Hidden Currents (14 page)

“We have to go,” Aleksandr said. “Wrap her up, Jackson, let’s haul ass. We’re on tight numbers here. The women can’t sustain that storm forever. Put it away,” Aleksandr counseled, putting a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

It took every ounce of self-control Jackson had not to knock that hand away from him. Instead, he wrapped Elle up, first in her robe and then the blanket they brought, dark like the night. He flinched picking her up, but at least she was unconscious, whatever they’d given her mercifully preventing her from feeling pain. He lifted her over his shoulder, letting her head fall down his back. He took his pistol in one hand and anchored her with the other.

“Let’s move out.” He could barely choke out the words.

They moved down the stairs, Aleksandr taking over lead position with Jackson in the middle and Jonas once more guarding their rear.

“We’ve got the package and we’re heading home,” Jonas reported into his radio.

“Head for the north dock. I’m on you,” Ilya said as Abel brought the little helicopter around and back toward the villa. Ilya switched his thermal scope for night vision. Now it was crucial to identify his targets.

“Coming out now,” Jonas said.

“You’re clear,” Ilya said as he squeezed off a shot and took out an enemy running toward the villa.

He caught glimpses of Matt bringing his team around to the north, working their way through the trees on the cliff side, trying to get into a position to give Jackson, Aleksandr and Jonas cover as they fought their way to the north dock with Elle.

Blast after blast came from the general direction of the helipad as the claymores went off. The helicopter rose in the air. Beneath it, the helipad went up in an orange-red fireball and rained down rubble.

“We’re away,” Rick informed Ilya, “heading out to sea.”

“Six bogies at twelve o’clock.” Ilya reported. He scanned the area and saw several enemies making their way up from the west side. “Four more coming from your seven o’clock.”

The wind was building again, a prelude for the energy Hannah would need when Rick ditched Gratsos’s helicopter at sea. Abel fought with the small bird, trying to bring it around to put Ilya in a better position to give covering fire.

Ilya put his scope on one of the four coming up behind Jackson’s rescue team. He took out the leader. As the man fell, he saw movement, rather
felt
movement almost directly below. Fitting the rifle tight against his shoulder to steady the shot, he swept the area fast, expecting a round coming at him. For one brief second he caught a glimpse of the man he was certain was Stavros Gratsos. The man wore a suit and his bodyguard shoved him out of the line of fire and swept his own rifle to his shoulder.

Some unseen force kept him from pulling the trigger. He and the bodyguard stared at each other while time stood still. The features came into focus, sharp and defined. He was looking at the face of a younger version of the only relative he’d seen in a picture—his father. A chill went down his spine, his heart nearly stopped beating and then adrenaline pumped into his system. The bodyguard dropped the rifle to his side without taking a shot.

A streak of orange-red lit up the night like a whip of lightning, coming from the ground toward the helicopter. Abel swore and the helicopter pitched away from the tracer round. Ilya fired off three rounds in rapid succession, taking out two of the three men.

In the distance, coming from the north side, scattered gunfire erupted, letting Jackson know that Matt’s team had engaged the enemy, trying to clear the way for them to make it to the boat unharmed. A volley of shots and automatic gunfire reverberated as the enemy used the standard “pray and spray” assault. Every now and then a gun answered, a single controlled shot as Matt or Kent or Luke found a target.

Aleksandr went out of the house first, sweeping left to right, clearing the path to the first cover, a large fountain in the courtyard. Jackson came after him, pistol out as he carried Elle, with Jonas bringing up the rear. The sound of an angry bee zinged past Jackson’s head and thunked into the fountain, burrowing a hole through the marble and spraying chunks out the other side.

Jonas hissed a command and Aleksandr and Jackson hit the ground while Jonas swung around and returned fire on full auto, spraying the area behind him, uncertain where his target was. While Jonas laid down a rain of fire, Aleksandr and Jackson sprang up and ran for the cover of the grove of trees forty meters away. Jackson shifted Elle off his back to the ground and came up on his knees behind a small nest of boulders, bringing his rifle around.

“Move,” he snapped to Jonas. “Got you covered.”

Jonas took off running toward him, and Aleksandr and Jackson sprayed the area behind him. Jonas leapt the last meter.

“Where is that son of a bitch?” Jonas demanded. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. Ilya? Are we clear?” Jackson asked.

A bullet whined past, this time coming at them from the villa’s second floor.

“I thought you cleared that house,” Ilya growled.

“That sneaky son of a bitch,” Jackson cursed. “He could hold us here forever.”

“I’ll get him,” Ilya said. “Abel, come around.”

The helicopter zipped through the sky. Jackson crawled around the pile of boulders, using his knees and toes and elbows, rifle ready, circling around to get in a better position. Jonas fired a couple of shots to lure the target out. As soon as he slid back behind the rock, the enemy popped his head up to take the shot. Jackson shot him.

“Clear,” he said. “The son of a bitch can go to hell.”

“You’re clear here,” Matt said. “Move, move, move.”

Aleksandr took the lead, Jackson with Elle tight behind him and Jonas, as usual, brought up the rear. Overhead, Ilya in the helicopter did another pass over the area, looking for Gratsos and his bodyguard. They’d gone into a hole somewhere and Ilya was fairly certain that if it was a Prakenskii guarding him, no one would find the Greek.

Matt and his team fell in behind the rescue team to protect them, spacing themselves a small distance apart. Abel kept the helicopter above them as they ran out onto the dock and boarded the waiting boat. The wind had really picked up and ripped and tore at their clothing as they positioned themselves for best protection.

Jackson went down in the bottom of the boat to cover Elle, shielding her body from the others as they made their way out to sea. The waves rose up, choppy and merciless, and the rain poured from the sky. Several hundred meters from shore, Tom detonated the charges on the small dock. It went up in a blaze of fire.

Kent grinned at Tom. “That was a thing of beauty.”

The waves rose up behind them, hurling them through the water, throwing the boat as fast as the wind pushed at them. All of them had night-vision glasses to their eyes, keeping the helicopter in sight, speeding to the rendezvous point.

“Dropping Jock now,” Rick said.

“Man over,” Matt called. “Move this thing.”

Rick hovered almost low enough for the skids to touch the water to allow Jock to bail out. He went into the sea and Rick took the helicopter up fast to give the boat time to move in quickly and retrieve his partner. His heart was beating fast. He was relying on the word of two army buddies that the women could force the helicopter away from him when he bailed out.

“You can do this?” His mouth was dry.

“Go when I say,” Sarah said. “Don’t hesitate.” Hannah would have to direct everything they had to push the helicopter away from the pilot without catching him in the wind. That meant precise timing.

The pilot made the sign of the cross and brought the helicopter in low again, over the roiling waves. For a moment he was afraid he might not be able to move, but then the adrenaline kicked in. “Hail Mary,” he shouted, half in prayer, half in bravado.

“Go!” Sarah shouted.

He burst into the air. Folding arms over his head, keeping his body pencil straight, he leapt out away from the helicopter. Behind him, the wind howled and blasted the side of the helicopter with hurricane force. The roar hurt his ears, but the blast pushed the big body of the metal bird sideways as it fell from the sky.

The water closed over his head.

The helicopter crashed into the water a good distance away, but he felt the drag on his body as he kicked strongly to the surface.

“Second man in the water,” Matt reported.

The wind howled and moaned. Jonas frowned as a wall of water nearly took them out. “Sarah, tell Hannah to back off. We’re getting slaughtered out here. The waves are nearly swamping the boat.”

“She’s trying, Jonas,” Sarah snapped. “This isn’t easy. The storm’s taken on a life of its own.”

It took both Matt and Aleksandr to haul Rick into the boat. They wrapped a blanket around him and he wedged himself beside Jock, a rifle in his hands.

Elle came to, fighting, gasping for breath, unseeing, fists flailing. Jackson held her to him, cradling her against his chest, rocking back and forth, although he was fairly certain it was to comfort himself, not her. He had been in her mind, knew what they’d done to her, but seeing her broken body, her face swollen and bruised, the raw wounds of the whip marks across every part of her body and the evidence of manacles around her wrists and ankles made him sick. He’d actually been sick, heaving his guts out over the side of the boat, his eyes burning and the air choking in his throat.

“You’re safe, baby,” he crooned softly. “I’ve got you safe. Open your eyes, Elle, look at me. I’ve got you safe.” He repeated it like a mantra, a litany.

Her lashes fluttered. She groaned. The boat bumped hard on a wave, throwing them all around the boat. Several of the men swore as seawater poured over them.

Elle gasped and looked around, obviously not comprehending. Jackson bent closer and used the much more intimate form of communication. She seemed drugged, disoriented, very far away.
We’ve got you safe, baby. We’re away from the island and heading for the ship.

She stared up at him for what seemed an eternity and then recognition kicked in. For a moment, tears swam in her eyes.
Where is he? Stavros? Did you get him?

We will. We have to get you out of here.

Elle’s expression changed. Her eyes turned emerald bright, like two jewels pressed into her pale face. She struggled out of his arms and stood up, ignoring the men in the boat. Facing the island, she raised her arms high. At once lightning forked across the sky. The wind funneled straight through the arc she formed with her arms and headed in a concentrated rush for the villa.

The air pressure in the boat was tremendous, pressing down on them, the force of the wind vibrating through their bodies as it passed overhead and hit the villa head-on. Glass and steel exploded as if charges had been set on the very foundation. Elle refused to stop, even with Jackson pulling at her. She faced her enemy and flattened everything standing on the island with the force of her rage. Trees exploded. Cars and trucks flew into the air and crashed back to earth.

“Elle, stop,” Jonas said. “She’s bleeding, Jackson.”

Jackson could see her face now. Blood streamed from her eyes and mouth and nose, even from her ears. He felt the pain ripping through her head as lesions opened in her brain, but she refused to stop, lashing out at the man who had nearly destroyed her.

“Holy shit,” Kent said. “Look at that. I’m in love here.”

Jackson caught Elle’s arms and dragged her back against him, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Stop now, Elle, or I swear I’ll knock you out. You aren’t killing yourself over him. Stop now, damn it.”

Elle slumped against him.
Don’t let my sisters touch me. Too dangerous. And I can’t bear if they feel what I feel. Promise me.
Blood pumped out of her nose.
Only you, Jackson, no one else. Swear it or I keep going.

Jackson closed his eyes. “I swear it, Elle.”

6

“
THIS is ridiculous, Elle,” Sarah said, her voice sharp. “You have to go to a hospital or at least to one of our homes where we can take care of you. You’re not in any shape to stand out here arguing, let alone take care of yourself.”

Elle kept her arms wrapped around her waist, rocking her body back and forth as if to soothe herself while she looked up at the Drake house. “I’m not going in there, Sarah.” She shook her head, ducking to hide her expression, but Jackson caught the sheen of tears. “Don’t tell me I don’t have a choice. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”

The sisters had been arguing for fifteen minutes and Elle was so pale Jackson was afraid she might faint if they kept it up. He took over, using his hard, authoritative voice, one that brooked no argument, one that signaled he meant business—and he did. “You have lots of choices, Elle. Stay here in your home. Go to one of your sister’s homes. Go to the hospital or come home with me. Any of these will work for us, but you going off alone is not an option. Pick something and let’s get it done.”

Elle felt small and lost in the middle of her family. The house loomed over her, the windows lit, watching her. They were all watching her.
Seeing
her. She needed to get away from them before it was too late. Her sisters. She loved them so much and she couldn’t do this to them. Not to Libby, who would try to heal her, or Hannah and Joley, who were both pregnant and already sick. They would feel what she’d felt, see the internal damage, not just what was on her body, but the depravity, stamped so deep into her soul she had no hope of washing it away.

Elle looked helplessly at Jackson.
They can’t see inside me. Not all of it. Not like it happened.

You’re wrong, baby, but come with me then. You can’t be alone right now. You know that. You should be in the hospital.

It hurt to use telepathy. Her head throbbed and ached, but she didn’t want to hurt her sisters any more than necessary.
I’m probably pregnant with his child.
She held his gaze. Looked straight at him, refusing to look away, wanting to see his rejection, his disgust. Instead his ice-cold eyes warmed and he reached for her. Elle stepped back and shook her head.
Birth control doesn’t work and he used me . . .