Love Inspired Suspense December 2013 Bundle: Christmas Cover-Up\Force of Nature\Yuletide Jeopardy\Wilderness Peril (38 page)

Reuben grunted in pain when Paula peeled away the shirt from his side. “You should have gone for the mainland,” he rasped.

“Not leaving you here. Or Antonia,” he said. “Been trying to call the police, but my phone's out of juice.”

Through gritted teeth Reuben fought the waves of burning pain as Paula swabbed the wound with an antiseptic wipe. “So we're still on our own.”

“Looks that way.” Silvio's gaze traveled over the storm-swollen lagoon. “What's the plan?”

“Find Antonia,” he said.

Silvio raised an eyebrow. “Not much of a plan.”

It's all that matters.

TWENTY

A
ntonia kept as slow a pace as she could. Martin was clearly preoccupied, shoving her along. It was a difficult walk, sometimes nearly a swim as they encountered low-lying areas under several feet of water. She tried to keep her mind from imagining what was waiting for her at the boathouse, but scenarios kept scrolling through her mind anyway. Maybe Gavin had taken control, but Gavin's chances against Leland weren't very good, especially when he had Hector to worry about, too. It struck her then that Gavin was a very brave man indeed to continue his mission in the face of impossible odds. Far safer to hide out, hunker down and wait for rescue.

Her ears kept playing tricks on her. Had she heard the sound of Reuben's footsteps behind them? The engine noise from an incoming chopper? Nerves tingling, she forced herself to keep the panic at bay.
Just keep walking. Wait for an opportunity. Wait, wait, wait.

Still her mind would not slow. If she died there, if they all did, who would tell Mia? Hector might somehow escape, and he would find her and Gracie. Your sister drowned on the island, Hector would say. So tragic. Martin was right; no one would be left alive to tell the story.

But would Hector really allow his brother to be murdered? This same man who had helped drag her to shore? She was not sure, even after all that had transpired, what nestled deep in Hector's soul, under the greed and hunger for power.

Maybe you should worry about your own soul.
The ocean rolled calmly against the shore, soothing and regular now that the angry storm had departed. A life jacket bobbed in the water, dipping and swirling on the waves. Ironic. What she would have given for a life jacket when Leland left her in the ocean. Salt water stung the cuts on her feet and with the pain came a heavy weight of guilt. Too much of her past few years had been steeped in judgment, in hatred and condemnation. If she had been given only twenty-seven years to live, surely the Lord had not meant for her to waste one moment, let alone month upon month mired down in those emotions?
Forgive me, Lord. Forgive.

She recalled the look of pain on Reuben's face when he toppled backward into the river. His eyes had not been on his own wound, but on her face, as if he wanted his last sight on this earth to be of her. She'd been wrong to nurse the anger, to stoke the fire of her hurts that crippled her spirit. Every moment wasted in anger was an affront to the One who'd given her life. Too late, the wind seemed to whisper.

Tears threatened and she swallowed hard. “He's okay,” she muttered savagely. “He's got to be okay.” They skirted another flooded section of trail and pushed instead through the sea grass and down into the sandy sweep of ground that was soggy but passable. Great mountains of kelp had been disgorged on the shore and the seabirds were making use of the opportunity to scavenge for fish forced into the shallower water. Wreckage dotted the sand, piled into strange sculptures. She stumbled over a partially covered pipe. While down on one knee she palmed a scoop full of sand and put it in her pocket. Sand against the enemy? Well, David used a handful of rocks, didn't he?

Martin stopped at the approach to the boathouse, pulling her into the trees as he scoped out the structure. There had been some damage, she noted. The roof was partially ripped off the top story, but the upper level was still intact. The lower story housed the three gaps where boats would be secured, and they appeared to be empty. As far as that went, there were no signs of life or movement from the boathouse whatsoever. The stillness pricked up the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

“See?” she said. “No skimmer. It's gone. He's gone and left you here.”

“Shut up,” he said.

They crouched there until her knees began to ache, the mosquitos buzzing down to feed on her tired flesh. Reuben always joked that when the world was destroyed, mosquitos would be the last living creatures standing. She shoved down the wave of tenderness and grief the memory churned up. She fingered the sand in her pocket, but he was so close, an eyeful of grit would only stop him for a minute, maybe less.

“There,” Martin cried, stabbing a finger at the remnants of a rickety dock some fifty yards from the boathouse. “The skimmer's tied there neat as you please. Leland's still here.”

Antonia did not know what to make of it, or how to use the information to her advantage. “Why is it tied there instead of the boathouse?”

Martin shook his head. “Dunno. I'm going to check it out. You stay here.”

Her stomach tensed. Now was her opportunity. Martin took a few cautious steps toward the dock. She readied herself to run as fast as she could manage into the trees. One more step. As soon as he took one more step away she'd take off.

He stopped as if he'd suddenly changed his mind. Her stomach dropped as he returned to her and dragged her close to a tree, yanking her arms around it and fastening her wrists together with his belt. “Just in case you get any ideas, honey,” he said, so close she could feel his sour breath on her face.

“I won't...” she started to plead, but he wasn't listening. Tightening the belt, he returned to his wary approach toward the skimmer.

She yanked at the bonds, succeeding only in bringing a shower of water from the wet leaves down on her head. The tree was fairly smooth, but she started sawing her wrists back and forth against it anyway, hoping the bark would begin to wear away the strap of the belt. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Martin approaching the dock. She did not know nor did she care how that skimmer came to be tied on that weathered strip of wood, but she knew she only had a few moments before he checked it out and returned.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered impatiently, feeling the belt scratching into her wrists.

Martin made it onto the planked walkway, past tall patches of oat grass. The skimmer was tied to the end, bobbing gently in the calm water. One spot of the belt wore away. Breath exploding, Antonia worked even harder, feeling her palms grow slippery with blood from her chafed wrists. A moment more. She needed only a fraction of a minute of sustained effort to free herself.

Martin drew even with the skimmer, peering down into the vessel. “There's blood in here,” she thought he said.

Blood?
Maybe she'd misheard over the rolling waves. She sawed harder at the restraint, her nerves burning.

He pulled at something she could not make out.

“Radio's still busted,” he yowled. “Lying little...”

She pulled as hard as she could and felt the belt giving slightly.

Martin looked over and his eyes widened. He moved to step over the edge of the boat and back onto the dock.

Something erupted from below in a shower of water. As she struggled to make out what was happening, she felt a hand grasp her shoulder, the fingers long and cold.

* * *

Reuben used every bit of momentum he could muster as he exploded from the water and yanked Martin downward. Caught completely off guard, the man went over face-first into the shallows. The impact of the body slamming into the surface nearly took Reuben off his feet. It wasn't a planned effort, and he hadn't time to consider all the variables. After they'd caught sight of Martin leading Antonia toward the boathouse, they'd just made it in time to secure the boat to the dock and hide before he arrived. He'd hoped Martin would bring Antonia with him to investigate, but he'd tied her up instead. Tied her like an animal. He'd pay for that choice, Reuben had decided.

Catching Martin completely by surprise should have been the end of it. Get him bound and out of the picture quickly, but each movement sent ripples of pain through Reuben's side as he struggled to get his arms around Martin's neck. Martin had weathered the storm better, and his strength seemed undiminished as he fought back, flailing punches at Reuben, who dodged as best he could.

Salt water stung his eyes as Martin landed a punch that caught Reuben in the ribs. The pain blurred his vision and left him unable to suck in a breath. He stumbled backward and nearly went down.

“Shoulda shot you when I had the chance,” Martin grunted.

Reuben kept his footing and somehow got his fists up again, fighting through the red wall of pain. “Guess so,” Reuben managed.
Think it through, Reuben. You're not stronger than he is. You have to be smarter.
He waited, like Hector had taught him, until the split second after Martin drew back a fraction, telegraphing his intentions. He was going to go for a punishing low swing, probably seeking Reuben's injury again. At the last moment after the blow was launched, Reuben jerked to the side and swept his foot out in a wide arc, knocking Martin's feet out from under him and letting his momentum carry him to the water.

Just as Martin struggled to his feet again, Silvio emerged, oar in hand, and brought it down on the man's skull, the thwack sounding dull and flat. Martin crumpled forward into the water, unconscious. Limbs heavy with fatigue, Reuben flipped him onto his back to keep him from drowning. He looked up at Silvio, panting.

“You could have used the oar a little earlier.”

Silvio shrugged. “You were doin' okay, and I had to make sure Paula was hidden.”

Reuben moved slowly toward the bank, where Silvio dragged Martin out of the water and rolled him none too gently into the shrubs. “He's gonna wake up a couple of pints short of blood due to the mosquitos.” Silvio smiled. “Unless his blood is too foul even for them.”

Movement from the trees brought their conversation to a halt.

Through the water coursing down his face, Reuben saw Leland, his hand wrapped in Antonia's hair, running with her toward the boathouse.

“Nee,” Reuben shouted. He sprinted toward her, but Leland had a head start. The roar of a helicopter hardly registered as he watched Leland disappear into the lower floor of the cavernous boathouse.

He turned back to Silvio, whose stricken gaze alternated between the boathouse and the helicopter, which was working its way to the far side of the island. “Get Paula. Take the skimmer and go signal them.”

“Not gonna do it,” Silvio said softly.

Reuben gripped Silvio's shoulders and locked eyes with him. “We need help. You've got to go get it because I'm not leaving her.”

“She's hurt you, abandoned you,” Silvio said. “You gonna risk your life for her again?”

Reuben could not remember in that moment a single hurt, one disappointment, the tiniest recollection of past pain. His heart and brain were filled only with the precious, the jewellike memories of a love so pure it hurt and a spirit so cleaved to his own that he would not be whole without it.

“I'm going to save her,” Reuben said, feeling something strong and sure take the place of the physical pain that wracked his body. He did not know how, but certainty rang through him like the thunder of the waves.

Silvio cocked his head and smiled at Reuben. “I wouldn't have expected any other answer.”

Reuben allowed himself to be pulled into a fierce hug and then Silvio was gone to retrieve Paula. He straightened as best he could and marched toward the boathouse. There was no need for stealth, as Leland had already seen what transpired with Martin and the skimmer. He made his way up the path to the lower level and onto the small platform, letting himself into the cavernous underbelly. It was dark, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted. The risen water had topped the platforms that would normally provide docks for the boats to be tied, but it had receded until it was now a few inches below the bloated wood. The beams that held up the roof were blackened with water but still whole and strong. He thought ruefully that his mother would be proud. He took courage from those sturdy beams as he approached the wooden steps to the upper floor.

The bottom step was slick and his feet skidded a bit. He wondered what had happened to Gavin. To his brother. The boards creaked and groaned under his weight. The steps led to a solid platform, a space piled with boxes and opening onto two small rooms that served as more storage and a tiny office space for managing the paddleboat rentals that were so popular when times were better.

Antonia sat on a metal folding chair, hands in her lap, her look a mixture of fear and defiance. Leland stood next to her, a gun held casually in his hand, as if it were nothing more than a TV remote. Her eyes locked on him and something exquisite rippled through those fine features. One tear, glittering and pure, slid down her cheek. He knew that tear was for him.

“Welcome to the boathouse,” Leland said. “Did you kill him?”

It took Reuben a moment to realize Leland was speaking about Martin. “No, he's alive.”

Leland nodded. “And Granny and Grandpa? What's become of them?”

“They are on their way to flag down the coast guard.” Reuben watched Leland's eyes for some sign of anxiety, but he showed none.

“It's all right,” Leland said, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “I've got someone coming to pick me up. Small boat can outrun the coast guard. That's why we love this island so much, isn't it?” He wiggled a small cell phone. “Phones are back up, did you know that? The storm has passed, the clouds have parted and all is right with the world.”

Reuben looked at Antonia, calculating the distance and time it would take to reach her. He was not faster than a bullet. “Where's my brother?” he said.

“Put him in the storage room. Didn't give me much of a fight. Going to take him with me when I leave so he can sign the island over to Garza.”

“He won't sign,” Reuben said.

“Yes, he will. He'll be put out that I murdered his brother, but he'll sign. He's got a kid and an ex-wife to think about after all. How old is the kid, anyway? Two? Three? A real cutie, I'm sure.”

Antonia started to stand, rage in her eyes, but Leland pushed her back down. “Stay there,
señorita.
It will be easier for all of us.” He cocked his head and fingered her hair. “I just have to know. How did you manage to not drown? No one could have stayed afloat in that storm.”