Destination Wedding Read online

  “I didn’t hear you at all.”

  “Silent and deadly,” he muttered. “And I’ve found a hiding place.”

  “In the bougainvillea? Didn’t you start off by getting scratched?”

  “Yeah. That’s why it’s a good place to hide. Nobody will look for us there, but I cut a path to the interior. And the bougainvillea has grown up over some other bushes, so once you get inside, you’re not in contact with it. But follow me and keep your head down.” He turned and crawled back into the path he’d made through the thorny branches.

  “What’s this?” she asked when he stopped at the depression he’d found.

  “A place where you can hide while I signal the ship.”

  “Signal how?”

  “With a flashlight, using Morse code, but I have make sure you’re hidden and that I’m not leading the guards here. What you’re going to do is lie down. Then I’ll cover you with brush.”

  He heard her swallow hard. “I want to stay with you.”

  “Yeah. I want that, too. But it’s safer this way.”

  After a moment, she whispered, “Okay.”

  He left her in the depression and went out to gather dried palm fronds, stopping to listen intently to make sure none of Zanov’s men were in the area. First he spread some of the dried vegetation on the ground where she was sitting, making a little nest. Then he brought more.

  “Lie down.”

  She did as he asked, and he came down beside her, piling more of the camouflage material on top of her, spreading the fronds out so that she was invisible in the darkness.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when he’d finished.

  “Yes.”

  Reaching into his pack, he pulled out an automatic pistol, and handed it to her. “I know your father made sure both you and Eden had shooting lessons. If you have to defend yourself, do it.”

  “That was shooting at targets.”

  “This will be shooting to avoid capture.”

  He heard her swallow in the darkness. “I don’t want to mistake you for one of Zanov’s guards when you come back.”

  “Yeah. I’ll whistle a happy tune.”

  “Which one?”

  He whistled a few bars from Nobody Does it Better, and she laughed.

  “Keep your head down. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She sobered again quickly. “You know I’m going to worry about you.”

  “I’ll be okay. And I’ll move as fast as I can, but it could take an hour or so because I need to be as far away as I can from you when I flash the ship.”

  She reached up through the layer of dried vegetation, grabbed his hand and held tight. He squeezed her fingers for a moment, then eased away.

  “The sooner I take care of this, the better.”

  She sucked in a breath but said only, “Be careful.”

  “Stay put.”

  “What if you don’t come back?”

  “I will.”

  He left before he changed his mind, crawling to the end of the tunnel he’d made and stopping to make sure nobody was waiting in the darkness to overpower him. When he was certain he was alone, he covered the entrance to the tunnel with the branches he’d cut off. Then he made sure he could find Camille’s hiding place again. He’d studied the geography of the island, and he knew approximately where he was. More specifically, the bougainvillea was in the middle of a triangle of large palms which marked the spot well.

  Moving as silently as possible through the jungle, he stayed on the alert for guards. Twice he encountered the flashlight beams of nearby search parties, but when he moved to the far side of a tree and flattened himself against the trunk, they went past.

  He made it to the beach in fifteen minutes, knowing this was the most dangerous part of the mission. He’d have to get out from under the shelter of the trees, send his message and duck back into cover. Before signaling, he moved along the edge of the jungle near the beach, putting the distance of two football fields between himself and the spot where he’d first seen moonlight shining on the water.

  When he was satisfied that he wasn’t in a direct line from Camille’s hiding place, he got out the flashlight. For the Morse code message, he’d have to send a series of dots and dashes. Because it would be awkward to keep turning the flashlight on and off, he’d decided to move his palm over the light—then away.

  “Boat crumped. Swimming out just before dawn. Come in closer for C. Direct line from this location.”

  He repeated the message twice, then moved to a spot a hundred yards farther along the shoreline and repeated again, adjusting for the change in location and, praying that Teddy was getting it.

  oOo

  From the Minerva, Teddy Granada watched flashlight beams crossing and recrossing the island.

  “At least they haven’t found Nick and Camille,” he muttered.

  “There are a lot of guys searching,” Bobby answered in a worried voice.

  As Teddy stared toward the island, he saw a flash of light that was different. Then another.

  It took him a few moments to realize he was seeing a Morse code message that he hoped was coming from Nick. “What’s that?” Bobby asked, pointing toward the anomalous flashes.

  “Nick, I hope.”

  They both watched, both reading the bursts of light.

  The first time they got “before dawn and come in closer. On the second round they got the part about the boat.

  “It could be Zanov trying to set a trap,” Bobby muttered.

  “But Zanov doesn’t know we’re out here. We have to assume it’s Nick.”

  “He’s taking a chance signaling like that.”

  “Yeah,” Teddy agreed. “He’s in a fix with that boat disabled.” He waited a moment, debating what to do. Nick would want to know they’d seen the message, but they didn’t want to invite Zanov to blow them out of the water.

  “Get ready to move,” he told Bobby as he pulled out a flashlight and sent two short bursts of light in the direction of the Morse code signal. “Okay, go.”

  Bobby started the engine and moved them in the direction Nick had been traveling, figuring he’d been going farther from Camille when he sent the second message.

  oOo

  As he kept his gaze trained toward the water, Nick saw two brief flares of light and hoped it meant Teddy had seen his signal and was acknowledging.

  “Stay where you are. I’m on my way back,” he whispered to Camille under his breath as he reversed course and headed for the island’s interior.

  He’d gotten only a few yards back into the jungle when he knew that someone else besides Teddy had spotted the signal. It sounded like a herd of cattle was charging through the jungle, trampling the vegetation and heading in his direction.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dodging to his right, Nick ducked into the underbrush. Moments later, a hail of automatic gunfire peppered the spot where he’d been standing, shredding leaves and kicking up dirt.

  Apparently some of Zanov’s men had been near enough to pinpoint his location.

  His breath shallow, he stayed where he was, listening to the excited voices. They were speaking Russian, and he couldn’t pick up most of the words. Did they speak English? Did they know what message he’d sent—or not?

  Long seconds ticked by as powerful flashlight beams crisscrossed the shredded foliage. When they didn’t land on his body, a voice barked an order, and the men spread out in the darkness, directing the beams in an outward search pattern. Quietly, he unsheathed his knife and waited behind a tree. One of the searchers came steadily toward him, gun at the ready.

  Nick waited until the guy was almost on top of him before pulling him behind the tree, clamping a hand over his mouth, and slitting his throat from behind to avoid the blood spatter.

  Grimacing, he eased away, and the guy slid to the ground. It was only a matter of time before some of the others found the body, and he wasn’t planning to be here when they did. Again he moved, quietly, fading fart
her back into the jungle, making a wide circle around the spot where he’d been standing, then correcting his course to intersect the mound of bougainvillea where Camille was waiting. He knew she would have heard the gunfire and would be worried, and he tried to hurry.

  But twice he had to plaster himself to a tree as flashlight beams cut through the darkness. And he was way behind schedule by the time he reached her hiding place. Still, he forced himself to wait in the darkness for several minutes to make sure none of the guards had come this far into the interior. Then he whistled a few bars of Nobody Does it Better before getting down on all fours, opening the entrance to the tunnel he’d made, and crawling inside where he hid the opening before crawling toward the spot where he’d left Camille.

  When he gained the interior, she rose up out of the camouflage. On a sob, she reached for him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as her shoulders began to shake.

  “Thank God you’re back. I heard . . . gunfire,” she managed to say between muffled sobs. “I was so worried.”

  “Yeah, they figured out what I was doing, but by the time they started shooting, I was somewhere else.”

  “Thank God,” she said again, then asked in a shaky voice, “They were shooting to kill?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a flat voice. “But they only killed a bunch of leaves and branches.”

  As he eased her down to the ground, he didn’t tell her about the guy who’d found him. After scraping away some of the covering, he laid her in the nest he’d made. Then he came down beside her, cradling her close with one arm as he used the other to brush some of the vegetation on top of them again.

  She clung to him, and he knew she was struggling to get control of herself. He also knew that for a woman with her background, she was coping pretty well

  He held her and stroked her, hoping he was helping. And when she calmed, he winnowed his fingers through her hair and pressed her head to his shoulder.

  “We’d better keep our voices low,” he murmured, as he stroked her.

  “You signaled the boat?” she answered at the same pitch.

  “Yes. And they signaled back.”

  “Wasn’t that dangerous for them?”

  “Yeah, but they only did two quick flashes. I might not have seen them if I hadn’t been looking,” he answered, hoping that he’d interpreted them correctly. “I told them to come in closer just before dawn—and we’ll swim out.”

  “It’s a big ocean. How will they find us?”

  “I’ll put a homing beacon on you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be with you.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, then raised her face, her eyes still moist. Before he could stop her, she brought her lips to his. Maybe she meant it as a quick kiss—a way to show her relief that he was safe. But once her mouth connected with his, something hot and sharp flared between them, something that had been there for a long time but had never been acknowledged.

  Still, he wasn’t prepared for his own reaction. Perhaps it had something to do with the bullets that had peppered the spot where he’d been standing moments earlier. If he hadn’t moved quickly, he’d be dead now.

  He warned himself to ease away from Camille, but there was nowhere to go in the narrow depression where they were hiding. And nowhere for his emotions to focus except on the woman in his arms. One of his hands tangled in her hair, holding her where he wanted her, as he kissed her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

  She kissed him with the same desperate passion, making his head spin, making him want more as her hands stroked up and down his back. On the Norland estate, his only professional option had been to treat her like just another job. He’d even acted like he didn’t like her because he thought it was the best way to make sure he didn’t reveal his true feelings.

  Now he was unable to pull back, or stop himself from bringing a shaky hand between them, cupping one of her breasts in his palm, loving the soft weight of her and the way her nipple stiffened and stabbed into his hand. He squeezed gently, then skimmed his thumb over the taut peak, the contact sending flames licking through him. His other hand slid down her body, cupping her bottom and pulling her against his aching erection. She was exactly where he wanted her—had wanted her for months, close and horizontal.

  Turning, he pressed her down into the bed of dried palm fronds, reveling in the feel of her pliant body under his as he took her mouth in a series of hard kisses. They were both wearing too many clothes, but that was easy to remedy.

  His hands went to the buttons of her shirt, easing them open, sweeping the fabric out of the way, her hands were similarly engaged.

  He reached around to unhook her bra, pushing it out of the way, so that he could take her breasts in his hands. They were small, but her reaction told him they were very sensitive.

  She made a sound of approval deep in her throat. But somehow, when she whispered his name and moved her hips in a rocking motion against him, reality slammed him in the gut.

  “No,” he gasped. When she tried to hold him where he was, he called on every shred of willpower he possessed as he rolled away from her, ending up on his back in the palm fronds, dragging in lungfuls of air.

  “Nick?”

  The hurt and confusion in her voice tore at him.

  “You know we can’t do this,” he said in a grating whisper when she reached for him.

  “Why not? It’s obvious we both want to.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it a good idea. You got into trouble in the first place because your bodyguard wasn’t doing his job.”

  “I know, but this is different.”

  “How? We’re hidden, but we’re not exactly safe. If I’m making love to you, I’m not looking out for Zanov’s guards. You want them to find us and blast us full of bullet holes—like they tried to do to me a while ago.”

  He had deliberately used the graphic words like a dash of cold water—for both of them. When she flopped down heavily onto her back and said nothing, he figured that she had remembered where they were and why.

  Reaching out a hand, he stroked her arm and gave her the piece of advice he’d kept in reserve since he’d seen she was as attracted to him as he was to her. “And besides, you don’t want a guy like me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You come from a privileged life. I come from . . . nothing. Which means we have nothing in common besides . . .”

  “You were going to say chemistry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t believe that’s all there is,” she answered.

  “Listen, my parents split up when I was just a little kid.”

  “Well, my mom died when I was a teenager. That’s sort of similar. And, you know for a fact that it sent my dad into overdrive protective mode.”

  “It turns out he had good reasons.”

  “Oh come on, there are many nuts like Zanov around.”

  “But kidnapping was always a possibility.”

  She sighed. “Yes, but we were talking about you.”

  “Right. You want to hear the whole sordid story? My mom left us when I was ten, and my dad wasn’t much good at taking care of himself much less a kid. Half the time he was drunk, and the other half he was thinking of illegal ways to make money.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  He shrugged. He’d gotten off track a few minutes ago. Mostly he kept his early life locked away. Tonight he was bringing it out to give Camille a dose of reality. “But it left its mark on me. Like, for example, I used to get teased at school because I was always dressed in clothes from the Salvation Army. I was one of the kids who got a free lunch and breakfast from that federal program. A lot of times the food was crappy, but I ate it anyway because I was hungry.”

  When she tried to interrupt, he plowed on. “My dad had me breaking into cars and stealing radios and radar detectors.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yeah, because he figured th
e law would go easier on a kid if I got caught. A great role model, huh? The cops figured out who had done it and arrested us.”

  He knew he was trying to make her see him in the worst possible light. And at the same time, he was trying to keep the focus off the physical proximity.

  He realized the first part wasn’t working when she said, “There’s no shame in being poor.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Okay. I don’t know in person. But I don’t blame people for being less fortunate than I was.”

  “And my criminal family life?”

  “Again, not your fault. I mean, what were you going to do?”

  When he didn’t answer, she asked, “What happened when the police caught you?”

  “Well, they took me away from my dad. He went to jail—where he died in a knife fight.”

  She winced. “The judge wanted to teach me a lesson. I went to a juvie detention center.”

  She let him keep talking.

  “Talk about an education in criminal skills.”

  “But you’re not a criminal.”

  “Yeah. There were counselors at the center, and some of them saw they could get through to me. I already knew the downside of a life of crime. And they showed me a way out.”

  “What?”

  “The army, where I could learn something besides stealing. l enlisted right after I graduated from high school.” He laughed. “Really, it was an easier life than reform school. And I liked the idea of fighting on the right side, so to speak.”

  “And it turned you around. Dad wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t a crack bodyguard.”

  “He wanted someone from Decorah Security.”

  “And Decorah hired you because you were good.”

  “And because I had a special skill.”

  “Could you always . . . make yourself invisible?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. Maybe it saved my butt a couple of times in Afghanistan.”

  “You were there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  They were both silent for several moment, and he was thinking that they’d said more to each other in a half hour of hiding in the bushes than they’d said in the previous six months.