Edge of Survival (14 page)

That sort of discipline deserved a medal.

She opened her pack and pulled out some whole-wheat pasta concoction the ship’s cook had created specially for her. He pulled out a Mars bar.

Her plastic fork stilled over her pasta. “You are one coldhearted sonofabitch.”

Daniel grinned as caramel dripped down his chin. “I’d give you a bite but it might kill you.”

He held it away but she grabbed it off him and stole a tiny bite. “It won’t kill me.”

They finished quickly, both drinking water and eating apples as Daniel started up the machine.

“Can we fly past Frenchmans Bight?”

“Sure.” He needed to refuel anyway. Sooner they got out of here the better. He radioed his intended course of action across the airwaves and veered southeast.

Cam kept one eye on her receiver and the other on Frenchmans Bight, trying to guesstimate the distance between the two. Suddenly the receiver sprang into life with a startling screech.

“What the hell?” Daniel glanced sharply from the receiver to her, the set of his jaw enough to tell her he wasn’t happy.

“They stole my fish.” Anticipation surged as anger leaped through her veins. “I want my transmitters back.”

Daniel looked as if he was about to go apoplectic. It was late and they’d been tracking all day. It surprised her when he nodded. “Fine. We’ll check it out—but with discretion.”

He circled the camp and homed in on one wooden shed at the edge of the forest where the signal was strongest, not far from the bar. The horror of the memory of the murder had faded a little, but seeing the makeshift town, seeing some of the miners dotted around looking up at the circling chopper, and knowing one of them had slit Sylvie’s throat was scary. Like being lowered into the lion’s den.

“I’ll fuel up. That’ll stop them thinking too much about why we’re here,” said Daniel.

“And I’ll go check out the shed.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Not without me, you won’t—”

“And that won’t look suspicious? You and me just happening to wander over to that particular hut? What are we, after a quickie?” Cam’s anger spilled over. These people had no respect for the law or for the environment. They certainly had no respect for her hard work.

“You remember what happened the last time you wandered off on your own in this town, don’t you?”

She remembered, vividly. But she wasn’t letting these guys get away with raping an ecosystem they’d signed a contract to protect. And she’d bet Dwight Wineberg knew exactly what was going on too, that no-good sonofabitch.

“Compromise.” Cam held up her hand. Technically, Daniel was in charge and she didn’t want to be stranded in Frenchmans Bight overnight just for him to prove a point. He was winding the bird down and she could see irritation in every precise flick of his fingers. “I go over first and you follow as soon as you’ve filled her up.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” she started to argue, but he’d tuned her out. Jeez, he could be an obstinate jerk. She unstrapped her harness, but he took hold of her hand before she could stomp off. His grip tightened and that gave her an odd little thrill—not because she was into pain, but because he’d finally stopped treating her as if she might break. She glared into his Ray-Bans, knowing exactly what expression would be in his eyes if she could see them.

Cool dispassion.

“Wouldn’t it be a waste if all those years of care and dedication to your health, all those needles you’ve endured, got wiped out by the single swipe of a blade?”

For no reason her eyes blurred and she looked away. “Why would you care?” It sounded juvenile and he ignored her comment.

He squeezed her fingers. “Cam, I don’t want what happened to Sylvie to happen to you.”

“Why? Because you haven’t nailed me yet?”

He flinched and dropped her hand. She looked away. God, where had that come from?

“Give me five minutes.” His voice was clipped as he nodded toward the fuel pump. “Then we’ll head in the direction of the bar as if we’re going for a drink.”

Cam shuddered, unable to believe the place was back open for business.

“And we’ll veer off the boardwalk to the shed from there.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She sounded like a six-year-old. “Sorry,” she apologized, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long day and a hard week.

Daniel got out without saying anything further. It took closer to ten minutes to fill up. He knocked on her window and she jumped and then opened the door to step out. She went to pick up the receiver, but he stopped her with a touch to her elbow.

“Leave it. We know where the transmitters are. Let’s not give them any clues about what we’re really doing here.”

They strode along the boardwalk toward the bar. She kept glancing left and right. In front of them was the main hub of the camp with wooden bunkhouses and a canteen area. Cam swiped at a cloud of bugs she walked through. As the day cooled into evening, insects clamored for blood.

They passed a couple of miners. Cam couldn’t help but cringe at the way they stared at her. As though she was hot and naked and available. She’d known what to expect, going onto a male-dominated ship, but here, in this barely civilized town, the rules were less about law and order and more about what you could get away with. They’d left the twenty-first century behind.

Daniel slid his arm across her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth, trying to hold onto a smile. The embrace brought her snug against his body, and even after a day in the pilot seat he smelled wonderful.

“We’re going for a quickie, remember?”

Her eyebrows rose but she didn’t get time to respond. They passed the bar and he pulled her around the corner and pushed her up against the side of the building. Then he raised her chin with both thumbs and kissed her.

Cam forgot to breathe. His lips were a rough demand, as though if she didn’t open up right now he would force his way inside. She gasped in shock when he cupped her breast in his palm and his thumb played the tip of her nipple through her T-shirt, even though they were standing out in the open where anyone could see them. Sensation shot between her thighs and she squirmed within his grasp, but he didn’t let her escape.

He wedged his thigh between her knees. There was nothing but his lips on hers, his body pressing hard against her while he aroused her nipple with the pad of his thumb and set fire to every cell. She wanted him. She grabbed his head with both hands and dove right in, hot and wild. Everything was going at blinding speed and she forgot they were surrounded by prying eyes and open air. She forgot someone had stolen her fish and a woman had been brutally murdered just a few feet from where they stood. Sweat slid between her breasts as desire uncoiled inside her belly. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she
needed
to get closer.

Daniel raised his head, his eyes meeting hers, and she realized he’d taken off his shades. His eyes were as dark as liquid ink. Her heart pumped in short hard punches against her rib cage, or maybe that was his heart. They were so close she couldn’t tell.

“I think anyone watching would be convinced we need to get a room.” His voice was strained. Looking around, he pulled her quickly toward the shed as if he’d just spotted it.

She was panting and out of breath.
Acting.
Obviously. The door was unlocked so they stumbled inside and pushed it closed behind them as if they couldn’t wait to screw each other blind.

Dwight Wineberg was using the back door into the bar when he spotted Daniel Fox and that kooky tree-hugger sneak into the storage shed. He paused, knowing what they were up to. Envy crawled through his stomach and up into his gullet, making his mouth go dry. It seemed like forever since he’d screwed a woman. He hitched his trousers. He’d rather see the blonde naked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Around here some fellas would bang a dog if it stood still long enough. He glanced left and right, made sure no one was about, and sidled toward the storage shed, aroused at the thought of a little peep show.

Daniel Fox.

Dwight spat. The guy was a royal pain in the ass. If it wasn’t for the bottom line of company profits and accident reports, Dwight would play fast and loose with the guy’s Jesus nut. If there were women to be had, that bastard was right there, nailing them like a stag in a rut.

There was a dirty window on this side of the shack and Dwight tromped over the marshy ground, grateful for his rubber boots. Careful not to make any sound, he leaned closer to the glass, wiping at the dust. Anticipation made his dick hard and his breath caught in his throat. Oh yeah, seeing that snotty bitch panting or blowing was going to make his day. It took his vision a moment to adjust to the dim light in the shack.

Shit! He stumbled away, panic squeezing his chest with a sharp pain that was swiftly replaced by rage. His blood superheated as it charged through his body, anger burning out of his skin in waves of sweat. He grabbed his radio and strode back to Bear’s Bar. The boss would go ballistic if he found out the boys had been poaching.

Dwight glanced back to the hut and switched to the short-wave radio. Maybe it was time to sort out that smug bastard and interfering cow, once and for all.

***

Cam swayed and braced her hand against a joist while Daniel found the light switch.

“I wish you’d told me that part of the plan,” she said. Her lips buzzed from the ferocity of their kisses and blood had rushed somewhere other than her brain, making her lightheaded and disorientated.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned.

There were two enormous chest freezers set against the far wall. Cam walked on unsteady legs and needed two hands to haul up one of the lids. And there, in clear plastic bags, was a freezer full of char.
Bob, Frank, Peter G
were written in black marker, identifying which fish belonged to which poacher. She could even see an antenna sticking out of one of the dead fish.

“Not exactly Mensa, huh?” She pointed to the trailing antenna, and one side of Daniel’s mouth kicked up as he stepped back.

“We need to call the RCMP and the Department of Natural Resources.”

Cam went to grab some of the fish, but he stopped her and closed the lid.

“No. Leave everything as it is. Let the police find the evidence
in situ.
” He was in serious mode. All business. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “And try and look like you’ve just been…” his smile got dirty, “…satisfied.”

Sheesh. Even the thought of sex with Daniel had the power to take her breath, and he knew it because the grin on his face was devastating. She put her hand on the door knob to try and escape her jumbled emotions.

“Hold it,” he ordered.

She froze.

“I’ve thought of a problem.” The devilry in his voice should have warned her.

“What?”

His hands slid over her shoulders and turned her around. Her mouth went dry. “If we leave now, my reputation will be in ruins.”

She raised her eyes to meet the midnight depths of his. Everything slowed and she blinked. The warmth of his breath brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers. Her pulse pounded a lonely beat in that musty, dimly lit shed. Then the rhythm got messy as he pressed her to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her again. As if he wanted her. As if he intended to have her right there, right then.

He was temptation and sin, and she couldn’t. Could she?

Shivers wracked her body. Heat poured off his body, made his shirt damp with perspiration. She explored his back, pressing the heel of her hand into the indent of his spine. He returned the favor with zeal, slipping his hands lower. She gasped, overwhelmed. It was too much and she couldn’t catch a breath—hell, she could barely stand. Suddenly, he released her and took a step back, never losing her gaze. The sound of his breathing filled the silence.

She touched her lips with trembling fingers. “What just happened?”

One side of his mouth curled up but shadows remained in his eyes. “Just a kiss.”

Maybe in his world.

He gave her a critical look before they went out the door. Then he kissed her again, quickly, scraping his teeth over her lips, and her body reacted instinctively even though she tried to pull away. He wrenched her T-shirt out of her pants and undid the top button of her jeans and lowered her zipper. She started to panic because her body was primed for the big show even though her mind was screaming this was a bad idea. Then he tugged her hand and pulled her out of the shed as she fumbled to put her clothing back together.

“What the hell!” Cam dug in her toes and tried to do up her zipper with one hand. She couldn’t so she twisted out of his grip to do up her pants as a fierce flush of heat swept up her neck and into her cheeks.

Daniel adjusted his pants with a shit-eating grin, as though he’d just gotten his rocks off. The guy had guerilla tactics for getting his own way. Man, he looked so pleased with himself
she
almost thought they’d done it. Except, surely if they had, she wouldn’t feel as if one brush of his hand over her sensitized skin would make her come on the spot?

They walked fast along the boardwalk back toward the bar. Two miners came around the corner from Bear’s Bar and stood looking at them, blocking the path to the chopper. One guy gave her an almost friendly wink, the other was the man who’d been with Dwight Wineberg that first day. The look in his eye was one of sharp malice.

“Know them?” Daniel’s grin morphed into something jagged. He caught her hand and pulled her along beside him. He didn’t seem to realize he was manhandling her, but as she’d gotten him into this mess, it didn’t seem right to complain.

“I saw one of them in the bar the day Sylvie was killed.”

The miners planted themselves at the junction of the boardwalk, but Daniel just kept marching straight toward them. They had to go past the miners or cut through the bog to get to the helicopter.

Both men were bigger than Daniel. And sure, he was an ex-soldier, fit and strong, but he wasn’t a hulk. For the first time, Cam was a little scared.

He read her mind and squeezed her fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Cam.” More miners were heading down the wooden path from the main camp toward Bear’s Bar. “Just do as I say and we’ll be good.”

She pulled back. “Maybe we should cut through the marsh?”

“Then they’d corner us by the helicopter.” He flashed his best 007 smile. “I can handle this.”

There were at least ten men gathered now. “Err…not unless that’s an Uzi in your pants.”

“Never liked Uzis, and guns are just tools that can jam and break at the wrong moment.”

“So why do you carry a shotgun in the chopper?” Cam asked, trying to concentrate on Daniel and not the scowls of the men standing in front of them.

“I’m a guy. I like tools, but I don’t rely on them.” He winked and ducked his head closer to her. She felt his warm breath on her cheek even as morbid fear gripped her body. “Once I create an opening, I want you to run to the chopper and get on the radio to the RCMP. Don’t look back. Don’t worry about me. Just get the cops out here ASAP.”

Epinephrine coursed through her veins, limbering her up to run. Fight or flight, and she was definitely in favor of flight. “What are you going to do?”

“Provide the distraction and make sure they don’t follow you.” He shot her a look. “Either way, do not come back without the cops.”

She shook her head. Her hands felt numb. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Aww, Doc. I didn’t know you cared. Now, get on my left side and be ready to haul ass,” Daniel murmured under his breath.

Panic was growing inside her, scrambling her heart rate. This was all her fault. She didn’t like chaos or lack of control. She didn’t like taking risks with her or anyone else’s life, because she knew exactly how precious it was. She gave his hand a final squeeze and let him go. “I do care, and if you get hurt I’m going to kick your ass, Daniel Fox.”

“Can’t wait.” Daniel had a glint in his eye. His concentration was on the danger ahead and he needed her to do what he said so he could keep that focus and not get his head kicked in by a mob.

Her palms started to sweat.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Daniel called out when they were fifteen feet away.

The big guy grinned and planted himself directly in front of Daniel. “I thought maybe we’d teach you some manners.” A couple of guys laughed, others looked away uneasily. Two turned and headed back in the direction they’d come. Cam didn’t see Dwight Wineberg anywhere.

“Shucks, guys. That’s too kind.” Daniel put on a drawl, but he never stopped moving.

Cam looked at the three men who blocked the left side of the boardwalk. She glanced over the fen beneath them. Maybe she could cut through the reeds.

Then a big guy grabbed Daniel by his shirt and drew back a club-sized fist. Daniel broke the hold with one slice of his arm and brought his other elbow viciously into the man’s face. He shoved and his attacker fell off the opposite side of the boardwalk without landing a blow.

Even Cam was shocked at how pathetic the other guy looked. “Wow. You’re good.”

Daniel raised his brows, but didn’t smile.

The miners, clearly expecting a better fight, or a more exciting distraction, started jeering. Daniel didn’t waste time judging friend from foe, he shoved past the remaining two guys who blocked Cam’s way and pushed her ahead of him. One guy lunged and caught her arm, his nails biting into her skin.

“Ow!”

Daniel punched the offender on the nose and the guy cried out and dropped to his knees.

“Go!” he urged.

Cam started sprinting toward the chopper, her rubber boots slippery on the damp wooden boards. Just as she passed Bear’s Bar, Dwight Wineberg came out onto the steps. His eyes glittered beneath his thick silver brows, and fear shot through her like an arrow. She sprinted harder.

Part of her wanted to turn and make sure Daniel was all right, and the other part, the rational part, knew she had to get the RCMP as soon as possible to help Daniel. So much for proving herself as capable as the next person. So much for proving she could do her job in a place this remote, without help. She was scared and she was ashamed. Because she was running away as fast as she could and she’d abandoned Daniel to the fight.

Daniel would rather have kept the Doc close, but in this situation providing a distraction and trusting her to extricate herself was the best he could do. He wasn’t part of a four-man squad. He didn’t have weapons or backup.

None of the miners seemed willing to take him on except for the big guy, who was frothing at the mouth as he tried to climb out of the swamp. Daniel glanced over his shoulder to make sure the Doc was at the bird when some wanker stuck out his leg and shoved him. Daniel tripped and landed on his nose. White pain flashed through his brain like a lightning strike, but he shook it off, gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and climbed to his feet. Pain was a no-brainer—
don’t think about it.
He turned to face the now silent group of men. Blood ran over his lips and dripped onto his shirt and stained the wood at his feet.

The big guy had finally hauled himself back onto the boardwalk, and the whole structure shook. He stood dripping with marsh water, stinking with fetid musk, his expression ugly. Daniel checked his shoulder again. The Doc was safe. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he did not want her on his conscience. And then the big guy’s hand slipped down to his hip beneath his shirt and he unsheathed a knife.

Shit
. Daniel had planned on getting a little banged up to entertain the crowd and play for time. The introduction of a blade changed his agenda.

Daniel hadn’t gone hand-to-hand with anything other than a six-pack in two years. In the SAS, rules of unarmed combat were simple. Unless you needed to kill someone, you put the opposition down as fast as possible and walked away. The SAS did not rush headlong into street brawls or confrontation just to prove they knew how to fight. They avoided them. Because winning the battle, protecting your mates and surviving were the most important factors in warfare. It wasn’t about showing off who had the biggest dick.

Daniel threw a look over his shoulder to make sure Cam was safely in the chopper and saw Dwight Wineberg ambling up the path behind him, talking on his walkie-talkie, in no hurry to restore order to his camp. Daniel turned back to the big man, well aware a knife in the back would be the easiest way to take him permanently out of the game.

“Is that your idea of manners?” He nodded to the knife and spat out a mouthful of blood.

The meathead opened his mouth to answer, but Daniel didn’t listen to more bullshit. He grabbed the guy’s knife wrist and brought it up behind the man’s back, forcing the wrist into an angle the human body wasn’t supposed to make. He kept turning the guy’s hand, forcing the elbow up and applying the lock. He stamped down on the back of the guy’s knee, and the attacker collapsed to the floor, face first. Daniel gave another twist of the wrist, dislocating the arm, and the man screamed in agony. Daniel couldn’t afford to let him back into the fight. People who pulled knives meant business—just ask Sylvie Watson. Daniel kept a knee between the guy’s shoulder blades and held onto the knife so no one else got hurt.

“Who’s next?” Daniel grinned at the mob. Even though the odds were 10-to-1 against, he had the terrain in his favor, and now he had a knife.

No one moved. They all just stared at the giant who lay on the boardwalk, and then raised their heads to stare over Daniel’s head at Dwight Wineberg. Daniel pressed his fingers to a pressure point on the big man’s neck, close enough to smell unwashed sweat on the guy’s body. He waited a few seconds for him to fall unconscious. Then he stood and moved back.