Long Gone (5 page)

Chapter Four

A throbbing pain brought
Skyler’s
hand up to her
temple. She cracked her eyes open only to squeeze
them
shut again as nausea rose up and the pounding intensified.
Dear God
. Why was she lying on her back in so much discomfort?  

The memories came flooding back—how she had foolishly opened the door to a stranger, been overpowered, and forced to breathe chloroform vapors. She jerked upright, only to be yanked back by something biting into her right wrist. 

Rolling her head upon a pillow, she peered up at the handcuff chaining her wrist to a brass headboard. Her eyes flew wide as she took in the odd dimensions of an unfamiliar bedroom. The built-in cabinetry and rounded window drove home the realization that she’d been stowed aboard a boat. 

One of her father’s favorite me
thod
s
of d
ispos
ing
of problematic people
was taking them out to sea—and never bringing them back
.

Yanking on the handcuff, she tried desperately to slip her hand through, only the cuff had been cinched too tightly. She fell back onto the leopard-patterned coverlet, defeated.

There was no denying the truth.
T
hey
had
found her
.

A
barb of
terror
lanced her chest and nausea roiled in her again. With a moan of misery, she leaned over the edge of the bed just in time to keep from retching on
herself
.

She felt better with an empty stomach, but before she could gather her thoughts to devise a means of escape, footsteps sounded outside the door. The knob turned and the d
oor
swung inward. The familiar visage of the man stepping into the room brought a gasp of recognition to her lips as he shut and locked the door behind him.

Ashton Jameson
, her one-time fiancé
and
a
dedicated Centurion.

The blood drained from
Skyler’s
face as he drew closer, smirking.
Dressed in khaki
shorts
and a
yellow
Bermuda
shirt, he
looked like he might have been vacationing in the Gulf for the summer tan on his broad face.  

“I see you
’re
finally awake
,” he drawled in his Charleston, old-money accent as he surveyed her critically. Sniffing the air, he peered around the bed and spotted the stain on the rug.
“My mother was right
,” he said with distaste. “Not only are you a bitch, you’re not even house
broken
.” Laughing at his clever metaphor, he circled the bed to stand on the opposite side. 
 

The terror
she’d suffered moments before r
eceded.
While she knew that she
was dealing with a monster, she
knew
this monster.
Ashton
might be cruel, but
he was also lethargic and dull. At least with him, she stood some small chance of escaping.

A
quick
inventory of every object near at hand
showed nothing
she could use for a
weapon.
She would have to rely on herself, then. Grabbing the brass
headboard
, she pulled herself into a sitting position, every muscle in her body braced for his attack.  

But rather than jump on her, he sat on the edge of the mattress, causing it to dip and her to roll toward him. He stretched out a hand. The moist pads of his fingers grazed her cheek as he
slid them from her cheek to her left breast, squeezing it hard. Repulsed, she
forced herself
to hold his
snake-like
gaze. A show of fear would only goad him.

“All those weeks when you
belonged to me,” he muttered, breathing hard, “
you
kept
your thighs
together like a Vestal virgin
.
Turns out you were
sleeping with your federal agent, weren’t you?” 

Reaching for the waistband of her pajama pants, he tried yanking them down over her hips, but
Skyler
resisted, and his efforts got him nowhere.
“
You can’t stop me from taking what’s rightfully mine,” he threatened, leaning over her.   

S
eizing her chance,
Skyler
jabbed her free thumb into his right eye and jackknifed her legs at the same instant, making brutal contact with his groin. WITSEC’s mandatory course in self-defense paid off. With a bellow of agony, Jameson reared back and toppled off the bed.

With grim satisfaction, she watched him curl into a ball on the floor, one hand over his groin, the other o
ver his right eye.
But her victory, she knew, was only temporary.

“You bitch!” he screamed. “You fucking bitch!
I swear you’ll regret that move.”

As she waited for Jameson’s inevitable recovery, remorse plunged through her. She and Drake had come so close to being
r
eunited. So close. Now she would never again know the joy of feeling his arms around her.

**

Flying down the steps to the main deck, Drake drew up short to see his father leaning against the door to the engine room, catching his breath. His left eye was already beginning to blacken and his upper lip was cut and bleeding.

“So, I’m a little out of practice,” Connor admitted, returning Drake’s astonished stare with a belligerent look. “The kid was a martial arts expert.”

“Uh-huh.” Drake looked around. “What did you do with him?”  

Connor held up a set of keys.
“Locked him in the engine room.”
He gestured toward the sliding glass doors. “I can hear a struggle near the front of the boat,” he added more gravely.

His words tore at Drake, causing him to wheel toward the glass doors, intent on getting to
Skyler
now
.

His father leapt in front of him. “Slow down, there, hotshot. Your silver tongue might have gotten you this far, but Jameson is probably armed and not averse to killing us on sight. We need to catch him off guard.”

“Luckily, he’s not expecting us,” Drake retorted. Retrieving his pistol, he checked to see that his clip was full. His muscles quivered with rage. “You might have to keep me from killing the SOB.”

Connor produced his own pistol from under his shirttail. “That sounds like something I would say.”

Drake narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t kid yourself. You and I are nothing alike.” 

Connor’s smile faded. “You’re probably right, son. Come on.” He gestured toward the cabin’s entrance. “Let’s get Jameson.”

**

Ashton was recovering faster than
Skyler
had bargained for. As he pushed himself off the floor, still huffing with pain, she twisted onto her knees to face the headboard. Though it was bolted to the wall and tugging on it wasn’t going to free her, still, she had to try.

A glance over her shoulder showed him
crawling
closer. B
lood
dribbled
down
one side of his face
. His right eye was a pulpy red mess; his left eye burn
ed
with hatred.
Oh, God
.

Gone was his intention to rape her—she could tell that at once. His next words confirmed it.

“Now you’ve asked for it. I was going to end this quickly and painlessly, but not now. Oh, no. I’m going to drag it out for days. You’ll be begging for mercy by the time I’m through cutting you to pieces.”

The words came as no surprise. She’d known of the mob’s torturous techniques since she’d read her mother’s journals. Her only hope was to lose
consciousness
early on
and never wake up again.

He lunged suddenly, making a grab for her ankles, but a quick heel-strike to his face foiled that intention. The delicate bone in his nose cracked. Jameson howled in rage and lunged again. Manacling both ankles at once, he yanked her knees out from under her.

Skyler’s
temple plowed into the brass bar, so hard that her head rang. She willed oblivion to overtake her, but with a painful tug on her hair, Jameson kept her conscious.

His weight pressed her hard against the mattress. He fumbled for a moment in his pocket. The sound of a jackknife springing open made her blood freeze. “I think I’ll feed your flesh to the sharks.”

The cold bite of a blade against her ear made her blood roar. Squeezing her eyes shut, she envisioned Drake to give her courage.

A deafening crash had her eyes flying open. Ashton sprang off the bed, allowing her to crane her neck in time to see two men surge through the door that now listed on torn hinges. Pointing their guns at Ashton’s heaving chest, they shouted, “FBI! Get down on the ground!” 

Thank God
!
Boneless with relief,
Skyler
watched Ashton point his switchblade at her rescuers and back away, blubbering threats. The younger of the two men kicked the blade from his hand while the larger tackled Ashton to the floor, grappling him into submission in seconds.

Then the first man pivoted toward the bed.

“
Skyler
.”

She blinked to clear her vision as he joined her on the mattress, his gaze skimming over her for evidence of harm.

“Drake?”
She caught his face in her free hand so she could be certain. His features, faded from memory after four long years, were suddenly, dearly familiar. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, baby.” His chocolate brown eyes reflected a tangle of emotions ranging from delight to fury upon finding her chained to the bed. 

“Get off me!” Ashton roared on the floor. “You’re dead! You’re both dead!”

The man straddling him just pushed Ashton’s bloodied face into the plush carpet to shut him up.

Skyler
banished the two from her reality. In her universe, she and Drake were alone, sitting knee to knee, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. How long had she waited for this to happen? “I have to be dreaming.” The suspicion that her mind was playing tricks on her made her groan in despair. After that blow to the head, it was all too possible.

“
Shhh
.
It’s me, baby. See?” He pressed her hand against his chest where his heart beat hard and fast beneath his soft shirt. “I’m really here. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

She caught back a sob of joy. He was real! 

“Dad,” Drake called over his shoulder, snapping her out of her trance. “See if you can find the keys to these cuffs. Then you can put them on him.”

Dad?
Skyler
regarded the other man in surprise. His hair, evidently once as black as Drake’s, was shot with silver; his features were craggier, but there wasn’t any question he and Drake were related. Searching Jameson’s pockets, the older agent turned up a set of tiny keys. Within seconds,
Skyler’s
hand was free.

“
Where
else
are you hurt?”
Drake asked, rubbing her tender wrist and tossing the cuffs down to his father.

She shook her head to signify that she was fine but sobs of relief got the better of her. Drake pulled her close, crooning words of comfort in her ear as
Skyler
burrowed against him, letting his never-forgotten scent
anchor her in the reality that he
was holding her, shielding her.

Still, nothing could block out the reality of his father hauling a resisting Ashton Jameson to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said to his son, “before any of his friends show up.”

“Right.”
Drake looked down at her with real
concern
. “Can you walk, babe? Or do you need me to carry you.”

Skyler
dashed the wetness from her face. “I—I can walk. He didn’t. . . ” She choked on the words, unable to articulate them. Scooting to the edge of the bed she pushed shakily to her feet, refusing Drake’s help.

“You did a good job messing up his eye,” he said with a grin that faded as he caught sight of the swelling by her temple. “That’s quite a goose egg. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Could you carry my purse and the other bag?” She was pleased to see them stashed in the corner of the room.

As he went to collect them,
Skyler’s
gaze slid back to the bed. If not for Drake, she would have bled to death there, one pint at a time.