A Question of Honor (22 page)

Noah’s green eyes were dark with despair as he looked around at the group of six volunteers. Each man’s face was tense, anticipating. They all knew the score—Dante would use Kit as a shield, kill her at the first opportunity and escape. Further, she was pregnant, and even if they could find Dante, it might be too late. Noah made sure a corpsman came along, just in case, and a helicopter from a hospital in Port-au-Prince was on its way.

Two Haitian drug agents would guide the party ashore and help them track Dante. They knew their island better than anyone and were aware of all the nooks and crannies in the rocky foothills that loomed above the beach. Noah tried to shove aside his personal suffering, but it was impossible. He rubbed his grimy, sweat-streaked face, fighting to keep his escaping emotions under control. Picking up his M-16 and jamming the baseball cap back on his head, he growled, “All right, let’s get Dante.”

Dante wheezed brokenly, giving Kit a push that sent her sprawling on the hillside. He rested the gun on his knee as he sat for a minute and tried to catch his breath. Glaring at her, he snarled, “Don’t move, or I’ll blow your damned head off your shoulders.”

Kit sobbed for breath and dragged herself into a sitting position. She dared not speak back to Dante, dared not aggravate him into shooting her as he had Barnes. How far had they come in the past half hour? Turning her head, she saw the chaos down below them in the small, cluttered cove. Smoke was still pouring in thick black clouds from the
Marie-Elise
. Fear made Kit tremble as she sought to fight down the panic eating at the edges of her mind. Dante had jerked her up by her hair, forcing her to run out of the water toward the line of palm trees on the beach. Once there, he kept shoving the snub nose of the gun into her back and forcing her to keep running up into the hills. Her hands and knees were bleeding where she had fallen several times, trying to scramble up the steep slopes. And Dante was close to losing what little patience he had.

Kit weakly leaned her head against her drawn-up knees, gasping for breath. Her clothes clung to her sweaty body. She was a hostage, she realized bleakly.
Dante will keep me alive for as long as I’m useful to him.
Tears stung her eyes and she fought against a burgeoning sob caught in her throat. Dante despised weakness in any form.

“Damn!” Dante swore, leaping to his feet. His narrow face hardened, his brown eyes growing black.

Kit jerked her head up, following his gaze. Down below on the beach was a contingent of men armed with rifles. Her heart soared as she recognized Noah among them. Tears drifted down her dirty cheeks as she also saw Chuck Cordeman with the group. They knew! Someone had spotted Dante taking her prisoner! Hope escalated with fear. Wildly Kit glanced over at Dante’s ferretlike face. A snarl had lifted his thin lips away from his small, sharply pointed teeth. He looked like a snake ready to strike. He turned slowly, his opaque eyes burning into her.

“Get up,” he demanded coldly.

Kit rose, unsure of what he was capable of doing next. Her mind spun with options, choices. How fast could Noah and his squad move? Would it take them the same amount of time to traverse the trail she and Dante had taken? Kit doubted it. She watched as Dante raised the ugly black barrel of the gun toward her.

“You’d better pray you can run even harder, Anderson, because that’s what we’re going to do. I ain’t lettin’ the Coast Guard catch me.”

Kit stifled a scream, watching as his finger stroked the trigger. Her throat was parched, dehydration stalking her thirsty body. Her only ounce of satisfaction was that Dante was going to be equally deprived of water. Hopefully this would slow him down enough so that Noah could reach them in time. “I’ll do the best I can,” she rasped.

Dante cursed, motioning for her to turn around. “Shut up and get moving!” He jabbed the barrel savagely into her neck. “I’m gonna enjoy puttin’ you down, Anderson. All I need to do is find a boat on the other side of that cliff, and then you’re dead meat.”

Noah wasn’t aware of anything except catching up with Kit. Those few moments watching her struggle up the hill with Dante on her heels made his stomach turn. Leaping over a series of vines, he pushed his body to its maximum, disregarding the pain in his lungs and the stinging sensation of cacti as it tore at his lower legs.
I love you, Kit! Just keep going, don’t try anything with Dante. Just survive! Survive!

Kit sobbed for breath, feeling the punch of the gun barrel in her bruised back again. Dante cursed her, giving her a shove forward.

“Keep moving!” he panted.

Sweat blinded her, and she stumbled over another vine. The summit to the hill seemed so far away. And the heat…she heard Dante gasping behind her. The man must be made out of steel, she thought. He never slowed down. They reached an outcropping of granite eight feet high with gaping fissures, which crowned their escape point in front of them. They would have to either go around it, losing precious time, or try to climb it. Kit turned, eyeing Dante. He cursed, having come to the same conclusion as her.

He glanced over his shoulder. The six men in uniform were climbing steadily toward them. Dante probably had five shots left in his revolver, Kit thought. It wouldn’t pay him to fire wildly at this distance. The rescue party would take cover in the rocks, completely safe from his useless attack.

“We’re gonna climb this face and save time. If I find a boat down in that harbor once we’re on the other side of this hill, I won’t need you any longer.”

Kit gasped, leaning over and trying to recover her breath.

She raised her chin, a sheen of sweat on her flushed face. A dull ache was beginning in her lower abdomen, sending a thread of fear through her. She placed her hand across her belly, anguish clearly written on her face.
No…no,
her heart screamed. She tried to concentrate on Dante and on giving Noah a clear shot at him. If the drug dealer foolishly decided to climb the rock wall, he would become an obvious target for an M-16 rifle. It was a long shot, Kit realized. If her blurred memory served her correctly, even a SWAT team sharpshooter couldn’t place a bull’s-eye at over six hundred yards. And right now, if she estimated accurately, Noah was at least eight hundred yards behind them. Would he try anyway? It would be her last chance before they started up the cliff that led down to the other cove.

More pain shot raggedly up through the center of her body and Kit doubled over, dropping to her knees. Tears squeezed from beneath her lids as she wrapped her arms around her middle, her head resting against the dirt and stones.

Dante growled. “Get up! Dammit, get up! We’re climbing. You first!”

Kit gasped, lifting her head, tears streaking down her cheeks, making silvery paths through the dirt. Dante’s eyes were wild as he waved the gun at her head. “I—I can’t!”

He gripped her shoulder, his long fingers digging into her flesh. Placing the revolver at her temple, he snarled, “I said, get up.”

The pain increased as Kit swayed to her feet. She tottered toward the wall, blindly lifting her foot into the first crevice, finding a handhold above her. Tears blurred her vision as she hoisted herself upward. Her baby—oh, God, her baby…the pain…no, it couldn’t happen!
Don’t let me lose our baby….

“Hurry up!” Dante shrilled, climbing right up behind her.

Kit forced herself to take another step and then another up the face of the cliff, sweat rolling down her brow. Her hands were bloodied and scraped as she hunted frantically for another handhold above her. Dante jabbed the revolver repeatedly into her lower back.
Noah!
she screamed in her mind.
Please take a shot at Dante. Hurry! Please, hurry!

Noah made a slashing motion with his hand, a silent order for his men to halt behind him. He dropped to one knee. He had his target. He saw Dante start to climb the wall. His heart was pounding achingly in his chest as he wrapped the sling of the M-16 around his upper arm, steadying the rifle, willing his body to stop trembling so he could draw a bead. What direction was the wind coming from? And how many knots? He knew from much experience with weapons that wind direction played a key role in the trajectory of a bullet. If he estimated windage incorrectly, the bullet could easily strike Kit, instead. Or, he could miss Dante completely, and he and Kit would be over the wall before he could fire off another careful shot. Sweat stung his eyes. His face hardened, his mouth pursed as he raised the rifle into position.
Stop breathing. Don’t move. Kit—Kit, I love you.
His finger squeezed back against the trigger, and he increased the pressure, willing the rifle barrel to remain steady despite the agony tearing through his heart.

Kit heard Dante swear directly below her. She gripped the granite, hugging the rock surface as pain arched through the core of her body, blanking everything else from her mind. Somewhere in the haze of agony, she heard the crack of a rifle in the humid afternoon air. Dante let out a groan and dropped to the ground.

Gasping with relief, Kit sobbed, unable to hold on any longer, the pain tearing at her, robbing her of all senses. It felt as if she were falling in slow motion, and when she hit the earth below it was like hitting a lumpy mattress. Rolling onto her side, Kit curled into a tight ball, feeling the warmth of blood flowing down her legs. A scream tore from her as she frantically tried to keep the baby whose life hung in precarious balance within her trembling, exhausted body. Blackness engulfed her.

Noah scrambled the last three hundred feet ahead of everyone else, leaping over the unmoving Dante to where Kit lay. When he’d seen her fall, it had torn him apart. They had called immediately for helicopter assistance, and even now, as he knelt at her side, he could hear the whapping rotor blades puncturing the air as the helicopter sped toward them.

Noah’s hands trembled as he leaned over, barely touching Kit’s shoulder. His eyes blurred with tears as he saw blood staining the legs of her jeans, and knew…knew what was happening. Her face was pale, tense even in unconsciousness, her arms wrapped protectively around her belly.

A sob tore from him as he dropped his rifle and gathered Kit into his arms. More sobs wrenched from deep within him as he held her while the chopper sat down on the small landing area below the cliff. Gently picking her up, Noah carried her to the helicopter and the waiting medics on board. The two men quickly laid her on a gurney. Noah climbed into the helicopter, positioning himself near Kit’s head. No one said anything as tears drifted down his face. The engine whined and the helicopter lifted off, heading for Port-au-Prince.

Noah watched in silent horror as the two medics worked in unison. Kit lay unconscious in the severely limited space. The roar of the engine, the heaving, bucking motion of the aircraft in the thermals increased his anxiety as Noah watched them put a blood pressure cuff on her left arm. He placed a hand on Kit’s head.

“Not good!” the first medic shouted to the second. “Seventy over fifty.”

“Dammit!” the second medic yelled, ripping open a pouch containing an IV.

No,
Noah thought.
Don’t die on me, Kit. Don’t.
His hand tightened against her shoulder as he stared down at her colorless features. Tears coursed down his face and he sobbed at his helplessness as she lay bleeding. His own brush with death rushed back to him. He remembered lying on that dark deck, the life draining out of him. Noah jerked his chin up, glaring at the medics, who labored to stabilize her condition.

“She’s pregnant,” Noah shouted over the din of the closest medic. “Can you save the baby?”

Sweat beaded the medic’s forehead as he shot a glance up at the officer. “Don’t ask for miracles. I’ll be lucky to save her!”

“No!”

“We’re doing all we can!”

Noah swallowed back a cry of sheer terror. “Then do more!” he screamed above the earsplitting sounds of the helicopter.

The medic shoved a second IV into Kit’s other arm and took another blood pressure reading. Noah watched as the chief medic twisted around to the pilots.

“Blood!” he yelled at them. “Tell the hospital to stand by with whole blood! We can’t stabilize her!”

Noah groaned and leaned over, resting his sweaty brow against Kit’s limp hair. “No,” he begged hoarsely. “Don’t leave me, Kit. I love you! Fight back, dammit! You hear me? Fight back!” His hands dug into her shoulders as he willed his own vital force to flow into her limp body.

Wave after wave of agony flowed through Kit, from the bottom of her feet up to her head. It felt like one engulfing, hot, searing pain after another. The pain centered in her lower abdomen, and in that hazy in-between state that straddles consciousness, a moan slipped from her throat. Weakly she tried to raise her hand to place it against her body. Strong, cool fingers caught her hand in midair, captured it and gently brought it back down to her side. Strength. The word, the sensation, imprinted itself on her confused state as she fought to surface, to regain consciousness. The pain reminded her of her baby. A baby who had been created out of love. A frown formed on her brow and she moved her head slowly from side to side as if to deny what her aching body was telling her.

“No,” Kit mewed weakly, “no…”

A cool hand touched her brow and she felt some semblance of steadiness. Kit stopped mumbling and concentrated on that hand that stroked her hair, bringing a balm to her tortured state. “My baby…my baby.”

As he leaned closer, Noah’s features reflected the anguish he heard in Kit’s voice. He glanced up at the doctor standing on the other side of her bed.

The physician gave a brief nod. “Just stay with her, Lieutenant Trayhern. She’s regaining consciousness. I’ll send a nurse to check on her in half an hour. If you need anything, just press that buzzer.”

Tiredly Noah sank into a chair next to Kit’s bed. “She’ll be okay now?” he asked. His voice was a monotone; it sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

“She lost over two pints of blood, Lieutenant. For someone in her condition, that’s plenty. We’ve replaced the blood. The rest is up to her body. She’ll be coming around shortly. Just stay with her.”