the drugs. You all know who I am…” He pauses, pulling his scarf higher up his neck. “I can’t have that, and I won’t accept your word. In this business, one must deal in absolutes.”
Victor glares at us, standing tall and indomitable, oblivious to the storm swallowing us. “It’s a shame, but this is how it must be.”
His hand does something, the one holding the gun, and what exactly I can’t say, but I hear a click, or maybe I imagine it because it’s hard to hear anything. All I know for sure is he’s going to kill us and I can’t let that happen.
There is a long, thin rod, maybe eight feet tall, resting against the boat at my back. Its tip is pointed and sharp.
Slow and muddled, a numbness seeps deep into not only my bones and muscles, but also my thoughts. I fight through the cold heaviness, inching backward ever so slightly. At first Kit tightens his hold, but sensing my intention, he relaxes and I slip from his coat.
In one fluid move, or at least that’s what I command my body to do, my
fingers coil around the shaft and my arm pulls back and rises. I’m surprised by how light it is. And icy, so very icy.
The skin of my palm sticks to the chilled rod, I think it’s aluminum, like a tongue to a cold metal spoon. It’s going to hurt when I pry my hand away, but I can’t worry about that now.
There is no time to second guess or pause and I bend, arcing my arm forward in one smooth sweep, projecting the javelin-like object at Victor.
Kit’s hands latch onto my waist to stop me from falling over. His weight anchors me and also provides extra tension, helping to ensure the spear hits its mark.
The harpoon with its barbed claws tears into Victor’s thigh and he falls backward. Impaled, he screams in agony, flinging his gun into the blizzard.
While I didn’t have the clarity of mind or forethought to think about my aim, the spike missed his femoral artery, maybe by a millimeter or two, and I’m grateful. My intention hadn’t been to kill even if that’s what he had planned for us.
One bodyguard flings Willow toward Logan and starts toward Victor. Dark scarlet, almost black, blood soaks the white snow around his leg, and through the din of the storm, a man’s voice bellows, “Police. Drop your weapons.”
I never thought I’d hear those words, and relief comes at me in one fell swoop, weakening my knees. I grab onto Kit and everything goes black.
Caro
Blinding white lights pierce my skull and I moan, turning to one side. My head aches, pulsating, and a dark figure cuts across the dazzling beam, shielding me from further assault.
Kit hovers over me, expression severe if not for his teasing half grin. His face has fresh bruises and a new butterfly bandage where he’d been stitched after the car rollover. His unruly strands of honey-blond hair tumble over his forehead, and his gaze is tender.
“You’re awake.” His voice is raspy and low and my stomach somersaults.
“Where am I?”
“The hospital. How do you feel?”
“Okay.” I settle farther under the covers. “Warmer. Better now that you’re here and okay.”
Clumsily, my hands reach for him, needing his touch, to feel him. I curl my hands around the warm, tight skin of his forearms, climbing up his arms to his broad shoulders and settling with my fingers entwined at the nape of his neck.
“Are you okay?” My fingers thread through the curling ends of his hair.
“Yeah. Just a mild concussion and a few more stitches—”
“Stitches.” My hands still and I worry. “Where?”
“Just four at the back of the head where Elliot hit me. I’m fine.” His confident, calming tone reassures me. “It’s nothing my girlfriend can’t handle.” One corner of his lips tips up and one of his dimples makes an appearance.
“Girlfriend?” My gaze sweeps past him, pretending to look for this woman. “Where is she?”
“I’m looking at her.” His thumb strokes across my brow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You passed out on the boat, and it took what seemed like forever for the paramedics to arrive. Once they got you on the ambulance, they said you were hypothermic but fortunately your body temperature hadn’t dropped too far.”
That’s good and likely means any impact to my body due to the freezing temperatures won’t be lasting.
“I've never been so cold in my life, but I’m good.” I pull at his shoulder, bringing his face closer to mine. “Better than good.”
Lips brush over mine, causing me to moan and pull him closer to me. The kiss is painstakingly gentle and oh, so slow. Almost too slow for me to keep my sanity.
His mouth sweeps over mine, mapping every ridge and valley of my lips, and it’s as if he’s imprinting my mouth, the feel and taste of me onto him.
Tiny, sparking shivers of need course through me, not a hint of cold, only heat filling me. My trembling hands curl into the back of his shirt and I’m so relieved he’s here, alive and well. And damn, this kiss.
It’s everything, as if breathing new life into me. I can’t get enough, but flinch when tenderness near one of my hips jars me out of my bliss.
He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on mine, and his breath heats the lower half of my face and neck.
“You’ve got a nasty bruise. Not sure if it’s from the fall or something else…something Elliot did.” His jaw clenches and his gaze is fierce with a hint of something else, dark and brooding, almost mournful.
“What’s wrong?” I sink my head into the pillow to get a better look at him.
“Nothing. I just wish I’d stopped Elliot before he took y—”
“Shhh, let’s not play this game. We’re both okay. Elliot’s in jail, isn’t he?” I ask, not knowing what happened after I passed out.
“Yeah, both Elliot and Victor were arrested.” His gaze brightens. “You need your rest.”
My fingers sweep across his forehead, examining the stitches and bruising by his hairline.
“Did you kiss me to get a better look at my injuries?” His tone is stern but features soft.
“No, I wanted to kiss you. And I wish I could do more.”
He leans down and cups my face, brushing his long lashes against my cheek, and a hot tingling races down my spine, spreading tiny bumps all over my skin.
Then he pulls back, an amused smile darting across his lips, and then his nose rubs against mine and I can’t help but beam as his soft lips find mine in a quick, sweet kiss.
“I have to call Nick. He’s going insane and would be here if not for the weather.” He stands up and takes out his phone, tapping on the screen before putting it to his ear.
Eyes on him, his features tense and furrow then relax as a smile spreads across this ruggedly handsome face. “Nick, she’s awake.”
He waits a few more minutes, nodding before he passes the phone to me.
“Hello.” My stomach twists and sudden nerves constrict my throat, anxious to hear my brother’s voice.
“Caro, thank fuck you’re okay. I wish I could be there, we were so worried—” his words are fast and furious and his anxiety palpable even through the device.
“Nick, I’m okay,” I reassure in a soft tone that also does wonders for my churning insides. “We got them and I’m doing fine.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done if I lost you.” It’s a husky whisper, his voice fading with each word. Is he crying?
My heart spasms at Nick’s anguish. I can’t fully grasp what he’s been going through. It’s been a harrowing time for me but for Nick, sitting this out must have been torture.
“Hey, Caro.” Maggie’s now on the line. “How are you?”
“Hi, I’m good. Actually better than good. So glad to have this all over with.”
“We’re so happy you’re okay and now you can put this behind you. I wish we could be there.” Remorse resides in her voice.
“I know but it’s better this way. It’s horrible out there and you’re safer off the road. Maggie…is Nick okay?”
“Yes, he is.” She half chuckles, half sniffles. “You know him, he’s so happy you’re okay but he’s a little…” she trails off, likely searching for the right words to convey my brother’s emotional state without making him sound weak. As if.
“I get it,” I offer, saving her from the hunt.
“Well, I’m going to let you go. You need your rest. But as soon as this weather settles, we’re coming to see you.”
“I’d like that.” I beam even though she can’t see how happy the idea of seeing them makes me. “Love you both.”
“You too. Take care.” She ends the call and I hand the phone back to Kit.
“You all right?” His gaze lingers on my face, studying me.
“Yes. It was good to hear their voices, and Nick can finally relax. Hopefully, stop beating himself up for not being around for this.”
He snorts and shoves the phone in his back pocket. “Not possible. That’s his specialty.”
I chuckle, wincing at the sharp stab to my head.
&nb
sp; “You okay?” He bends down once more, getting close to me and I carefully nod. “You have to promise me three things.”
“Three things? What?”
“One, you take some time to heal.”
I open my mouth, readying the doctor in me to make an entrance but not in a good way. Heal is all I should be doing right now.
Kit’s already ahead of me and presses a finger firmly on my lips to silence me. “Hear me out before you go all I know best on me.”
I laugh and my cheeks flush. “Fine. Go on.”
“Come away with me. If you stick around here, you won’t rest. We’ll go to the cottage in Quebec or if that sounds too cold, we’ll lie on a beach somewhere.”
“Either sounds amazing and this is an easy promise. I’m there. I’m yours, just say when.”
“When.” He gifts me with a sly, lopsided grin.
“Let’s go.” I grip the covers, preparing to throw them off, when his hand rests on mine and he chuckles.
“Not so fast. Once we’ve got the okay for you to go home, and that’s not happening tonight. You’re in here overnight and I’ll be right here. They’re bringing in a cot.”
My lips brush along his stubbled jaw, thrilled to have him with me tonight. Forever. “I promise, as soon as I’m good to travel, we’ll go.”
I want to steal another kiss and a lot more but we’re in a hospital. And even if we weren’t, it isn’t like Kit would let me take it too far. He’s more concerned about my health than anything else right now.
“What’s the second promise?”
“This one might not be so easy.”
I tense and he notices, an eyebrow rising as one side of his lips hitch up.
“I’m not promising until I hear more,” I tease, although I’m a little on edge, not quite sure what to expect.
“Relax.” He drags the tips of his fingers in a sensual path along my collarbone.
My eyes flutter closed and a quiver runs through me as I blink, gaze landing on his loving face. I trust him and I’m open to whatever this is.
“I’m moving in with you.” He’s confident.
“My place?” I’m stunned, not at living together but at the location.