* * *
Mark felt pretty accomplished by the time the storm blew over. It had rained inland all through the afternoon, which only made it easier to screen the two cameras he’d found.
They had a base camp, if woefully underequipped, but feeling safe in this protected corner of the island perked up Charlotte so much he didn’t dare point out what it lacked in amenities. She made an adorable picture in her borrowed boots with her hair braided back and her muddied scrubs. He had to work not to stare.
Between the steady sound of the ocean rolling in and the quiet task of searching for the cameras, he’d shaken off the embarrassment of telling her about his ugly failings with Maria. Of all people to confide in, he wasn’t sure why he’d unloaded on Charlotte.
Luke had pestered him a bit when he’d heard about the breakup. Mark had tried more than once, but he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it at the time. And, after several months had passed, bringing it up felt like wallowing. It was done, she was gone and no amount of picking it apart would change anything.
Blocking the cameras also gave him time to realize Charlotte was right. At the core, he was built for traditional family dynamics. A wife and kids, and that house he kept picturing in his head. He still had a few years in an intense career, but maybe someday that vision would come to pass.
This was a strange time and place for epiphanies.
He’d honestly thought Maria had been the one. Someone who could commit, love and compromise as they built a life together. Hurt by her rejection and devastated by the loss of a child he would never meet, he’d locked away those wounded pieces of himself and vowed never to let anyone in again. Charlotte made him want to reconsider, to break that vow and try one more time.
Did he have the guts for that?
As they split a meal bar, conserving their resources, he watched the sky. Dusk was falling and lead-colored clouds were breaking apart to the north. In a few hours, he could head out for some recon, maybe impair a few more spotters.
“You’re thinking of leaving me here again, aren’t you?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes,” he replied. She’d see right through any attempt to lie.
“You have to stop doing that.”
“Can’t. Keeping you safe is my primary objective.” Her lips tilted in a way that made him forget all about looking for an escape. He started to lean in to kiss her and pulled back.
He couldn’t keep kissing her and expect to survive. Outwitting Eaton was enough of a challenge. With Zettel on the island, their odds of escape dwindled considerably.
“Don’t go alone. I can help,” she said. “Be a lookout or whatever.”
“I’m sure you’d be an incredible lookout,” he said. “I’m second-guessing the whole idea to find the dock right now.”
“Why?”
“Ideally, I’d stay right here and forget about everything but you.” She blushed and his blood heated. With a weapon and ammunition, it was a defensible position. Unfortunately they only had a flare gun, a knife and two ground stakes.
“You had a valid point earlier. If the boat is at the dock, everyone else is likely there too. No reason to have more than one guard at the office. Eaton must be using the boat as a staging point. How else would he have been able to pick up painting supplies or bring in the hot fresh food he tortured me with?”
“If Zettel did give up the hunt for today, I doubt he’d settle for a lousy outdoor camp when he could be warm and dry on the boat,” she said. “He thinks he has all the time he needs. I’d rather not walk right into his rifle sight.”
“I don’t know the man, but I know the type. He isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty or suffer for the sake of the hunt.”
Her eyebrows flexed into a frown. “You realize that’s not exactly comforting?”
“Wasn’t meant to be,” he said. “I said it mostly to remind myself what’s at stake.”
She pulled the tie from her hair and started untangling the mass of rose-gold waves with her fingers. The rain had washed away the mud she’d used to dull the color earlier. “I think we’re better off sticking together.”
“You don’t approve of how I disabled the guard dog with the flare gun?”
“Of course I do.”
She shook back her hair and then began weaving it into a fresh braid. It was all he could do not to help. He’d seen his sisters do the same countless times. Her too, but not like this. Not when all he could think about was how it would feel to unwind that braid again.
“You do what’s right, no matter who or what you’re up against,” she said.
The all-encompassing confidence made him want to live up to her high opinion. “That’s flattery,” he teased. “You’ve only seen me at my worst. Ninety-nine percent of the good work I’ve done is classified.”
She tied off the braid with the dirty scrap of fabric. Given a chance, he would dote on her and spoil her with the best of everything. But solid family values or not, he wasn’t sure he was her guy. Not yet. There was still more he wanted to do with his career and his SEAL team. Could Charlotte be patient through that, or would she have second thoughts on lonely nights like Maria?
Charlotte wasn’t Maria, but it would be worse to make the wrong moves with her. A mistake between him and Charlotte would have repercussions through both of their families. Did they have anything in common beyond a talent for kissing and a mutual belief that he could do anything? She was built to create and develop and celebrate life. He was trained to kill. She deserved a man who would be home for her every night, a man who could give her a real relationship.
What had she planned for her career? He knew about the art therapy, and the year in her studio, but what was next? He caught himself before he asked. The idea that her work or her heart would carry her out of his reach was a hard pressure in his chest.
He had to be overreacting. Pain, stress, lack of sleep and the emotional conversation about Maria’s choices were obviously impairing his judgment. Feelings weren’t his strong suit. Better to focus on what he did right.
“Are you fishing for compliments?” She tossed her braid over her shoulder.
“What?” It took him a second to pull his thoughts back in order. “No.”
“I’ve seen you play just about every sport either casually or competitively. I know what you can do. And I watched you repeatedly draw Eaton’s attention from me.”
“Yeah, that worked so well,” he grumbled.
“Worked well enough that we’re both still alive,” she said. For a quiet girl, she suddenly had a lot to say. “I know you took every beating Eaton dished out, all the while thinking about how you’d save me.”
“That’s a no-brainer. You’re precious—”
“So are you, Mark.”
Shocked by her declaration, he gaped at her.
“Yes, I said it. You’re precious to me and plenty of other people. Looking for the dock on your own is too risky. We don’t have a way to communicate if one of us gets hurt or found,” she said. “Leaving me sitting here fretting over you won’t do either of us any good.”
And there was his answer about the future. Leaving her sitting at home fretting while he was deployed would drain her wonderful, vibrant and creative spirit. He wasn’t the guy for her.
“If we go together, we could just as easily be caught together.” He felt obligated to point out the obvious.
She spread her hands wide. “So far, we’ve made together work in our favor.”
He knew when to compromise. “All right. Let’s go.” He caught the flash of victory in her blue eyes before he ticked off the ground rules. She listened attentively, promising to follow his directions and bolt if he told her to go. He carried the pack, though they left half of the remaining water and meal bars hidden at the camp. Better odds for her survival if they did get separated.
“The
general plan is to follow the coastline to the dock,” he explained. “That way all you have to do is retrace the route if there’s trouble.”
Her lips pursed. “Relax. I’ll only send you back if absolutely necessary.”
“And what if you’re the one who has to retreat?” she asked.
He supposed such a scenario was possible, but the idea made him queasy. “I’ll do it,” he promised.
They left the cove in silence, both of them on high alert for any sound that didn’t belong in the maritime forest or the sloping beaches where the island met the ocean. He made note of the first camera they found on their route, but he didn’t block it. It was aimed inland and they were able to maneuver around it.
“Do you think he has someone watching the beach?” she asked in a whisper.
She never ceased to impress him, though it was odd to hear her voice the question that was at the forefront of his mind. “It would be the best way to keep an eye on these open stretches. I looked for camera gear in the trees around the cove. Either the person who staked the cameras on this side is afraid of heights or the breeze off the ocean renders them useless.”
They walked on and he resisted the urge to take her hand and pretend they were just two people out for a stroll.
At the first sound of voices, he stopped moving and tucked Charlotte behind him. The speakers were too far away for him to pick up particular words, but there was definitely more than one person. Under the voices, he heard the break of soft rollers coming in from the ocean and the random squeak of plastic bumpers designed to protect boat hulls from a dock. He crouched low, signaling Charlotte to wait. Inching forward, he crept to the edge of the trees to see who was there.
Mark had to give Eaton a gold star for organization and planning. The dock was sheltered from open water on one side by a sandbar. He’d used the island topography to great advantage. The odds of being noticed from anyone out on the ocean were slim and day travelers cruising between the mainland and island would never see it.
Eaton had guards posted at both ends of the dock and Mark smiled. The man had prepared for an assault from the water. So he was smart enough to respect Mark’s training.
The boat tied up now wasn’t the glamorous yacht he’d expected to see. Maybe Zettel would prefer camping to the cramped and worn cabin cruiser that would benefit from some serious maintenance and a fresh paint job.
Looking back, he motioned Charlotte forward. She soaked up details like a sponge. “Is that the boat you arrived on?”
“Yes.”
His body came to attention as she stretched out beside him, brushing against his leg, hip and side. Her cheek was close enough to kiss and if he leaned in just an inch or two, he could bury his nose in her hair.
“We won’t get on that boat tonight,” he whispered, focusing on their immediate crisis. They’d wasted time and energy on this hike after all.
“What about the modified container? If everyone’s here, we could send an SOS through the cameras there.”
“I’m not convinced everyone is here,” he replied. “That’s Muscle at the ocean end of the dock. I’ve never seen the guy closest to us, have you?”
She paused, studying the scene. “An extra from Zettel’s team?”
“Possibly.” Eaton seemed to have a steady supply of mercenaries ready and willing to cash his checks. “The spotter I wounded needs a doctor. They wouldn’t have been able to get him out by plane during the storm.”
“I never heard the plane leave after Zettel arrived.”
He’d been thinking the same thing. “But where did they land? There must be a clearing on this side of the island.”
“Or it’s a seaplane. Either way, he’ll have it heavily guarded.” She wriggled, her hip bumping his. “The supplies must be on the boat,” she said. “They weren’t in the container where we were held.”
“Then we must be close to a good-sized city for Eaton’s men to keep things stocked. In a small town, that crew would stand out too much.”
She nodded her agreement. Resting her chin on her stacked hands, she watched the activity on the dock. “I have this urge to ask you to go all covert ops and take that vessel.”
He smothered his laughter in his arm. “The kiss was that bad that you’d send me on a suicide mission?”
She turned her head and met his gaze. He was instantly lost in those blue depths, deeper in the fading light. “I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Same,” he said. He forced his gaze back to the dock and watched for a few more minutes. Was there anything he could do tonight without getting captured, killed or putting Charlotte in grave danger?
“What I wouldn’t give for binoculars.” He eyed the worn footpath from the dock, across the dunes and into the trees. The trek wasn’t a total loss. He now had a mental map of this segment of the island, but could only guess as to the full length, breadth and location. Having actual coordinates would mean a faster rescue if they could snag a radio or phone.
As far as Mark had seen, Eaton didn’t trust anyone else with the radio. That posed a problem for Mark, who wanted to steal it, but it made things challenging for Eaton, as well. His men couldn’t call for backup or to clarify orders if they got in a bind. Mark intended to put them all in a bind in the days ahead.
His pulse settled as a loose plan took shape in his mind. Before he and Charlotte retreated, he’d give Eaton something to think about overnight.
“I’m taking the flare gun,” he said, reaching into the pack she wore. “You start back—” He stopped talking as someone approached.
“I want the cameras disabled,” Zettel was saying.
“No,” Eaton replied. “If you want a fair hunt, don’t look at the feed or read the movement reports.”
Charlotte trembled and Mark rested his hand between her shoulder blades, keeping her still, offering reassurance.
“That’s impossible,” Zettel roared. “Your men gossip like schoolgirls.”
He pointed to the camera stake nearby. It wasn’t facing them or the bullets would be flying by now.
Mark embraced the familiar battle calm, shifting into fighting mode. At his side, he felt another tremor ripple through Charlotte. What he wouldn’t give to have her anywhere else right now. He pressed his leg to hers in silent reassurance. She stilled.
The light was nearly gone and the men were little more than loud shadows among the thick brush and trees.
“You never said anything about watching the hunt,” Zettel bit out in a tone bordering on petulant. “I can track the man without this junk you’ve tacked up everywhere.”
One of the shadows bent and struggled with something. Leaves rustled and Eaton swore.
“Put back my equipment, Zettel. If you don’t like the parameters here, get out of the game.”
“I wanted a hunt, not a shooting gallery. I have a reputation.”
“So do what you came to do,” Eaton said. “Enjoy your hunt, make the kills and no one will be alive to speak ill of you or your reputation.”
“You have a reputation too,” Zettel countered, his voice full of threats. “I should have listened to the naysayers before wiring the money.”
“If you’re unhappy, leave.”
“I am unhappy with the cameras.”
“Will you continue to disable them?” Eaton asked.
Mark cringed. That was a trick question if he’d ever heard one. Although it was nice to know Zettel was interfering with Eaton’s observation tactics, this wasn’t going to end well. Eaton was addicted to the power high and looking for another hit. No way would he allow Zettel to mess with his ultimate plan for vengeance against the general.
Mark had a flare loaded in the chamber and the hammer cocked. He aimed the flare gun at the men, prepared to offer a temporary end to the argument.
“I paid for a fair hu�
��”
Two quick gunshots cut Zettel’s words short before Mark could fire the flare. The man slumped to the ground. Eaton used the radio and snapped out orders. Mark wondered who would answer. He’d never seen a radio on Quick-Punch Kid or Muscle.
The answer became evident as a man stepped out of the boat’s bridge and shouted to the man posted at the near end of the dock. Mark and Charlotte had to get out of here before they were spotted. He signaled her to back up slowly, keeping to the darkness created by the trees’ shadows.
Every foot of distance gave Mark options and Charlotte a chance. Another few yards and they could make it out unnoticed.
Eaton was muttering at Zettel’s lifeless body when his radio crackled. He toggled the switch. “Say again?”
Mark knew they’d been spotted. Zettel must not have disabled the camera when he pulled up the stake and when it fell, the field of view must have changed.
Mark shot the flare, aiming for Eaton’s feet. The signal projectile wasn’t known for accuracy and it floated and tumbled through the air in a shower of sparks and a trail of smoke. A split second later, it flared as designed and simultaneously lit up the area. The red plume burned and skittered across the ground, creating a bank of foggy smoke.
Eaton’s night vision would be compromised and the sizzling flare made enough noise to cover their escape. Mark urged Charlotte up and into a run. “Go! Go!” Yes, their rapid retreat meant they’d leave a trail. They might even get picked up by a second camera, but he’d blow up that metaphorical bridge when he got there.
One gunshot, then two more sounded. Fired from the dock, based on the sound. None of the bullets landed close enough to worry him.
“Keep going.” They were almost out of range.
Charlotte tripped and went down, sprawling across the ground before he could do anything to keep her upright or cushion her fall. He helped her up. “Go straight to the cove,” he said. “Don’t argue,” he added. “I’ll hide our trail and then I’m right behind you.”
CHAPTER 11
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 88