Kidnapped Hearts (29 page)

Were they using her to bait him or
someone else? Nicholas Wine was dead. Maybe word hadn’t gotten back to the
Black Scorpions yet. Did they think Pamela had the bonds? She didn’t. The
pieces of paper were now the property of the United States Government.

Not having definite answers to any of
those questions, there was one thing he knew for sure: the gang wanted
The Warrior
dead. Jake was ready to kick
ass.

He heard voices in the distance, but the
idiots hadn’t seen the fire yet. If they waited too much longer to stumble into
his trap, he’d have to feed the fire by coming out of hiding. Not a good idea.

His throat was scratchy. Not having any
fresh water, he popped a couple blackberries into his mouth.

Was Sanjar still the mastermind pushing
the Scorpions to kill
The Warrior
?
Jake sniggered. The Scorpions didn’t need any push in that area. He had
single-handedly executed their leader. They would slay him at all costs. Thanks
to Lever’s betrayal, Sanjar told the gangsters exactly who he was.
Lever, the fucking coward.

And what about Jameson? The picture Larry
had shown him of Wine’s partner flashed in his mind. The ring-wearing dipshit
had a cold calculating gleam in his eyes, but still was yellow-bellied enough
to have the ruthless gang do his dirty work.

Jake grabbed a few rocks and climbed a
nearby tree to get a better look.

So, why did Jameson turn to Sanjar? For
more limelight as they had speculated previously? Jake scratched his chin.
Was the man really that fucked up?

Excited voices grew near.
They’d found the fire
. In the shadows of
the moonlight sky six feet above the ground, he waited.

Two men, machine guns at their sides,
circled the campfire. If only he had a working gun, they both would be lying
face down in the sand. He tossed a rock into the woods behind the vine he’d
stretched between the two trees.

Bullets peppered the area near him, and
the thugs ran forward, right into the vine. Coughing and sputtering they fell
backwards, releasing their hold on the guns. Jake dropped from the tree, picked
up a few spears, and shifted forward.

Neither one was moving.

Something hit his back. Pain pierced his
body. Jake collapsed face first on top of a Scorpion.

“
The
Warrior
is alive and well, I see.”

He couldn’t see him, but he knew that
accent.
Sanjar
. Damn, this was not
how he pictured this going down.

The Scorpion that cushioned his fall slid
out from under him and got to his feet. The man came into his Jake’s line of
vision and reached for his machine gun.

“Little late for that now,” Sanjar
barked. “If I hadn’t shown up, one man would have done you in like a boy scout.
You’re a waste of my time.”

The report of a gun sounded, then a body
slumped next to him. Another shot fired, the body next to Jake flinched. Jake
waited for the next shot.

“
The
Warrior,
or should I call you Agent Jake Gibson?”

Jake swallowed. Damn, he couldn’t just
lie here. He had to fight back, but his brain couldn’t make his body move. He
was forced into the sand, yet he couldn’t feel a thing.

“Let me get the spear out for you.”

“Damn you to hell, Sanjar!”

“Ah, I see you haven’t lost control of
your voice like you have your body.” The spear snapped.

“Sanjar, Big Dog, yo wat me to bump off
the copper?”

Jake was forced onto his back.

The sound of a motor drew near.

Sanjar crouched next to him. “I only
regret that I won’t have the opportunity to watch you die a slow and agonizing
death.” He straightened. “Take care of him.”

Bullets peppered the trees. He heard a
thump and the sound of feet scurrying away.

The motor turned off. It had to be Steve.
He had to get to the boat, had to get to Pamela. Damn, his body wouldn’t move.
The spear had to be pressing against his spinal column. His fingers felt numb.
Son of a bitch
. He couldn’t die.

Her
sedate smile shone at him. He knew that look. Seen it a few times and had plans
on seeing it a hell of a lot more. She touched his shoulder, his neck.

His body rocked.

She
threw her head back and yelled, “Jake!” It could only have been in the throes
of passion, but his body was numb. He saw her sitting on top of him, her breast
bouncing, yet he couldn’t feel her, taste her.

“Get your no-count ass up!”

The vision faded with the deep voice.

“Jake, do you hear me? Get the fuck up!”

His eyes popped open. Larry and Steve
stared down at him. “I hear your sorry asses.”

“Can you get up?” Steve asked with a hand
on his arm.

“Don’t think so. I have a spear in my
back.”

“Then why are you lying on it?” Larry
flipped him over. “How did you break it off?”

Jake groaned. “Not me. That would be
Sanjar’s parting gift.”

Steve huffed. “You got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was. They’ve got Pamela.”

“Send a has-been to do a man’s job.”
Steve straightened and glared at Larry. “I can’t believe you had him watching
her. He can’t even keep his dick in his pants. That’s the sign of going soft.”

Larry stood, standing toe to toe with
Steve. “Agent
Anderson
,
keep your emotions out of this situation. If you don’t, you’re no better than
Agent Gibson.”

“You mean Mister Gibson.”

Larry shoved Steve backwards. “Blast it!
I don’t give a rat’s ass if I am five inches shorter than you.” He closed the
gap. “Obey my command, or we’ll go for it right here while Pamela is out there
with one of the worst monsters the
US
has ever seen.”

Steve wiped the spit off his face. “Yes,
sir.”

“And you damn well know, no matter what
Jake may or may not be doing with Pamela, he would never jeopardize her!”

Good
ole Larry, he always had his back.

Hands on his hips, Steve glared at Jake
then back at Larry. “Christ, I know.” Steve sidestepped a red-faced Larry and
approached Jake. “Come on, let’s get your sorry mug out of here and find
Pamela.”

With Larry’s help, they heaved Jake over
Steve’s shoulder and swiftly moved to the boat. “I’ve got to take the wood
out,” Steve said, laying Jake flat on his stomach, then turning on his
headlamp.

“Why can’t I move?”

Larry moved behind the wheel and steered
the boat away from shore. A hundred yards out, the boat lights flicked on, and
Larry opened up the motor. “We’ll head to the marina.”

Steve ripped Jake’s shirt up the back,
then slid his fingers over Jake’s neck and shoulders, nowhere near the spear.

“No, they’ll be looking there. Head to
the lighthouse,” Jake said.

“Which one?” Larry asked.

“Found it.” Steve pulled something out of
Jake’s neck and held it up. Immediately, the movement in Jake’s body returned,
but pain blasted its way through his body. “Put it back.”

Steve chuckled. “You had a dart in your
neck.”

“No wonder I couldn’t move.”

“Lie still, time to get the spear.”

“You should have removed the spear
first.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice was laced with
humor.

“What lighthouse?” Larry asked again.

“The one that was just sold on eBay.”
Jake grimaced.

“How do you know?” Steve moved his knife
around the wound.

Jake bared his teeth, trying to ignore
the sharp blade in his back. “Gut feeling.”

“Did that gut feeling get this stick in
your back?”

Jake’s jaw tightened and the pulse in his
next ticked. “Bite me, Steve.”

Steve snickered. If the damn thing didn’t
hurt so badly he’d have laughed too.

“Got it.” Steve held up the piece of wood.
“Lie there.”

Man, he hoped he got it all. As soon as
the case was over, he’d see a doctor. “You’ve got the bag of tricks?”

“Yes.”

“Mine wasn’t waterproof. Lost the gun
when the bag went for a swim.”

“No wonder Sanjar got the upper hand on
you.” Steve splashed liquid on his back.

“Son of a bitch, that burns.”

Steve bandaged the area. “The wound is
pretty superficial, considering. That damn dart is what did a number on you.”

Jake stood, and Steve tossed him another
black shirt. He was tender, but he could move.

“Let’s put an end to this case,” Larry
said, stalling the boat a couple hundred yards out while Steve pulled another
duffle out from a cubbyhole.

Jake looked inside the bag. The headlamp
he put on lit up the contents. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

It was like finding gold at the end of a
rainbow, seeing the arsenal and gear in the bag, everything from guns to
wetsuits. The weapons would be useful, but he planned to use his bare hands to
beat the shit out of Sanjar.

“Jake, I got something for you.” Steve
held up a syringe.

“Load it up.” He gave Steve his back and
felt a pinch, then another.

“This stuff doesn’t last long. You should
be able to get through whatever physical demands are warranted without pain.”

“I’ve got my own private medic.” Jake
chuckled.

They slipped on their second skins and
snatched up their rucksacks. Guns, grenades, and miscellaneous items were
stuffed inside them.

By the time the men had suited up with
their gear, they looked like
Rambo
times three.

“Jake, you never said, how do you know
she’s at the lighthouse?” Steve asked.

“As
The
Warrior
, I was privy to Sanjar’s decision about using abandoned lighthouses
in the
Chesapeake Bay
. He had an interest in
this one in particular.” Jake wrapped a bandana with crossbones around his
head, completing the ensemble. “Let’s roll.”

One by one, they slipped into the bay
without a ripple and swam under the liquid blanket toward the slightly tilted
steel structure, standing firm in the waves. Ten feet out, they emerged and
gazed at the circular lighthouse, covered with mold. Jake took in the rusty
building, looking from the galley deck, past the lone window to the top of the
thirty-foot plus lighthouse. The watch room was located on the roof. Another
walkway encompassed it, the widow’s walk. A rusty railing separated the walkway
from the chance of falling into the water below. They had two platforms to use.
Unfortunately, with the deteriorated condition, it’d probably have several
holes. If his memory served him, the water surrounding the lighthouse was only
ten foot deep.

Larry and Steve gathered around him.

“She could be in the living quarters,”
Larry suggested.

The three divided, one to the left,
another to the right, and Jake swam to the front. He removed the coil of rope
he’d draped over his arm, tied a loop on one end, then tossed it to the galley.
He tugged until the loop caught on the edge. When he reached the top, Steve
gave him a hand, helping him to the platform while Larry stood guard, his gun
ready at his side.

“You should have been the one to take the
easy route. Stairs worked great,” Steve said, sarcasm in his voice.

“Too easy.” His brain wasn’t operating at
full capacity. His heart and mind were with Pamela. In order to rescue the
woman he obsessed over, he’d better regain his no nonsense approach. Jake
gathered his rope and tossed it twenty feet to the widow’s peak railing. He
missed. Rewrapping the rope, he tossed it again. This time, it hooked.
Hopefully, it would hold.

“I’ll go,” Steve offered, attempting to
grab the rope.

“Stand down, agent,” Jake barked.

Steve held up his hands and walked in the
opposite direction, disappearing. Larry had vanished around the lighthouse as
well. Jake retrieved his holster and a gun from his pack, strapped them around
his waist, then scaled the rope to the next platform. The lighthouse rocked as
he threw his leg over the railing. He tightened his grip and held on. It
leveled, and he slid his leg onto the floor of the widow’s peak. From here, he
could see for miles in the moonlit sky. A quick peek in the watch room, then he
turned the knob on the door leading to the lower level. It didn’t move.

Light footsteps sounded behind him. He
turned on his heels, gun at the ready. Steve and Larry faced him.

“Damn doors are sealed,” Larry said,
tugging on the door in front of Jake.

“I’ll enter through a window.” Jake
pulled a harness from his rucksack. After slipping it on, he clipped one end of
the rope to himself and gave Steve the other end to knot on the railing that
encircled the widow’s peak. After he lowered, Steve would follow and Larry
would maintain watch.