Eden's Promise (28 page)

“God, you’re freezing. What were you thinking?”

He knew the question was rhetorical. She knew what he was doing.

But he unclenched his jaw to say, “Didn’t see any wetsuits laying around.”

She snuggled closer. “Maybe we should go below, out of the wind.”

Any other time he would take her below, find fun ways to warm up. Even as cold as he was, his body was eager to experiment. But they were too vulnerable here on the coast, and were hours away from being home. They couldn’t let their guard down.

With that in mind, he stepped back, breaking her hold, and bent to pull on his pants, though his fingers were still too numb to fasten them. Eden stepped forward and buckled them for him, her knuckles brushing against his skin, causing gooseflesh to rise on his skin that had nothing to do with the temperature. Again, he broke away, picked up his holster and shoved the gun in his pocket. He pulled on his T-shirt, and then his flannel shirt over it, leaving it unbuttoned in case she wanted to help him again.

The first shot came out of nowhere and splintered the dock at his feet. He grabbed Eden and pushed her onto the boat before jumping onto the deck beside her, ducking below the hull for cover. Shit, shit, shit, his fingers were too numb to shoot back. And he couldn’t see where their attacker was, not without getting his head blown off.

He could only pray it was one attacker.

Eden took the gun from him, seeing his difficulty, but he was able to keep her down before she did something stupid.

“Who is it? Did you see?” he asked.

She shook her head, clearly as disgusted with herself as he was with himself. He never should have let his guard down. Now they were pinned, away from their people, and God knew how many people were against them.

“Should we go below?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’d be trapped, and even now we can’t see who’s coming.”

“So now what?”

Shit, he didn’t know. And then he felt the vibration on the dock that meant someone was approaching.

“When I go after him, you run for the others. Promise me,” he ordered when she hesitated.

She nodded, and he was clear that wasn’t a promise, just an agreement. But there was no time to convince her.

Aaron tensed with the need to confront their attacker, but not yet. He needed some element of surprise so waited until the shadow of the man fell over the boat before he launched.
 

He hit the hard body—a body encased in Kevlar—and the man staggered, but didn’t go down. Before Aaron could get his balance, strong hands grabbed his arms from behind. Aaron lifted his head as hard as he could, the back of his head connecting with the man’s jaw. Not hard enough to loosen his grip, so he shifted his weight and drove his shoulder into the man’s middle. Because the Kevlar didn’t give, it had no effect.
 

As the weathered wood of the dock dug into the bottom of his bare feet, he struggled to find purchase. The other man tried to stomp a heavy boot on his bare foot, but Aaron avoided it, barely, finally twisting free.

And coming face to face with Commander Wayne.

Chapter Twenty

Aaron’s adrenaline surged. Coming face to face with this man was on the outside of the possibilities he’s considered. And if he was here, he wasn’t alone. He and Eden were, if not surrounded, blocked off from land, and the others who depended on them. He hadn’t heard Eden run yet, which was just as well, because she’d be running straight into a trap.

Wayne snapped him from his shock by swinging a fist at his face. Aaron ducked, and moved back, out of the way, wary of being locked under his grip again. He scanned the man but didn’t see a gun. A knife, however, was strapped to his thigh, locked into a holster. If he could get that, could aim it just right—

A shot fired from the boat, striking the edge of the Kevlar, and the commander twisted to confront Eden, giving Aaron the chance to lunge at him, to grab the knife. The commander reared back, making it difficult for Aaron to get the leverage to remove the knife from the sheath. Then Wayne threw himself forward, and both of them fell into the boat, Aaron’s back striking the edge of the boat hard enough that he saw stars. Then his head hit the deck, and he was staring up at Wayne. He didn’t see Eden.
 

He brought his feet up, wedging his knees under Wayne, and lifted with all his strength, giving himself enough leverage to roll from beneath the other man, this time with the knife in his hand. He sliced it through the air, but Wayne jumped back, so the blade sliced across a bicep, leaving a line of blood but not slowing him down. Goddamn, the man was in good shape, bobbing and weaving like a boxer despite the rocking of the boat beneath them.
 

Aaron shifted his grip on the knife and gauged the man’s weaknesses. Very few. Even his crotch was protected by Kevlar. His vest had a shield at the neck which made hitting his throat nearly impossible. Under his chin was an option, or his femoral artery.

He was aware the man was sizing up his own considerable weaknesses. His eye was still swollen after the fight at the farm, and his vision still wasn’t clear. His side hurt, his ears rang, and he didn’t know where Eden was.
 

She was his biggest weakness. Wayne had to know that. But Aaron didn’t take his eyes off of his enemy.
 

He lunged again, feinting at the man’s side. Wayne laughed and stepped back, then swung a seemingly lazy fist, connecting with Aaron’s gut and doubling him over. He struggled for breath and straightened just in time to avoid a follow-up to his jaw. He tightened his hold on the knife and raised it again. Fighting for his footing as the boat rocked, he lashed out and buried the blade in the palm of the man’s hand.

The smirk disappeared from Wayne’s face, and Aaron followed through, his shoulder against the man’s chest as he wrested the knife free, feeling the blade grind against bone. The heat of blood flowed over his hand, and he jabbed the weapon toward the man’s head. The blade connected but didn’t penetrate, and the slippery blade fell from his hand. The commander took advantage and twisted the knife free, turning it and driving the blade into Aaron’s side.

All the air left him, his knees wobbled. He opened and closed his mouth, sucking for breath, but nothing came in—or stayed in. His head swam. Just before he hit the deck and everything went black, he heard the report of a gun and a resulting splash.

***

Eden lowered the gun to her side with shaking hands, and dropped to her knees beside Aaron. He was out, and his blood coated the deck. God. God, no. She turned him over as carefully as she could, but he was dead weight. She hoped she wasn’t doing further damage but she had to get a look at the wound. Fresh blood bubbled from beneath his shirt and she yanked it up. That wasn’t a good sign, was it? Had the blade penetrated his lung? They had no way, no way to repair that. She pressed the dirty fleece to it, wincing as she did so. She had nothing cleaner.

She scrambled to the edge of the boat and looked over the side, into the water, to make sure the commander wasn’t bobbing there, ready to board and finish the job, but she couldn’t see him. Had the armor he’d worn made him sink? She cast her attention toward the dock and the shore. Surely the man didn’t travel alone. There had to be others out there. Would they seek revenge for her killing their leader? Would they attack and claim the boat?

Would they find the others?

The others—she couldn’t leave Aaron to go to them, to let them know the boat was safe and it was time to go. Never had she wished more for a communication device—walkie talkies or a cell phone, smoke signals, anything to let them know to come to the dock.

She looked at Aaron’s pale face, bruises blossoming on his cheek and jaw. If only he was awake enough to apply pressure himself, she could run for the others. Why had they left them in the club house so far away? Why hadn’t they all just come to inspect the boat? Why had she and Aaron taken so long?

She looked at the battened sails. Maybe she could sail the boat closer to the club house, dock there, not have so far to run, not have to leave Aaron alone so long. She went to work, grateful her father had taught her so much about boating. She’d never cared for it, got seasick too easily on a small vessel, but she knew what to do. Right now that was going to save Aaron’s life.

She hoped.

The sail had just popped full of air and she was reaching for the line that lashed the boat to the dock when she heard shouting. She picked up her gun from where she’d dropped it to care for Aaron and aimed—only to see Geoff leading the others down the dock, all but Annie carrying weapons.
 

She held her breath, waiting for the sound of a gunshot, waiting to watch one of them fall, but they all reached the boat safely.

“We heard gunfire,” Geoff said as he handed Kelly into the boat, where she stopped, gaping at Aaron and the blood surrounding him. “Jesus, is he shot?”

“Stabbed.” Eden swallowed the tears that suddenly bubbled in her throat. “Kelly, I need your help. I can’t sail this thing on my own.”

Thank God their father had spent hours with them out on the water, Kelly reluctant as she always was with anything to do with their father, Eden eager to learn, to please. But the lessons kicked in as Kelly helped her with the sails.

Annie thrust the baby at Geoff and joined Christine on the deck, assessing Aaron’s wound, raising his head, applying pressure. Christine opened her pack and pulled out some of the supplies Hawk had given them.

“We’ve got him,” Annie said softly. “Don’t worry.”

Eden met the other woman’s gaze for what seemed like forever before she nodded. She motioned to Geoff.
 

“Untie us,” she said, and steered the sail to guide them out of the harbor.

Gunfire rang out from the shore and everyone on board ducked as a bullet nicked the mast inches from Eden’s head. She swore. Without a mast, they’d be stranded, and speed was of the essence. They had to get Aaron home where Vicky could treat him, could stop the bleeding, could bring him back to her.
 

But she couldn’t make the boat go faster, not when they were completely dependent on the wind. She turned the sail and finally it caught. The boat leaped ahead on the water, heading south.

The wrong direction. But for now, it would put distance between them and the gunmen on the shore, and it would fool them as to her destination. The last thing she wanted was to lead the danger home.

A few more gunshots rang out. She felt the impact as one hit the hull, but then the bullets started falling into the water. They were out of range, unless the men came out of the cover of the buildings and fired on them from the dock.

She turned her attention toward getting them home.

Once they were on course, she watched Annie and Christine wash Aaron’s still-bleeding wound to get a better look at it. Christine created a small incision in his chest and slid what looked like a straw into it, and taped it in place on his chest. Then his chest rose with a huge heaving sound, and he was breathing.
 

“Air in his chest was crushing his lungs,” she said. “This relieves the pressure.”

She didn’t ask why they didn’t use the incision in his side, which Annie was bent over, her fingers probing. She shook her head, disgusted. “I can’t tell what damage it did inside. Where we’re going, are there doctors?”

“We have a nurse.”

Annie grimaced, then must have realized what she’d done. “I’m sure she’s done surgery.”

“Never on someone who’s been stabbed.”

“Still more experience than I have.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better?

***

The waves were choppy out of the harbor, and the winds hard from the north and biting, stealing Eden’s breath as she fought the ocean, going against the current, going against the wind. Another cold front, and none of them were dressed for it, not on the open boat. She could only hope those clouds ahead didn’t mean rain.
 

Geoff helped Christine carry Aaron below. Eden knew that was best for him, but she’d liked being able to watch him, to gauge how he was doing. Not well, but at least he’d been in sight. After a few moments, Geoff rejoined her on the deck.
 

“Tell me what to do.”

Because learning how to sail in these conditions was a good idea. Still she appreciated another pair of hands and let him take over the lines as she rested her aching arms. She dared not go below to get out of the wind, because all they needed was one good wave to capsize them, and then it was all over. So she let Geoff steer and kept an eye open, ready to jump in if she was needed.

“He’s a fighter, he’ll be all right,” he shouted to her over the sound of the wind.
 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, not able to allow herself to think about how his death would destroy her. Not after all he’d done for her. Not after all he’d meant to her.

They had to have a chance on the island, to see what they could become together.