Impossible chase, p.12
Impossible Chase, page 12
Two nights ago, with his Bee in his arms, he had a brief moment where he would’ve been singing her praises. It wasn’t Mercedes’s fault that Belinda wouldn’t believe him. None of them were ready to let their angelic friend go, and he’d been so obsessed with Belinda he hadn’t even called to check on Mercedes, Shawn, Franz, or Julie.
He’d lost both of his parents and several friends throughout the years in the military. He’d heard too many times that God was in charge and would take people when He wanted to. That stirred anger in his chest. He was sick of heaven messing with his life. Pastor Ralphs had thought Jagger coming at the right time to see Belinda kissing Mike was ‘heavenly intervention.’ The hypocritical pastor had lied to his daughter for fourteen years. The Ralphs must truly loathe Jagger and think he was the most awful man on earth to keep the truth from Belinda.
Was he bad for Belinda? He’d told her what her dad had said about him making her angry or making her cry, and she hadn’t said anything to dispute those claims.
Finally, he made it to a level part of the trail. Though it was mud-slick, it was fine and he wouldn’t die with a misstep. He pulled out the satellite phone from the backpack just as it rang again.
“What’s up?” he answered Hays.
“Jag, where are you?”
He glanced at his watch. “Almost to mile five.”
“Have you seen Paul and Belinda?”
“No. I haven’t seen another soul since I left Hanakapi’ai Beach.”
Hays cursed.
Jagger’s eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve had no sightings of them anywhere on the rest of the island. About half an hour ago everybody I talked to was buzzing about rumors of a boat of convicts from Oahu headed straight for the Na Pali Coast. I got in touch with the police. When I explained who I was and where I think Paul and Belinda are headed to win the reality show, they admitted that the convicts landed on Kalalau Beach a few minutes ago.”
“Didn’t you call Paul to turn around?”
“He isn’t answering. I don’t know if it’s the weather and his remote location, or maybe …” Hays didn’t finish.
Jagger quickened his pace. Was Belinda walking right into a nightmare? Were they already in trouble, or was Paul not answering so he wouldn’t give away his location to Hays?
“The police have boats offshore, but the convicts are shooting at them. With the stormy seas, it would be a death sentence to navigate into that beach right now, even if nobody was taking potshots at you. The storm is supposed to get worse, so their helicopters are grounded.”
Now it was Jagger’s turn to curse. He had a pocketknife and his Sig P226. “How many convicts?”
“Five.”
“Any idea how heavily they’re armed?” He skirted down a slick portion of the trail. He had to move faster. No wonder he’d felt so uneasy.
Bee! His heart thudded out of control. No matter what, he had to keep her safe.
“No one knows, but the questioning they’ve done so far at the prison has led them to believe they’ve been planning this for a while and had a weapons, clothing, and equipment cache ready.”
“Paul was armed?”
“Yeah. A pocketknife and a 1911 were in his backpack. Hopefully he transferred them when he bought the larger camping backpacks off the girls.”
“He would have.” Jagger upped his pace, clinging to the phone. “Hays. I don’t how to ask this.”
“You don’t have to. I’m already headed up the first mile of the trail.”
Relief rushed through him. Hays would never let him down. His buddy might not get there in time, but he would get there. If the convicts didn’t find Paul’s weapons—and if Jagger could reach them before the convicts tried to touch Belinda—he, Paul, and Hays could keep Belinda, and whoever else was camping at Kalalau, safe.
“I don’t tell you near enough.” He almost got choked up. “But I love you.”
“I love you too.” The surprise was evident in Hays’s voice. Jagger actually wondered if he’d ever told his friend, or anyone besides his parents and Bee, that he loved them. He’d learned to tell Mercedes he loved her because she sweetly demanded it of him, and he did love her like the sister he’d never had. He’d gotten in trouble about that with Bee. He almost smiled, but he was too agitated.
“Pray for us,” Jagger said, shocking even himself. But he’d had premonitions like the one today when he was in the military, and it had saved him or his teammates. Would his premonition to come this way save Belinda and Paul? He might have to humble himself and pray.
“I already am. Chat soon.”
“Thanks.” Jagger hung up, turned off the ringer, and slid the phone into a pocket. He’d feel it buzz, but it wouldn’t ring and give him away.
He upped his pace to a near sprint, slipping and sliding and maybe even praying.
Bee. She was all that mattered.
He had to keep her safe.
Chapter
Twelve
Paul and Belinda planted some different leads first thing in the morning, but by nine they were climbing up the first steep mile and then they trudged through mile after mile of the eleven-mile hike along the Na Pali Coastline toward their destination of the Kalalau Beach Campground.
She hoped he was right and this would be the way to avoid getting tagged by Jagger or Hays today. If the men somehow discovered where they’d gone and found them before six p.m., they’d lose their lives today, and even if Jagger or Hays had to wait until nine to leave the Kalalau campsite and follow them, she wasn’t fast enough to keep away from a highly trained SEAL captain or lieutenant. They’d have them caught tomorrow, too. Then they’d only have one more day to earn her money.
It was definitely a risk, but so far it seemed to be working out. Belinda appreciated this idea because it had a high chance of success, but also because she was avoiding Jagger. If Jagger and Hays didn’t find them in time, she and Paul could call Shawn on the satellite phone, hike out of here in the morning, win her money, and she could fly home.
She was chomping at the bit to talk to her parents and muddle out the story of Jagger claiming he’d come to see her. There were details Jagger shouldn’t know and she couldn’t imagine the Jagger she knew lying to her. She also couldn’t say the words liar and Dad in the same sentence. It wasn’t possible her parents could keep something like that from her. Her dad and mom were her rocks and her shining lights.
She focused on the epic scenery—vivid green, tropical flowers, towering mountains, and the roaring ocean far below. A light rain had started falling mid-morning. Blinking the rain out of her eyes dampened some of her enthusiasm for the stunning views.
Earlier, they’d met up with some young ladies who were turning around because of the rain. Buying their backpacks and supplies off them had been a good move, especially when one of them contained a nice-fitting visor to keep her eyes clear. They transferred anything they wanted from their smaller backpacks and she noticed Paul move a gun and a knife.
The backpacks were getting heavier with every step, but when they made it to the remote campground, Paul promised they could wash off in a small waterfall and sleep in a dry tent. Belinda would even have a change of dry clothes. Paul might at least have some dry socks, if they fit over those big feet of his.
She and Paul had chatted as they walked and hiked and slid. She sometimes fell on her rear and he helped her up. He was a very nice guy. At mile seven, they sat to eat lunch. He turned off the cameras and turned off the ringer on the phone so Hays couldn’t keep trying to get through and pry details out of them. Then Paul asked about the story of her and Jagger. He mostly just listened as she tried to share everything without getting overly excited, but that wasn’t really her personality and she got much too intense several times during the tale.
He stood as they finished lunch. “I have to turn the cameras back on and we need to keep moving, but could we talk in code to continue discussing this?”
“I guess. But truly, there isn’t much to discuss. I think he’s a big, fat liar.” She punched her fists into the air.
“Do you?” Paul eyed her analytically.
“I do.” Belinda jutted out her chin. Her parents would never lie to her or hurt her. Maybe they hadn’t been Jagger’s number one fans, but they wanted her to be happy. They would’ve supported Belinda with Jagger, if he hadn’t given up on her.
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I guess we don’t need to come up with a code, then. There’s nothing more to discuss if you can’t trust Jagger.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “I did trust Jagger. Until he broke my heart.”
“I understand. But you know what my dad always says?”
“What’s that?”
“There are three sides to the truth—my side, your side, and the truth.”
She thought about that. Her truth. Jagger’s truth. The real truth?
“We all view things differently, and most people slant the story to benefit them or at least make themselves look a little better, right?”
She nodded.
“Will you at least talk with your parents when you get home?”
“I will.”
“Well, that’s all we can ask.” He lifted her backpack and helped her shrug it on, turning on her camera, then slid his own on. “All right. Let’s keep moving and win this money.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
“Of course.”
They started the trek. The rain wasn’t horrible, but it made everything slick, muddy, and treacherous. The wind was picking up, and she suspected a bigger storm was on its way. The wind made Crawler’s Ledge, a steep section of rocky cliff that dropped impossibly far, downright terrifying. Belinda repeated one of her favorite Psalms in her head.
I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.
Paul held her elbow and assisted her across. She breathed a lot easier when there wasn’t a cliff that would end her life inches from her next step.
Paul told her they were getting closer, about two more miles. She checked her watch. Four-ten. This day had been long and hard, but they were almost to their goal. She looked forward to being off her feet and hopefully out of the rain. Their backpacks had single tents in them, so that was nice.
It could be a very miserable night with the wind howling and sleeping on the hard ground, but she’d at least be out of the rain. She often slept in uncomfortable spots on her African trips. To win a million dollars, she’d suffer through a bad night's sleep. Not facing Jagger when she was confused by everything he claimed happened was another bonus. She’d ask her parents, but she could only imagine their confusion and frustration at Jagger making up such a tale. Her parents loved her too much to keep something like that from her.
It was almost five in the afternoon when they caught their first glimpse of the campground. Brightly colored tent material peeked through the thick trees, and she could see the beach and ocean beyond. It was a mystical looking place with the rain giving it an ethereal light. The Na Pali mountains towered thick and green above them, shrouded with storm clouds. Those mountains couldn’t be traversed by vehicle; they would protect her from Jagger finding her. Only an hour to go and she would win a million dollars for Gardening Goodness.
She should be thrilled and focused on her charity. Instead, being furious with Jagger left a dull ache in her chest. Stewing over whether there was a chance he was right and her parents had lied to her made her body ache. Just as bad was knowing he had lied and they’d never be able to trust each other and form a solid relationship like she’d always secretly dreamed of.
The view was stunning, but for some reason she didn’t feel safe. There was a darkness oozing from that picturesque campground that she couldn’t explain. Was it the thickening rain and wind making the gorgeous trees, mountains, and ocean look mystical and eerie, like a set from the Lord of the Rings? Would the Marsh Wraiths rise out of the mist or would the Fellbeast swoop down from the mountain range?
She was being silly now, but putting one foot in front of the other took effort. Paul was moving more cautiously as they approached the campground.
“Everything all right?” she whispered.
“Something feels off,” he replied just as quietly, his eyes scanning everywhere.
“Oh, good. It’s not just me. I keep waiting for the Shelob to come crawling toward us.” She looked up at the trees as she said it.
Paul chuckled softly at the reference to the massive spider from Lord of the Rings.
The closer they got, she could see a large boat was rammed up on the beach, the waves battering it. Two men stood nearby on the sand, more indistinguishable shadows than men. The rain was falling thicker and the wind whipping her hair.
A sound like a gunshot cracked through the air.
Belinda glanced at Paul. “Did a tree branch—”
He pushed her behind him and toward the closest thicket of trees.
“Where did you two come from?” a man yelled, breaking through the trees and running at them. He had a pistol out and pointed their direction.
Paul whipped off his backpack and yanked on a zipper. Could he reach his own gun in time? Why was this guy pointing a gun with threatening intent? It made no sense.
“Drop the bag,” the man snarled. He aimed his gun straight at Belinda. His hand was steady, the look in his hazel eyes terrifying. He was desperate, angry, and possibly unstable.
Her heart thudded against her chest. Cold chills covered her body. The man was wearing gray shorts and a dirty white button down with all the buttons undone and blood staining the collar. He was lean, and the long scar down the side of his face would’ve made him look mean even without the aggressive posture and pistol pointed at them.
Paul looked like he wasn’t going to listen, but another man appeared through the trees with a rifle in hand. He was bigger than the scarred guy and in a too-tight T-shirt and ill-fitting khaki pants.
“I’d drop the backpack,” the second man said, a lot calmer than the first. “The blood on the collar of Carl’s shirt is from slitting the boat owner’s neck and stealing the shirt off the dead man’s back as his prize.” He tilted his head to the large boat on the shore and smirked. “I at least grabbed clean clothes.”
Belinda’s stomach flipped over. She clung to her backpack straps with clammy palms. What had they walked into? Why had these men killed some boat owner and stolen his boat and now were threatening them without any provocation?
Paul set the backpack down and lifted his hands. “Who are you?” His voice was cold and in control. He didn’t seem scared, more affronted that they’d dare point weapons at them and he hadn’t gotten his own pistol out. Belinda knew he had a lot of security and fighting experience in the Air Force and with Aiden Porter, but what could one man do against two armed men? For the first time today, she wished Jagger and Hays were racing after them.
“We escaped from the prison on Oahu,” the calmer, larger man said. “Took the cabin cruiser by force and were going to sail away, but the police followed us and their boats were too fast. We had friends leave some food, weapons, and tents for us here as a back-up plan.” He shrugged. “A back-up plan that’s imploding because of the weather. You can go sit with the other hostages. We’ll see if you’re useful later. If the cops listen and get us a helicopter to fly safely out of here, we might let you all live.”
“Abe,” Carl said, staring at Belinda. “I think she’ll be useful now.” He looked her over and licked his lips.
“You dare touch me and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Belinda flung at him. She trembled, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “Get thee hence, Satan,” she commanded him. She couldn’t believe she’d said the same verse to Jagger. Her Jagger was a hero and a protector, even if he’d ditched her and lied to her. These men had only evil intent.
Paul held onto her arm.
“Satan.” Abe chuckled at that.
“I’ll show you Satan,” Carl sneered at her.
Paul stepped in front of her.
Carl strode closer. Belinda’s stomach turned over. Would he kill Paul to get to her? How could she protect Paul and herself? She’d fight him until he slit her throat like he had the boat owner.
“‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,’” she quoted Isaiah.
“Later,” Abe barked at Carl, who stopped in his tracks, looking belligerent but not advancing. “We’ve got to figure out a plan if they aren’t going to send helicopters with this weather. Move,” he commanded Paul and Belinda.
They obeyed, walking in front of the pair along a trail and into a clearing. Paul kept his body between her and the two men.
“You can sit over there.” Abe tilted his head toward a group of people cowering under some shade trees.
Two more convicts pointed rifles loosely at the group while two more hid behind a rocky overhang on the beach. One aimed a gun and took a shot out at the ocean.
Belinda startled, and one of the women in the group cried out.
“Cops,” Abe grunted, pointing at the two boats trolling in the water a fair distance offshore, barely visible through the storm.
At least there were some police trying to help. Did they not dare ram their boat up on shore like the criminals had? If they did, the convicts would probably shoot them and some of their hostages. Who knew? They obviously weren’t afraid to kill.
What could they do? Could Paul somehow fight them? If only Jagger and Hays would come. Jagger might be upset at her for not listening to his cockamamie story, but she knew he’d always protect her.
Paul took Belinda’s elbow and walked her to the group of people. The guards looked them over but said nothing as Paul nodded to the group of six campers huddled together. He settled a couple feet away, tugging Belinda down next to him. Resting his back against a tree, he muttered, “Lean against me.”
