Chapter 41 #2
“You don’t believe I have the power in this situation, Lady Virginia. And that’s unfortunate.” Osborne stalked up to Noah, placed his foot on top of one crate, then kicked it out from under Noah’s feet.
Ginger gasped, stretching her free hand toward him.
Noah fell about a foot, his feet barely finding the next crate, which swayed precariously. Osborne’s men, panicked at Ginger’s sudden movement, fled. Sarah jolted, then stopped as Osborne pointed a gun at her.
The grenade, which had felt like safety, now kept Ginger from reaching for the gun at her own waist.
Noah’s arms had risen, tied behind him, just slightly above his head. His face strained, the position obviously already painful. Men rarely had the flexibility for that sort of movement. A further fall would do permanent damage to his arms.
“Now, when I kick out this next crate, the pain Colonel Benson will feel will be excruciating. His screams will fill these caves.” Osborne was sweating now, a sheen across his forehead.
Was he worried? “You can’t save them both, Lady Virginia.
Put the pin back in the grenade. Your hand has started to shake.
You can’t hold it much longer, can you? But with your hands free, you can try to help him once I flee with Mrs. Hanover. ”
“Don’t listen to him, Ginger. He’ll shoot you as soon as he has the opportunity.” Noah’s voice was tight, and he wheezed. His arms shook, the movement causing the crates beneath him to quiver and wobble.
Hold steady. Think. Despite the tightness of her chest, she managed a suffocated breath. He had to be bluffing.
Ginger gave Osborne a contemptuous glare. “No.”
“No?” Osborne’s eyes bulged.
She shook her head slowly. “Because I don’t believe you’ll shoot Mrs. Hanover.
We lied to you. That statue? It’s not Ramesses II.
You underestimated us, Mr. Osborne. And you still don’t know where that concession paperwork is.
Only she does. Shoot her, and you will never find it.
” She lifted the grenade. “Your men have abandoned you. And you still can’t kill me because you’ll die if you do. You’ve lost.”
Osborne blinked at her, his face darkening to a deep shade of red.
Stunned silence counted the seconds.
Then, with a yell, Osborne kicked the rest of the crates away. Sarah threw herself at Noah’s legs, catching them as he fell.
Osborne fled.
“Ginger, help me!” Sarah cried out. Her face was strained, blood vessels in her forehead bulging as she struggled to keep Noah from falling further.
Time seemed to slow as Ginger lifted her gaze at the darkened tunnel. Would Osborne come back? If she put the grenade down, he could overpower her, though she still had her gun.
If she didn’t put the grenade down, she couldn’t help Sarah.
Her left hand shook violently, both from the strain of holding the grenade and from the terror clawing at her as she tried to replace the pin.
One try—the pin slipped past the hole clumsily, metal scraping against metal.
Another attempt. The scraping of the head of the pin sounded like mockery.
Steady.
She pictured herself suturing a patient in a field, bombs screaming nearby.
Steady now.
The pin was safely in. Ginger thrust the grenade back into her bag, then turned toward Sarah.
The crates had broken with Osborne’s kick and lay smashed against a stone wall. Diving beside Sarah, Ginger wrapped her arms around Noah’s legs, helping Sarah support his weight as he dangled.
“Cut the rope,” Noah managed, writhing with pain. The tendons in his neck were taut, stretched as he ground his teeth, jaw clenched.
“I have a knife under my pant leg,” Sarah said to Ginger. “If I let go, can you hold him long enough for me to cut the rope?”
Ginger shook her head. There wasn’t any way she could hold Noah alone. She didn’t know how Sarah had managed it for so long. “Noah, I’m going to crouch underneath you. Put your feet on my shoulders.”
Noah couldn’t argue with her. Ginger stooped beneath him, and Sarah helped guide his feet to her shoulders. As Sarah released him, his weight crushed the tops of her shoulders, bruising her, digging deeply. She gritted her teeth, crying out despite her best efforts.
She could do this. She could hold him.
She would hold him until Sarah cut the rope.
Sarah was behind her, where Ginger couldn’t see. She heard the sawing of the blade against the rope and she prayed.
Hurry, Sarah, please hurry.
She could do this.
The pain in her shoulders was blinding. She struggled for breath, trying to concentrate, seconds turning to minutes.
Noah breathed with equal strain.
She had to do this for him.
“I’m nearly there,” Sarah called out. “When I get to three, let him go, Ginger. Or he’ll fall on top of you. One … two … three!”
Ginger dove out from under Noah. He fell, free of the rope, landing on her legs and pinning her down. Her hips slammed into the stone, bruising painfully, and she cried out, gasping.
But he was free.
Noah rolled off her, and she crawled to him where he lay, his chest heaving. His face was streaked with sweat and grime. His body shook, and she kissed his lips gently. “Thank God,” she whispered, unable to hold the tears back now.
Sarah helped Noah cut the rope from his wrists. He sat, stretching his shoulders, his face marked with pain. He took Ginger’s face in his hands, then kissed her again. “I love you,” he said.
She returned his kiss, her heart still constricted by the fear she’d had for him. He was safe. He’s safe.
A gunshot rang out in the distance and they all looked up.
Osborne?
Ginger handed her gun to Noah. Even if his arms hurt, he was still likely to be a better shot than her. “What just happened?” Noah managed, his voice tight.
“We’ll explain the whole thing later.” Sarah grinned. “But, really, it was your wife who thought up the entire plan.”
Ginger felt too numb with the events she’d witnessed to feel any pleasure in the plan having worked. She never wanted to see Noah like that again. She gave him a wan smile. “It wasn’t the best plan.”
“Don’t be modest. As you Brits say—it was ‘bloody’ brilliant.” Sarah winked, then lifted an oil lamp as footsteps approached.
Ginger reached into her bag for the grenade again, trying to prepare herself for another confrontation.
As a figure came closer, her eyes widened. Jack.
Jack held a gun. “Am I late?” His voice was hoarse, and he still looked as sick as when they’d left him.
He scratched his fingertips over his chest. “I … uh … killed Osborne. Near the entrance. You can thank me later.” As though feeling a sudden wave of malaise, he reached out blindly toward the stone wall beside him, steadying himself.
Ginger’s mouth dropped open. She exchanged an astonished look with Noah.
She didn’t know what shocked her more: the news he had killed Osborne or the fact that he was here.
She rose to her feet, and unexpected laughter bubbled up and choked her throat. Tears stung her eyes.
Osborne could never threaten them again.
“Jack Darby, I’ve never been happier to see you in my life.”