Page 186 of Her Reluctant Hero
He shook his head. “Your word against mine. You have no proof of the former, and if you did, you covered it up when you buried him. And Adrian’s death was a mere accident. I had nothing to do with it.”
She stood, every muscle in her body tight, ready to spring. “I’ll make it my life’s work to destroy you.”
He chuckled. “You’re more like your husband than I thought. Come. You need to get in some dry clothes, and I’ll have Linda bring you a sandwich.” He closed his hand around her arm, tighter than necessary, and guided her through the door of the boat, down the steps, through the cabin door before closing it securely between them.
She stood on the other side of the door, waiting for him to change his mind, to come in. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back, she allowed her muscles to relax. She shivered, cold, exhaustion and fear tumbling down on her like an avalanche. And as she started trembling, she started crying. How was Adrian faring, alone in the dark, hurt, worried that she hadn’t returned?
She couldn’t imagine her strong husband succumbing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost him.
As the boat rolled over the waves that bumped it against the dock, Mallory shivered on the carpeted floor of Valentine’s opulent oak paneled cabin, her back against the door to prevent Valentine from walking in. She’d resisted sitting, but she was so tired, so cold.
So heartbroken.
Only common sense had her dragging the Egyptian cotton comforter from Valentine’s bed, wrapping herself in it after she stripped off her wetsuit. She wasn’t able to find anything warm in Valentine’s closet, and being naked but for the comforter left her vulnerable, but she had to warm up.
She felt selfish about being warm when Adrian was alone, hurt, cold.
No. That was not what she was going to do. She knew this boat because she’d stayed on it before. She knew where Valentine kept the gear. She could refill two tanks without being seen. As rain beat down on the deck outside, she flung the comforter aside, cringing at the cool air hitting her naked skin, and pulled her wetsuit on. The neoprene chilled her skin and she shivered to fight her body’s reaction.
She had to escape. Once she was in the water, she could get to the cave, to Adrian. First, she needed to get to the tanks.
She looked for something to jam against the door, but the heavy furnishings, even the Tiffany-style lamp, were bolted down. Growing more and more desperate, and so cold and hungry she could barely think, she scrounged for anything to brace between the door and the bed, to slow anyone who might come in as she crept out the window.
A scratching at the window caught her attention and she snapped her head up. A ghostly image glimmered through the wet glass.
Adrian.
He was dead.
She shook off the thought that she was seeing his ghost and hurried to the window, relief making her muscles weak, clumsy. Adrian was there, flat on his stomach on the deck, in the flesh. With stiff fingers, she fumbled the window open, reached through to touch his pale skin, desperate for the feel of him, rough and real, desperate to reassure herself he was whole.
“Come on, we’re going.” His voice was rough over the sound of the rain as he held a cold hand to her.
“How?” She took her eyes from him for a moment and sought a foothold to boost herself through the window.
He dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Land Cruiser. Might be tricky in this rain, and we might get stuck, but beats the hell out of being here.” He closed his hands around her arms and pulled, his expression determined.
She hesitated. She needed to tell him. He might not forgive her if he found out later that the treasure had been within reach and she’d known all along. “Adrian, he has the last casket. All of them are here.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched and he blinked the rain from his eyes as he looked past her to the door. He must have been thinking about going after the damned thing.
But Adrian turned his attention to her, tightened his grip on her arm to help pull her free. “We’ll come back for it.”
She knew what that cost him, that choice. He’d go after Valentine on his own if she wasn’t here, no matter how hurt he was. But now was not the time to question his motive.
Both of them were so weak, so tired, and with Adrian in pain, what should have been a simple exercise of climbing through the window took too long, required more energy than they had to give. Desperation showed in the lines around Adrian’s eyes, compelling her to shove harder against the nightstand. She pushed herself out the window into the open air and found herself wrapped in Adrian’s arms as he knelt on the deck under the driving rain. A shudder ran through him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling her to her feet.
“Gotcha,” he murmured.
She looked up at his strained smile, and past him, saw movement. Immediately she stiffened, but she realized the danger too late.
“Well, well. I knew the ocean wouldn’t take the great Adrian Reeves.”
Adrian released Mallory and shoved her against the cabin wall, putting himself between Valentine and her. He was in no shape to fight, and she scrambled in front of him, ready to defend both of them.
Valentine and Linda—she could imagine Adrian’s shock matched her own at seeing Linda alive and aiming a gun—stood before them, and one of the hired muscle stood on the pilothouse, aiming a third weapon at them.
Considering Valentine had seemed upset when she’d told him Adrian was dead, he sure seemed to wish him dead now.
“What do you want with us? You’re done with the site. You have what you came for. Let us go.” Adrian’s voice was weary, and he swayed where he stood, beyond the movement of the ocean. He needed rest, food and a trip to the hospital. He had reached the end of his endurance, and she didn’t know how to help him.
“There’s something you must see.” Valentine reached forward and grasped Adrian’s arm.
Mallory turned in time to see Adrian’s eyes roll back in his head before he went limp and tumbled over the rail into the water.
