Читать книгу Navy Seal Captive - Elle James - Страница 9

Chapter Two

When Sawyer returned to the resort, he went to the bungalow he’d rented for his two-week stay, shed his jeans and pulled on a pair of swim trunks. After sweating in the humidity of the jungle, he could think of nothing he’d rather do than go for a dip in the ocean.

Grabbing a towel, he headed out the door and nearly ran into Montana.

“Hey, Sawyer!” Montana backed up a step. “You look like a man on a mission.”

“I am. There’s a WaveRunner with my name on it out there somewhere.”

Montana chuckled. “I take it the zip-lining wasn’t your style.”

“Not particularly.” Though the woman he’d met was. Jenna. Damn, he could kick himself for not asking for her number. Oh, well. He eyed Montana in his swim trunks, T-shirt and flip-flops. “You heading for the beach?”

“I am. Thought I’d improve on my tan.” He grinned. “Girls love a tan, right?”

Sawyer turned on the boardwalk path, heading for the ocean. “No date for tonight?”

Montana shook his head. “No. But then, I wasn’t really looking.”

“Me, either.” He hadn’t been looking and hadn’t made an attempt when the opportunity bumped into him. He’d be smart to go ahead and ask Quentin to get her number, or he’d spend the rest of the vacation wishing he’d been quicker to seize the moment. “I’m going to rent a WaveRunner. Wanna go in half?”

“Sure!” Montana flung his towel over his shoulder. “Been a while since I’ve ridden one.”

“Can’t imagine the lakes getting warm enough in Montana for a WaveRunner.”

“You’d be surprised. We have long days in the summer. Gives the water a chance to warm up.”

“From snowmelt?” Sawyer snorted. “Not as warm as the water gets off Virginia Beach.”

“Maybe not that warm, but a little warmer than the water off San Diego.”

Sawyer shivered. “BUD/S training gave a whole new meaning to word miserable.”

“Yeah, but I have no regrets.”

“Same here.” He’d grown up in a wealthy household. Everything he’d wanted, he could have by just asking. BUD/S training had been a real culture shock and an assault on his body, physically and mentally. But he’d be damned if he failed and went home to hear his father say “I told you so.”

Everything Sawyer did was to prove to himself he could do anything he set his mind to. Not because his father could get him the position or smooth his way. He didn’t want his father’s help. Hell, he didn’t want anything to do with his father.

The man had given him anything money could buy, but he hadn’t been much of a parent. He’d never played ball with him. Never made one of his parent-teacher conferences at school. When Sawyer crashed his motorcycle and broke his arm, his father was in Paris with his fiancée. He didn’t bother to come home and check that Sawyer was all right.

He never once showed up at one of his football games. Hell, he didn’t want him to play football. He’d said the sport was too hard on a man’s body. It wrecked the knees. Not that he cared if his son was injured. His advice was from a practical viewpoint. Why destroy your body when you needed it to get you through to old age?

Being raised in a mansion with formal living areas and white carpets had been stifling to Sawyer. He’d never thought he could be himself. He was always the politician’s son. On display in his best clothes. Sawyer felt more at ease near the sea, with sand between his toes and the sun warming his skin, wearing nothing but a swimsuit.

“There.” Montana pointed down the beach, where a number of WaveRunners rested on the sand. A small tent stood nearby with a menu of prices listed on a chalkboard.

They wove their way between families playing with their children in the sand and bikini-clad beach babes slathered in oil and baking in the sun. Sawyer didn’t slow to stare at the beautiful bodies. He wanted to be racing across the water, crashing through the waves, letting the wind and ocean wash thoughts of his lonely childhood from his mind. He had his SEAL brothers now. They were the best family a man could have. They’d be there for him, no matter what.

Sawyer slapped a wad of bills in the attendant’s hand. “We’ll take one for an hour.”

The man pocketed the cash, instructed them on the use of the equipment and helped push a WaveRunner out to the water’s edge.

Sawyer nodded to Montana. “You can go first.”

“You sure? This was your idea.”

“I can wait. Just don’t wreck it before I get a chance to ride.” He twisted his lips into a wry grin. “It’s not like riding a horse.”

Montana laughed, hitched his shorts as if he were a real cowboy dressed in jeans and cowboy boots, and then swung his leg over the seat as if he was mounting a horse. “It’s more like riding a horse than you think. But then, riding a horse can be a lot more difficult for you city slickers.”

“Keep it up, Montana, and I’ll show you a real rodeo on the water.”

“Only thing that’ll convince me is if you rope a shark, hog-tie him and bring him in to roast on a spit. Montana-style.” Montana gunned the throttle and shot out into the water. He hit a small wave head-on, crashing through the crest to emerge on the other side. “Yee-haw!” he yelled and raced out to sea.

Sawyer sat in the wet sand, adjusting the cell phone in his pocket, glad he’d thought to slip it into a waterproof bag before he’d left the bungalow. He let the water lap over his feet and legs, enjoying the sun on his back, the fresh air and the taste of salt on his lips.

The first few days in Cancún had been a lot more than any of them had bargained for. Looking for relaxation, fun and maybe some female companionship, they’d come to Cancún ready for a much-deserved vacation.

Duff had been the first of the men to find a female companion. And boy, did he know how to pick one. Natalie, a former government secret agent, had come to find her sister, who’d disappeared on a diving excursion.

When Duff offered to help, all four members of SEAL Boat Team 22 who’d come to Cancún were engaged to find and liberate women who’d been kidnapped and readied for auction in a human trafficking ring.

Rest and relaxation. Ha!

Since when did getting shot at count as recreation?

Quentin, Montana and Sawyer could have told Duff where he could go with his plan to help, but that was not what friends did—not what SEAL brothers did. They stuck together and helped each other through good times and bad. And if there were guns and bad guys involved, that was when they did their best work.

Sawyer leaned back in the surf and let the warm, clear ocean water ebb and flow over his skin. Now that they’d retrieved the women and sent most of them to their respective homes, the team could finish their vacation in peace.

Montana hopped across several more waves, shouting like a fool and laughing in the sun. A wave hit him broadside and knocked the big cowboy into the water.

Laughing, Sawyer stood, brushing sand off his shorts.

Montana dragged himself up the back of the craft, mounted the WaveRunner and powered into the shore, pulling up on the sand beside Sawyer. Grinning, he shook the water from his hair. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Great.”

Montana climbed off and stood to the side.

Finally Sawyer had his turn. He and Montana turned the vehicle in the sand to aim it outward.

Sawyer swung his leg over the body of the craft and settled onto the cushioned seat. As he twisted the throttle, a shout sounded behind him.

* * *

AS SOON AS Jenna realized who the man in the photographs was, she’d grabbed her cell phone and called Carly.

Her friend didn’t answer. Instead, she texted.

What do you need? We’re in a convertible. I can’t hear over the wind.

Get Quentin to give you the number for his friend.

Carly responded with a smiley face and a note.

His name is Sawyer.

Her heart racing, Jenna paced the floor. Every time she passed the case on the bed, her stomach clenched and she muttered, “Holy crap.”

Someone had been paid to deliver Sawyer dead or alive to some undisclosed location. Armed with that information, Jenna couldn’t stand by and let the would-be assassin succeed in his mission. She had to warn Sawyer. The sooner the better. The assassin might have more than this rifle at his disposal. And he had a deadline to meet.

Her first thought was to call the police. But no crime had been committed at that point. And hell, what if they thought she was the owner of the weapons? They’d throw her in a Mexican jail to rot. All the reports she’d heard about the Mexican government being owned by the drug cartels didn’t give her much faith in their ability to stop this kidnapping or assassination from occurring.

Jenna glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was already three in the afternoon. That meant six hours until the assassin had to deliver his prize.

Jenna’s phone pinged with Carly’s text. It contained a phone number, the name of a nearby resort hotel and a message.

Sawyer was planning to go to the beach this afternoon and rent a WaveRunner. You might find him there. Have fun!

“Have fun? Are you kidding me?” With a near-hysterical laugh, Jenna dialed the number and waited, gripping her cell phone so hard, she was afraid she’d break it. On the third ring, a male voice answered.

“Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” The voice was the same rich baritone she’d heard on the zip-line platform.

Jenna closed the damning suitcase and shoved it high on a shelf in her closet, hoping that would calm her frazzled nerves. It didn’t. She still had to warn Sawyer.

Unwilling to deliver the bad news to him via a recording, she hit the end button and glanced around the room. Still dressed in nothing but her underwear, she yanked the bright pink bikini Carly insisted was adventurous out of her carry-on bag, shed her bra and panties and slipped into the suit. She threw on a short, lacy beach wrap and grabbed her room key.

She’d considered texting Carly about what was in the case but was afraid Carly wouldn’t believe her. Or worse, the text message would be intercepted. Nobody could know she had the case. Not until she figured out what to do with it.

First she had to find Sawyer and warn him about the note’s contents.

Riding the elevator from the bridal suite to the ground floor was a study in patience. The car stopped several times on the way down to fill with people wearing dinner clothes or beach apparel, depending on where they were headed. They laughed and joked with each other while Jenna bit down on her lip and counted the seconds until they reached the bottom. She wanted to shout and rail at the people slowing her down. Didn’t they realize a man’s life could be hanging in the balance?

Somewhere in Cancún, possibly on the beach, an assassin could be following Sawyer or aiming at him through a scope similar to the one in the case. One pull of the trigger and Sawyer would be delivered dead.

The elevator hit the ground level and the doors opened, disgorging the numerous passengers.

Dancing in the rear, Jenna tried to get around some of them but was cut off every time. When she found a clear path, she darted through the lobby, making a beeline for the concierge, where she cut in front of an elderly couple and asked where she could find the hotel Carly had given in her text message.

The concierge pointed and told her it was two hotels south along the beach.

Jenna didn’t wait for clearer directions but ran out the back door of the hotel, past the pool and the myriad lounge chairs flanking it and out onto the sand. She didn’t slow as she raced past the umbrellas and people stretched out, capturing the afternoon sunshine. Eventually she ran along the water’s edge, finding better purchase in the wet hard-packed sand. Passing the first resort hotel, she kept her gaze forward, searching the beach in front of her and the water to her left.

God, she hoped he was close to the water, where she could find him easily. If she had to look at each patron on the beach, it could take too much precious time.

As she neared the second resort hotel with its rainbow-colored beach umbrellas, Jenna saw a small tent set up close to the water with a number of WaveRunners parked in the sand.

Barely able to breathe by then, she staggered to a stop in front of the startled attendant.

“Have you—” Jenna wheezed as she leaned against the tent pole and dragged in a deep breath “—rented a WaveRunner—” she breathed again and finished in a rush “—to a tall, dark-haired man with tattoos on his arms?”

The attendant’s brows pulled together. “Sí.”

“Where is he now?”

The man pointed to the water’s edge a hundred yards farther along the beach.

Jenna glanced past the teenagers throwing a Frisbee, the father tossing his child in the air and the girls playing in the surf to a man standing near a WaveRunner and another slinging his leg over the seat.

“Wait!” Jenna cried and took off, running as fast as her legs and lungs could carry her.

Neither man turned at her shout the first time.

“Wait!” she cried as she got closer. This time the man standing beside the WaveRunner looked up. The one on the vehicle revved the engine and started sliding toward the water.

Giving it her all, Jenna lifted her knees and elbows, running faster than she ever had in the fifty-yard dash in high school and pounded across the wet sand, out into the surf. She flung herself onto the back of the watercraft, wrapping her arms around the man with the tattooed arms.

“What the hell?” Sawyer twisted in his seat to stare at his passenger. “Jenna?”

“Go!” she cried. “Go fast! Get as far out as you can.”

His gaze sharpened on her face, but he revved the engine. “What’s wrong?”

“Just do it. I’ll explain when you get away from the shore.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, holding on tightly as they sped away from the beach and hit a wave full-on. Water splashed up in her face before she could close her mouth. She swallowed some and choked, spitting salt water.

He slowed. “Are you okay?”

“Please, just go out to sea.” She clung to his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “Your life depends on it.”

“Okay.” He shook his head but twisted his hand on the throttle, heading out to sea, taking them farther and farther from the beach.

When they were a good quarter of a mile out, he slowed the vehicle to a stop and half turned to face her. “Now, do you mind telling me what the hell just happened?”

Jenna glanced back at the shore. “How far can a bullet travel?”

“What?” Sawyer stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Not that I’m not flattered, but what does that have to do with hijacking me and my WaveRunner?”

She wiped the salty water from her face and bit her lip. “You’re not going to believe this.” Shaking her head, she tried to pull the words together in her mind before blurting them out.

“Believe what?” His scowl deepened. “Woman, you aren’t making sense. And if you don’t start talking, I’m heading back to shore before we run out of gas or the engine decides to quit. I’m pretty sure we’re farther out than the attendant recommended.”

Jenna’s heart thumped against her chest and her fingers dug into his waist. “Someone is going to try to kill you.”

For a long moment he stared down at her. “Is that your prediction? Are you a psychic or something?” His lips curled in a derisive smile. “Lady, I’m a SEAL. I get shot at on every mission.”

Jenna shook her head. “How can you believe me when I barely believe what I saw?” She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, grasping for the words. Then she straightened, firming her jaw. “I picked up the wrong suitcase in the lobby of my hotel. When I opened it, I found what I assume were the parts to assemble a sniper’s rifle, complete with a scope.”

Sawyer snorted. “How do you know what a sniper’s rifle looks like? Do you even own a gun?”

Her cheeks heated, and anger spiked inside her. “So, I don’t own a gun, and I don’t know exactly what a sniper’s rifle looks like. But it’s what was with the rifle that made me assume the owner was a sniper, hit man or assassin.”

With a chuckle, Sawyer ran a hand through his dark, wet hair, standing it on end. “Could it be you’ve been watching or reading too many thrillers lately?”

She smacked her palm against his arm. “Damn it, I’m trying to tell you that I found photographs and a note with the weapon. Your photographs. Pictures of you and a note telling the gun owner to bring you to wherever they were going to meet by nine o’clock tonight. Dead or alive.”

This time Sawyer sat still, his gaze pinning hers.

Jenna held steady, lifting her chin.

“How do I know you’re not some nutcase desperate for male companionship and will come up with any cockamamie story to get one alone?”

Jenna let go of his waist and scooted back on the seat of the WaveRunner. “Is that what you think?” She slipped even farther back until she teetered on the edge, refusing to touch even one inch of the man’s body. “Do you think I’m so desperate I’d chase a man out into the middle of the ocean just to get him alone?” She shook her head. “You know, I could have taken that case to hotel security and let them handle it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s your life on the line. Not mine. If you want to ignore the warning I’ve given you out of the sincerest desire to save your sorry carcass, you do that. I’ll just get myself back to shore, because I’d rather swim a mile in shark-infested waters than ride back on a WaveRunner operated by a man with an ego the size of a whale.” She dived into the water before he could say anything or reach out and grab her.

Jenna struck out, headed for shore, weighed down by her beach wrap. She hadn’t done much swimming since she’d been on the high school swim team, and she realized almost immediately that she didn’t have the strength she once had. But sheer anger should fuel her long enough to make it back to shore.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to ride with an arrogant, self-centered, stupid man who could be dead by morning because he thought she was a desperate crackpot.

The WaveRunner engine fired up behind her.

Jenna continued to swim freestyle, trying to remember how to time her breathing and making smooth, steady strokes, pacing herself so that she wouldn’t get too tired too quickly.

Sawyer pulled up beside her. “Get on.”

She ignored him, choosing to breathe rather than waste her strength arguing.

Damn the man, but he kept pace with her, bobbing beside her on the water craft.

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer said. “I shouldn’t have called you a desperate nutcase.”

It was a start, but he had a long way to go before she forgave him for saying all those nasty things to her. Jenna plowed through the buoyant salt water, one stroke at a time, refusing to acknowledge the man.

He sped up, pulling ahead of her.

Fine. Go back to shore.

Jenna would make it on her own. She didn’t need a man to rescue her. The men in her life hadn’t proven to be very reliable. Or at least her ex-fiancé hadn’t. Sawyer, though not really a part of her life, wasn’t much better. She’d done him a favor. Tried to save his sorry life. And what did she get in return? Grief. To hell with him. He could be shot for all she cared.

A splash ahead made her stop and tread water.

The WaveRunner seat was empty, and Sawyer was nowhere to be seen.