Tropical Safeguard (Men Of The Secret Service) (15 page)

With some difficulty, Cameron scissored
over the rail himself and they perched on the tiny outer ledge. Cameron looked
down as if assessing his next move. He still had one arm tightly around her
waist and the other on her mouth. And then…he jumped, pushing Katrina out in
front of him. The fall felt endless, but before she new it they made contact
with the bushes below. Katrina felt the branches dig into her skin, the scrapes
deep and stinging. Both her and Cameron lay still for a moment, dumbstruck, and
then Katrina scrambled to her feet. Shaken, she attempted to run but her ankle
was in agony.

“Help!” she shouted with all her might.

Cameron tackled her from behind and they
both fell to the grass, her cheek pressing into the soft green with his weight
on her.

“Don’t fight this, Kat. You’re coming
home with me, or I’ll end it all for good.”

His voice was hoarse in her ear, the
spittle from his raging words spraying the side of her face. Katrina closed her
eyes and cried, praying Cole or anyone had heard her call for help.
 
Flipping her over, Cameron pinned her
arms and legs down with his body. He planted a hard kiss on her mouth, taking
her breath away with its crushing force.

“You’re mine,” Cameron barked with venom.

As the moonlight lit the contours of his
face, Katrina didn’t even recognize him anymore. His features were contorted in
a sinister grin and his eyes were wild and menacing. Seeing him point blank for
what he really was, Katrina was certain she was going to die tonight.

                                   
<><><>

Between
coherency and slumber, Cole was sure he’d heard a knock but drifted back to
sleep. And then he heard it again, louder this time. Clearly he wasn’t meant to
have any sleep tonight.

Groggy, he got up and pulled on his tee
shirt, thinking it may be Katrina again. He opened the door expecting to see
her lovely face, but instead he found a distraught looking Jacque wearing a
heavy blue bathrobe.

“Je m’excuse, Agent Nielsen, but I think
something is wrong with Katrina. I heard strange noises in her room and on her
balcony and when I knocked on her door, she didn’t respond.”

Cole stared at Jacque, the last traces of
slumber burning off at the mention of ‘something wrong with Katrina’. He raced
past Jacque toward her door.

“Katrina,” he knocked. “Katrina, are you
in there?”

Not waiting another moment, Cole entered
her room and turned on the lights. Her bed was empty and the bathroom was dark.
He frantically scanned the room for any signs of a struggle. The balcony door
was open, but Cole assumed she had it this way to disengage the
air-conditioning in her room because she preferred the natural breeze off the
ocean. He noticed a box sitting on the floor of the balcony and approached it.
Horrified, he picked up the dagger and rose before frantically reading the
note. He peered over the rail and noticed the vines beneath peeling away from
the wall. Cameron Kilroy must have scaled up to the first floor balcony. The
bushes below were bent and broken.

“Damn!”

“What is it? Is Katrina okay?” Jacque
asked from behind Cole’s shoulder.

“He’s got her. I have to find Agent
Kensing.” Cole turned to face Jacque. “Round everyone up in a safe place and
let them know we have a dangerous man on the premises. He isn’t after The
Secretary after all. Katrina was always his target.”

“Should we call the police?”

“No, Agent Kensing and I are here to take
care of it. We’ll involve the Bermuda police if it comes to that later. I know
I can count on you, Jacque.”

“But of course!”
 

Cole turned and darted for his room. He
pulled on his khaki pants and shoved his Glock handgun into his belt. Picking
up his earphone, he called for Agent Kensing as he exited his room. The veteran
agent wasn’t responding.

                                   
<><><>

Cameron
yanked on Katrina’s arm. He’d removed his hand from her mouth because at this
distance, there was little chance of her screams reaching anyone. Katrina had
fought so hard that a general fatigue took hold in the void of her spent
energy. Emotionally, she found herself right back where she’d been six months
ago. Cameron had spun his powerful web and she’d fallen into it once more.

“You bitch. Did you actually think you’d
get away from our life together?” Cameron seemed blinded by his fury as he
pulled her down the switchback stairs toward the beach. Katrina stumbled and
scraped her knee, forcing Cameron to stop and turn. She sucked in an audible
breath as her knee throbbed and burned. “Get up, Katrina. We have to go.”

Go where?
Katrina wondered. How
on earth was he going to transfer her from Bermuda to the United States without
the risk of drawing attention? But then again, maybe Cameron
wasn’t
going
to take her home. Maybe he was going to drown her. Maybe she was walking right
into her own death. At this thought, desperation crept in and Katrina tried a
different approach.

“Cameron, listen, I think we should talk
about
us
,”
she pleaded.

He yanked her up from the stair and she
winced as her knee straightened. He ignored her pleas and turned with purpose
toward the beach. Again, Katrina was forced to follow him into the unknown. She
tried to look back toward the mansion, and as she did she noticed several
lights on that had once been black. Maybe someone had discovered her
disappearance so she tried to stall.

“Cam, I’ve missed you. I was thinking of
coming back on my own in a couple of weeks. I was going to call you to see if
it was okay, but…”

“Save it. You left and had no intention
of coming back, ever. You can’t make a fool of me and get away with it. People
have been talking. I had to tell them you got sick and went away on a retreat
to get better. No one believes me. They look at me with disgust and suspicion.
All because of you!”

Katrina raised her hand across her face
in defense as Cameron came toward her in a mock punch. It was a block she knew
by heart. He hadn’t usually punched her in the face – that would have
shown bruises, evidence. He was prone to striking her in the legs, back, and
stomach so she could cover up in her straight-laced business suites. No one had
ever been the wiser. But now, Cameron’s actions showed his reckless abandon.
He’d passed the point of rationality.

Reluctantly peering through her fingers,
she saw Cameron lower his fist and glower at her. The moon cast its pale light
across the top of his head as the waves lapped against the shoreline. Katrina
lowered her arm and stared right back with a vulnerable intensity. The farther
they moved away from the house, the lower her hopes of ever being helped. There
was something about the moment, an eerie stillness that disturbed her to the
point of acceptance. She was terrified because she’d experienced this
pseudo-tranquility before. It was the calm before Cameron’s storm.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you,”
she said calmly.

It wasn’t a question as much as a knowing
statement. Cameron’s strike was swift. She hardly knew what hit her.

                                   
<><><>

Exiting
by the side door of the mansion, the noise of tree frogs engulfed Cole as he
ran toward the back lawn in the pitch darkness. He knew by instinct that
perpetrators tend to grab and run for shelter. It would be Cameron’s goal to
get Katrina somewhere secure, away from prying eyes until he knew the coast was
clear. Cole would have to start his search from underneath Katrina’s balcony
and work his way out from there following any leads. Time was of the essence.

As his eyes adjusted to the night, the
stars over the ocean and the three-quarter moon seemed to pop and shed light on
his surroundings. Cole pressed on, finding Katrina’s balcony. The long threads
of shadows danced on the ground around him as the breeze blew deceiving him
into thinking the movements were human. He cocked his head, trying to listen
for any indication of a struggle, of footsteps, but the wind made hearing
anything impossible.

He searched the immediate area for Agent
Kensing’s silhouette but saw nothing. He tried contacting him again on the
earphone but received no response. If Agent Kensing couldn’t hear him, then
Cole couldn’t be heard in return. He was now incommunicado. Isolation was an
agent’s worse nightmare when facing an uncertain situation. Cole assumed Agent
Kensing had already gone inside and, if so, Jacque would hopefully inform him
of the emergency. Or worse, Agent Kensing had been compromised by Cameron
Kilroy. He had no time to waste looking for the veteran agent now. And if by
chance Agent Kensing had been ambushed, then he would have to take care of that
later too.

Looking ahead, Cole noticed a patch of
material in the bush. Running toward it, he realized it was from the pink
pajamas Katrina had worn earlier when she’d come to his room. He’d seen the
pink garment peeking through the top of her white robe. Turning, Cole
frantically scanned the landscape.

‘Where are you, Katrina?’

The beach, he would take her to the beach
and away from the house. Cole picked up speed as he raced across the lawn
toward the cliffs. Edging the drop, he scanned the beach below for any
movement. He stopped, spotting something but still uncertain what it was. Had
his hunch paid off? Cole skirted the cliff, his eyes desperately searching the
distant sand. As he drew closer to the top of the switchback staircase, he
finally registered what it was. A large lone figure hunched over, his back to
the cliffs. The figure was standing near the water in silhouette. Squinting,
the moon was Cole’s only light source and it was difficult to see anything
clearly. And then he saw her. Katrina’s limp body.

Without warning, Cole found his rage
mount to the point of recklessness. His urge to kill the man who now held
Katrina was borderline blind fury. Testosterone and adrenaline coursed through
his bloodstream. He descended the switchback stairs two at a time, reaching the
sand in no time. Spotting the darkened figure, a chill ran through Cole as he
realized what the man was doing – dragging Katrina’s body toward the
water.

“No!” Cole shouted, but the wind silenced
his words as quickly as they left his mouth. He ran flat out. He was almost
there. As he reached down to grab his gun, to his horror he discovered it had
fallen out of his belt in his desperation to get to Katrina as quickly as
possible. Stopping, he looked back and saw it in the sand at a distance.
Without hesitating, he sprinted again in Cameron’s direction just as Katrina’s
body was dragged into the crashing waves. Leaping at him from behind, Cole
tackled Cameron with great force and both men fell into the water. As they
reemerged, Cole made contact with Cameron’s left cheek sending him hurtling
back once more. Turning in desperation, Cole dove under the waves to retrieve
Katrina, uncertain if she were dead or alive. Kicking with wide strokes, he was
under for a few seconds before finding her under the surface. Holding her limp
body in his arms, he waded through the rough waters toward the beach, the
massive strength of each wave pulling him back in his efforts.

“Katrina!” he cried over the crash of the
waves. “Katrina!” But she was non-responsive.

Laying her gently down on the sand, Cole
felt for a pulse and was relieved when the weak thrum under his fingertips
signified life.

                                   
<><><>

Cameron
gasped for air after churning around in the undercurrent. With a ringing in his
ears, he was disoriented for a moment and then got his bearings again. The rage
he felt replaced any possibility of concussion. Looking toward the beach, he
could just make out a muscular figure crouching over Katrina’s body – his
Katrina. Cameron would have to eliminate anyone who could identify him, and he
had to finish off Katrina so she couldn’t point a finger at him either. Wading
out of the water, he charged at the stranger, knocking him into the sand. They
rolled around, struggling with sand flying in all directions. Cameron finally
made contact and punched the man’s face.

                                   
<><><>

The
blow caught Cole off guard, but being a few inches taller, much stronger, and
far better trained for such combat, Cole took the punch easily before
reciprocating with a swift punch to Cameron’s spleen, doubling him over. While
hunched, Cameron reached down and pulled another silver dagger from a strap
around his calf. He’d come prepared for bloodshed. As he swung violently, Cole
ducked a couple of his swipes, all the while backing up toward his gun.