Going Dark(31)

Cameron leaned forward into Thorn’s line of vision, one eyebrow cocked. “And when you committed to a cause, you saw it to the end, no matter the risks. If you believed in something, you were dogged, ruthless, stubborn to a fault. You’re passive by nature, but when the bugles sound, you can, if you choose, become a man of action. Is this accurate?”

“So this is a job interview?”

Cameron stared into Thorn’s eyes for a long moment, then huffed an exasperated sigh and rose and reset the cot he’d been sitting on, aligning it in its proper place beside the others. This hulk was not to be trifled with, and Thorn had been doing just that.

“All right, get up. I’ve heard enough. I’m done with you.”

Thorn pushed himself upright. The whirl in his gut had slowed, though his mind was foggy and his knees still soft. But the threat of Cameron Prince was reviving him fast.

“Outside,” Prince said.

Thorn pushed through the tent flap and stood for a moment while his eyes corrected to the harsh midday sunlight.

Prince prodded him midback, a solid thump. Onward. Not fucking around anymore.

As they walked, Thorn cut his eyes to the sides, searching for an avenue of escape. But the dense mangroves and wild shrubs looked impenetrable. He could probably outrun Prince, but where was there to go? Get to the beach, dive in, make it a race. But that wouldn’t last long. Thorn was a strong swimmer, but it was over a mile to the nearest land—no way he could outdistance a kayak.

There was the crowbar he’d buried in the sand. Close to the end of the trail. Lunge, scoop it up, swing for Prince’s skull. A slim hope. Something. All he had really. Sand in the eyes, that old ploy. Take out his knees, punt him in the nuts. Run back and locate Flynn and get the hell out of here.

When they reached the edge of the beach, Thorn noted the ruffled patch of marl where the length of steel was buried and primed himself for the lunge, waiting for a moment when Prince was off-balance. In his side vision he kept watch on Prince as they took the last few paces to the water’s edge, past the pry bar, two long steps away.

“Turn around and face me.”

Thorn did as told. Drawing a breath, staying loose-limbed, for that might be his only physical advantage with this cast-iron freak. Though he was beginning to believe his chances of surviving any hand-to-hand encounter with the giant were close to nil.

“Personally, I find you fatuous and inane. I don’t like you, Thorn. But what’s more important, I don’t trust you. I’ve met your type before. You’re an incorrigible maverick who’d make a highly undependable team member.”

“I’m crushed.”

“Okay, I know how I’m going to vote.” Prince spoke past Thorn to someone in the distance. “He’s all yours.”

Prince turned his massive back on Thorn and strode away.

Thorn swung around and watched her step from the shadowy warren of branches and vines about twenty feet down the narrow beach. She was tall and slender and her chestnut hair was still trimmed short. She wore faded jeans and a long-sleeved fishing shirt with mesh vents and lots of pockets.

She came slowly down the sandy strip until she was within arm’s length. As close as she’d been on his dock the last morning he’d seen her, that day when she’d brushed his cheek with the back of her hand and thanked him for teaching her those first simple lessons about the natural world.

“Jesus Christ.”

As she came closer, the light in the cove seemed to fade.

“You’re alive.”

“So far,” she said.

The rush of adrenaline he’d been surfing for the last half hour roared even louder in his bloodstream. “What the hell is going on, Leslie?”

She gave no sign she’d heard, just searched his eyes.

His lungs were thick, the air seemed starved of oxygen. He had a woozy impulse to reach out and touch Leslie’s flesh to see if she was an apparition.

Her eyes flicked past him, scanning the quiet cove, then returned to him and settled on his. As if she’d read his mind, she raised her hand to his temple and touched it lightly, then drew away. Yes, she was real.

“Are you ready for this, Thorn?”

“Ready?”

“I’d like to give you a chance.”

“To do what?”

“To save your life.”





THIRTEEN





SHE TOOK A SEAT NEARBY, close to where he’d recovered from his battle with the python. Thorn lowered himself to the sand a few feet away.

“Where’s Flynn? I want to see him.”

“He’s fine. Don’t worry.”

He was having trouble seeing the woman who sat beside him. The vulnerable waif who’d fished from Thorn’s dock seemed to hover just below the surface of the no-nonsense woman Leslie had become.