Bear Claw Conspiracy (18 page)

Her captor leaned in and rasped, “You’d better rethink that answer. You try lying to the boss and you’ll wind up dead, too.”

The word hit her harder than her attacker had. Dead? No, that was impossible. Matt couldn’t be dead. He had just said he loved her. And she was supposed to have been watching his back.

She let out a single broken sob and turned her head away as her captor whipped off his belt and used it to lash her hands together behind her back, then sobbed again as he got to his feet and dragged her up by her bonds.

“Move.” He shoved her ahead of him, then prodded her with the Beretta. When they got closer to the line of strange, gnarled trees, she saw a battered military-style Jeep with no top or doors, and bare foam showing through tears in the upholstery.

She hadn’t heard it. Even with the roaring noise of the water, she should have heard something, seen something.

“Get in.” He shoved her in, pushing her back so her hands were trapped beneath her.

Her shoulders screamed, but that was nothing compared to the terrible, awful feeling that swept through her as she craned back and caught sight of Matt’s body. Her heart cracked and bled; tears ran down her cheeks at the realization that she had waited too long, that in just a few short days he had gone from being adversary to lover, and now to loss.

And regret. Terrible, awful regret.

Chapter Seventeen

Groaning, Matt levered himself up and crouched for a second. His head spun and his ears rang, but that was nothing compared to the raw rage and hatred flowing through his veins, and the burning churn of the man he was becoming combined with the chill command of the one he used to be.

Gigi.
Her name was a talisman, a focal point that got him on his feet.

He had regained consciousness too late to protect her, but he had heard where the bastard was taking her: back to the hidden campsite where, even if he could get through the perimeter, he would be one man against an army. It would be certain death for both of them.

Which meant he couldn’t let them get to the campsite. He had to intercept them somehow. But the Jeep was toast and his Sig was gone, lost in the explosion. He was totally on his own.

Flashing back on the brief glimpse of things he had caught from the air, he headed for the waterfall. He forced his legs to carry him because there wasn’t any alternative—no backup, no intel, no nothing—and failure wasn’t an option.

His heart thudded in his chest.
Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming.
Somehow.

The falls tumbled down from a wide, rocky promontory, fell four stories, and slammed into a pool that under normal circumstances was probably good and deep, but because of the drought looked churned-up and angry. No more than a half mile beyond it, though, the waterway spread out and became even shallower. And a single set of wet tire tracks emerged on one side, showing where the bastard had come through. There was no sign of him having gone the other way.

Matt’s cop self said human beings were creatures of habit, which meant the guy would leave the way he had come in. The ranger in him said only an idiot would jump. Or a man in love.

Holding the image of gorgeous gray eyes snapping with mingled temper and arousal, and remembering what it felt like to lose himself inside her, wake up next to her, he backed away from the edge, took four running steps…and jumped.

G
IGI’S SHOULDERS BURNED
with every bump and rattle of the Jeep, her legs ached from bracing in the foot well as she struggled to free herself from her bonds. Her captor had threaded the seat belt through the leather strap so she couldn’t launch herself out of the open-doored vehicle. The narrow edges of the leather belt cut into her hands and wrists, unyielding.

He held the Beretta trained on her as he drove.

Her mind swung violently from pure terror to calculating rage and back again. One moment she wanted to curl in a ball, the next she imagined herself breaking free, grabbing her Beretta away from her captor, and unloading it into his sneering face. He was no cardboard cutout, but she could do it. Not just to escape, but for Matt.

She pictured his face, his body, the way he moved, the fierce light of determination in his eyes when he saw something that needed to be done, and the way he was always there for the people around him, even when he seemed to be utterly disconnected from the world.

Oh, Matt.
She wanted to close her eyes and pretend it was all a nightmare. But she couldn’t, because it wasn’t. This was really happening.

How arrogant she had been, how unrealistic to think she could save other people from situations like this one. She couldn’t even save herself. What was more, she had failed the man she loved.

Love. Yes, that was it.

Too late, she admitted to herself that she was in love with him—she had started falling that very first moment in the hallway, and had toppled cleanly over that night in the safe house, when he’d imprinted himself indelibly on her soul. And, too late, she understood where he had been coming from, truly understood what he’d been through as she felt the fear, anger, rage, impotence and rending, tearing grief of losing him. She gave a shuddering sob and went limp.

The leather strap gave slightly.

Adrenaline flared through her, swerving her mind back to revenge and the thin-seeming hope of escape. Pulse pounding in her ears, she tugged experimentally. Felt it give another fraction of an inch.

She had to relax and let it come, she realized; she couldn’t force it. And if that was supposed to be a life lesson from some higher power, she would deal with that particular epiphany later.

How much time did she have? Her heart raced as she made herself stay limp and worked one hand partway out of her bonds, little by precious little.

The Jeep broke through the old-man trees into a clearing near the same river they had been at before. Only it was shallower and wider here, downstream of the pounding waterfall. She held her breath when she caught sight of a rocky promontory halfway up: it was the one from Tanya’s sketch, she was sure of it. But what did it mean? Was it a coincidence? A connection?

Gigi’s grief didn’t fade, but she could make herself think through it, using rage and regret to sharpen her senses as the driver muttered something under his breath, downshifted and gunned the vehicle into the river. Water sprayed up and in as the vehicle jolted and lurched. One of Gigi’s feet slipped and she swung violently to the side with an involuntary gasp.

“Son of a—” Her captor took a hand off the wheel, grabbed her shirt and jerked her back upright. The wrench nearly yanked one shoulder out of its socket, but one wrist slipped from the wet leather. And she was free!

Still cursing, unaware that she had escaped her bonds, he fought the wheel, sliding on sprung upholstery made slick with the water that gushed over them as the four-wheeler went in deeper, bucking over the rocks.

Acting on rage and instinct, she screamed and launched herself onto her captor. She slammed a knee onto his gun hand and went for his throat, wrapping the leather around it and pulling as tightly as she could. She screamed again—a noise of hatred and heartbreak.

For a second, surprise gave her the upper hand. Then his foot came off the gas and he surged up against her, breaking her hold. He slammed an elbow into her jaw, knocking her back against the passenger’s seat. Her head banged into the edge of the empty doorframe, and the world blurred.

He rose over her and aimed the Beretta point blank.

Everything came back into focus in that moment of blinding terror. She saw his cruel blue eyes, saw no remorse or pity, only a killer’s calculation.

Panic slashed, emptying her mind.

“I’ll talk,” she blurted. “I’ll tell your boss everything.”

His eyes flashed. “Too late. I’ll just tell him you were both dead when I got there.” His finger tightened, the mechanism clicked—

A monstrous roar erupted from behind him as a figure lunged up, out of the water, grabbed him from behind and dragged him down. The gunman howled and his shot went wild, and then the gun flew free, landing in the driver’s seat.

Gigi gaped as fire poured into her veins and her heart expanded in her chest.
“Matt!”

His shirt was gone, his pants torn to the knee on one side, and blood streamed in the water that ran off his body, but he was there. He was alive!

Relief poured through her, pure and profound, but then her captor surged up, nearly tore away, and then spun back and kicked Matt in the stomach. He folded, the breath exploding from his lungs, and nearly went down.

She screamed and went for the gun.

The other man grabbed it a split second after she did, and they grappled for the weapon. She kicked at his face, caught him in the shoulder and made him howl. But then he twisted the gun free and fired.

Gigi threw herself backward out the far door.

“NO!”
Matt exploded back out of the water and slammed into the gunman, driving them both against the side of the vehicle. He slammed the man’s wrist against the doorframe, and there was a sickening crack. The man howled, and the Beretta went flying into the river.

“You. Don’t. Touch. Her.” Matt punctuated each of his words with a slamming blow that hammered his enemy into the river, until finally the man went limp, sprawled half into the driver’s-side foot well, no longer a threat.

Once the guy was down, Matt yanked off his belt, cranked it around the guy’s wrists and through the steering wheel, and pulled so tight that the guy’s hands went white.

“Matt!” Gigi flew to him as he drew back his arm for another blow. At the sound of her voice, his head snapped up, his eyes locked onto her and his face flooded with all the same emotions that were suddenly filling her.

Relief made her sob, triumph made her smile and joy made her fling herself into his arms.

“Gigi.”
He caught her close, clamping on so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care, though. All she cared about was the man holding her, murmuring her name. He shifted to kiss her lips, her face, her temple, then back to her lips again.

The kiss wasn’t about seduction; it was about connection. She fused her mouth to his, poured herself into him and took his heat in return. Then she tore her lips away and said against his mouth, “I love you, too. I almost didn’t get to say it. I love you. I love you. I think I started loving you that very first moment. Alyssa’s right. There really is such a thing as love at first sight—and I’m in it.”

His eyes burned green fire. “It’s about time you admitted it. And people say
I’m
stubborn.”

“What do you mean ‘about time’?” Crazy exhilaration rose in her as she squared off opposite him. “It was like fifteen minutes. What if—” She broke off, new terror slashing through her at the sound of an incoming helicopter.

“Run!” He caught her hand and they bolted for the far bank. But the rocks beneath them shifted unsteadily and the water dragged at their legs.

They weren’t going to make it.

A
ROAR OF DENIAL BURNED
Matt’s throat, but he didn’t have time to be pissed at the unfairness of the situation. His mind churned through hostage scenarios, negotiation tactics, something—anything—that would keep them alive. Because as long as they were alive and together, they had a fighting chance.

“Stay behind me.” He stopped and turned as the rotor noise ratcheted up and his stomach sank at the realization that there was more than one chopper. Who were these people?

He braced himself squarely in front of Gigi, keeping a hand back, linked with hers to give her a reassuring squeeze. “I love you,” he said over his shoulder.

Her eyes were wet and scared, but she smiled through trembling lips. “I love you, too. No regrets.”

“No regrets.” Because life wasn’t about avoiding risk. It was about living in the present, and making each moment count.

The engine noise screamed and three choppers appeared downstream, flying low, in battle formation, weapons hot.

Gigi screamed in joy. “Look!”

The choppers were sleek, black and familiar, and wore tail numbers that didn’t look quite right.

It wasn’t the bad guys. It was backup.

“Hey!” He let go of her hand to wave his arms over his head. “Fax.
Hey!”

The lead chopper roared directly over them while the other two peeled off and headed away, in the direction of the camouflaged camp. As the remaining chopper circled and headed for a landing on a small, rocky strip near the waterfall, Matt caught Gigi by the waist and swung her around. “We made it!”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as if she never intended to let go. Which was just fine with him.

The chopper settled down and the engine cut out. Moments later, the door opened and Fax and Chelsea emerged and headed straight for them. Another agent, this one wearing a pilot’s headset, dropped down and headed for the Jeep, where the man they had captured had regained consciousness, and was furiously trying to escape from his bonds.

Matt and Gigi met Fax and Chelsea halfway, at the river’s edge. “Thanks for the backup,” Matt said. “Sorry about the chopper.”

Fax winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Chelsea poked him in the ribs. “Don’t listen to him. We were patched into your chopper’s cameras and saw the whole thing. It gave us the leverage to mobilize agents up here as well as out to Sector Nine.” She glanced from Matt to Gigi and back. “You guys both okay?”

“We’ll live,” Gigi said, glancing up at him. She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed, and it felt like she had just touched his heart.

They had things to work through, it was true, but after seeing her in the line of fire, he knew he couldn’t keep her in the background. She was made for action, thrived on it. But at the same time, he saw a new awareness in her, and knew that the connection they had forged had brought home the realities of what it meant to knowingly walk into a critical situation. She would be more careful in the future…and she would have him to watch her back.

It was time for him to get back on the job. He didn’t know what the next few months would hold for them—or for the investigation—but he knew that whatever they did, they would be doing it together.

He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Yeah. We’re going to be just fine.”