Love Bats Last (The Heart of the Game) (31 page)

“Wouldn’t want the sharks to get indigestion,” he said, tossing the tape aside.

He was serious. He’d rigged the gag to pull out of her mouth when the weight of her body pulled the knots loose. In his perverse way he was worried about the sharks, concerned that when they consumed her, they might also swallow gaffer’s tape. The man’s priorities were warped.

From the way he spoke, she knew he was well educated. From the way he acted, she was sure he was crazy. Despair hit her—she didn’t have much experience with crazy. Or drug gangs and Russian gangsters. She pushed against the gag. Despair wouldn’t get her out of this.

He was back to business now, checking his knots, arranging her ropes, as if the previous interlude hadn’t occurred. He propped her on her side near the edge of the cliff. Rocks jabbed into her ribs. She heard him walk back to the bunker.

Below her, sunlight danced on the sea and diamond tents of light scattered across the water. The bright sparkles rose and fell with the surge of the waves and wind. It was beautiful. And it was more than two hundred feet down.

She angled her head and watched him pull a pistol from his bag.

“Just in case my knots don’t work as planned,” he said. He raised the gun and aimed it at her. “Bang.”

She tried to wriggle away from the edge of the cliff. He walked to her, tossed the gun a few yards away and used the knot of ropes he’d wrapped her in to jerk her to her back. Then he slid his leg over hers and pinned her to the ground with his knee.

To her surprise, he leaned down and undid her left hand. Then he forced it under her and pinned it tight with the weight of his body. He tied her right hand to the rope running the length of her torso. He was clever. Each of the release knots was tied so that when the line snapped taut, her weight would pull them free.

She bucked hard and with all the strength she could muster.

A smile of pleasure and power curved into his face.

He kneed her in the belly. She doubled up with pain.

When he leaned close, his breath was hot on her throat.

“The tide’ll be high for another hour,” he said, glancing at his watch. He pulled her a few feet back from the cliff and leaned down, his gaze moving down her body. “I believe I’ll have a sample after all.”

His tone had changed. It had the singsong, crooning sound that men used when they talked to small children or pets that they liked. Only it was really creepy. The game had shifted, but she didn’t know how that helped her. She couldn’t talk, could barely move. She had no idea what to do.

She wriggled her hand free, waited for him to dip down to her again. Then she fisted her hand and slammed it into his jaw.

It was the wrong move. She felt him go hard against her belly as he laughed. He flipped her onto her back, pinning her arm under her again. He fiddled with the rope and then leaned onto his side, wedging his hand between her body and his. His knuckles pressed into her stomach as he undid the buckle of his belt.

Chapter Twenty-four

Alex’s car bottomed out on a pothole in Jackie’s driveway. He cursed. He should’ve brought his Jeep. He ran up to her door, knocked and stood there, surveying the row of potted geraniums and hyssops lined up along the walk. What was he expecting? That she’d materialize with a mug of hot coffee and a smile?

He ran to his car and headed out of the park. At the turn for the northern beaches, he hesitated. On a hunch, he turned up the fire road that led west toward the ocean. He wasn’t supposed to be driving on a fire road, but it didn’t matter. He’d pay the fine if someone tried to stop him.

His cell rang.

“It’s Vince. I tried calling half an hour ago, but you must’ve been out of range. I’ve spotted the truck you described. It’s near an old World War Two bunker in the headlands.” He gave Alex the coordinates.

“I’m nearly there.” Alex swallowed the lump growing in his throat. “Call the Sheriff’s office. Is there any chance you can land near the truck?”

“It’s rocky coastline and hills. I could put down about a half mile from there.”

“It’s wooded up ahead—does that end before the bunker?”

“No.”

“Do what you can. And tell Dr. Esmond at the Center to alert the park police. It’s their jurisdiction. And, Vince—”

He lost the cell signal.

Alex picked up a weak signal a quarter mile down the road and pulled over. He tapped the coordinates Vince had given him into his GPS; he was close. When he reached a fork in the road, he turned north and banged down the dirt road the map indicated. After a tenth of a mile, he saw Jackie’s truck parked near the old bunker.

He peered inside the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. He debated for a moment whether to pocket them, then reasoned that if she returned before he did, it’d be best to leave them. The passenger’s side door was ajar and the grass was smashed below it.

He breathed easier when he saw that only one track of footprints led to the bunker.

He followed the track and ducked into the darkness of the bunker. If he hadn’t known the old bunker tunnels led out to the ocean at the opposite side, he’d have thought he was heading into the depths of the earth itself. A vapor of sea air wafted along the chilled stone walls and reminded him of the night he met Jackie. That the smell of wet rock and salted air could conjure the vivid image of a beautiful woman amazed him.

He shook his head.

Just like her to go for a climb and scare the hell out of everybody.

The tunnel seemed endless.

Alex jogged through it in the dim light, stumbling more than once on debris littering the floor. As he neared the arched opening at the other end, the light filtering in made it easier to keep his footing.

He couldn’t wait for her to lay into him for assuming the worst. Hell, her anger would be a hundred times better than everything else he’d been imagining. And then he’d do his thing, laying into her for scaring him half to death.

He reached the mouth of the tunnel and froze.

She wasn’t alone.

A man was humped on top of her. And she was fighting.

For a millisecond his brain scanned for the move most likely to get her to safety. That was all the time he needed.

He lashed out his hand, grabbed a rock near his foot and threw with all his force at the man’s head. The man twisted, and the rock glanced off the back of his head.

Alex launched out of the tunnel. The man lunged for something and jumped up, holding a pistol pointed directly at Jackie. He was no novice; he used both hands and held it steady, at her eye level.

“How tragic,” the man said, watching Alex.

Alex saw Jackie drag her arm from under her and inch her hand toward a rock.

“I had good money on you winning the Triple Crown today.” He nodded toward the bunker wall. “On your knees at the wall, Tavonesi, with your back to me and your hands clasped behind you. Or”—he shot a wide grin—“well, you’re a clever man. I needn’t resort to clichés.”

Jackie grabbed the rock and threw it at her assailant. It hit his knuckles and knocked the gun free of his grip. The gun spun to the ground near the cliff edge.

Alex lunged for it, but the man reached it first. He stood and trained it again at Jackie’s head, moving to pin her free arm behind her back at the same time.

“To the wall, Tavonesi. She’s too pretty to shoot point-blank, don’t you think?”

Alex backed to the wall, never taking his eyes off the other man. He nodded when he recognized him. He’d seen him with Volkov at the donor party.

“Kneel.”

Alex knelt. He didn’t dare speak for fear that anything he might say would set the guy off.

“Hands in front of you where I can see them,” the man directed with a sick smile. “I understand if you want to watch.”

The man dragged Jackie to the cliff edge, ignoring the pounding of her fist against his legs. He dropped her to the ground and pinned her flailing arm under a labyrinth of rope. He held her in place with his knee and the full weight of his body. He hooked another rope through a piton by feel, holding the gun to Jackie’s head and holding Alex in his sights. Without a word or a glance, he put his boot to Jackie’s waist and pushed her toward the edge of the cliff.

The raw scream that roared from Alex as he dove for her was matched by the crack of the gun as it fired.

Alex hit the man with the full force of his body and ripped the rope from his grasp, twisting as he did to put his body between the gun and Jackie. But the man was stronger than Alex had estimated. He kicked Alex to the side, then stomped his full weight on Alex’s wrist, attempting to dislodge the rope. Alex ignored the stab of pain and grabbed for Jackie, but too late—the man stepped over him and shoved her off the cliff. Alex instinctively grabbed the rope sliding down with her. He yanked it taut against the piton. It caught the man’s ankle, unbalancing him.

Alex had only a moment to register the astonished look in the man’s eyes as he lost his balance and plummeted over the cliff, screaming. His scream was swallowed by the sound of the ocean waves.

The rope went slack in Alex’s hands.

“Jackie!”

He fell to his stomach, wrapped the end of the rope through the piton and triple-fisted it around his hand. He pushed his head over the cliff.

Jackie hung against the cliff face. Unmoving. She’d wedged her bound feet in a crevice and with her free arm clung so tightly to the cliff that there was no space between her and the rocks.

Two hundred feet below her, the man’s body churned face down in the surf.

Alex flashed his eyes back to Jackie. She made a motion with hers. He saw the rope dangling below her. It didn’t look right, but he didn’t know what was wrong. He looked back at Jackie, and she blinked at him a couple of times, as if trying to tell him something.

Heart racing, he studied the dangling rope. Then he pictured the knot he’d seen her tie around the whale. Rage jerked through him as he realized what the man had planned. But the bastard hadn’t counted on Jackie. Not on her strength and certainly not on her experience.

Alex wound the rope he held through the piton one more time and tugged it. It held firm. He threw the secured end over the cliff and down to her. It landed in the crook of her arm.

“Can you wrap it around you?” He indicated the secure line by tugging on it. “Maybe twist into it?”

He’d seen her do something like that on that first night, the night they’d rescued the whale. But she’d had both hands free then.

She nodded slightly.

He watched her inch her unbound hand, rock hold by rock hold, over to where she could twist the rope around it and grab tight. His heart pounded and he didn’t dare breathe. She clamped her elbow against the rope and then, like a caterpillar winding into a cocoon, slowly twisted her body into it without losing her foothold. He thought of encouraging her, but as he watched her excruciating performance, he knew silence was best.

She looked up and nodded her signal. He could only hope she could hold on.

He reached his leg back and wound it into the rope stretching from the piton so that as he hauled her up, they wouldn’t both be pulled over by her weight. Then, hand over hand, he pulled her up the cliff, ignoring the pain in his left wrist, forcing it to support his hand and grip the rope.

When she was close enough that he could reach her, he grabbed her and hauled her up and over. He clamped her to him, their hearts pounding against one another, their breaths ragged and short. She began to convulse as tremors shook her body. He leaned away, released his leg from the rope, then lifted her and carried her a few yards from the cliff. He dropped to his knees and lowered her to the ground. His hands shook as he gripped the gag in her mouth and gently eased it out.

“It’s okay,” he murmured again and again. He pulled her close and stroked her hair.

Only then did he register the extent of the pain throbbing through his arm and wrist. The force of the man’s foot had torn something, maybe broken his wrist, but right now none of that mattered.

Jackie tried to speak, but couldn’t get anything out.

“Shhhh,” he murmured, stroking her with a rhythm he hoped was soothing. “Let your tongue get some blood back. Try to relax.”

She muttered something that he guessed to be “Easy for you to say.”

If only it were.

He wished he had water. He looked at the ropes binding her right hand to her chest and knotting her feet together. He wished he had a knife.

He could tell by the way she shook in his arms that she was in shock. Hell, so was he. He needed to get her to his car to get her warm.

He shifted her in his arms and reached down to tackle the knots binding her feet. They didn’t budge. He shifted her more so he could use his right hand as well: the left hand was already swelling and he couldn’t get it to do his bidding. He tugged on the cord that ran through the knots. To his surprise, they slid apart with ease.

“He planned it,” she whispered, her words blurred and slurred. “To look like an accident.” She hesitated. “Release knots.”

He’d been right. And she’d known all along what he’d planned, what would happen when she fell.

His heart thundered in his chest as he imagined...

One quick jerk on the rope secured to the piton and she’d have dropped straight into the surf. It would’ve looked like she’d slipped, like she’d made a mistake. Even the gag had been looped into the release line, rigged to drop into the ocean. There would’ve been no evidence of foul play.

He started to shake.

If he hadn’t held on to her lead line, she’d be down there floating lifeless.

He shifted her in his lap so she couldn’t see his face. She didn’t need to see his rage. Or his horror.

“Shhh.” He leaned forward to work at the knot on her right hand. It too slipped away. “You’re safe now.”

“He could’ve shot you,” she rasped.

He pulled her head to his chest and cradled her gently.

“I saw how he held the gun,” he said, brushing his lips to the top of her head. “I know something about aim, remember?”

She buried her face against his chest and let out a sob. Wave after wave of sobs followed, coursing through her with astonishing force. He’d never held a sobbing woman, but his instincts told him to just rock her, whisper to her, hold her.