Hide From Evil (41 page)

Oh God.
Sean hadn’t been in any danger until she’d put him there. As fervently as she’d prayed for him to come rescue her, she started to pray he’d stay away, stay safe. She couldn’t live with the guilt if anything else happened to him because of her.

But the way things were going, she might not have long to live with her guilt, period.

Maxwell wrapped something around her ankle and bound it to the bed. He then did the same to the other until she was bound facedown and spread-eagled on the bed.

Helpless.

Sean crept quietly up the stairs that led to the main deck, keeping to the shadows as he determined how many he was up against. He listened in the distance for the sound of a motor indicating Ibarra and Brooks were in pursuit, but as of yet, nothing.

He quickly found the first man, stationed on the outside of the main deck, at the stern. Not wanting to draw attention, Sean took him out with a blow with the wrench and secured him as he had the others. He sifted through the guy’s pockets and used the roll of duct tape he’d lifted from the engine room to gag him. He took the guy’s AK-47 and slung it over his shoulder.

Gun cocked and ready, the screwdriver tucked into his waistband, Sean crept along the side of the main cabin. Inside, he could see one of Maxwell’s men pacing restlessly as his AK lay on the table of the dining area. No sign of Maxwell, Krista, or the other girl.

Sean forced himself not to dwell on what Maxwell might be doing to them and focused on taking down Maxwell’s muscle.

He ducked below the window line and combat crawled his way to the front of the boat. There were two men up here, both smoking and speaking in low voices. They were speculating on how many days it would take to meet up with their contacts, and how much their cut of the sale of the women would be.

Women. Definitely plural. Sean’s relief at the evidence that Krista was still alive was tainted by horror at what Maxwell had planned for her.

Sean struggled to keep a rein on his temper when one of the guys said, “I get first go at the woman after Maxwell’s finished.”

“No way, you got first go last time,” the other thug said.

“Yeah, and she was worthless after that.”

The other guy shrugged. “It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle me.”

“Yeah, well, your needs are likely to kill her before we even hit international waters.”

The thug laughed, remorseless. “Ah, just as long as I get a taste of that before we dump her off the side.”

Sean’s blood exploded to a boil and he pounced from the shadows, catching one thug with a blow from the wrench as he rolled to the side as the other thug fumbled for his gun. Gunfire peppered the deck as Sean took aim, hitting the thug who’d talked about dumping Krista over the side with a shot straight to his face.

The other woozily reached for his pistol, screaming as Sean blew a hole right through his chest.

Sean took the thugs’ guns and charged inside, diving behind a couch as the guy grabbed his semiautomatic from the table and opened fire on the room, shouting for reinforcements that would never come.

Sean stayed down and groaned like he’d been hit. Sure enough the meathead came to investigate. Sean opened up and the guy went down, clutching his throat.

Angry shouts came from the opposite side of the cabin. Through the walls he heard a woman scream.

Krista!

He took the inside staircase down, the screams getting louder as he got closer to the staterooms.

Then silence.

Heart in his throat, Sean pushed through a door that opened up to a sitting room, and all he could think was that he’d fucked up. He’d lost control and gone out guns blazing, tipping his hand to Maxwell.

Who no doubt was still with Krista. And there was nothing to penetrate the eerie silence to give evidence she was still alive.

Krista felt the bile rise in her throat as rough hands grabbed her hips as Maxwell ground himself against her.

He was fumbling with his fly when the first shots rang out. He froze and then gave an enraged shout when the shooting continued.

Someone was here!
Maxwell sliced the tie that bound her hands to the bed. He went to work on her ankles, and Krista gave a scream as the knife slipped and sliced into the skin of her leg.

“Shut up,” he shouted and punched her in the back of the head hard enough to make her see stars.

Maxwell grabbed her by her bound hands and wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her to her feet. He positioned himself behind her, knife to her neck, and backed her toward the adjoining bathroom.

The door burst open, and there was Sean, his face blackened with grease and a wild look in his green eyes, but the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“One move and I will cut her,” Maxwell whispered, and Krista felt the sting of the blade biting into her neck.

She saw Sean’s gun hand lower and felt the pressure of the knife ease. “Now drop it.”

Sean let both his pistol and the rifle drop to the floor.

“Kick them over here.”

Sean did. Maxwell snatched up the gun and opened fire as he backed Krista out of the room.

Krista cried out as Sean’s head jerked from the impact and he fell backward in a heap.

Maxwell dragged her through the bathroom and out a door that led to the deck. Sean appeared to be alone, but if he’d gotten a location on the boat, his friends and the cops couldn’t be far behind.

Maxwell obviously did the same math as he forced her into the dinghy attached to the boat and fumbled with the rope. Krista huddled in the blanket, head throbbing, feeling like a hole had been blown open in her chest.

Sean had taken a shot to the head. No way he could survive that.

Because he’d come after her.

Even if she survived Maxwell, her guilt and grief would consume her.

She numbly wondered how long it would take for the others to find the yacht, how long Nadia would remain helplessly bound and gagged wherever Maxwell’s thug had put her. And if they managed to escape, how long he would keep her as a hostage before he decided she was no longer useful.

Maxwell struggled to untie the Zodiac from the yacht. Once he finally had it free, he jerked at the starter, swearing when all he got was a pathetic sputter.

Then there was a steady rumble, but not from the Zodiac. Motorboats were approaching.

A siren sounded and a spotlight shone in the distance. The police were here.

An instant later, Sean burst from the door. Blood streamed from his shoulder as he thundered onto the deck.

Maxwell made a grab for Krista as a swell hit the Zodiac, sending him careening to the side. Krista kicked out hard and sent Maxwell to the other side of the small rubber boat. A heavy shadow and then a
thump
as Sean’s weight hit the Zodiac.

There was a cry of pain as the men grappled, but in the darkness Krista couldn’t see who had the upper hand.

She got on her knees and fumbled with her bound hands to find a weapon. Her hands closed over something smooth and cylindrical. An oar? She raised it over her head just as a swell tilted the Zodiac at a precarious angle and a heavy body slammed into her. Krista didn’t have time to even take a breath before she was hurled into the frigid sea.

“Krista!” Sean realized what had happened the split second before the splash of seawater hit him in the face.

Maxwell took advantage of his distraction and punched Sean in the head, glancing off the deep furrow the bullet had left in his scalp. Shooting pain stabbed at his head and blood seeped into his eyes as he staggered back. Maxwell seized the opening to pounce. The knife slashed down and Sean hissed as it sliced through the muscle of his forearm as Sean raised it to ward off the blow.

Maxwell raised the knife as Sean struggled to heave him off. Maxwell was surprisingly strong despite his age and soft life, and he had the advantage of not being wounded. Blood from the wound mingled with sweat to pour down Sean’s forehead. Another swell hit the boat as the rumble of approaching engines grew louder. The high beam of the police boat hit them with blinding strength.

Maxwell hesitated only for a second. It was all Sean needed.

The screwdriver arced up and ripped into Maxwell’s throat, tearing through the skin of his neck, ripping a jagged hole in the carotid artery.

He dropped the knife and fell back clutching his neck. Wet gurgling sounds filled the air.

“Shine the light on the water,” Sean screamed, wiping frantically at his eyes as he ignored the throbbing in his head. Could they even hear him, he wondered as he frantically searched for Krista. She’d been in the water for less than a minute, but with her hands bound and injured from Maxwell’s blows, she wouldn’t last for much longer in the frigid ocean.

His eyes scanned and saw nothing. He waved his arms and pointed frantically at the water and they finally found something. The spotlight skimmed the surface of the ocean, and there it was: a glimpse of pale skin just underneath the surface.

He dove in, the saltwater stinging his head wound like a thousand burning needles as he felt frantically for her in the dark, frigid water. She was limp when he grabbed her, unresponsive when Brooks and Ibarra hauled her up on to the speedboat they’d commandeered. They averted their eyes and covered her naked body with their jackets as Sean put his ear to her mouth.

“She’s not breathing.” He put his fingers to her neck but he was so cold he couldn’t feel anything.

Brooks’s hand gently brushed his aside. “She’s got a pulse,” Brooks said.

Sean nodded, pinched her nose shut, opened her mouth, and covered it with his own to breathe air into her lungs. “Come on, baby. Don’t leave me,” he whispered. Her chest expanded—one breath, two breaths, and on the third she sputtered and choked. Sean rolled her quickly to her side as she coughed up about a gallon of seawater.

“Sean?” she whispered weakly.

“Yeah, honey, I’m here.”

She lifted a shaky hand to his face. “I thought you were dead,” she said. “Thank God you’re not dead—” She broke off as another wave of coughing racked her.

Sean gathered her into him as the spasms shook her body. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you,” he murmured over and over, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears of relief. “I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”

Chapter 22

F
uck,” Sean said, wincing at the way his head throbbed behind the thick white bandage when he bent to pick up his bag. As injuries went, the half-inch-deep groove Maxwell’s bullet had gouged on the right side of his scalp wasn’t much, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch when the blood came rushing to his head.

Megan, who was packing up the last of his stuff, rolled her eyes. “Let me help you.”

“I got it,” he snapped, wincing at the pain that stabbed through his head when he lifted the bag off the floor.

“Stop being an idiot,” Megan said under her breath and took the duffel from him.

Sean forced himself to stay still, clenching his teeth against the nausea as he waited for the worst of the pain to subside and bit back a complaint about having to ask his baby sister to carry his luggage for him.

“Could be worse,” Megan said as though she’d read his mind. “Another inch to the left, and you wouldn’t have enough brains left to get annoyed with me.”

“Believe me, I know how lucky I am,” Sean said, wincing at the bite he couldn’t quite keep out of his voice.

“I’m going to go get your prescriptions filled,” Megan said. “And then I’ll meet you back here?”

Sean nodded. “I need to go say good-bye.”

Megan paused, studying him. “You sure that’s all you want to say?”

Sean looked away from his sister’s too-probing gaze. As though she would be able to read all of his secrets with one look. He didn’t want Megan to see that his system was rocked by the sensation of having every emotion, every fear, every desire he’d been suppressing from the day he was locked up come roaring back to life in the space of three days.

Didn’t want to admit that Krista was the woman who had ripped off the cover and brought it all screaming back.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to admit that he thought he might be in love for the first time in his life with a woman who was his destruction and salvation all wrapped up in one classically beautiful package.

He was already pretty sure he was crazy, but admitting out loud that he was in love with Krista Slater would be the closer. “What else is there?” he said.

Megan muttered something under her breath and then walked over to him and leaned up to peck him on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Sean listened to the door of his hospital room click shut behind her as he braced himself for what he needed to do. God, he wanted to be a coward and slink off without a word. But Krista deserved better than that.

She deserved better than him.

For two days he’d been haunted, day and night, by thoughts of Krista, beaten, scared, lips blue with cold. And it didn’t stop there. As if reality wasn’t sufficiently traumatizing, his brain was clever enough to come up with all kinds of scenarios of what might have happened to her had he not shown up in time.

Sean didn’t know the extent of Maxwell’s depravity, but his too-vivid imagination had gone to the outer limits.

For a moment there on the dock, holding her in his arms, he’d felt a peace like nothing he’d ever felt before. If only he could hold onto that feeling, he could get through anything.
They
could get through anything. But to Sean’s dismay, the moment they got to the hospital, the moment Krista was safe and their lives weren’t in danger, Sean came out of combat mode.

And in that instant, all of his old demons came out to play. Lights were too harsh; people were too loud; the softest touch made him want to jump out of his skin. It was like the first few days after he was released from prison, the full-on sensory overload, the whole world too big, too overwhelming to deal with. His fear of being trapped came back with a vengeance, to the point where he’d pissed off the hospital staff by moving his bed directly under his wide-open window.