Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (19 page)

God, he was a bastard. What father would risk his daughter’s safety to make his company look good?

“I’ll have to talk to Lola about it once we’re home,” he said, instead of acknowledging the guilt punching him in the chest. “Has she told you how she feels about working for CORE?”

She shrugged. “She hasn’t said much about it.”

He wished Cami was facing him so he could read her face and eyes. Not for a minute did he believe that Lola hadn’t confided in her mother. The two were extremely close and, often times, acted like best friends rather than mother and daughter. Since they were talking and not arguing, he’d broach the subject some other time. His goal right now was to reach dryer ground and put them back into the cover of the trees.

“The grass is thinning,” she said, her voice filled with relief. “Look how close we are to shore.”

Ian edged around her, shoved some grass aside and endured another prick to his skin. The sawgrass no longer coated the marsh, but sat in random clusters in the open, brackish water. The shore Cami had referred to wasn’t much of a shore at all. Leaves and branches from the mangroves lining the marsh hung over the water. While he’d prefer actual ground, climbing over the trees’ roots beat the hell out of wading through the water. The bastard had mentioned trench foot, and aware of the consequences once the condition set in, he wanted to give his feet a break. He’d seen enough maps of the Everglades to know this wouldn’t be the last marsh they’d walk through.

Cami stopped and grabbed his arm. “Listen,” she whispered.

After a moment, and only hearing crickets, other insects, frogs and birds in the distance, he glanced over his shoulder to the sea of sawgrass. For a split second he imagined the hunter cutting through the grass, black ski mask covering his head, eyes filled with hatred as he pointed a rifle at them. “I don’t hear anything. Come on, we need to get under cover. Going through the marsh slowed us—”

He quickly shoved her behind him and scanned the water, honing in on the many clusters of sawgrass.

“Sounds like a motor cycle idling at a stoplight,” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “I can’t tell where’s it’s coming from.”

He couldn’t either, but suspected what caused the sound.

The mangroves shadowed the edge of the marsh. The sun reflected off the water, hiding what lay in wait in the sawgrass. The low grumble came again, causing his muscles to tighten. Heart pounding hard, he looked to the left, then sucked in a breath. An alligator lay amidst the grass, its olive-green skin blending with the blades. The gator arched its head, raising it inches above the surface. Water droplets fell from its snout and partially opened mouth as it let out another growl.

“Cami?”

“Do you see something?” she asked, looking around his shoulder.

He pointed toward the gator.

“Oh, my…do you think it sees us?” Her nails bit into his skin. “Can it smell the blood on you like a shark would?”

“Don’t know. Move to the right without making too much noise. I think they hunt at night, so maybe we don’t have anything to worry about,” he said, hoping to reassure her as much as himself.

Cami hung on to him as they waded closer to the mangroves. He kept his gaze locked on the alligator, then pushed Cami forward when it turned in their direction. Its eyes and snout remained above the water, then slowly submerged, leaving only the ridges on its back visible.

Panicking, he grabbed Cami by the waist and ran. Water splashed around them as they moved. The muck and mud beneath his feet grew as thick as wet cement, slowing his pace.

The gator’s head rose to the surface again.

“It’s coming,” Cami panted. “Hurry, hurry.”

His lungs burned as he pushed his body harder. Another ten or so feet and they’d reach the mangrove roots.

The gator edged closer and closer. Its pace was slow, graceful, and unlike the cumbersome sprint they were making through the knee high water.

Five more feet.

Almost there.

A gunshot pierced the sky and echoed throughout the marsh. He quickly looked back. A bevy of birds flew from the sawgrass in a fury of wings and squawking. He glanced to the gator which swiftly submerged again.

Another bullet blasted, then another.

He cracked his toes against one of the hard stems below the water’s surface, then shoved Cami up and over the gray scaly mangrove root. She quickly scrambled back and clung to the tree. “He’s right behind you. Hurry.”

Who? The gator or the hunter?

Winded, exhausted, he latched onto a thick root and rolled on top of it. The knobby wood dug into his spine. Ignoring the pain, he pulled his feet from the water and launched backward, knocking into the tree trunk.

Cami shoved her hair from her eyes before her face crumpled and she started to cry. He pulled himself up, and balancing on the precarious roots, hauled her into his arms. Sobs wracked her body. He rubbed a hand along her back and quickly kissed her temple. “We have to go. He’s right behind us.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she cried. “God, this is too much.”

“You
have
to do this. Think about Lola. Think about
us
.” He gave her a slight shake. “Remember, I got that memo about strong women. You’re one of them, honey. Now come on and go.”

She swiped her cheeks, leaving smears of tears and dirt, then nodded and started climbing over the mangrove roots.

As he followed behind, he looked over his shoulder. The gator lifted its head and stared at him for a heartbeat, before swimming back to the clusters of sawgrass. They’d managed to evade one predator driven by instinct, but how could they evade the predator driven by vengeance?

His confidence sank as fast as the alligator in the water.

*

Lola fought to keep her sobs quiet and gripped the trunk of the nearest mangrove to keep from slipping between the gangly two-foot-tall tree roots. No matter what Ryan had said about the gunfire they’d heard, she couldn’t stop thinking the worst.

Three gunshots. Three… Oh, God.

Her throat constricted as if a Burmese python had her in a chokehold and she drew in ragged breaths. Had the bastard aimed for Ian and her mom, missed or wounded one of them, then gone in for the kill shot? The not knowing ate at her, but it also gave her the strength to push forward. Maybe Jackass had missed. Maybe her mom and Ian were wounded but still on the run. She had to believe that. She had to—

The sunlight grew stronger. Thrilled to finally be free of the suffocating mangrove forest, she squeezed between slender tree trunks and hopped to the next set of roots. Then stopped. A narrow canal stood between them and another forest of mangroves.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, as Ryan bounced onto the roots next to her.

“At least the canal isn’t wide.” Water splashed around his boots when he hopped off the root. “It’s shallow, too.”

He held out his hand to help her into the water. She could have done it herself, but right now, she welcomed physical contact. This place had become the epitome of isolation, and those shots were an ugly reminder of why they were here. Ryan’s strong, warm hand didn’t take away her fears, but at least brought her some semblance of comfort. That she wasn’t alone and had someone by her side, ready to go to battle with her.

Her stomach clenched at the thought of engaging with the hunter, or finding Ian and her mom— No. She would
not
go there. She would shove her fear aside and stop thinking about the worst possible outcome.

“Talk to me,” she said, keeping her hand in his as they crossed the shallow canal.

“About what?”

“Anything.” She suddenly recalled his dog lying at her feet while Ryan showed them the map. “Tell me about Sadie.”

He gave her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it, then helped her out of the water and onto another damned mangrove root. “She’s awesome. Sweet natured. Loves just about everyone.”

“How long have you had her?”

He climbed onto the root, then began moving to the next with the ease of a tightrope walker. “Almost seven years. I adopted her from a local woman who breeds Goldens. Sadie was the runt, and the breeder knew from the start my girl wouldn’t make a name for herself as a show dog, so she sold her to me for next to nothing. I didn’t know anything about that sort of stuff, and had no interest in what awards my dog’s mom and dad had won. I just took one look at her and knew she was the one.”

Lola grinned. He sounded as if he was talking about a woman instead of a dog. “So it was love at first lick?” she asked, and tried to mimic the way he handled the roots with ease.

“You could definitely say that,” he said on a chuckle, then glanced over his shoulder at her. “I noticed she took a liking to you.”

“You said she likes everyone.”

“
Almost
everyone. There’ve been a few people who’ve caused her hackles to rise. When that happens, I steer clear of them.”

“So you trust your dog’s instinct over your own?”

“Trust me. I always go with my gut. But I’m a firm believer that dogs have…I dunno, a sixth sense about things. Just so you don’t think I’m crazy, I’ll give you a prime example. I needed to hire another boat captain to help with my tours, and interviewed a guy who came recommended. The moment he walked onto my dock and Sadie saw him, she growled. I’m talking, a bared teeth kind of growl.” He grabbed a tree trunk and, with a grunt, hoisted himself to the next set of roots. “Long story short, I went with Sadie and told him I’d ended up hiring someone else.”

He’d literally let his dog end an interview before it had even begun?

“Two weeks later,” he continued, “another tour company hired him and he wound up wrecking the airboat with tourists on it. Turns out he was drunk and also carrying an unregistered concealed weapon. So, yeah, I trust my dog’s instinct.” He gave her a quick grin that shouldn’t have been sexy, considering he was sweaty, dirty and climbing on tree roots. But with the way he talked about his dog, how he was risking his life to save her mom and Ian, sexy worked. The quick image of him standing along the shore in his dark boxer briefs surfaced. Yep. Definitely sexy.

Guilt quickly doused that image, though. She was here to find her mom, not hook up with some guy. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet,” she said, then cringed. “Bad choice of words.”

“Stop thinking about the what ifs,” he said. “I’m telling you, after what I saw at the rental house, I firmly believe Jackass let off those rounds to screw with them.”

“I hope to God you’re right.” She lost her footing and slipped between roots, landing in water. She twisted and turned her foot until it finally popped out, then moved to the next root. “How much more of this do we have to go through?”

“The mangroves? When I checked the GPS the last time we stopped, it looked like this section was about a quarter mile.” He sent her another grin. “Sorry I underestimated how long we’d be in here. I didn’t want you getting discouraged.”

“But after we’re out of the mangroves, we’ll get a break, right? Didn’t you say we’d find a clearing?”

“Yep, something like that.”

“Can you define what that something might be?”

“How about we make it your turn to talk to me. Are you from Chicago?”

Okay, so he wasn’t going to forewarn her. Maybe that was for the best. If she had to swim across a marsh or a canal larger than the two they’d already passed through, she might psych herself out of doing it. Wading calf-deep hadn’t been too bad. If an alligator or snake had been in the water, she could’ve run to the opposite shore. To outswim one of those animals? She’d never been a strong swimmer and doubted she could doggy paddle her way to safety before a fifteen-foot alligator made a snack out of her.

“I moved from LA to Chicago about eight months ago.”

“To work for CORE?”

“No. To be with my mom. She’s an actress and was offered the lead role with a Chicago theater group. Since she wasn’t doing much acting in LA, she jumped at the offer.”

“An actress? That’s pretty cool.” Ryan leaped off a root and splashed into the water, then offered her his hand. After he helped her onto the next dense cluster of roots, she grabbed onto a slender tree trunk, fighting to maintain her equilibrium. The pack she carried made climbing and balancing cumbersome.

“Was she in anything I might’ve seen?” he asked.

“Back in the eighties, she earned her place among Hollywood’s scream queens.”

“No kidding. What movie?”

“She played Maggie Patchett in the
Evil that Lurks
films,” Lola said with pride. “They’re low budget horror—”

“I know all about those movies. They’re classics and I’ve watched all of them.” Ryan swung to the next set of roots, then shook his head. “I can’t believe your mom is
the
Cami Carlyle. Now that I think about it, you have her smile.”

Unfortunately, her smile was the only thing she’d inherited from her mom. While she couldn’t imagine being a blonde or having blue eyes, she would’ve liked to have inherited her mom’s big boobs and curves. Instead, she’d ended up with the body of a skinny teenaged boy.

“Was your dad an actor, too?” he asked.

“He was a stuntman, mostly for martial art type films.”