Chapter 20
Natalie jerked awake and knocked her head against a hard wall.
Holding her breath until the pain subsided, she realized everything around her rumbled.
It took a moment to realize it was the vibration of a boat engine.
She was chilled, her damp dress and hair sticking to her skin.
Faint light filtered through a porthole and she found herself in a galley.
The lights were out but she could see the cabinets were glossy wood with high-end finishes and well cared for.
How in the world had she wound up here?
With an effort, she tried to remember something. She’d been at the Hideaway, then taken herself to the marina. She remembered talking to Bryce and then…
Royer. That red kayak. And Corey.
Royer had grabbed her. Dumped her in the water.
She’d struggled against him, but clearly not well enough.
However he’d gotten her here, she wasn’t about to stick around.
Pushing to her feet, she was tossed against the table as the boat sped up, the bow lifting and falling over the chop.
Already out on open water? No, no, no. She had to get out of here before she was too far from shore.
Whoever was at the helm, they were pushing the vessel pretty hard.
It was enough to make her seasick down here.
She pressed a hand to her belly and crept toward the stairs.
The hatch was closed, hopefully not locked.
No one had bothered to tie her up, so apparently, they didn’t consider her a threat. She would use that to her advantage.
She looked around for an emergency radio or a weapon of any kind. She searched as quietly as possible, considering the boat heaved up and down like some furious bucking bull. Whoever dumped her down here probably believed she’d get knocked around and concussed.
They were very nearly right. But Natalie found a knife, one that felt good in her hands, and then she searched for a radio. As well-appointed as this boat appeared to be, she was sure there was more than one.
It didn’t take her long to find the device. She had no way of knowing what channel her captors might be using, but she had to try. Even if they were monitoring the emergency channel, she had the knife now to defend herself.
She paused to gather her thoughts. She might only get one chance to call for help. “Mayday, mayday.” She gave Brookwell Island as her original location, along with her name. “I’ve been kidnapped. Held in this vessel. Mayday, mayday.”
She paused, listening first for any response overhead. No sounds of panic came back and there was no immediate reply on the radio, so she repeated her message. Then she activated the SOS beacon option. With any luck, someone would be close enough to come looking.
Now she had to decide next steps. Did she want to just get out of here?
It would be easier to choose if she could be certain how many people were between her and freedom.
Royer, possibly Corey. And there were likely others.
Trent mentioned Royer had a crew and he couldn’t have been piloting this boat and attacking her at the same time.
She tried to judge the speed of the boat, worrying that if she waited too much longer she’d be too far away from the island. They clearly hadn’t taken her out through the marina or somebody would have sounded the alarm already.
Then again, maybe they had left the area without any trouble. Corey had been standing between her and the park, blocking the view. Maybe he’d convinced folks nothing was wrong. If so, she’d better help herself by being a problem captive.
Confirming that the SOS was on repeat, she started for the stairs, only to have the door at the top blow open as a man came barreling down.
His tanned, leathery skin showed the evidence of years of exposure to sun and wind.
With his wide stance, he rode the pitching boat with an ease that came from decades of experience on the water.
He swore when he saw her. She tried to scoot out of his reach, futile really in the tight quarters. Either he hadn’t seen the knife or didn’t care. But she raised it now. “Back up. I’m leaving.”
“Like hell, little girl. Sit down and shut up!” he shouted. “You’re making a whole mess.”
“I didn’t come voluntarily. But I’m leaving now.”
On an oath, he lunged for the knife. She brought the weapon up and heard him screech as the blade sliced his arm. It was a sickening feeling. And the smell. Ugh. She did her best to blot out the scent of blood in the air. “Let me go. I’ll swim back.”
He laughed at her and lunged again. This time she spun out of reach and raced for the steps.
He caught her at the waist and hauled her back.
She kicked with everything she had and tried to stab whatever body part she could reach with the knife.
The blade landed a few times, though he barely reacted.
But she wasn’t ready to give up. Wriggling, she threw an elbow back and somehow connected with his ear.
The moment his grip relaxed she bolted. Scrambling to get away, she managed to get to her feet.
She was halfway up the stairs when he caught her ankle.
She tripped, but just for a second. She clawed her way up to the deck, determined to get off this boat.
She could swim. Lakes, pools, and open water.
It didn’t matter. She was far less afraid of the ocean than this man and anyone else on this boat.
Breaking out into the sunny afternoon, she discovered Brookwell Island was still in view. If she took her time and swam with the current… Her odds were excellent.
It didn’t matter if her odds sucked. Anything was better than staying here as a hostage.
With her eyes on the island, she leaped up on the gunwale, only to get caught.
Her feet went out from under her and she slammed down hard on the deck, landing on her hip and her elbow.
The wind was knocked out of her, but the pain hadn’t set in yet. She didn’t have time to wallow.
Looking up, she saw Royer sneering at her. Kicking at his face, she managed to create some distance. She wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.
“Natalie, down!”
Trent’s voice sliced through her fear and desperation. She dropped flat to the deck and pressed herself into the side of the boat, trying to get as small as possible. She covered her head with her hands and willed it to be over soon.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, and every breath she took seemed to be laced with needles. Didn’t matter. She was alive and Trent was here. It would be okay.
It had to be okay.
A jumble of voices shouted all around her, followed by a spate of gunfire. And then things got quieter. The boat shifted, listing. Taking on water. She couldn’t hear it. Could only feel it.
“Natalie, you can get up now.”
A warm hand rested on her shoulder. But it wasn’t Trent’s touch.
“We’ve got to go. Do you need help?” She blinked, focusing on the face in front of her, instead of the carnage that probably surrounded her. She recognized Boone Reynolds from around town, husband of Nina, who owned the flower shop across the street from the gallery.
“Hi.”
“There you are.” His smile was different. Tense. “Trent’s waiting.”
That news cut through the aches and pains that seemed to hold her entire body like a vise.
Boone helped her to her feet and guided her into a rescue boat. Fire Chief Miller was at the wheel. But she didn’t see Trent. A paramedic settled her on the nearest bench and wrapped a blanket around her. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” she admitted, craning for any glimpse of Trent.
“Okay, let’s sort that out.” He asked her questions about any injuries while she continued to scour the scene for Trent.
She was so sure that had been his voice. And then she spotted him. He was on the boat with the crew that kidnapped her. He looked like a warrior from another era with the sun casting gold highlights through his windblown hair, his wide stance powerful despite the boat sinking beneath him.
“What about them?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, they’ve got it under control.” The paramedic tipped his head toward another boat she’d completely overlooked. “Hang on. This will sting a little.”
She hissed at the sensation as he blotted at something on her cheek. She hadn’t even known she’d cut herself. Through it all, he kept asking about her health until the Brookwell Island Police Department’s Lieutenant Frasier joined them.
Dazed, she answered his questions to the best of her ability.
Telling him how Royer surprised her on the dock and dragged her underwater.
“I should’ve fought more. Must’ve blacked out.
Too afraid,” she said, ashamed. “When I came around, I was down in the galley.” She twisted back toward the boat the authorities were trying to keep afloat but she didn’t see Trent anywhere. “Where’s Trent?”
The paramedic exchanged a look with Frasier. “What’s that about?” Natalie demanded, though her voice sounded weak. “Where is he?”
The paramedic carefully moved her hand and examined her neck. “Here, Lieutenant.”
Natalie twisted trying to see what they were talking about. The muscles at the base of her neck were tight and painful. “What’s going on?”
“You didn’t black out due to fright. Natalie,” Frasier explained. He sounded so much like her dad in professional-mode she wanted to cry. “You were drugged. We need to get you over to the clinic.”
“No!” She wanted Trent more than anyone else. “No, seriously, I feel okay.”
“Seriously,” Frasier echoed. “You look like a woman who has been kidnapped and terrorized. We have evidence here that you were injected with something. Probably a sedative.”
A chill rattled through her. “Okay. I’ll go to the clinic first.” And then she’d find Trent.
“Thank you. We’ll all feel better once you’re checked out.” He patted her shoulder. “Take a breather and rest up. I know where to find you.”
She hoped the same held true for Trent. He was the only person she wanted to talk to. “Lieutenant, is Trent okay? I heard gunshots.” And though she’d seen him looking stern and strong, she wanted confirmation. What if that was just the drugs in our system helping her see what she wanted to see?
“He is.” Lieutenant Frasier nodded. “He led this takedown and rescue like the expert he is.”
“Good.” She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. He was okay. Safe. His case was over.
“You don’t mind if I tell your sisters to meet you at the clinic?”
She’d forgotten about her sisters and now guilt piled on top of everything else she was feeling. “That’s fine, thanks.”
The lieutenant’s voice was a pleasant backdrop as he filled in her sisters. The paramedic went out of his way to make her comfortable as Chief Miller piloted the boat back to the marina. It was all strangely muted, as if she was seeing it all from behind a fog bank.
At the dock, they didn’t let her take a step on her own.
It was hard to be annoyed considering how sore she was.
Her left hip and elbow were just nothing but a big ball of ache.
And it still hurt to breathe. They secured her into a transport chair and moved her swiftly to a waiting ambulance that wailed the entire way to the island clinic.
At the clinic, the doctor on call did an immediate assessment and insisted on transporting her to Charleston. Though she protested to the best of her ability, both of her sisters and the doctor overrode her.
Roni leaned down and gave her a hug. “It’s okay. We’ll tell Trent where to find you.”
“Thanks.” Tears welled up and leaked down her face. She wanted to see him so badly. Needed to verify with her own eyes that he was okay.
The trauma team at the hospital ran test after test, quizzing her incessantly about the whole mess until exhaustion finally took her under.
Sometime later, it was dark when she roused enough to recognize Trent sitting beside her bed. “Hey,” she croaked.
“There’s my girl.”
Those three words, in his mellow voice, warmed her straight through. She tried to smile, but her face felt weird. “Are you okay?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” he said.
“I’m feeling better. I think? Do they have me on something?”
“Oh, yeah, they do.” He took her hand and gave her a smile. “You’re on the good stuff. Don’t worry about anything but feeling better. You’ve got a couple of cracked ribs to go along with your busted cheek and some serious bruises.”
“Great.” No wonder she felt terrible. Surely, she looked worse, but she had more pressing concerns. “Did you get hurt?”
“No, honey. I’m so sorry they used you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I want to arrest them all over again for hurting you like this.”
“It’s not that bad.” A small fib. “Did you solve the case? Is it over?”
“Mostly yes. We made a big dent in it today, that’s for sure.” He smoothed the hair back from her forehead. Helped her sip a little water. And then he kissed her on the cheek that wasn’t busted up. “You rest up,” he said.
“You’re leaving?” She heard the panic in her voice.
So did he. “Easy, Natalie. I’m not going anywhere right now.”
“Okay.” But even in her compromised state, she realized he hadn’t given her any indication that he was staying.
Of course, he had things to do, and it was selfish to want him to give all of that up to stay with her.
“Thanks for being here,” she murmured. She had now, and she’d promised herself it would be enough.
Holding his hand tightly, she let herself doze off again.