Deadly Games Read online

  He lowered her into the small canoe while Desi held it steady. “Hang on to me as you put one foot in…now crouch down, grab the gunwale and transfer your weight before putting the other foot in.”

  She did as he instructed, without mishap, thank God. The sun, straight up and broiling hot, beat down on her unprotected head. Without a word, Sam leaned over and withdrew a black ball cap from one of his packs and placed it on her head.

  The boat barely seemed big enough to hold three adults and Sam’s heavy packs.

  Sam flung a leg into the boat and shot her a smile as he carefully lowered himself behind her. “We’re going to get out of here in one piece. I promise.”

  First the hat, now he knew how scared she was. “Are you a mind reader?” she asked over her shoulder as she adjusted the cap to better shield her eyes.

  “I’m a student of Dr. Elizabeth Bennett Goodall. Okay, Desi. Let’s get the party started.” The two men started paddling in slow easy strokes that took them out to the middle of the river.

  Her heart did a little zig-zag at Sam’s response. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Purple.”

  “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Same as yours. Italian.”

  “Favorite ice cream?”

  “Vanilla. Yours is Rocky Road. Keep to the middle of the river, Desi. Better chance of being seen, but less chance of encountering most of the wildlife. Watch out for hippos.” Elizabeth presumed he was talking to her and not their guide. “They’re vicious and fast. And don’t put your hands anywhere near the water. Snakes and crocs.”

  “I didn’t even want to put my hands in the Thames when Kess and I went on that river cruise last year. Believe me, I’ll keep my hands to myself. This water looks alive with every known parasite and creepy-crawly known to man.” She wasn’t sure which was scarier, the critters she could see or those she couldn’t.

  “Can you swim?”

  “I’m not getting in the water.”

  “Brace your feet on the sides and bring your paddles in and lock them. There’s white water ahead.”

  “White water?”

  “Rapids.”

  “That was rhetori—” Her words cut off with a scream as the small, narrow pirogue slewed sideways in a froth of white water. She grabbed the gunwale with both hands and braced her feet as best she could. Hadn’t she been the one craving adventure? The adrenaline spike was pure fear.

  “Dig deep and hold on!” Sam yelled over the scaling thunder of the water. The boat pitched sideways, going down at a steep angle. “Forward paddle—hard!”

  The men’s oars weren’t in the water because they were riding on air. It was electrifying. Terrifying, but heart-thumping exhilarating. Elizabeth hung on for dear life, and lifted her face to the diamonds of spray jettisoning around her. If she was going to die, she was going down with a fight.

  The boat came down with a bone-jarring thump. Trees and bushes went by in a blur of greens and browns as they shot downstream, slewing sideways, bumping and jostling as the unruly water tossed them from level to level in untidy increments. Down the rapids almost on their nose, then jolting them backwards until she was practically in Sam’s lap.

  “Hang on. There’s more,” he shouted.

  Elizabeth noticed. There was more white water, all right. Lots more. The water frothed high over the sides of the pirogue, drenching them all. Maybe instead of being exhilarated she should be praying. She tried it, but her breath caught as they glanced off a submerged rock and literally went flying. Down, down, down, over the rocks and debris that swirled and tumbled down a series of cataracts.

  “Hold on! Hold on!”

  Thump, slam. Into a flume where the water raced around a sharp bend, then dropped seven or eight feet over a ledge. Elizabeth’s breath caught, and her heart stayed in her throat as the boat tipped and swayed with the force of the thrashing, churning water tossing them around like a child’s toy.

  She was too scared to close her eyes, and too terrified not to. This made the roller-coaster rides she’d taken as a kid pale into insignificance.

  They landed with a bone-jarring skid, then slid backwards over a short drop.

  “Catch your breath,” Sam told her when they seemed to have dropped into a pool of calm below the rapids. The little boat bobbed a bit, then glided through the water. “You’ve got about ten minutes before we hit the next set.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Enough adventure for you, sweetheart?”

  Elizabeth turned her head to smile at him through the water dripping from her hat brim and off her lashes. “It’s freaking terrifying. But I’ll remember this for the rest of my life. How did you make it upstream?”

  “Pottage—Ah, shit. Desi, haul ass. Now! Go. Go. Go!”

  Elisabeth’s heart leapt into her throat again. Now what? She spun around to face front. “What—Oh, my God.”

  Thadiwe’s soldiers, guns pointing right at them, lined the banks. The three of them in the boat were sitting ducks.

  CHAPTER NINE - TROPICAL HEAT

  “Kneeling, Sam paddled as fast as he could. In the front of the pirogue, Desi’s hands and arms glistened, a chocolate-colored blur as he dug his oars into the water, pulling the boat with him. Thadiwe’s men were firing round after round. Thousands of birds, in hundreds of species, were catapulted out of the trees by the noise. Squawking and crying out, they flew in a tidal wave of multicolored beating wings up into the sunbaked air.

  Sam felt a burn zing across his upper arm. It didn’t slice through the LockOut, but he felt the sting. Ignore it. Pull. Pull. Pull. “Beth. Get down. Lower, damn it.” Bullets crisscrossed overhead, cutting through the water, or ricocheting off nearby rocks. Beth’s cap went spinning over the side, and Sam’s heart fucking stopped in his chest. “Beth?”

  She was bent over, her head on her knees. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she shouted, her voice muffled.

  Thadiwe’s men had chosen well. The river not only curved blindly right after the rapids, it also narrowed to just a few hundred feet wide. It would then be impossible to miss the boat or its occupants. To return fire, Sam would have to stop rowing. Right now he wasn’t stopping for anything, or anyone. Speed was going to save their asses. Speed. And luck.

  The soldiers were running downstream, trying to keep parallel. Fortunately the bank was littered with thick vegetation and it wasn’t a smooth run. But it was damn well impossible to dodge that many bullets.

  The pirogue swept under a low-hanging branch where a leopard was sunning itself, its amber-spotted body sleek and lethally beautiful. The cat raised its magnificent head, and its muscles flexed beneath its glossy fur as the boat flew beneath the branch. “Stay where you are, Spot,” Sam warned. That’s all they needed: a pissed-off cat in the boat with them.

  “Take it, Desi,” Sam yelled, waiting for Desi to adjust his strokes to make allowances for Sam taking his hands off the oars. The second Desi was rowing on his own, Sam pulled out the MP5 and returned a blast of fire. Two men went down, splashing into the water. Eight hundred rounds a minute had a lot of stopping power.

  He chambered another 9×19mm Parabellum ammunition cartridge. Thirty rounds left a lot of holes. He was counting on it. The roller-delayed blowback mechanism of the weapon fired from a closed-bolt position. When the trigger was pulled, the bolt was already locked forward against the cartridge, which reduced the amount of mechanical movement, improving accuracy. And Sam needed every advantage he could get.

  He got another man in midair, as the guy tried to vault over a log. Two more who’d chosen wading in the thigh-deep water lapping the shore rather than the obstacle race that was the bank. Sam got them both in one sweep.

  He saw the alternate view of the leopard’s tail or head or streamlined body as it ran behind the soldiers, stealthy and well hidden in the brush. It was keeping well back, but hauling ass, ready to pounce should a man fall behind.

  Sam knew they had maybe a minute or three before the next set of rapids. No
t as steep as the first, but navigation would require both his strength and concentration. The river narrowed substantially right there, and the drop was perhaps twelve feet in a hundred-yard stretch. There wasn’t a chance in hell the soldiers would miss them at that range. Sam’s heart raced with anticipation as bullets strafed the water beside the boat. Several hit above water, striking the pirogue but missing them by fractions of an inch.

  “What can I do?” Beth shouted, still doubled over.

  “Nothing!” Jesus. She was enough of a target as it was. He didn’t want her sitting up to take stock of the situation. “Stay down!” He returned fire. Got another raze on his shoulder, hurt like hell, but again, didn’t cut through the LockOut. The bullet hit the inside of the boat, inches from Beth’s back, making Sam’s heart leap into his throat and lodge there.

  A small chunk of wood flew off, hitting him just above his eye. Blood trickled down his face, blinding him to the left. Shit. He wiped his face on his shoulder, then fired into a group of four men clustered on a jut of land just ahead. The soldiers went down like bowling pins.

  A four-course meal for the giant croc that had slipped into the water a few feet away on their arrival and now turned back in a lash of tail and jaws to collect.

  Sam saw Thadiwe immediately. The tango towered over his soldiers by a good eight inches and stood, legs spread, arms akimbo, as his men aimed their weapons at the approaching boat.

  Sam shifted the submachine gun, centering the sight between Thadiwe’s close-set eyes. “Here’s that facial reconstruction you wanted so badly, asshole.”

  Thadiwe’s head exploded like a watermelon.

  Excellent. Saved Sam a return trip.

  The soldiers leaped into action as another croc whipped its head around as the man’s body crashed into the tall reeds, half in, half out of the muddy water. The white spume flung up by the croc’s frenzy turned crimson as he dragged the tango deeper into the water.

  The soldiers tried to make up for their inattention by firing off a barrage of bullets willy-nilly. Their enthusiasm was admirable, but their aim sucked, even at this close range. Most of the bullets missed their target by several feet. Sam happened to glance in Desi’s direction as a bullet sliced through the man’s upper thigh. The injury was deep, and bled. A lot. The other man faltered for a moment, then attacked the water with his oars like a man possessed as the soldiers gauged the target better and started narrowing the gap between hits and misses.

  Elizabeth smelled the familiar metallic scent of blood over the fruity/muddy smell of the river. Sam. She lifted her head just enough to see that it was Desi who’d taken a hit. He was rowing like a madman. The oars sliced through the water, sending up sprays and droplets that sparkled in the sunlight. On either side of the river, men in uniform were running as they fired their weapons. The noise was horrendous. The soldiers shouting, animals screaming, the thrash of the narrow boat moving rapidly through the choppy water. And birds. Flying about wildly, their cries adding to the cacophony.

  None of that mattered to Beth right then. Desi’s wound was life-threatening. He was losing too much blood, way too fast. She grabbed the smallest of Sam’s packs, which rested between her feet.

  “Stay down, for God’s sake.”

  “Desi’s been hit. What do you have in here that I can use—Ah. Thank God.” Sam’s kit contained a new device she’d only read about. A “Wound Bullet.” An ingenious closure device.

  Hauling the pack with her, Elizabeth scooted on her butt toward Desi. The boat rocked, and all of them yelled out at the same time. She felt for the distal pulse at Desi’s ankle. Weak. But he reacted at her touch, which was good. His skin was warm. Also good.

  While she knew it must hurt like blue blazes, it was an uncomplicated wound. No major arterial or bone damage. But his leg looked like minced meat. She’d never used a Wound Bullet, but she’d read the articles in AMA.

  “Beth, get your ass back here and stay down.”

  “In a minute.” She wasn’t about to take cover while Desi was losing blood just two feet away from her.

  “Now, God damn it!”

  Staying as low as she could, Elizabeth quickly swabbed the wound as she tried to remember everything she’d read about the mechanism she was about to use. The closure device consisted of a metal shaft within a cylinder through which standard sutures were threaded. “Okay. Let’s see how this thing works.”

  She understood the basic principle. Brilliant, really. By turning the internal shaft with the use of a simple tool, Elizabeth inserted it into the wound and applied tension to the surrounding tissue. She maintained the pressure by periodically tightening the sutures. Because the tension was evenly distributed, approximation smoothly followed the natural contour of Desi’s leg. The gaping, bloody wound slowly closed. Wow. Sam had some very cool toys. Blocking out the noise, she pretended that bullets weren’t flying around them. Finding a pressure dressing, she covered the incision as best she could; his leg was wet, and she had nothing to dry it with.

  “He’ll live,” Sam yelled, sounding seriously pissed. “Get your head down. Now.”

  Okay. Okay. She got her head down.

  “Rapids coming up,” he said, almost redundantly since the little boat was slewing and bouncing and boomeranging off rocks and the water was frothing, splashing around them. “Hold on,” he added also unnecessarily as Elizabeth rose independently of the boat, then landed on her butt with a thunk that jarred her teeth.

  Desi was bleeding through the bandage, but she couldn’t do anything about it. All she could do was hold on. And pray.

  She unsnapped the oars beside her and dug them into the water. Behind her Sam cursed.

  Between the three of them they managed to run the rapids without tipping the pirogue. And without being killed. By some freaking miracle, they out-raced the enemy and ended up in calm water with not a soldier in sight.

  All in all, a damn good day as far as Sam was concerned. They dropped Desi off at the small rural hospital near his village, then borrowed his brother’s, brother-in-law’s, sister’s, aunt’s truck to get them to where Sam had left the helicopter in a small clearing just outside the village.

  “You can fly this thing?” Beth asked, limping slightly as she crossed the soggy grass to a group of men sitting in threadbare lawn chairs nearby. The five men rose as they approached. Desi had assured him that his uncles would protect the chopper with their lives. They didn’t look as though they’d had to forfeit any body parts as they greeted Sam and Beth with wide grins and handshakes all around.

  Sam had retrieved his wallet from the pack, and now peeled off the local currency in payment. “Mbongo, thank you for protecting my chopper.” He offered the money, which they accepted with bows and great ceremony. Although he knew they didn’t understand his thanks, they got the gist. Money in hand, they traipsed across the weedy field to drive the truck back to the village.

  “Is everything where it’s supposed to be?” Beth asked, eyeing the Blackhawk sitting incongruously in the middle of a field with five ripped and torn pieces of lawn furniture, a rainstorm of cigarette butts on the dry dirt surrounding them.

  “Looks good,” he told her, as he did a visual scan. The rotors were intact, and the body looked untouched. “Don’t worry. I’ll check to be sure.” He took her hand as they got closer. The black paint gleamed dully in the late afternoon sun. “How’re your legs?”

  “Muscle cramps. I’m good.”

  Yeah. She was good. And exhausted. And so fucking brave that Sam wanted to throw the little tent to the ground and crawl inside with Beth right there and then. Not for sex, although God only knew he wanted that too. But just to keep her next to his heart. The image of them lying together, in a cool dim room, held enormous appeal.

  They’d have that.

  And everything else.

  “Yeah, I can fly this thing. Here.” He opened the door. “Hop in while I do the preflight check.”

  He lifted her up, his hands lingering
on her narrow waist for a second before he deposited her in the leather seat.

  Fifteen minutes later they were airborne. And an hour later they were in the Bombardier Challenger being flown back to Montana.

  The company jet was sleek and came fully equipped. As soon as the pi lot reached cruising altitude, Sam released their seatbelts and took Beth to the aft cabin where there was not only a luxurious bathroom, but also a bed.

  Sam turned her into his arms the second he’d kicked the door shut. “There’s a bed back here.” His voice was thick as he pinned her to the wall and yanked down the fasteners to get her out of the LockOut. “We’re not going to make it that far.” Her beautiful breasts and the slope of her belly were exposed as he bit lightly on the tendons on her neck, enjoying the way her body shuddered in response and her arms came up around his neck, her fingers fisting in his hair.

  Her skin was cool and soft, so soft. Sam multi-tasked as he backed her into the bathroom, stripped her out of the suit, and kissed her, all without missing a beat. “I wish I were an octopus,” he murmured against her mouth, freeing a hand to reach in to turn on the shower. “Then I could touch you everywhere I want, all at the same time.”

  Beth’s eyes were filled with laughter as she helped him strip off his own suit, made complicated because he was so erect the skintight suit had to be peeled away carefully. “It’s a loooong flight.” She gave him a glittery-eyed inspection as he kicked the suit off each foot and stepped free. “You look like a—”

  “Guy with a hard-on?” Sam hoped to God his reaction to her would simmer down just a little in a few years. It was damned uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassing having this kind of erection anytime he was within five feet of her. Especially in public. He swallowed a laugh. Christ. This was never going to end. He’d be ninety and she’d walk into the room, and he wouldn’t need a walker.

  “Oh, yeah.” She placed both hands on his chest, and pushed him ahead of her into the shower stall, which was already filled with steam.