Conscious Decisions of the Heart (38 page)

“You can’t buy your way into heaven, Nikolas.”

“No, but we can bribe the demons in hell for some respite occasionally. Now, stop thinking so much, you’re giving me another headache.”

He didn’t look as if he was suffering much from anything. He lay back in the boat as Ben drove, the wind ruffling his blond hair, the sun warming his skin, without a care in the world. In this bright, tropical light, his eyes were never the dark-chocolate brown they always were in England, but amber with flecks of gold. They were the eyes of a sleek predator pleased with how his prey behaved. Ben never tempted fate if he could help it, but he sent a small prayer of thanks up to a benevolent universe that had given him this moment with this man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Ben wasn’t quite so pleased with Nikolas later that day when Nikolas left him to take all the diving equipment back on his own and sauntered off to check the gold prices on his laptop. Vital research, he called it.

He was then even less pleased with Nikolas when he rounded the corner to the shop with as much of the equipment as he could carry in one load and saw three men enter the place who definitely weren’t there to hire diving equipment. Ben had worn a concealed weapon enough times in his life to recognise other men wearing them under their suits. Two of the armed men remained outside, scanning the area, and one went in. Ben backed off to consider his options. He stashed all the equipment out of sight and returned to watch developments. As soon as the men left, he went into the shop and spoke with the boy behind the counter. The lad looked a little nervous, and Ben discovered although he’d been reluctant to hand over the list of those who’d hired diving equipment over the last forty-eight hours, he’d been persuaded to. Ben convinced him to do the same, but with money and not menaces. Fortunately for him and Nik, fifteen people had taken out equipment in that time. It would take a while for the men to work through the list, and by then…That was when Ben hit something of a low with Nikolas. He realised the holiday fun was over.

He went to find the culprit.

Nikolas glanced over the list as he listened to Ben’s tale. He pouted. He clearly didn’t want to leave the hotel either. Ben shook his head at Nik’s expression. “No, we’re not killing them.”

Nikolas looked pained. “As if I’d suggest something like that.”

“It’s not going to take them long to work through this list and come asking questions of us.”

“So? We’re two innocent holiday makers, along with everyone else on this list.”

“Stop being so bloody stupid, will you? We’re the only ones who swim regularly. Everyone knows that. Some of these names are families, here, and here. That’s the girl who sits near us in the evenings. She’s on her own, she couldn’t have lifted it. They’ll know that! So, duh, Nikolas, if I was searching for the people who stole my gold, I might just look at us!”

“So…you notice young women now, do you, Benjamin? I think we need to have a serious—Are you walking away from me?”

Ben stomped back to the boat, and because he was feeling so pissed off, he climbed in and took it. Bugger Nikolas. Let him walk on bloody water if he was so bloody perfect. He did feel a bit guilty though, and tried to remember if Nik was wearing a swimsuit under his shorts. Probably. Fuck him.

He motored back to the hut, thinking about packing, tied up and jumped onto the deck. He went from the brilliant sunshine to the gloom, and it was only then, as his eyes adjusted, he saw a man standing by their dresser, flicking through their passports. He turned and found a gun pointed at his chest by a second man who’d been waiting around the far side of the deck. “Mr Rider?”

Ben turned to the man inside the hut. “What’s this? Who’re you?”

The man held out a wallet with a badge inside. “Commander De Jesus. Coast Guard.”

“Coast Guard. Seriously?”

“You find that funny, Mr Rider?” Ben didn’t attempt to explain his relief at discovering they weren’t Danish detectives.

“No, I’m sorry. So, what can I help you with?” He was assessing the man standing behind him. He didn’t know anything about the Philippines Coast Guard, but he was surprised they were issued with M14 rifles.

“Can you tell me, Mr Rider, what you were doing this morning between the hours of nine a.m. and eleven a.m. local time?”

“Yes, I went diving with a friend.”

“Where?”

“Just exploring the lagoon.”

“Did you go into the water beyond the fall?”

“No, we stayed in the lagoon, why?”

“Did you find anything and remove anything from the sea floor?”

“No.”

“So…” The commander delved into his pocket and pulled out some photographs. “This isn’t you?” Ben took the photos. They were taken with a telephoto lens from the headland, and they clearly showed him and Nikolas motoring across the lagoon with the case, very shiny and visible, in the boat.

“Mr Rider, you’re under—”

“What the fuck…!” Ben swung around as he heard Nikolas’s expletive—as did the man with the rifle. Nikolas rose sleek and furious from the water. He’d stripped to his swimsuit and swum to the hut. Ben returned the furious look Nikolas gave him with an “
I told you so”
glare and added audibly, so there was no mistake, “What the fuck does it look like?” He handed him the photos.

Nikolas shrugged. “May I see some identification?” He took his time checking the badge, not giving any indication whether he believed it or not. “We found a case. We couldn’t open it. We put it somewhere for safety, and have this morning informed the authorities what we found. Where’s the problem here?”

“You’re both under arrest for smuggling.” De Jesus approached Ben with a set of handcuffs.

Nikolas frowned. “No, that’s not going to happen.” He made to approach the commander, but suddenly Ben snapped.

“No!” He launched a decisive and unexpected attack, seizing Nikolas by the waist and propelling him back to the bed. They struggled for a moment, Nikolas completely blindsided and undone by Ben’s actions. Ben felt something slam into his shoulder. He grunted and sagged onto Nikolas, and before they knew it, they were handcuffed together, and the man who’d hit Ben was bringing his rifle butt up for another blow. The commander put his hand on his subordinate’s arm and shook his head. “Call the boat.” Then he put a hand to a shoulder holster to indicate he was more than willing to draw and use his own gun if necessary.

Nikolas yanked his handcuffed arm as far away from Ben as possible, which was a rather redundant move as it only brought Ben’s arm along with it, and spat in Danish, “You stupid fucking moron.”

Ben stared back at him and replied in the same language, “Seriously? You were going to risk another injury? Another blow to the head over some gold you don’t even need or want? And prison? In the Philippines? Have you seen
Midnight Express
? You spend more on suits in a year than that gold is worth.”

“Stop exaggerating.” Nik hung his head, pouting. “And that was Turkey.”

“You’re the fucking idiot, Nikolas. You know what all this is, don’t you?”

“I have the very distinct idea you’re going to tell me.”

“It’s because you’re bored. You stir things up wherever you go just for the fun of it. We’re like your playthings—the fucking playthings of a bored god.”

“Stop swearing at me.” Nikolas smiled privately. “But you can call me a god if it pleases you.”

“Oh, shut up.” They were then both told to be quiet by the commander. They heard a boat, and a large patrol vessel came up alongside the hut. They were marched out. Nikolas was furious because they wouldn’t let him change and neither of them could even put on shirts because of the cuffs. They dropped down into the boat, and the commander invited them to show him where the case was. Nikolas wasn’t playing, so Ben pointed toward the caves in the cliffs.

Five minutes later, they arrived at the mouth of the cave. Unfortunately for the commander, he then discovered the water in the cave was too shallow for the boat’s draft. A small inflatable was strapped to the hull so he set his men about releasing this from its attachments.

Ben was watching the proceedings with a gloomy fascination. He was picturing scenes from every prison drama he’d ever watched. Even the gay porn ones. Especially the gay porn ones. Nikolas, the bastard, would probably thrive in prison. He glanced at him. Nikolas had his eyes screwed shut, head tipped back, as if in terrible pain. Ben immediately gave up his plan to volunteer Nikolas for the first internal prison exam. He nudged him. “What’s wrong?”

§ § §

Nikolas didn’t reply to Ben. He didn’t even hear Ben. As they’d come alongside the mouth of the cave, he’d had a sudden and almost debilitating pain his head. That had passed just as suddenly as it’d come, but he felt as if his head were in a vice with a vacuum forming, all the air slowly being sucked out—all the sound. He was quite deaf. He couldn’t hear anything over the debilitating pressure. He felt intensely sick.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was dying. Finally, the injury to his head, which he’d thought was healed and he was recovering from, had burst forth from the false sense of security it had lulled him into.

She’d said no stress. No stress!

He looked up for a last glimpse of sunlight before the pressure in his skull exploded and his heart skipped a beat. A small blond-haired boy was standing on the bank in front of them. He was knobbly-kneed, elbows askew. It was Nikolas, on Aeroe, pale and windblown. The ten-year-old brother he’d adored before the nightmare time had come upon them. The boy cried urgently in Danish, “Climb, Sey, climb.
NOW
!” Nikolas didn’t hesitate. He tackled Ben around the waist and threw them both in the water. He heard shouts behind them but held them both under, swimming for the tangle of roots and vines overhanging the cliff. A few shots peppered the water around them. Under the canopy of the vegetation, he pulled himself out of the water, Ben attached to him by the cuffs. Ben was spluttering, gasping. Nikolas grabbed his arms. “Ben, if you love me, do as I say and climb.
Now
.”

§ § §

Ben stared for one brief moment, nodded, and they climbed side by side through the dense, impossible tangle of jungle. One or two shots came very close, chipping off the branches, but they kept climbing, no breath for talking. Ben was slightly ahead now. One shot caught him on his arm, just a very slight graze, but he ignored it and carried on. It was incredibly hot, airless. The heat seared his throat as he tried to suck in some oxygen. Nikolas was pulling him, pushing him, frantic. No more shots. He turned to look back down to the boat, and that’s when he saw it…

All the water in the lagoon was draining away toward the ocean. The men had stopped firing at them and were scrambling to their feet on the exposed white sand, their boat just marooned as if they’d pulled it up on a beach. Ben tore his eyes off the little drama playing out below him through the trees, and stared up toward the horizon. A vast wall of water was coming toward them. He made a small noise, turned and wrapped his legs around the trunk of the nearest tree, grabbed Nikolas’s arm above the cuff with both hands, and then the wall hit them. He was crushed to the tree, utterly unable to breathe, the water just roaring over them. The arm he was desperately holding began to slip, skin tearing as he dug his nails in to stop the slide, and then there was only handcuffs holding them together, and he knew they couldn’t hold and that this would be a final, irrevocable separation, but then the whole tree came loose and everything tore and plummeted, and they were twisting and spinning. His lungs were burning. He felt for the steel cuff, found the arm it was attached to, and pulled himself closer, felt Nikolas doing the same, and then they were clasped as one, rolling and turning, no air, just water and debris.

Ben climbed higher over Nikolas and wrapped himself around Nikolas’s head, protecting it. Something slammed hard into Ben’s back; they were tumbled again, and then they were on the surface, moving so fast it was dizzying, but they both gasped and spat and coughed, and something else slammed into them, Ben taking the hit once more, keeping Nikolas’s head wrapped in his powerful arms. They were being spun so fast it was impossible to focus, but Ben lashed out his hand and caught some debris, a piece of thatch, perhaps a roof, and he held on, pulling himself up, Nikolas doing the same, until they were both lying on it, hands plunged into the material to find purchase. It slammed into something and went spinning wildly. Ben was thrown off; held by the handcuffs, Nikolas was able to pull him back on. The small raft then hit something directly in its path; the front end went down, under the tumult, and the back end flipped, sending them flying over into the water once more. They churned around and around; they hit something. Ben on one side of it, Nikolas the other, and then the drag of the water was holding them under. Ben reached back and pulled himself toward the obstruction, every muscle in his incredibly powerful arms and shoulders coming into play. He made it, freed them, and they were tumbling again.