She was running out of time. The drill bit hadn’t cut through the zip ties as fast as she thought it would and Blake Henson’s tone suggested he’d started winding down. “What did you drug me with that night? Why couldn’t the toxicology report find anything after the police took my blood?”
“You’re stalling, Dr. Hargraves.” Her lawyer laid the lid to the box—her intended coffin—against the side of the boat. In her next breath, he stood over her. “Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work. I made the mistake of trying to come at you indirectly twice now, but I’ve learned my lesson.”
Desperation clawed through her. Time had run out. Waylynn tugged at the zip ties. “You don’t have to do this. Just because you’re a carrier for the warrior gene doesn’t mean the board will let you go. I can help you. I can—”
“I’m not interested in your help, Doctor. You’ve already cost me everything I cared about.” Gripping her arms, Blake Henson ripped her from the deck. The boat swayed, forcing her into him. He tugged her toward the clear box, the one he’d drilled holes into. “And now it’s your turn.”
“All this talking is giving me a headache.” Trying to wrench out of his hold, she aggravated the bullet wound in her arm and nearly lost consciousness from the agony tearing through her. How could Elliot still stand after taking a bullet in the shoulder? Her flimsy shoes slipped on the boat’s deck, but he only held her tighter. He was so much stronger, so much bigger, but she kept fighting. She’d die in that box if she gave up now. “No!”
The zip ties snapped. Swinging the drill bit as hard as she could, she planted it straight into his arm, in almost exactly the same location he’d shot her. His roar threatened to burst her eardrums a split second before the back of his hand met her face. Waylynn hit the deck. Hard. Temporary blackness clouded her vision, but she pushed to her feet. Couldn’t stop. Pain lightninged through her arm, threatening to undo her, as she lunged for the back of the boat. “Help!”
A bloodied hand wrapped around her mouth and pulled her into her attacker’s chest. Blake Henson’s mouth pressed against her ear. “You’re going to pay for that.”
She wrenched her elbow back as hard as she could but lost momentum as he hefted her off her feet. The boat, the marina, everything blurred as her lawyer tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Kicking, punching, she battled to get free with every last ounce of strength.
It wasn’t enough.
Dumping her into the plastic box he’d prepared, Henson knocked the air from her lungs, momentarily paralyzing her long enough to get the lid in place.
“No! No!” She pounded on the plastic, each hit reverberating through the box. Kicking at the bottom of the container, Waylynn struggled to lift her knees up enough to gain leverage. There wasn’t any room. Small holes provided enough oxygen, but she’d never felt so claustrophobic in her life. He’d sealed her inside her own coffin. She set her palms against the lid as tears streaked down her face into her hairline. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“The holes I’ve drilled into the bottom of the box are small enough to ensure you don’t die too quickly. Wouldn’t want you not to suffer, now would we?” Blake Henson watched her struggle from above. Anchoring his hands on either side of the plastic container, he bent over her. Face-to-face with two inches of biocontainment plastic between them. “Don’t worry, Dr. Hargraves. Genism will be fine without you.”
Without another word, her lawyer straightened, then hauled her and the box toward the back of the boat. Her throat stung from screaming, her knuckles bled from hitting the lid with everything she had left. No. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. Her attacker slid the bottom of the box out the back of the boat, nothing but a sea of black below.
A flashlight beam caught her attention through the plastic.
“Waylynn!” Elliot pumped his legs hard across the dock and she pressed her hands against the lid in an effort to reach out for him.
Right as Blake Henson dropped her into the ocean.
Chapter Fourteen
She was in the water.
Bullets ripped past his head as Blake Henson balanced on the back of his boat, but Elliot had only one focus.
“Waylynn!” His lungs struggled to keep up with the rest of his body as he hurdled over a coil of rope toward the spot he’d seen her go in. If anything happened to her, the bastard would pay, but he couldn’t go after the lawyer now. Gunfire erupted from the docks and forced Henson to take cover. Elliot’s team had his back and it would have to be enough for now. He tossed the flashlight. One step. Two. He launched himself off the end of the dock.
Freezing water shocked every nerve ending he owned as he hit the water, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from diving deeper. Bubbles and darkness made it nearly impossible to see through the water. His ears popped as he sank lower, pressure building in his lungs. He couldn’t see her. Stretching out his hands, he grazed something hard and latched on to the smooth edges of what felt like a large aquatic box for swimming with sharks. His senses adjusted slowly, murky water and seaweed clearing just enough—enough to see her terrified expression through the container Henson had sealed her in.
She beat against the lid wildly. Bubbles escaped the small holes down by her feet, the water level slowly rising inside the clear coffin. She was going to drown. Elliot slid his fingers around the edge of the box, ignoring the rush of pain in his shoulder. How the hell had her kidnapper sealed this thing? His heartbeat pounded loud behind his ears as the frigid temperature slowed his movements. Low thumps reverberated through him, bullets from the battle above slicing through the water around them. The water level had reached her knees as the weight of the box pulled her deeper into the ocean.
They were running out of time.
Gripping the edges of the box, he tried hauling it toward the surface. In vain. The damn thing was too heavy, and his muscles had lost strength due to his wound. Elliot tapped on the glass to get her attention and pointed to the ocean floor. He’d swim down to find something—a rock, a stray piece of metal, anything—to pry the container open. Her palms flattened against the clear plastic as he swam deeper into the gloom below them. Tons of water threatened to crush him as he reached the sandy bottom of the marina. Skimming his hand along the surface, he gripped a sharp rock and headed straight back up to where he thought her last position to be.
She wasn’t there. Waylynn and the box had shifted with the undertow.
His lungs ached. His body had burned through his oxygen supply faster than he’d estimated. Catching sight of her outline as she sank farther into the depths, Elliot had to make a choice. Surface for air and risk getting shot in the process. Or lose consciousness trying to get her out now. Every instinct protested leaving her down here alone, but he had to surface. Rock in hand, he struggled topside. His clothing pulled at him, his boots heavy.
A bright wave of fire consumed the surface as a blast knocked him off course.
Elliot curled in on himself and pushed away from the surface as debris hit the water from an explosion above. An entire leather seat crashed directly above him, but he couldn’t kick fast enough to avoid the collision. Metal tore into his thigh, ripping through his jeans, skin and into the muscle. A garbled scream pulled reserved air from his lungs as he clamped a hand down on the wound. The debris had missed major arteries, but he wasn’t sure how much time he had left before he passed out from blood loss. He couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Every second he wasted cost Waylynn valuable time and the more he bled, the more predators would start hunting. He pushed to the surface and gasped for oxygen. Pain burned through him with each kick. “Holy hell, that hurts.”
“Over here!” Kate screamed over her shoulder from the dock and reached for him. “Give me your hand. I’ll pull you out.”
“She’s stuck down there, Kate, and I can’t get her out. I’m not going anywhere.” He sucked down air as fast as he could, tryi
ng to expand his lungs for another chance. She was alone. She was scared. Heat seared along his face and neck. Pieces of burning wood floated around him. “Find me a tool. A crowbar. Anything that can break through thick plastic.”
“Kate! Gear up!” Footsteps sounded on the dock behind her. Vincent appeared at her side, hauling an oxygen tank from his shoulder and dropping scuba gear to the dock. Blackhawk’s forensics expert pounded the end of a flare against the pier, bright white magnesium lighting a marina already on fire, then tossed it into the ocean. The red glow flickered as the flare sank. He sparked another and threw it down. “These should help.”
“Where’s Henson?” he asked.
“Elliot, get down there.” Kate ripped her husband’s jacket off and stripped out of her shirt. Medium-length, flowing blond hair skimmed her sports bra as she pushed her jeans down her legs. “I’ll be ready in fifteen seconds. Go!”
He’d have to ask about the explosion later. After he got Waylynn out of that damn box. Elliot dived. Swimming with every last ounce of strength he had left, he followed the trail of small bubbles coming from the blackness below, lit by Vincent’s flares. She still had oxygen. How much, he had no idea, but it wouldn’t last forever. Tendrils of blood seeped from both wounds and wove in front of his face, but he only pushed harder. She might’ve given up on him, but he wouldn’t leave her to die.
The light from the flares reflected off a solid surface below. Waylynn. The panic in her ocean-blue gaze cut through him as he gripped onto the edges of the box again. The undertow pulled to rip him away, but he only held tighter. He wouldn’t fail her again. Not this intelligent, mind-blowing, sexy creature who’d crashed into his existence and defied everything he’d known about what real happiness was. The box had leveled out along the sandy floor, submerging her in water from head to toe. Water lapped at the edges of her temples as she screamed, dark mascara running down her face.
A gloved hand slipped over his shoulder and he spun to find Kate in full scuba gear beside him. She pulled her mouthpiece free and handed it to him. Exhaling the air he’d been coveting, he maneuvered the rubber into his mouth and inhaled deep. A burst of cold oxygen filled his lungs and he handed the mouthpiece back. The tank had enough oxygen to last the two of them for at least another thirty minutes, but Waylynn...
She wouldn’t last much longer.
A sharp pain lanced through him. That wasn’t an option. He needed her. He wasn’t sure how much until this very moment, but there was no denying it now.
He wedged his hands on either side of the box and kicked with everything he had. The lid didn’t budge. The bubbles escaping through the two small holes in the bottom of the container tickled along his skin and face. They had to stop the intake of water. Tapping on Kate’s shoulder, he pointed to them. She nodded, swimming behind him and plugging them with her gloves as much as she could. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it’d give Waylynn more time. The water lapped at her mouth and nose as she pressed against the lid of the box. He searched the marina floor, this time in the light of two flares still burning bright a few yards away. Magnesium burned hot enough to melt through the thickest metal. Plastic shouldn’t hold one of those flares back. But he could hit Waylynn’s skin in the process.
His movements slowed as the frigid temperature cut through his clothing, past skin, past muscle and straight into his bones. He was losing blood with every pump of his legs as he closed in on the nearest flare. Careful not to stare at the magnesium fire directly, he grabbed what was left of the casing and swam as fast as he could to Waylynn.
They were going to get her out. Because if they didn’t... He’d go back to prison. Nobody would be able to stop him from tearing Blake Henson apart with his bare hands.
He moved the flare over the lid, shocked to find a wide, dark stain blooming across her white shirt he hadn’t noticed before. Blood. Rage threatened to consume him. What the hell had that bastard done to her? Elliot forced himself to focus, forced himself to ignore the haze of red spreading across his vision. One second. Two. Putting the flare to the plastic would get the job done, but there was no way he could protect Waylynn from the heat. He didn’t have any other choice. The water lapped at her mouth and nose. She gasped for air, pressing her palms against the container wall.
They were out of time.
Elliot set the flare against the lid. Plastic instantly melted then cooled in the freezing water, but within seconds left a hole wide enough for him to reach his hand through. The clear coffin immediately filled with water, submerging Waylynn completely. He shoved his hand inside the crude hole and ripped the lid from the box.
She was free.
Hauling her into him, he ignored the protest of his body and pumped his arms and legs hard for the surface. But he’d already lost too much blood. His lungs burned with the need for air. No. He’d just gotten her free from Henson’s crude coffin. He wasn’t going to let his body be the thing keeping her from staying alive now. His grip lightened on Waylynn and she slipped out of his hand. He grew heavier as he struggled the last five feet toward the surface.
Someone—Kate?—gripped under his arm and pushed him above water. Another gasp reached his ears. Waylynn. Relief flooded through him as Kate helped them maneuver around burning debris toward the dock. Sullivan, Elizabeth and Vincent each bent down to pull them from the water. His back hit the old wood and his breath wheezed from his lungs, momentarily cutting off his air supply and leaving him dizzy. “Let’s never do that again.”
Waylynn set her cheek against the dock, blue eyes heavy, skin pale. She wouldn’t look at him, but it didn’t matter. She was alive.
Movement registered out of the corner of his eye near the remnants of Blake Henson’s boat. A hand slapped onto the dock, soaking wet, followed by the rest of the SOB who’d taken Waylynn from him.
“There’s blood on her clothing.” Elliot pushed to his feet, his steps unbalanced. He forced his feet to move, then again, his strength returning in small increments as oxygen filled his bloodstream. “Have her checked out. And if anything else happens to her, I’ll put my files on every single one of you to good use.”
Vincent hauled Kate’s oxygen tank off her shoulders. “What files?”
Waylynn huddled beneath the blanket Sullivan wrapped around her. “Wh-w-where’re you going?”
“There’s something I need to finish.” He tracked Henson onto what remained of the boat. The bastard better have a weapon stashed down below. He was going to need it. Elliot stepped onto the burning deck, his target straight ahead. “Permission to come aboard, Counselor.”
* * *
GUNSHOT WOUND TO her arm. Mild hypothermia from nearly drowning in the ocean. Days of emotional havoc. Waylynn fisted the blanket one of the men on Elliot’s team had provided for her as she waited to be cleared to leave in the back of the ambulance. Paramedics had pulled the bullet from her arm, stitched her up and stabilized her stats. She’d live, but her attacker? He had no idea what kind of violence she’d caged for the last fifteen years. But she’d show him.
A single officer escorted Blake Henson down the dock in cuffs.
Now was her chance.
She dumped the blanket onto the floor and slid from the back of the ambulance. The fishing knife she’d picked up after the Blackhawk Security team pulled her from the water warmed in her hand. No. Henson didn’t get to waste away behind bars for the rest of his life. He was going to know exactly what kind of terror he’d put her through the last five days. Even if police apprehended her afterward, her lawyer had already taken everything from her. She had nothing left to lose. She was the only one who could make him pay.
A monster to destroy a monster.
A calloused hand wrapped around hers and the knife, his mouth pressed against her ear. Salt and humidity filled her lungs, his clothing still damp against her arm. “Never considered you the stabby type, Doc.”
“Let go
of me.” Waylynn tried to pull her hand free. Heat burned through her veins as the officer forced Blake Henson into the back of a black-and-white cruiser. The man who’d destroyed her life stared right at her, a small curve to his mouth as the door slammed behind him. Hollowness settled in the pit of her stomach. She snapped her gaze to Elliot’s, felt a pull at the sight of those mesmerizing gray eyes. She struggled to wrench out of his reach, the base of the blade cutting into her hand, he held it so tight. The cruiser pulled away and everything inside her went cold. Colder than the ocean the lawyer had left her to drown in. She turned on Elliot, shoving her uninjured hand against his chest. “Why did you stop me? I could’ve ended this for good.”
Blake Henson was on retainer for one of the top genetics labs in the country, which meant he was a damn good lawyer. Genism Corporation hired only the best. Even if he defended himself during the trial, there was a chance he’d be free within months. The attorney blamed her for ruining his life.
She might not survive the next time he came after her.
Elliot held strong despite the leg injury he’d endured trying to save her life. Blood still soaked through his jeans and her shirt, a violent reminder of the night’s events. His expression hardened, but his grip on her wrist lightened. “You’re not a killer, Waylynn.”
She froze. He wasn’t serious, was he? Her skin felt too tight for her body under the weight of his attention. Red and blue patrol lights softened the edge to his expression but weren’t enough to change her mind about him. “That’s funny coming from you, because the last time we spoke, you called me a monster, you practically accused me of murdering my father and said you’d never trust me again.”
Rules in Defiance Page 16