CHAPTER 13
FUCK. KURT TURNED to face the big man pointing an AK-47 at them. He’d been scanning their surroundings, watching for guards, but he wasn’t omniscient. And now Caitlyn was in greater danger than before.
“Drop your weapon,” the other man said, jerking his chin toward the Sig in Kurt’s hand.
Kurt laid the gun gently on the ground.
“Glenn died,” Cartwright said, his dark eyes glittery with anger in the lights from the pool deck.
“I know,” Caitlyn said, her voice soft. “I never wished that for him.”
The big man took a step closer. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have shot him. “
She said nothing.
Cartwright frowned and used his free hand to talk into his radio. “Christophe, we have visitors. I’m bringing them your way.”
They needed a way to distract this Hulk so they could run for it. Then again, if Rose were here, they couldn’t leave her behind.
“Couldn’t wait until six o’clock, eh?”
Caitlyn straightened. “Where is she?”
Cartwright’s mouth curled into a nasty grin and he waved them toward the stairs to the pool. “Lead on.”
Kurt could almost feel the hope radiating off Caitlyn, despite the dire situation.
When they reached the stairs, he let her descend ahead of him, then he gripped the rail and took his time going step over step. He had mastered stairs years ago, but that didn’t mean he could race down them.
The big man followed closely on his heels, prodding him impatiently with the barrel of his rifle. Kurt sped up slightly, then stopped abruptly and bent over.
Cartwright barreled into him and they both fell down the remaining few steps onto the pool deck. The Aussie reached for the rifle, but Caitlyn kicked it away. He gripped Kurt’s leg, tugging hard, as if trying to pull off his prosthesis. Instead he threatened to dislocate Kurt’s hip.
Caitlyn kicked the Hulk in the head, and then dove for the rifle. Cartwright grabbed her ankle with his other hand and she went down, kicking at his face until he let go. Kurt levered himself up to sitting and slammed their attacker on the nose with the heel of his hand. The man howled but didn’t release him, dragging Kurt across the rough ground as he rolled away.
Kurt angled for a better position to strike, punching the man’s biceps with a sharp stab of his knuckles.
His grip loosened and Kurt pushed onto his knees, grabbing the rifle and swiveling to face the Hulk, who now held Caitlyn down with both hands, even as she thrashed.
“Let her go,” Kurt said, aiming the weapon at Cartwright’s chest.
The man released her, and Caitlyn scrambled to her feet.
“Where’s Rose?” she asked, her voice steady, sharp as a razor.
“Fuck you.”
“You said it yourself. I killed Glenn. What makes you think we would hesitate to do the same to you?”
Kurt tried to expand his peripheral vision. There had to be a rope or cord lying around that she could use to secure the brute. Had the hotel stocked the lifesaver yet?
Something flashed in the dark to their right. More people. “Shit. Cait, we have to move.”
She shot a look over her shoulder and then nodded.
He handed her the rifle, which she kept trained on Cartwright, and Kurt straightened both legs, walking his hands toward his feet to push himself up until he could stand. Sidling toward the stairs, Caitlyn paralleled him from the other side of the giant, who still sat on the ground. Once up the steps, they took off running.
He glanced back. Cartwright was on his knees holding his bloody nose, waving his team in Kurt and Caitlyn’s direction.
Armed men on their heels, they burst through the opening at the north end of the building and came face-to-face with a wall of men holding rifles.
Footsteps echoed behind them, neatly cutting off their escape.
They all stood and waited, breathing hard.
“Drop it,” said a tall, thin man with skin the color of a walnut, his hair in short cornrows.
Caitlyn set the AK gently at her feet and nudged it in the lanky man’s direction.
“How nice to see another familiar face, Christophe,” she said.
The man’s expression remained stony and his aim did not waver.
If Kurt and Caitlyn could coordinate it so that they dropped at the same time, all these men might shoot each other. But it was too risky. He wasn’t willing to get Caitlyn killed, and despite his nickname, he was no superhero who could take on eight men at once and expect to survive.
Cartwright lumbered into view, his lips and chin bloody, nose red and swollen. He glared at Kurt, but didn’t approach him. “You want to see Rose? Then let’s go.”
So they’d guessed right. Small consolation.
“Pat them down,” the Aussie said to one of the men next to Christophe.
Before leaving the house, Kurt had considered stuffing one of Marlowe’s steak knives in his waistband as a backup, but figured without a sheath, he’d probably just stab himself in the gut. So this lackey would find him unarmed.
They were patted down before being marched along a paved path to the rental equipment shed. Christophe and his men entered first, the bright light from inside spilling out into the darkness. Kurt and Caitlyn entered next, followed by three more men with guns, and the Hulk.
In the far corner of the high-ceilinged-but-empty wooden building, a woman with bronze skin and springy red hair floating in a cloud around her face sat in a plastic chair, arms behind her back. At the commotion, she looked up and her dark eyes widened. “Caity?”
“Rose!” Caitlyn rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her sister, murmuring words that Kurt couldn’t hear.
“Enough.” Christophe crossed the small room and grabbed Caitlyn’s hair, jerking her away from the other woman so hard that she stumbled.
If his hands were free, Kurt would’ve beaten the man into a bloody mess. The last time he’d been this helpless was when he awoke in a hospital without his legs six years ago. Or maybe when Caitlyn had told him about Aaron.
Fuck.
He and Caitlyn were placed in separate corners—him to Rose’s right and Caitlyn diagonally across from her—and tied to their chairs. The men left the room, leaving behind only Christophe and another black man who was short and stout, his head bald.
“You start outside,” Christophe said. “I’ve got this.”
His teammate left, shutting the door behind him and locking it with an audible click.
“I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn said to her sister, ignoring the presence of their jailer. “We were trying to save you.”
“You never should have come.” A tear tracked down her face. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“We looked for you at the party.”
Rose scowled. “A couple days after that morning you showed up at the house, I tried to run, but the guards caught me.” Her gaze dropped and her lips disappeared between her teeth. “I ended up in a clinic for a week, and then I… I stayed in Glenn’s condo until they brought me here.”
Stayed? She made it sound like she’d had a choice, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Kurt tried to unclench his jaw. What had these assholes done to her?
“No more talking,” their guard said, “or I will gag you.”
“Christophe.”
He scowled at Caitlyn and approached her chair. “What?”
“What are we doing here? What are we waiting for?”
Was she trying to get him to kill her?
Christophe glared at her for a moment, and then said, “We are waiting for Mr. Lambert. He has been looking for you, and he will decide how to clean up this mess.”
“How long?”
Christophe’s eyes narrowed and he shrugged. “It could be minutes or hours.”
So much for helpful information, but she had been smart to try.
“Can we get some water?” she asked.
“No.” He sat in his chair near the door and glowered. “No more talking.”
For the first few minutes, he kept a close eye on them, but eventually he pulled out his cell phone and began thumbing the screen. Caitlyn and her sister stared at each other. Their similarities ended with hair color and freckles. Caitlyn had a tall, athletic physique, while Rose was short and curvy. Both were beautiful in their own way. Both were willing to risk their lives to save others.
Both deserved to make it out of here alive.
Some unreadable expression passed between the sisters, and Caitlyn surreptitiously focused her attention on Christophe, appearing to stare at the floor while periodically glancing up through her lashes at the guard.
The bored sentry occasionally scanned the room, as if to ensure they hadn’t moved, but he seemed unconcerned given that their hands were bound and tied to their seats. Rose rocked in her chair, and Caitlyn coughed several times, drawing the guard’s gaze. Clamping her mouth shut, she tucked her chin to her chest as if trying to muffle the sound.
Christophe’s attention returned to his phone.
Caitlyn glanced at Rose, who tipped her head the barest fraction and slowly blinked, flattening her lips in concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw a silver flash from behind Rose’s back. A knife? He looked at Caitlyn. She held his gaze, her eyes intelligent and fierce, and gave him the barest hint of a smile.
If he hadn’t been in love with her before, he was ass over teakettle now.
Some time later—but still dark through the small gaps in the wooden walls—Caitlyn jolted awake at the sound of her sister’s cries of pain. Her heart played drum major against her sternum. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”
Rose didn’t look up, but thank God, she wasn’t under attack. Was this part of her plan? Caitlyn blinked to clear her head and glanced at Kurt, who appeared alert, his eyes tracking their captor.
Christophe stood and stowed his phone, hands on his weapon, eyes wide and wary, his pace measured as he approached Rose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Rose’s upper body curled in, like she would double over if she weren’t tied to the chair. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a taut and screechy mimic of a poorly played violin. “My stomach.” Air hissed through her teeth. “I think it might be the baby.”
Caitlyn pulsed with shock like a struck gong.
“Baby?” Christophe frowned and took a step back, examining her as if he could diagnose her with his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”
Caitlyn ignored Kurt’s palpable gaze, her heart rate redlining, her mind hijacked by memories.
Abdominal pain that brought her to her knees. Blood staining her thighs and dripping onto the cracked tile. The fear on Kurt’s face when he found her…
So weak. So helpless.
Goddammit. She didn’t have time to get sucked into her past now.
This isn’t real. It’s part of Rose’s plan. It had to be. The alternative… No. Whatever was going on, she had to stay ready.
“It’s Glenn’s,” Rose said, through a whimper, her voice weak and thready. “We were…lovers.”
Rose’s words were like buckshot to the chest. Lovers like hell. Either he’d forced himself on her, or she’d been desperate enough to try to seduce him. Right now, Caitlyn would gladly kill him again.
Christophe sneered and looked her up and down. “He had many.”
Rose’s face pinched. “I know. But I loved him.”
“It’s your lucky day, then.” Christophe’s lips curved into a nasty grin. “You can face his killer.”
“You?” she asked him, the words thick with disgust as if he were covered in dog shit.
“No, your sister.” He stepped back and waved toward Caitlyn.
She would take Rose’s look—the trembling O of her mouth, her crumpled brow and accusing brown eyes, the gray cast of her cheeks—to her grave.
“Caitlyn…?” She sounded like a little girl whose illusions about the world had been shattered. “You killed him?” Rose erupted into tears. “How could you?”
Christophe laughed and leaned over, getting right in Rose’s face. “Nice try, bouzin. You could have been an actress. But if you loved Glenn, you wouldn’t have tried to run.”
With a fierce cry, Rose swung her arm around and plunged the small knife that Caitlyn had slipped to her into the side of Christophe’s neck.
Holy shit.
“Aaggh!” He made a strangled sound and grasped at the wound, blood spurting onto Rose, the concrete floor, his clothing.
So much blood. Just like Glenn. Nausea climbed into Caitlyn’s throat.
Rose scrambled to her feet and turned away from Christophe as he went limp. Using the roughhewn wooden wall to hold herself steady, she bent at the waist and vomited. She sobbed and heaved and coughed.
“It’s okay,” Caitlyn said, her own stomach roiling. To her knowledge, Rose had never even held a weapon, let alone hurt anyone. Caitlyn would have given everything to trade places with her in that moment. To spare her sister that act. “You had to.”
Rose wiped her mouth on her loose shirt. “I know.” Squaring her shoulders on a fortifying breath, she rushed to Kurt’s corner as if she hadn’t just killed a man and lost her lunch.
She was a goddamned Amazon.
Rose cut his bindings and handed him the knife with trembling hands, sinking to her knees as he freed Caitlyn.
“Are you okay?” Caitlyn asked, rushing to drop to the ground beside her, only several yards from where Christophe lay silent and motionless. She couldn’t think about him. Her sister and Kurt were the only ones who mattered now.
Rose scooted back, putting at least a foot of space between her and Caitlyn. “I don’t know.” She looked up with watery eyes. “I can’t regret that.” Her shaky hand waved at the dead man. “I couldn’t think of another way, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay with it.”
“I understand.” More than she wanted. “I’m sorry.” Caitlyn pressed the heel of her palm against her thigh. Was there anything she could say to make this better? No. “But you were brilliant.”
Rose took a deep, shuddering breath and clasped her hands in her lap. “Did you really kill Glenn?”
The door swung open and the other guard stuck his head in. “What’s going—”
Kurt crossed the floor in two strides and punched the man square on the chin. Baldy hit the floor, out cold. With Caitlyn’s knife, Kurt cut a piece of rope from the coil that their captors had used to bind them, and secured the man’s hands and feet.
He grabbed the AK and nine mil, slinging the rifle over his shoulder, and then approached Christophe, circling around him from behind. He crouched low and felt for a pulse. Catching her eye, he shook his head.
“Let’s go.” He rose, took the .45 from the dead man’s thigh holster, and handed it to Caitlyn.
She made sure it was loaded and the safety was off, and then held out a hand to Rose as she stood. “Our car is just down the road. Do you think you can you make it?”
Rose took her hand and they followed Kurt as he opened the door and then waved them through after he’d determined the coast was clear.
Skirting around the main building, they stuck to the shadows as much as possible, Rose sandwiched between Caitlyn and Kurt. At the beginning of the long, curving driveway, they hid behind a low wall to study the two guards stationed at the entrance to the resort.
“Did you really kill Glenn?” Rose whispered.
“Yes.” Caitlyn’s stomach clenched. Stupid. Now was not the time for weakness. “He came at me with a knife, so I shot him with his own gun. Long story.”
A tear slipped down Rose’s cheek, the trail glimmering in the lights positioned at the front gate. “Good,” she said, her expression hard as granite. Her hand slipped down to her belly.
Oh, no. God, no. “You’re actually pregnant?” Caitlyn’s mouth tasted like dirt. It hadn’t been another lie in Rose’s ploy to get free.
“Yes.” Rose bit her lip. “From the first week, he…” She looked away.
Damn Glenn to hell. Keeping an eye on the resort behind them for threats, Caitlyn pulled her sister into a hug, something she hadn’t done in years. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She backed away and held Rose’s shoulders. “We’ll get you through this. I will support you no matter what you want to do, no matter what you need.
Rose nodded. “Thank you.”
“Let’s go,” Kurt said softly.
Caitlyn returned her attention to the guards. Both now faced the road, one of them talking into a radio while the other stood at attention.
Moving as quickly as possible in the dim light, Kurt led her and Rose along the path they’d used to enter the resort hours earlier. They approached the Land Rover and piled inside and buckled in, and the car started without incident. Nothing moved in the dark night but the jungle vegetation fluttering in the breeze. Caitlyn’s spirits rose. They might just make it after all.
A quarter mile down the street, she rounded a bend and slammed on her brakes. Three large, black SUVs spanned the road from jungle edge to edge, completely blocking her exit. She threw the Land Rover into reverse. A bullet splintered the windshield. She screamed and stomped the gas pedal.
The car lurched backward as she spun the wheel to perform a nausea-inducing about face.
“Go!” Kurt shouted.
She slammed the car into Drive and the wheels spun with a screech before catching purchase. They catapulted forward. Right into the front of a black sedan. A sickening crunch stopped them cold as Rose cried out.
No. They’d been so close. She glanced at Kurt and then at Rose. “Everyone okay?”
“Yes,” Kurt and Rose said in unison.
“What about you?” her sister asked.
“Pissed but uninjured.” She was pretty sure. The buzzing in her ears would go away eventually.
Two men stumbled from the sedan and aimed their rifles at the Land Rover. More men rushed the sides of the vehicle and tried to open the doors, but they were locked. The only thing she’d get out of pulling the gun she’d stolen was a bullet in the head.
“Open the doors,” one of the guards called through the window, pointing his gun at her head.
“Too bad Brandon didn’t spring for the bulletproof glass.”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, popping the door locks from his side.
Caitlyn watched helplessly as he and Rose were ordered to unlatch their belts and then tugged from the car.
The guard did the same to her, then aimed his weapon at her chest. “You will die for the men you’ve killed.” His quiet voice vibrated with hostility.
Caitlyn’s stomach turned to lead. She’d failed Rose. And Kurt.
“Stand down.” A familiar voice called as a man strode into view, his icy blue eyes scanning the scene, lit by multiple car headlights.
Caitlyn gasped, body-slammed by the shock.
Glenn Lambert was alive.