Freefall (13 page)

The guy was stunned, but he wasn’t stupid. Javier was blocking his path. He had no choice but to comply. Hands raised, he turned slowly, getting a good look at Javier as he faced the opposite direction.

“Don’t look at me, motherfucker! Take off your backpack.”

He shrugged out of the pack and let it drop.

Javier kicked it aside. “Now get down on your knees.”

This order was met with some resistance. The park employee stared straight ahead, his shoulders taut with tension.

“Get down on your fucking knees,” Javier repeated.

Keeping his hands up, the man lowered himself to the ground.

“Take off your clothes.”

The worker glanced over his shoulder at Javier, his expression guarded.

“What the fuck are you looking at? Take off your clothes, bitch.”

Moving his gaze forward, the park employee unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands. His fear wasn’t unfounded, but there was an edge to it that Javier didn’t understand. He glanced around, keeping his gun trained on the back of the ranger’s head. When he refocused on his target, he noticed a scar on the side of his neck.

It looked like a burned-off tattoo.

The worker removed his shirt, revealing more ink on his back. Javier couldn’t think of the English word for the symbol, but he knew what it meant. The three-pronged leaf, or
trébol,
was used by an Aryan gang in prison.

This man had been inside. Well, well. No wonder he didn’t want to get down on his knees or take off his clothes. Other than the tattoos, he was a real pretty boy, with short blond hair and nice features.

Javier had a soft spot for abused women and children, but his sympathies didn’t extend to white supremacists. Behind bars, they’d be enemies. He wouldn’t hesitate to beat a guy like him to a pulp.

“Now the pants,
muñeco,
” he said. “Show me that sweet ass.”

“Fuck you,” the guy said from between clenched teeth. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Just give me your pants,” Javier said, impatient. “I don’t want anything else from you.”

Shoulders trembling, he lowered his hands to his belt. He must have believed Javier wasn’t planning a sexual assault, because he unfastened his pants and unzipped the fly. When two shots rang out, the park employee jumped at the sound.

“Who was that?” Javier asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Are there other officers in the area?”

His hesitation indicated that he was alone.

Javier glanced toward the river, wavering. This worker was his meal ticket. He probably had a set of keys in his pocket, and a vehicle parked at the trailhead. If Javier went back to check on Faith, he’d lose his chance to escape.

He pictured her lovely face. Her lips trembling against his.

“Fuck!”

Abandoning the idea of stealing the man’s uniform, Javier tucked the gun into his waistband and took off running. The gunshots sounded as though they’d come from the south, where he’d last seen her.

When he glanced back, Javier saw the park worker jogging after him, his shirt flapping open. The guy had balls. He also had longer legs than Javier. By the time they reached the fork, he’d almost caught up with him.

Javier hooked a right, his lungs burning. It was a short distance to the bloodstained trail. Caleb and Ted were lying in the middle of the path. Haphazardly discarded, rather than hidden. Faith wasn’t with them.

When he got closer, Javier realized the men weren’t dead. Ted was unconscious. Caleb appeared to have a gunshot wound in his left leg. He’d managed to stop the bleeding, but he was in bad shape.

Javier dragged a hand down his face, shocked by the scene. These guys were harmless. Their only crimes were arrogance, stupidity and marijuana possession. Now they were hurt, maybe dying, and Faith was in danger. This was all Javier’s fault.

The ranger stood at a distance, waiting to see what he’d do. Javier examined the ground for footprints, but they went both directions. He didn’t know where to go. He had to save Faith, and he needed help.

Setting the gun on the ground, he held his hands up in the air. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. He was placing himself at another man’s mercy, after having threatened and ridiculed him.

The worker approached warily.

“I’m Javier Del Norte,” he said.

“Owen Jackson.”

“The men who did this...they kidnapped a woman named Faith.”

“How do you know?”

“I left her with them an hour ago.” He pointed at Caleb and Ted.

Owen used his radio to report the accident, requesting wilderness medics. When Ted regained consciousness, he groaned at the sight of Javier hovering over him.

“I have to go after Faith,” Javier said. “I think they’re going to kill her.”

The young man glanced down the trail. “They went that way,” he said, gesturing north. “Three sets of shoes.”

“I’m following them.”

Owen hesitated, studying the injured men. “Can you hang on until the medics arrive? They should be here soon.”

Ted said he’d be okay. Caleb didn’t look good, but his bleeding was under control, and there wasn’t much they could do for him.

“I’ll come with you,” Owen said to Javier.

Nodding, he bent to pick up his gun. He thought about apologizing for the ass comment, but perhaps that subject was better left untouched. Owen buttoned up his shirt, covering a bold tattoo over his stomach.

“What were you in for?” Javier asked.

“None of your fucking business.”

Fair enough. Javier didn’t really care about Owen’s past or his future. At present, they were allies. “Let’s go, then.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

H
OPE
APPROACHED
M
IST
Falls, her stomach churning.

She didn’t see anyone. There was a large pool at the base of the waterfall, feeding into the Kaweah. The rushing rapids drowned out all other sounds, and moisture rose like a cloud, coating the rocks nearby with a dewy sheen.

Although the scene was picturesque, she couldn’t appreciate its beauty. She glanced around, wondering if she should start climbing. As far as she knew, Sam had listened to her warning and stayed behind. He hadn’t tried to stop her.

Her radio beeped. “Throw your gun into the water and come to the top.”

She depressed the talk button, her eyes swimming in the harsh sunlight. Over the past hour, the temperature had warmed at least ten degrees. By noon, it would be sizzling hot. “Is my sister up there?”

“You’ll see her.”

Heart slamming against her ribs, she removed the weapon from her waistband and tossed it into the jade-green pool. She felt naked without it, but the request wasn’t unexpected. They wouldn’t allow an armed woman to approach. As long as Faith wasn’t hurt, Hope would cooperate with these men. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister.

The path to the summit was a steep, slippery climb, popular with cliff divers because of the deep water below. Rangers had placed a bolted line along the edge of the falls for safety. She used the rope when she needed to, grasping rock handholds when she didn’t.

Near the top, a man emerged from between boulders. It was Leather, although he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. His black T-shirt was damp and his pants were bloodstained.

“Where’s Faith?” she asked.

He glanced across the falls.

Her sister was on the other side with Poncho, who had also discarded his outerwear. Faith’s hands and feet were bound. A strip of cloth bisected her mouth. She’d been crying. Her face was streaked with tears and mud.

Hope’s chest constricted at the sight. “Let her go.”

“After you guide me to the cargo.”

“I’ll tell you where it is.”

“You’ll show me,” he countered.

“I want to stay with Faith.”

“No. You come with me. Your sister stays here.”

She moistened her lips, deliberating. They’d asked for a guide, not a map, so she’d anticipated this argument. If she refused, they might kill her and Faith. They might do that anyway. A helicopter flew over the falls, hovering nearby.

“This is our ride,” Leather said. “Take it or leave it.”

She took it.

Her hair whipped around her neck as she followed him away from the waterfall, into an adjoining meadow. The helicopter set down long enough to allow them to board. Hope climbed in first, prodded by Leather. Her eardrums were about to explode. She wasn’t offered any protection. After taking Hope’s radio away, Leather signaled the pilot to lift off.

The trip to Angel Wings only took a few minutes, but the pilot couldn’t find a suitable place to land. The wind was too high and the terrain too rugged. He finally found a spot near the summit. She hopped out, ducking her head to avoid the propeller. Leather joined her.

Hiking uphill through underbrush was brutal. Hope put one foot in front of the other, ascending as slowly as possible. She didn’t have to feign exhaustion. She was tired and hungry and thirsty.

When they arrived at the stash, she pointed it out and sat down, relieved that her duty was done. The pilot flew over, dropping a large net from the helicopter. Leather retrieved the net and spread it out on the ground.

“Go get the bags,” he ordered.

“Do it yourself.”

He grabbed her wrist and jerked her upright, shoving her toward the boulders.

She stumbled forward, her mind numb. As she got closer to the crevice, she noticed that some of the bags were missing. There was a faint shoe print in the damp, sandy dirt. It left the distinctive zigzag impression of a large hiking boot.

Although the detail struck her as important, she didn’t mention it to Leather. He might destroy the boot print or blame Hope for the theft. She grabbed one of the duffel bags and dragged it to the net. Then another, and another. Leather loaded the bags in the center. The process seemed to take an eternity. Hope endured the strain in her shoulders, praying she’d be reunited with Faith when this was over. Imagining another outcome was impossible.

She couldn’t think about Sam.

After the last bag was tossed on top of the pile, Leather gave her an expectant look. “Where’s the rest?”

“That’s all of them.”

He counted the bags. “This is eight. There should be ten.”

Hope shrugged. “Maybe there’s another hiding place.”

Leather grabbed her by the arm and jerked her closer, shoving the barrel of his gun against her temple. “There were ten. You photographed them.”

“Someone else was here,” she cried, her throat raw and her head aching. “There’s a boot mark in the dirt.”

He went to inspect the ground, pulling her along with him. After a quick search of the area, he returned to the net, cursing in Spanish. He put his gun away, secured the cargo and called the pilot for a pickup.

Hope couldn’t quite overhear his conversation, but she guessed he was talking about her. He murmured an affirmative, his eyes guarded.

She knew then that Sam had been right. Leather didn’t need her anymore, and she’d seen his face. She’d seen the pilot. She could identify Poncho. They wouldn’t let her live. Faith was probably dead already.

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she struggled to hide her panic. Faith couldn’t be gone. She’d feel it. Her sister was still alive; she had to be. Hope clung to that belief, and found the strength to keep fighting.

Leather had to attach the net to a line hanging from the helicopter, and the task required his full attention. While he fumbled with the hook, she took off running. He couldn’t follow until he finished, so she had a good head start.

Instead of going downhill, which was tempting, she went up. He might have greater size and strength, but he couldn’t outhike her. She raced to the top of Angel Wings, her blood pumping with adrenaline. There was a gun at the plane crash site, sitting on the passenger seat. She’d beat Leather there and give him a nasty surprise.

She heard him coming after her. As she sailed over the surface, weaving back and forth, he lagged behind. He wasn’t slow, but he couldn’t catch up with her. The uneven terrain worked to her advantage.

She reached the fuselage and dove inside. Crows flew from the cockpit, squawking and flapping their black wings. The smell of death was overwhelming. The pilot’s body had swelled and shifted, listing to the right. As she shoved him aside, she caught a glimpse of his empty eye sockets, picked clean by scavengers.

Gagging, she reached for the gun and shrank down, flattening her back against the interior of the plane.

When Leather appeared at the broken front window, she pulled the trigger. He saw the gun and ducked, but nothing happened. She’d left the safety on. Hands shaking, she released the mechanism and waited for him to enter the fuselage.

“Come on,” she urged.
Come and get me.

The seconds ticked by. She wanted to peek out the window to see where he’d gone. Maybe he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. Pleased with her quick thinking and fast footwork, she craned her neck to look for him.

Bullets peppered the side of the plane, penetrating the fuselage. She screamed and curled herself into a tight ball.

He fired again, narrowly missing her head.

Holding the gun in a tight grip, she squeezed off a couple of shots, estimating his location. She was afraid to keep firing, because she didn’t know how many bullets were in the chamber. For a moment, everything was silent.

Had she hit him?

Something slammed into the fuselage, jolting her sideways. A second later, the plane moved again. Its metal underbelly scraped along the jagged surface of the rock.

She gasped with terror as it dawned on her.

He was pushing her off the cliff.

* * *

S
AM
HAD
NO
intention of following Hope to Mist Falls.

None whatsoever.

A part of him wanted to go after her just because she’d told him not to. How dare she order him around at gunpoint? Although he knew she wouldn’t actually shoot him, he didn’t appreciate her intimidation tactics. Staring down the barrel made him feel like a little kid about to piss his pants. It was a hell of a power equalizer.

He should have tackled her when he had the chance. He could have used his superior strength to hold her down, keep her safe. She’d taken away his only opportunity to save her, and he resented her for it.

Seething with frustration, he stared down the path. He wasn’t going to chase her again. He refused to follow her into another ridiculously dangerous scenario. He was going to hike back to Kaweah, retreat from society and...free-solo until he felt numb.

Cursing, he scrubbed a hand down his face. That wasn’t healthy. This wasn’t healthy. Everything was so fucked up!

He knew he’d overreacted to her question about Melissa. Last night, he’d opened up to her about his head trauma, and she’d listened to him. She’d pointed out that he was running away from his problems, but she hadn’t been cold or uncaring. Then she’d shared her darkest secret with him, and he’d brushed it aside. He’d judged her and dismissed her pain.

He hadn’t reacted well to the confession about Dixon, either. Every time she gave him a part of herself, physically or emotionally, he shut her out. He thought he was doing it to protect Melissa’s memory. In reality, he was protecting himself.

Deep down, he’d always known there was something special about her. He’d recognized it the first time he saw her, but he hadn’t wanted a meaningful relationship. He had to heal himself before he could be with anyone else. Hope represented life, and change, and moving forward.

Over the past three days, he’d been in a constant state of anxiety. It finally dawned on him that his fears weren’t caused by triggers, or psychosis, or his tragic past. He was paralyzed with worry because he
cared
about her. She mattered more to him than recovery.

He’d sacrifice his last days with Melissa for a future with Hope.

The suspicion that he might never regain his memory had plagued him for two years. At this point, it seemed almost insignificant. If he lost Hope, he’d be devastated. Nothing else mattered.

He went after her.

Although he ran as fast as he could, leaping over boulders in his path, she had a good head start. He never caught up with her. When Mist Falls came into view, he veered off the trail and studied the area. There was a bolted line on the left side of the falls. Skirting around that expected route, he made his way to the other side, walking behind the curtain of water. He’d been cliff-diving here before and knew of an alternate ascent.

He climbed along the slippery rocks, using the cover of trees and shrubs. The crashing falls drowned out all sound. As he got close to the summit, a helicopter flew over. Sam searched the other side of the waterfall and found Hope. She was standing at the top with one of the drug smugglers. The man looked across the falls, directly above Sam. Hope nodded, and they headed toward the meadow beyond.

Sam couldn’t do anything to stop them. He hadn’t anticipated a helicopter. He’d assumed she would guide the drug smugglers to the stash on foot, and he’d have hours to find an opportunity to rescue her—not seconds.

He clung to a moss-covered wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. There was a clearing above him. Sam could slither back down the falls, take the dizzying jump to the pool below, or keep going up.

He kept going.

A small outcropping offered a number of handholds. He climbed over it and crawled behind a cluster of bushes, staying low. Near the summit, there was a woman sitting on a flat rock, her mouth gagged. She was bound at the wrists and ankles.

Faith.

She looked a lot like Hope. Slender, pretty, curly hair. She was blonde, and on the skinny side, more petite than her sister.

The man with her was the other smuggler from the cave. His clothes were wet. He held a gun in his right hand. Sam guessed he was about Owen’s age, but he had dark, shaggy hair and a bulkier frame.

While he watched, Faith made a mewling sound and gazed up at the young man, fluttering her lashes in distress. She tugged at her bonds imploringly, drawing his attention to her outthrust breasts. Clever girl.

Unfortunately, her captor didn’t fall for it. Flushing, he glanced away.

Sam’s instincts screamed to help Faith, but the drug smuggler was armed and dangerous. Interfering might put Hope at risk, as well. She’d probably agreed to their demands in exchange for her sister’s life.

He knew that Hope wouldn’t want him to leave Faith. She cared more about her sister’s safety than her own. And, once again, he didn’t have much choice. Angel Wings wasn’t far, but he couldn’t outrun a helicopter. Even if he left now, and speed-climbed the wall, he might be too late to reach Hope.

Saving Faith was a better option.

Sam’s pulse pounded as he deliberated an approach. The guy was about his size, but Sam had no experience in fisticuffs.

Faith rolled onto her side and arched her back, still trying to free her wrists. She couldn’t budge them, but she managed to jiggle her breasts and strike a provocative pose. Her efforts weren’t in vain. The guy was disturbed, and possibly tempted, by her machinations. He moved to the edge of the falls, turning his back on her.

It was now or never.

Sam was a loner, not a fighter, but he had a distinct advantage. He’d cliff-dived from this very spot.

Rising to his feet, he burst from the bushes and ran toward his target. The guy whirled around quickly, hearing him approach. He didn’t have time to step away from the falls or aim his weapon. Sam hurdled over Faith and tackled her captor. They sailed through the air in a tangle of arms and legs.

The blind drop was stomach-curling. While the drug smuggler flailed wildly, letting go of his weapon, Sam braced for impact. Seconds later, they hit the water with a cold shock. Their combined weight resulted in a harder slam and a deeper plunge.