No Place to Run (4 page)

He was out there. Probably close. But it would take him precious time to get back into the boat to look for her. Time she could use to her advantage.

This time she took a deeper breath as she dove back under, and she forced herself to stay under until shadows grew around her consciousness. She broke the surface and kept her head down as she hungrily sucked in air.

She glanced back to see the spotlight from the boat dancing across the water.

She inhaled quickly and ducked beneath the water again. Ignoring the agonizing pain in her arm, she swam deep and hard. Eventually, her body grew numb from the cold, and the pain receded. She gave a quick murmur of thanks and pushed herself onward.

For how long she repeated the endless cycle of surfacing, taking a breath and going back below, she didn’t know. It felt like hours. She wasn’t cognizant of anything but the need to survive.

When her strength finally gave out and the adrenaline fled her system, she broke the surface and looked back. To her immense relief, she didn’t see the boat. No lights, just murky darkness.

The lake lapped gently at her chin as she treaded water. And suddenly the pain came rushing back with the force of a car crash.

Barely conscious, she feebly struck out for shore, but it seemed a mile away. The current tugged at her legs, sucking her back and down the river channel instead of allowing her to move toward the bank.

Exhausted, she stopped fighting and turned on her back to float the best she could. She had to get out of the water. He’d be looking for her.

Her head cracked against something hard, and she let out a startled cry. She briefly fell underneath the water in panic. When she surfaced, she jerked around to see a large log bobbing in front of her.

Grateful for something to hold on to, she hauled her body up and draped herself over the trunk. The wet bark abraded her cheek, but she was too exhausted to give a damn.

She reached with her good arm and placed her hand over her belly. Her baby had to be okay. She had to be. She closed her eyes as she waited for some response from within. Just a tiny kick. Even a bump just to let Sophie know her baby was safe.

Nothing.

She ran her hand up her arm, feeling for how bad the bullet wound was. In the water, it was impossible to tell. She whispered a fervent prayer that the night’s events hadn’t harmed her baby.

Again she lowered her palm, feeling for movement.

She fought back the panic. It was common for a baby to be still after Mama suffered a shock. She’d read that somewhere in one of those pregnancy books.

She’d become an expert at self-treatment because she hadn’t dared seek medical help. Tomas would have found her instantly. So she devoured every book she could lay her hands on. She took over-the-counter vitamins, drank her milk and exercised so she’d remain on alert. For just such an occasion as when her father’s men caught up to her.

There was one star overhead. Just one, but it looked blurry and distant. It bobbed up and down, and she didn’t know if it was because she shook so violently or if the lake was rough.

Her arm wrapped tighter around the log, and she pressed her cheek against the wet bark. She could ride it for a while, and maybe it would drift out of the faster current toward the calmer waters of the lake.

Her eyelids fluttered even as she fought to stay conscious. Something warm and wet ran down her arm. Blood. It smelled like blood.

Sam
.

His image rose vividly to mind. Her last coherent thought was that she had to get to Sam.

CHAPTER 4

THE morning sun shone bright on the back deck of Sam Kelly’s Kentucky Lake home. The wood was warm underneath his bare feet, and the rays chased the chill of the morning away. It had the makings of a truly spectacular day.

The only way it would have been more perfect is if he was on the lake, fishing pole in one hand, a beer in the other. At least he had the beer covered.

He drained the remainder from his can, then crumpled it and tossed it across the deck into the garbage can.

“Nice shot,” Donovan drawled from his indelicate sprawl over one of the lounge chairs.

A brief cool breeze blew over Sam’s face, reminding him that spring hadn’t fully sprung yet.

He glanced over at his younger brother and motioned for him to toss him another beer.

Donovan tossed him a can and then looked in Garrett’s direction. Sam’s other younger brother—not that Garrett acted like anyone’s younger brother—held up his hand for one and Donovan aimed a beer in his direction also.

Garrett cracked it open and then turned his attention back to the barbeque, where he flipped the burgers.

Only the sizzle of the grill could be heard. That and the hiss of the can as Sam tabbed his open.

“Ethan and Rachel get out okay this morning?” Donovan asked, finally breaking the silence.

Sam looked in Garrett’s direction since he’d know better than anyone else.

Garrett nodded. “Yeah, they left for the airport at the ass crack of dawn. Rachel was understandably nervous but very excited to be off to Hawaii for two weeks. She and Ethan both need the break.”

Of all the brothers, and they all loved Rachel dearly—she was the only sister-in-law in the family—Garrett was closest to her, and the most protective. But then he had a protective streak a mile wide when it came to the people he loved.

Sam leaned back and stared over the lake. He tuned out Garrett’s and Van’s discussion about Rachel’s recovery. They got on the subject of Christmas, and Sam tensed, withdrawing even more. Christmas was a touchy subject. Not that it hadn’t been wonderful this year. Rachel’s first holiday back in the Kelly fold.

Watching her smile and her eyes light up like a child’s had been worth every minute.

But Christmas had been just after he’d come back from Mexico. Right after Sophie had disappeared. It was stupid to dwell on her, but inevitably his thoughts drifted to her. Her smile. Her eyes. How good they were in bed. How she responded to his touch. How she felt when he was buried to the balls in her sweet, receptive body.

Nothing about that mission had gone according to plan. They hadn’t taken Alex Mouton down. They didn’t even know where the bastard had disappeared to. The only thing they had done was take down a huge arms shipment. All in all, just a stumbling block for a man with Mouton’s resources.

And Sophie hadn’t been there when he’d gone back.

He wasn’t even supposed to have gone back. It had never been his plan. But he’d found himself making excuses about following up loose ends and had taken off, determined to find Sophie. And do what? That much he hadn’t ever figured out. He just knew he had to see her again. He’d been saved making the decision of what next because she’d disappeared. No one seemed to know a damn thing about her, or if they did, they weren’t talking.

It took Sam a minute to figure out that his brothers were speaking to him.

“Come on, Sam, wake up over there.”

Sam looked up to see both Van and Garrett staring hard at him.

“What’s with you?” Garrett asked. “You haven’t been yourself since we got back from Mexico.”

Sam stiffened. He hadn’t realized he’d been wearing a sign advertising his issues with Mexico.

“You’re not still hung up on that chick are you?” Garrett asked in a disbelieving tone.

Sam shot him a withering stare. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Garrett shook his head in disgust. He turned to Van and jerked his thumb in Sam’s direction. “We’re in fucking Mexico trying to set up a buy with Alex Mouton, and lover boy takes time out to have some hot fling with a waitress in one of the local watering holes.”

Donovan shrugged. “So? He still has a dick. Bound to use it sometime.”

Sam choked back a laugh. God love Van. Not an uptight bone in his body.

Donovan turned his stare on Sam, and Sam began to fidget uncomfortably. He’d rather not talk about it.

As if sensing just that, Donovan turned back to Garrett. “Maybe you need to get laid, man. Maybe you wouldn’t be so goddamn uptight all the time.”

Garrett flipped his brother off, and Sam smiled.

It didn’t do him any good to think about Sophie. They’d been good together. Damn good.

No, he had no business getting involved with her when he was involved in a highly sensitive mission. But her sweetness had provided a much-needed balm to what was otherwise a hellish assignment. An assignment that he hadn’t gotten anywhere on until the very end, when an anonymous informant delivered the information Sam and his team had sought—on a silver platter.

“You hung up on this chick?” Donovan asked.

Sam glared at him. Apparently he hadn’t been able to resist after all.

Donovan held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I know when to back off.”

“Good,” Sam muttered.

“You realize you haven’t taken another mission since Mexico,” Donovan said mildly. “Steele and Rio are getting restless. I didn’t realize we were all on vacation.”

Sam frowned. He hadn’t considered that they were on vacation either, but Donovan’s statement brought home to him just how picky he’d been over the last few months.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Donovan continued. “I was thinking of a vacation. Somewhere south. Lots of cute college girls. Sand, sun, sex. Lots of sex.”

Sam tuned him out again as he and Garrett extolled the virtues of bikini-clad college coeds. Hell, they were all too old for college girls, but then who put an age limit on fantasies?

It annoyed him that he still thought of Sophie. Then he frowned. How old was she? She was young. Not college-age young, but still young. There was a lot he hadn’t found out about her. They’d always been too busy making love to do any talking.

He tuned back into the conversation when he heard Nathan and Joe mentioned.

“They’re doing what?” Sam asked.

“Man, you are out of it,” Donovan muttered. “Got an email from them this morning. Said they were bugging out soon and couldn’t give more details. They didn’t want Ma and Rachel to worry, so we’re supposed to tell them they’re on another training mission.”

Sam snorted. “As if Mom will believe that. She has a nose for our lies. She sniffs us out every time.”

“We’ll let Van tell her. She always believes him,” Garrett offered. “It’s the rest of us who can’t get away with shit.”

Donovan sent them both smug looks. “Favored son status does have its perks.”

“So when are you going to snap out of this funk, Sam?” Garrett asked bluntly. “If you need a break from KGI, tell me. I can take over operations. The teams are getting restless. They need the action. So do we.”

Even Donovan looked like he agreed with Garrett.

“I’m not in a goddamn funk. A lot of shit has gone down over the last year. We needed to be here with the family.”

He could feel himself growing defensive, which meant they had a goddamn point, as much as he hated to admit it.

Both his brothers just stared at him, as if waiting for him to come to the conclusion on his own that he was being a dumbass.

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” he mumbled. “I’ll put your asses to work.”

Sam sighed and rose from the patio chair to stretch his legs. He rested his palms on the railing of the deck, enjoying the sun-warmed wood against his skin.

Maybe it was time to get back on the job and work off his restlessness.

He glanced back at Garrett and studied the shadows under his eyes. Garrett didn’t like time off. It gave him too much time to think about the shit that went down with his special-ops team just before he left the Marines. He hadn’t been sleeping lately, not that he’d admit it to either Sam or Donovan.

Van had confided to Sam that Garrett had been tracking down any and all information on Marcus Lattimer, the man responsible for Garrett’s mission going to shit and Garrett’s subsequent stay in the hospital to recover from a bullet to the thigh.

Sam had been meaning to bring it up with Garrett, but he hadn’t found the right time. Not that any time was ever good to try to pin Garrett down and make him talk.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Garrett asked rudely.

“You look like hell,” Sam said bluntly. “You haven’t been sleeping again.”

“Yeah, well that’s two of us. At least I’m not hung up on some chick. Quit trying to avoid the subject by making this about me.”

“Find anything yet?” Sam asked mildly.

Garrett frowned and looked for a moment like he’d pretend he didn’t know what Sam was talking about. He slapped a burger on the grill, banging the spatula in the process. Then he glanced over at Donovan.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Donovan said, holding up his hands. “You haven’t exactly been discreet about it.”

“I want to take the fucker down,” Garrett said.

Sam leaned back and braced his hands behind him on the railing. “Christ, Garrett. KGI can’t afford to go on some damn revenge mission.”

Garrett shrugged. “Who says it has to be about revenge? The world would be a better place without the piece of shit. He’s dirty. He’s a traitor.” He stared hard at Sam. “He cost me my team. While we sit here waiting for you to snap out of your funk, we could be doing something useful. Like nailing Lattimer’s sorry ass to the wall.”

There wasn’t a whole lot Sam could say to that. He understood Garrett’s rage. He’d be doing the same in Garrett’s shoes. But he sure as hell hoped his brothers would rein him in. Just like he was doing with Garrett.

“Garrett’s not the problem right now,” Donovan said pointedly. “You are. You need to pull your head out of your ass, and we need to go back to work, otherwise Garrett’s going to go rogue on us and start some goddamn war trying to find Lattimer.”

Sam blew out his breath and turned around to gaze out over the lake once more. His brothers were right. His head wasn’t in it, and that was a very bad thing for KGI. They’d built their business into an extensive list of military and government contacts. They did jobs for agencies that didn’t even exist.