Читать книгу Mistaken Target - Sharon Dunn - Страница 11

THREE

Diego’s feet pounded the soft ground of the forest. Adrenaline charged through his body. He pushed his legs to move even faster. Samantha’s grip on his hand was like iron as she kept pace with him. Minutes had passed without any more gunfire. Maybe they’d shaken the assassin.

It was his fault that Samantha had almost been killed. He suspected the man had come for him. If only he hadn’t switched cabins.

Another thought hit him. The shooter had known which cabin he was supposed to be in. Only people in the Bureau would have access to that information. The leak might be within the Bureau.

He glanced over his shoulder. How close was the attacker? He couldn’t hear anything. He was used to running for his life on city streets. Sound didn’t carry in the forest like it did in an urban setting.

He brushed a branch out of the way before it hit Samantha, grateful for the time he’d spent walking the island. It made navigating in the dark that much easier—and it was an advantage their attacker didn’t have.

Samantha planted her feet. “Where are we going?” Her voice was filled with suspicion.

“He came in a boat,” he said. “I think if we can get to it, we can get away.”

“Shouldn’t we call for help? There must be a radio even if the cell phones don’t work. The caretaker would know.”

They were wasting precious time. “George is safer if we don’t involve him.” He’d already put one person in danger. He wasn’t about to do it to another. And anyway, he wasn’t sure they would survive while they waited for help to show up. Escape seemed like the best option.

She remained still, facing him in the dark. “Who are you?”

“I can’t say.” He understood why she was looking for answers. He hated the deception. She was an innocent in all this, but he had to protect his own identity. The less she knew, the safer she would be. “We really need to keep moving.”

She responded to the urgency in his voice and took off running again. He sprinted to get in front of her and lead the way. They ran hard for another five minutes. Feet pounding, air filling his lungs.

She stopped to catch her breath.

She tilted her head toward the stars. Her words came out in fearful halting spurts. “He said...that because I saw him. He was going...to have...to kill me.”

The images of the attack must have been raging through her head the whole time they were running. She wasn’t like him, used to dealing with the trauma and violence. Moved by compassion, he reached up and placed a palm on her cheek. “It’s gonna be okay. Let’s get to the boat.”

She jerked away from him. “It’s going to be okay?” Her voice turned to ice again.

He spoke in a whisper while part of his attention remained tuned in to his surroundings. “It’s not that far to the boat. We can get off the island.”

“What about the caretaker? What if that guy is back there hurting him?”

She was thinking of others when her life was under threat. That said something about her character. He thought for a moment. “I think he’ll be all right. He’s after you because you can identify him. The old man is safe as long as he stays in his cabin.”

He reached out a hand, but she didn’t take it. He couldn’t force her to come with him, and there was no time to waste convincing her further. He just had to hope that if he left, she’d follow. He turned and took off running. A few seconds later, her footsteps pounded behind him. He understood her hesitation in following him, why she was suspicious. But couldn’t she see that he was trying to save her life?

They ran in an arc to the edge of the forest. The terrain changed from the lush debris-laden forest floor to rocky beach as the lapping of the waves pressed on his eardrums.

He glanced over his shoulder. Still no sign of their pursuer. He’d been on their heels and then nothing. What had delayed him? Had they really been able to throw him off or did he have some other surprise attack up his sleeve? “So you saw the guy? You could tell the police what he looked like?” Knowing who had come to kill him—who had got that confidential and protected information from the FBI—would go a long way to finding out who had blown his cover.

“Yes... I suppose. It was only for a quick second.” Her voice sounded far away, as if she couldn’t accept the reality of what she’d experienced. “I’m not sure how well I could describe him, but if I saw him again, I’d recognize him.”

“We’ll get back to the mainland. I’ll fix this,” he said. He meant it. His lack of forethought had dragged her into this mess. That meant that it was his responsibility to keep her safe.

“Will you?” Disbelief colored her voice. She whirled around and trudged forward.

Her words were like a knife through his heart. He was a man of his word. Why would she doubt that? He shook off his frustration. Fine, he’d have to prove himself to her. He surveyed the dark shoreline. He knew from the landmarks along the beach where to find the boat. “Over here.”

The boat was pulled halfway up the shore. He moved to the back of the boat to start the motor. The cold water of the bay suctioned around his feet.

“Once I get the motor started, I’ll need your help pushing it out to deeper water.”

She nodded and then turned back toward the tree line. She was smart enough to watch for their attacker without being told. For a girl from the burbs, she had solid survival instincts.

After twisting the throttle, he yanked the rip cord once. The motor sputtered but didn’t ignite to life. He tried again, exerting more force. Still no results. He tried a third time. The engine sparked and then caught.

“He’s here. I see him.” Her voice reverberated with terror.

Diego glanced up, not seeing anything distinct. The shooter must still be close to the trees. “Let’s go. We can make it. Jump in to steer. I’ll push off.”

As he pushed the boat off the sand, the first gunshot came so close to his head his ear stung with pain. Samantha flattened herself in the boat with her hand still on the rudder. He jumped in. More shots were fired as the assassin made his way toward the water.

The motor clattered and then stopped altogether.

“We can restart it,” Samantha said.

The shooter was too close. They weren’t going to make it out of the inlet in time. “We’ve gotta bail.”

He dived into the water and prayed that Samantha would do the same. He swam parallel to the beach, toward a rock formation that would shield them. He pulled himself up on the hard, rough stone.

A moment later, Samantha’s head bobbed to the surface. He pulled her up. Both of them were shivering. He peered around the rocks. “He’s trying to save the boat. Now’s our chance to get away.”

He slipped back into the icy water, swimming toward the beach but putting distance between himself and the man struggling to push the malfunctioning boat back to shore. The attacker would be as wet and cold as they were by the time he rescued that boat.

They hurried back toward the camp, running across the rocky shore and then into the trees.

A gunshot exploded behind them. Samantha stuttered in her step, releasing a scream that was almost a gasp. “Keep moving,” he commanded. Gripping Samantha’s hand, Diego sprinted into the shelter of the forest.

He zigzagged through the evergreens. The sound of the assailant close on their heels, footsteps and branches breaking, spurred him to run faster. Though they were shrouded in darkness, Diego managed to steer them back to the camp.

Several minutes passed without any additional gunfire. They slowed their pace, both of them out of breath and glancing over their shoulders.

“He can’t be far behind.” Diego resumed a jog.

Samantha ran beside him. “We have to get help. There must be some way to communicate with the mainland in case of emergencies. Let’s see if there’s a radio in the community room.”

She was right—but it still wasn’t a great option. It would take hours for help to arrive. Hours they’d have to spend dodging their attacker and trying to find a way to warn and protect the caretaker before morning came and he left the safety of his cabin. “That’s where we go, then.”

He turned and started running. She followed behind him.

Moonlight reflected off the metal roof of the community room. He surveyed the area around them. No sign of their assassin. Had they shaken him or did he have another trick up his sleeve?

They entered the community room. Samantha wandered around the small space opening doors and slamming them, searching for anything useful. She tossed a blanket in his direction after grabbing one for herself. “Where would a radio be?”

They were both shivering and wet. She drew the blanket tighter around her. Diego continued to search for the radio. “We should go back to the cabins and get dry clothes,” she said.

He came up beside her. “He might be searching the cabins. That would explain why he didn’t come here first.”

He looked around. The room was maybe twelve by sixteen feet. There weren’t that many places to put a radio.

He walked over to a small cupboard and opened it. Shook his head in disbelief. “No.”

She turned toward him, voice filled with worry. “What is it?”

“The radio is here, but it’s been disabled.” That must be why the assassin was delayed in getting down to them at the bay. He must have seen them heading toward the boat but estimated he had time to destroy any chance of getting help before coming after them. The guy had to be a pro. Not some teenage gangbanger trying to earn his stripes. And how had he known to look in the community room? He must have had intel ahead of time.

Samantha couldn’t conceal the fear in her voice. “What do we do now?” She lifted her gaze toward him, eyes filled with expectation.

He glanced out the dusty window, feeling the heaviness of what they were up against. “He’s out there watching us. I feel it.”

* * *

Feeling a chill, she pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. “We’re sitting ducks in here.”

“We’re sitting ducks anywhere on this island. We have to get off it. I still say that’s our best option.” Diego paced the perimeter of the cabin, peering through each window. “There must be an emergency raft or something. Did you see anything like that?”

She shook her head. “The caretaker would know and maybe he has some way other than the radio that he uses to communicate with the mainland. Do you think we have time to get over to his cabin before the man with the gun finds us?”

“We might have to do that. George is going to come out of that cabin in a couple of hours and start wandering around anyway.” Diego’s expression made it clear he didn’t like that option. He let the blanket fall to the floor. His hand went to his waistband, brushing over a gun his sweater had covered.

She took a step back, wondering if the greater danger wasn’t in the room with her. Her eyes fixated on the gun. “Just who are you?” She edged closer to the door.

He bent his head sideways and hesitated as though he were trying to come up with the right answer. “I’m with law enforcement. That’s all you need to know.” His voice sounded reassuring, almost gentle, but that didn’t mean anything. His caring response might just be a manipulation.

How could she trust he was telling the truth? He’d lied about not knowing why the assassin was here. This was too much. She felt as though her already fragile world had been shaken to pieces. She wasn’t in the habit of dodging bullets. Her legs weakened beneath her, and she collapsed into a chair.

He rushed over to her. “You all right?” He knelt on the floor so he could look her in the eye.

She thought she saw compassion in those dark brown eyes, but she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, not after Eric. “No...” Her voice faltered. “No, I’m not.”

Dragging a chair across the floor, he sat opposite her. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I can’t explain everything to you, and I know you think I’m lying. This is my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t switched cabins.”

“What are you saying? That man came here to kill you?” Anger coursed through her veins. Lie upon lie. “So he’s not just some random crazy who decided to make sport of hunting us down and killing us, like you said before.” What if Diego was no better than the man out there? He didn’t act like a cop.

“I’m asking you to trust me. I will get you out of here alive.” He didn’t break eye contact with her.

She didn’t know what to think or believe. He seemed so sincere. She couldn’t survive on her own. The man with the gun had made it clear he wanted her dead. Right now, staying with Diego was her only option. “How are we going to do that?”

Diego bolted to his feet and started pacing. “We need a way off the island. We need to keep George from becoming a target, too.”

“We can’t stay in here.” She stepped toward the door.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “You can’t just run out there. Let’s make sure the coast is clear first.”

She yanked away from him, fighting off a rising frustration. “None of this would have happened if you had stayed in your assigned cabin. That man wouldn’t have showed up and—”

He turned to face her, eyes like steel. “And killed me. While you slept. You would have been unharmed and unaware, but I would have been dead.”

A rush of remorse filled her. “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I don’t want you to have died so I could have a good night’s sleep,” she said. Her face warmed. She was ashamed for having said that. “I’d never wish anyone dead.”

“I’m alive and you’re alive and we’re together. I can’t help but see God’s protection in all this.” The intensity of his gaze made her take a step back. Eric had sat with her in church every Sunday. Her faith had been the final casualty of Eric’s deceit. But she hadn’t ever heard someone talk about God the way Diego did.

“God? I don’t think He has anything to do with this.” Her voice lacked commitment, compared to the passion she’d heard in his. She studied his face. Some unnamed emotion stirred in her gut. Whoever this man was, either his faith was real or he was a better deceiver than Eric.

Diego’s expression changed as he whirled around, scanning the forest through the dusty windows. An instant later, gunshots shattered the glass. His body enveloped hers, taking her to the floor.

He rolled off her, the warmth of his protection fading.

“Stay down,” he said.

Another window shattered. The flying shards of glass were too clear a reminder of the car accident. Her vision narrowed. She couldn’t move. Her brain fogged. She was shutting down, caught between painful memories and the terrifying present. She felt the strength of Diego’s hands guiding her, almost carrying her as the bullets tore through furniture.

She found herself propped in a corner behind a couch. Diego crouched low and crawled toward one of the broken windows. He peered above the sill, took a shot and dived back down.

Several more shots tore through the tiny room. Samantha pressed hard against the wall. She couldn’t stop shaking.

Diego took several more carefully aimed shots before he dived to the floor, resting his back against the wall.

Samantha’s breath hitched. She counted to five as dust settled around her. The silence was almost as scary as the gunfire. It probably meant the shooter was finding a better angle of attack.

Her throat had gone dry. “Did...you get him?”

He lifted his head above the sill. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just repositioning. Far as I know, he’s only got a handgun. He can’t be too far away if he wants to get a decent shot in.”

Invisible weight pressed on her chest as she struggled to breathe.

He scrambled across the floor. “We should make a break for it.” He hesitated in his step as he registered that he saw how badly she was shaking. “Hey, it’s okay.” He pressed her hands between his. “Most people don’t handle gunfights well.”

Her impulse was to pull away, but his touch and the kindness she heard in his voice had a calming effect on her. “All this is hard to deal with, but it is the...the sound of breaking glass that messes me up.” She met his gaze. The swell of compassion she saw in his expression made her legs weak all over again. She wanted to believe that he was a good man.

His eyes searched hers. “You’ll have to tell me sometime why that bothers you more than gunfire.”

Another gunshot zinged through the broken window. Both of them crumpled to the floor. “He’s getting closer. Let’s get out of here.” Diego reached up and turned the doorknob. “Use the building for cover. Stay close to me.”

The night air chilled her skin as she pressed close to Diego’s back. The soft fabric of his sweater brushed over her cheek. He pulled her into his side and put a protective arm across her torso while he surveyed the woods around them.

She peered over his shoulder, watching the forest. Her eye caught a flash of movement, the killer racing from the cover of one tree to another. “There,” she said. He was dressed in black and had recovered the ski mask that hid his face.

Diego grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the shelter of the trees. Again they fled. Though this time they had the benefit of early-morning light. After they’d run only a short distance, Diego headed away from the camp. Where was he going?

When he peered over her shoulder, his expression transitioned from pensive to fearful. He lunged toward her, pulled her to the ground. The impact on the hard rocks made her shudder with pain.

The bullet that hit a rock near her feet told her the plunge had been necessary. She looked up in the direction the shot had come from. The killer was there, barely hidden by the shadow of the trees.

“Let’s go.” He helped her to her feet.

“Aren’t we going to warn George?” she asked.

“Too risky. We’ll have to double back after we shake the shooter.”

They ran along the beach away from their assailant. She was tired; she was hungry; she was wet and cold. She didn’t know if she’d be alive when the ferry showed up or if they’d find a way off the island. Diego didn’t seem to have much of a plan. More than anything, she wanted to believe that Diego was someone she could trust. At this point, she was staking her life on that hope.