Freefall (14 page)

Sam had another advantage in the pool. As a former Olympian, he was a strong swimmer, as comfortable in icy water as on dry land. Shoving his opponent down to the bottom, he kicked toward the surface.

Before he got far, a hand snagged his ankle, jerking him backward. Sam’s booted foot glanced off his cheek. The guy let go of Sam, releasing a flurry of bubbles. They broke through the water at the same time.

Sam’s new friend punched him in the face. Pain exploded in his mouth and hot blood dribbled down his chin.

He ducked and swam away, executing a swift freestyle. If the pool was larger, Sam could have put distance between them quickly. He could have scrambled out, climbed up the safety line and freed Faith.

But the pool wasn’t big enough to make a difference. He reached the shore in seconds, and the smuggler was right behind him. Sam tried a second tackle, having exhausted his attack repertoire. Too late, he realized he should have stayed in the water. The younger man boxed as well as Sam swam.

His opponent stayed on his feet, shoving Sam and advancing. Sam staggered backward, absorbing several blows to the face. They were close to the outer edge of the pool, where the flow fed into the river.

He glanced at the rushing water, dizzy. Maybe it was time to take another dive.

The smuggler made the decision for him. He came at Sam with a fist-sized rock, cracking him over the head.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S
AM
REMEMBERED
.

He remembered his last moments with Melissa. He remembered the morning of the climb, and the day before. He remembered the horrible, harrowing weeks after. He remembered the earthquake.

He remembered everything. The memories were no worse or better than he expected, just different. Hollow, in a way.

“Sam.”

The voice drifted into his semiconsciousness. Owen’s voice. His hand slapped Sam’s wet cheek lightly.

Sam groaned as reality crashed down all around him. His head...fucking
hurt.
He didn’t want to open his eyes. His clothes were soaked, and he felt...sick. As if he’d swallowed a bellyful of river water.

It came gurgling up, spewing from him in a violent rush. Owen rolled him onto his side and Sam vomited until he had nothing left. The cool liquid felt alien, like a foreign substance purged from his insides. When it was gone, he dry-heaved weakly. Tears rushed into his eyes with every stomach spasm.

He couldn’t focus. The world was a blur.

Owen set him on his back and covered his body with a safety blanket. The cold water, inside and out, had lowered his core temperature so much that he was shaking like a leaf, even while lying on a warm rock in direct sunlight.

“Hope,” he croaked.

Owen hovered close, his face a Munch painting. “Do you know where she is?”

Sam blinked several times to clear his vision. The bleeding colors rearranged into something that resembled reality. “Angel Wings.”

Owen picked up his radio to call it in.

“No,” Sam said, reaching out to stop him. His hand brushed Owen’s forearm and fell aside, ineffectual.

Owen flinched at the contact. He always did. “Why?”

Sam lifted his throbbing head to study their surroundings. His body had traveled several hundred feet downriver. The man he’d been fighting was gone. “They’re listening to the transmissions.”

Owen’s brows rose with surprise.

“How long was I out?” Sam asked.

“A few minutes, at the most.”

“Is anyone else in the area?”

“No. The other rangers got delayed. They’re still hours away.”

“Faith needs help,” Sam said, trying to concentrate on the most important details. His mind was reeling from the rush of memories. He’d waited years for recovery. Getting it now wasn’t just inconvenient, it was a damned nuisance.

“Del Norte went after her,” Owen said.

“When?”

“Just now. He caught sight of someone climbing up the side of the falls. He ran that way, saying the man would lead him to Faith.”

“He wants to rescue her?”

“That’s what he said.”

“You have to follow him,” Sam said.

“Is she over there?”

“Yes.”

Owen examined the trail, his gaze sharp. Then he returned his attention to Sam. “You look like hell.”

Sam straightened, staving off a wave of dizziness. There was a tender lump on the back of his head. His teeth ached from the punch he’d taken. He felt nauseated, and he probably had a concussion, but his vision had returned to normal. He wasn’t throwing up anymore. The uncontrollable shivering had stopped. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Owen scoffed.

“I remember the quake.”

“What quake?”

“In San Diego,” Sam said. “I remember everything. I remember Melissa’s death.”

Owen appeared stunned. He was one of the few people who knew about Sam’s amnesia—because he’d been there during the freeway collapse.

“Do you have a rack?”

“Of climbing gear?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t climb.”

Sam tossed aside the blanket and staggered to his feet. If he could stand, he could climb. “Give it to me. I’m going after Hope.”

Owen rose also. His expression was skeptical, but he shrugged out of his backpack and handed it over.

“Faith is bound and gagged on the right side of the falls.”

“I’ll look for her.”

“Be careful,” Sam warned.

Owen promised he would, and Sam felt his throat close up. He realized that he hadn’t managed to smother all of his feelings over the past two years. Somehow, he’d grown to like this messed-up kid from prison.

Maybe it was a mistake to leave Faith’s life in the hands of a park assistant and a fugitive criminal, but Sam couldn’t think of a better option. He was terrified for Hope. For the first time since the accident, he’d woken with a clear head.

He had to go with his gut. He had to save Hope.

The simple hike was grueling. When he tried to sprint, he started dry-heaving again. He was forced to stop and take sips of water until his nausea abated. After he reached the fork, he felt stronger. He found some crackers and an energy drink in Owen’s pack. The snack settled his stomach, and he jogged the last two miles to Angel Wings.

At the wall, he dropped his pack and removed the gear. Owen’s harness fit him. His ropes were good. Sam didn’t have time to mess around with perfect placements and safety measures. More than an hour had passed since he’d left Mist Falls. He had to speed-climb and pray for strength.

It was, without a doubt, the hardest climb of his life. His balance was off, he felt weak and his muscles didn’t work right. The bump on his head was like a beating heart, radiating pain throughout his body. He was sweating profusely, his gut churning. He kept the crackers down, but it was a near thing.

At the halfway mark, a high wind tested his resolve. He swayed and clung to the wall, pressing his belly against the warm rock. His hands were trembling. The odds against him seemed insurmountable.

He was going to fail.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Memories of Melissa flooded him. He hadn’t argued with her that day, or been careless with their gear, or pushed her beyond her limits. What had happened was an accident. Knowing that didn’t assuage his guilt. All these months, he’d assumed recovery would bring closure. Instead, he felt empty. He was overwhelmed by loss, not comforted or at peace.

And how cruel was fate, to put him in the same position with Hope. Unable to save her. So close, but so far. Another life, slipping through his fingers.

Gunfire echoed through the canyon, startling him into action. He continued his ascent, aware that the shots were coming from the mountaintop. It sounded like two different weapons firing, but he couldn’t be sure.

A moment later, the remains of the plane toppled over the edge of the cliff, coming straight at him.

* * *

T
HE
WATERFALL
WAS
almost as majestic as the ones he’d seen in Costa Rica.

Javier recognized the man climbing up the path as Nick Kruger. He was Martin’s little bitch. Martin Hinojosa did most of Gonzales’s dirty work. Both men were likely candidates for Alexia’s murder.

He couldn’t wait to tear Nick apart.

Tucking the gun into his waistband, Javier began his ascent. Nick had already spotted him, so he didn’t bother with stealth. He climbed quickly, closing the distance between them. Near the top, he caught a glimpse of tangled blond hair. Faith sat on the opposite side of the falls. She’d been gagged with dirty cloth, her wrists and ankles bound.

Javier would kill Nick for that offense alone. Although he had him in his sights, Javier hesitated to shoot.

He didn’t want to do it in front of her.

Instead of pulling his gun, he continued to the summit. Nick waded across the top edge of the falls, almost slipping in his haste. Javier couldn’t let him get to Faith. He traversed the space with caution, but he also made a misstep, sinking into waist-deep water. When he regained his footing, he hurried to catch up.

Nick stumbled and fell before they reached the rock outcropping. He pushed himself off the ground, glancing over his shoulder at Javier. There was a nasty scrape on his left cheek. Faith made a whimpering sound in the back of her throat.

Javier reached for his gun and came up empty.

Coño!

He must have lost it in the water.

Nick realized what had happened and assumed a ready position, putting his fists up. He was a scrappy fighter—Gonzales liked to trawl the boxing ring for employees—but Javier had more experience.

“Why don’t you just get the fuck out of here?” Javier offered.

“I’m not a deserter.”

Javier wasn’t impressed by his loyalty. Gonzales would punish Nick for abandoning Faith, so he didn’t have much choice. “No, you’re a killer. If those guys on the trail don’t survive, you’ll get the death penalty.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said, breathing hard. He sounded worried.

Javier had helped Owen pull the unconscious man out of the water. He would have died without their intervention. He might be dead now. “What about Alexia?”

Nick’s gaze darkened. “No.”

Although Javier wanted to press him for more information, he doubted any would be forthcoming. He glanced at Faith, evaluating her condition. Her clothes were dirty and she had some minor scratches. “Did he hit you?”

Eyes wide, she shook her head.

Good to know. Javier wasn’t going to take it easy on him, however. He advanced, feinting to the left and following up with a hard right. The first strike connected, but Nick stayed on his feet. Somehow, he also managed to retaliate with a heavy blow to the gut.

Maybe Javier had underestimated him.

Smothering a grunt of surprise, he retreated a few steps. His left side was still sore, and Nick was perceptive enough to recognize the weakness. He pummeled Javier’s left shoulder, striking the tender spot.

Pain exploded on impact. Javier swung out wildly and got lucky with an uppercut. Nick staggered backward.

Faith wasn’t content to sit and watch. She wiggled toward Nick like a worm, positioning herself behind him. When Javier came forward, swinging again, Nick tripped over her and went down on his ass.

Javier seized the opportunity to leap on top of Nick. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he punched him again and again. He punched for Alexia, and for Faith. He punched for Caleb and Ted and the guy Owen had pulled out of the river.

He had a strong urge to keep hitting him, but he slowed as soon as Nick went limp. There was no sport in beating a semiconscious man to death. His fist hovered in the air, waiting to descend. Beneath him, Nick moaned, his head lolling to the side. Blood dribbled down his brow, into his ear.

Javier glanced at Faith. Tears leaked from her eyes, making tracks on her dirty cheeks. She didn’t need to witness any more brutality.

He let Nick go and went to her. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he knelt beside her, reaching out to remove her gag. She made a noise of discomfort as the rough cloth left her tender mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but he drew her into his arms instead. She pressed her face to his chest and wept.

Gonzales stepped into the clearing, his gun poised. “What a touching scene.”

Javier’s stomach clenched with tension. He thought about diving into the falls, but the drop looked deadly, and Faith was still tied up. She couldn’t land safely, or swim. He’d risk his own life to escape, not hers.

He tightened his arm around her protectively.

“Would you care to explain yourself?” Gonzales asked.

Javier expected to be executed on the spot. Gonzales knew that Javier had betrayed him. The proof was right here, in Nick’s blood. He’d come back for Faith, and made enemies of his former comrades. It didn’t look good. If Gonzales waited, it was only because he wanted to interrogate and torture Javier first.

Although he couldn’t change his fate, maybe he could convince Gonzales to spare Faith. “She doesn’t know anything,” he said, holding her head to his chest. She trembled against him. “Let her go.”

“I’d rather let her watch you die.”

“Please,” he said, reduced to begging.

Gonzales gestured at Nick, who was showing signs of life. “Can you walk, or should I save you the trouble?”

Nick staggered to his feet, wiping his bloody eyebrow.

“Get up,” Gonzales said to Javier. “And bring the girl with you.”

Once again, he considered taking a leap off the cliff. It was three short steps to the edge, but Gonzales would shoot him in the back before he reached freedom. He rose and lifted Faith into his arms, ignoring the ache in his shoulder.

A helicopter flew overhead and landed in the meadow nearby. At Gonzales’s prodding, Javier headed that direction, resigned to cooperate.

For now.

* * *

H
OPE
RELEASED
THE
clip and checked for bullets.

Two left.

She shoved it back into the chamber, knowing she had to make them both count. While she took aim at his estimated location, ready to squeeze off another shot, Leather slammed his shoulder against the fuselage a third time. The nose tipped over the edge. She careened sideways into the dead pilot.

Her stomach sank.

There was nothing she could do. Momentum would send the plane hurtling off the cliff, whether she fired or not.

Killing him wouldn’t save her now.

If she stayed inside the fuselage, she would die. If she jumped out, she would die. She braced herself for the crash although it wouldn’t make any difference. The plane’s belly scraped along the rocks with a metallic groan.

Then she was airborne.

Her head hit the roof as the wreckage toppled nose over tail, smashing against the cliff wall.

The stomach-curling descent ended before she expected it. One second, she was flying around the inside of the fuselage. The next, she was plastered to the ceiling, stunned. The plane came to a sudden halt.

Hope felt suspended in time and space. Was she dead or alive, up or down?

The gun in her hand seemed real. She tightened her grip, trying to regain her hold on reality. Taking a deep breath, she glanced past the dead pilot, out the broken window. Terror coursed through her veins as she realized what had happened. The fuselage was perched on a precarious ledge, halfway down the cliff.

It wasn’t stable.

Wind whistled through the swaying cabin. Any moment, she could take another plunge. She had to get out—now.