Uncharted by Adriana Anders

Chapter 37

Elias knew how to handle rapids. He just couldn’t get into the right position.

For long minutes, he worked hard not to suck in water while he was thrown around like a rag doll. Once he got through the first phase of breathless shock, he struggled to get his legs out in front—took another frigid face full of water and went under, pulled by something heavy.

It took three forceful dips for him to realize his pack was dragging him down, but when he yanked at the straps, he couldn’t work it off his body and—shit—he just missed getting brained by a rock. The water was shooting him from one side to the other like a damn pinball, his feet hitting boulder after boulder until he couldn’t feel them anymore.

Water in his mouth, his head submerged.

He fought hard—too hard probably—and couldn’t move. Couldn’t push. He was caught on something.

Didn’t feel the cold, just the drag of the water, trying to wrestle him off whatever held him here. Fast as he could, he toed off his boots and undid his belt. Still, he was trapped, anchored in place. He pushed his pants down in hopes it would help. Still caught, he blinked, stared at the thing hanging in front of him, reached for it.

His rifle, the strap snagged on a branch. He managed to grab it and yanked, hard. It wouldn’t budge.

His lungs burned, his eyes were close to exploding.

***

Leo’d never truly prayed before. Oh, she’d wished and she’d begged, but she’d never asked for anything.

But something divine happened in that monster of a current. It turned her upside down and tried to shove her under, but instead of fighting, she let it take her.

What did she care if the damn thing killed her? It had Elias and that was all that mattered. It took the man she’d just gotten—the only person she’d ever wanted like this—and…and hell if it didn’t piss her off.

Do or die, she’d told him. Not die or die.

With explosive suddenness, the anger sparked, lit her up, gave her fire to fight the water and from one second to the next she turned from cold, clammy flotsam into something unbearably hot.

With precision and patience in total opposition to the river’s entropic chaos, she kicked and straightened out, looked ahead…and lost it.

Less than fifty yards ahead, the river just…disappeared.

Even through her struggles, she knew what that meant: waterfall.

Her body had already started a frantic scramble for the side when something punched the air from her belly and stopped her midstream. She grabbed on to it, expecting hard, wet bark, instead scraping canvas. Elias’s pack, floating, caught.

Working on pure animal instinct, Leo forced her head under and searched the impenetrable depths. Pointless. She got her head up, wound a strap around her wrist, gasped, and dove under again.

That was when she found him, snagged, as if in a net. Which had saved him, probably. Saved both of them. But now she had to get him out of the water and to safety, without letting the current drag them to the falls.

Her prayers ramped up, changing from a vague, frantic scream to a looped, never-ending no. No. No freaking way. She pulled hard at Elias’s arm. No response. She wouldn’t have it. Yank. Wouldn’t allow it. Tear. Wouldn’t even consider the possibility.

Quick as a flash, she changed tack, grasped the backpack, gulped more air, dove back for him. Better to go down the waterfall than leave him here to drown, trapped in the water, alone. Blinded by the churning water, she didn’t see the gun strap until it caught her around the throat, like a tentacle pulling her down.

On instinct, one hand reached for her knife, working hard not to struggle against the leather restraint and lose her air, finally got a hold of the handle, and nearly died of fright when something grasped her other wrist. Blade freed, she spun, ready to lash out—

Elias watched her, eyes blinking, straining to get out. Shit. Shit, she couldn’t hold her breath much longer. How was he surviving this?

She thrust her knife into his outstretched hand and kicked up for the surface, gasping when she got there, lungs on fire, head about to explode. Without hesitation, she shook off her boot and yanked at the knife strapped to her ankle. Breath in, back down to where he sawed at the leather, his movements slow and awkward.

Together, they sliced through the strap in seconds and exploded up, hands clasped. Gasping, sputtering.

The current pulled, harder than before, trying to separate them, sink them, drag them down and then out, straight into the abyss beyond.

“Waterfa—” Retching, gasping for air, she dug her hand into his arm, lost her hold, slid, too fast—

He caught her, twisted his fingers around hers, and held on.

“Tree!” Elias choked on water, spat, and tried again. “Your right!”

She kicked up as high as she could, caught sight of a dark blur, approaching way too fast. Beyond it was maybe twenty feet to the drop and then nothing but sky.

One hand in his, she reached out with the other.

Three… The water pulled her left and down.

Two… She kicked, hard.

One… Strained so hard she pictured popping vertebrae.

The tree skimmed fast, too quick and too far to grab.

With a roar to rival the rapids’, Elias dove in front of her, long body blocking her movement, shoving her to the right; her arm stretched, caught a branch…and held. She came to a brutal stop, thwacked into Elias, and waited for her body to break into pieces.

A second later, she opened her eyes to find him firmly lodged in the branches, eyes burning and fierce. Safe.

Okay, maybe not quite. With their combined weights, the tree could come loose from the bank and they’d be screwed, but they were here, not out there, hurtling toward whatever lay at the bottom of the waterfall.

She got her head up, hacked out the water she’d swallowed, and kept going. Against the elements and all odds, she plowed on, Elias beside her. Kicking, pulling at brittle, wet pine that could crumble at any moment, struggling, until her bare toes bashed into solid stone. It would’ve hurt if she hadn’t been numb.

She found footing, slogged out, one slow step at a time, climbed up onto the ledge, with Elias right beside her, and finally crawled until she was free of the water’s pull. Sucking in a scorching breath, she flopped onto a flat, wide boulder, boneless.

She moved her toes, did the same with her fingers and found her left hand caught. Her eyes rolled to the side, where her fingers were still entwined with Elias’s, knotted like two ropes.

It would take more than a river to pry them apart. More than snowmelt and bullets. More than all of Alaska with its crumbling ice and raging waterfalls and fickle skies.

More than men with guns. More than bullets. More than death.

She squeezed, turned to look at him, and blinked.

He blinked back and she actually fucking smiled, the taste of blood in her mouth like victory.

They were together now, as solid as the rock beneath them, and nothing in the world would change that.

“Leo.” With a lopsided grin, he dropped and rolled toward her, so close she felt the cold coming off him. “Made it.”

With a weak laugh, she strained up and pressed her lips to his, surprised to find heat beyond the first wet touch. “Where’d you lose your pants?”

“Well, shit” came a voice from above. “Look at this.”

***

Finally, Ash got a good look at his quarry.

While Deegan dropped to the wide rock on which the two lay beached, Ash stayed out of sight and watched from above, fascinated. And not the least bit disappointed.

They were wonderful, poignant in a way he couldn’t explain. First of all, they’d been kissing when Deegan had so rudely interrupted. A true couple, then. Together. That twisted Ash’s stomach up into knots. The nice-looking Black woman—the pilot, he surmised—lay half on her side, one hand entirely hidden within the huge bloke’s grip. And blimey, what a specimen he was. Big-boned, muscular, raw in a wild sort of way.

“Hands up.” Deegan stood a few feet from the couple, his rifle trained on one or the other, blustering blindingly ahead yet again. “Where’s Campbell Turner?” Ash backed up another step. Could the man truly be so stupid? “Where’s Turner? We want Turner.”

Do we, though?Leaving Deegan to it, Ash went to his raft and rummaged amongst his things for fire-making supplies. The water was too loud to hear the exchange between the three of them, though he couldn’t imagine they were making any headway. Loaded down with his things, he returned to the ledge. “Shall I light a fire?”

They looked at him, the man’s brow tight with distrust, the woman obviously calculating, and then Deegan, wide-eyed and clueless. Where on earth did they find this man? “One of them is bleeding, Deegan.” He eyed them and pointed his chin at a stain on the rocks. “Appears they both are.”

The woman put a hand on the rocky incline and pushed, only to collapse onto her arse, shaking and oozing blood all over the place. From her head, her mouth. The man was doing more of the same. They were a mess.

And yet, still alive.

He breathed deep. “They can hardly move. They’ll die of exposure. How does that help us? Hm? Ever questioned someone as they freeze to death?” Unsurprisingly, Deegan didn’t reply. With a sigh, Ash piled his supplies within view of the couple: a Mylar blanket, his sleeping bag, some clothing. He smiled, shaking his head. “Shoot either one and you lose your edge.” A glance at Deegan showed irritation on the man’s face. Of course he’d be annoyed by Ash showing him up in front of the enemy. But it was time to stop blundering around and finish this job. Even if their goals were wildly different. “Have you called in your team for an extraction?” When Deegan shook his head, Ash cast his eyes to the sky. “If they’ve repaired the helicopter, of course.” He suppressed his smile and turned to the couple. His eyes flicked between them. “You.” He lowered his head to the woman. “Are one hell of a pilot.”

Deegan turned to look at her as if he hadn’t understood this.

“Aside from that, I know nothing about you. And you…” He gave the giant an eager smile. “Where on earth did you come from?”

Neither answered.

“Well, the good thing is that we’ve got time. Haven’t we, Deegan?” Arms full of life-saving supplies, Ash jumped down to their level with a smile. “Not sure the same can be said for you two unless we get you warm.”

***

Leo met Elias’s eye. He didn’t blink or nod, didn’t do a damn thing but look at her. It was all she needed. They’d have one chance to get out of this.

She reached for the knife strapped at her ankle. Elias pushed up to all fours with a growl.

The big blond man approached, leading with his rifle.

Her knife wasn’t there. Shit. Shit! It was lost at the bottom of the river.

She arched, straining behind her for her last remaining blade, and leapt. While she sprang, she heard a scuffle, felt the air change as the big blond man fell. Deegan, the other one had called him. That one—the one whose black hair and tawny skin spoke of South Asian descent and whose accent sounded British—hadn’t shared his own name. Her body slithered forward, right arm whipping out, aiming for his Achilles tendon. And then stopped dead, smashed flat to the stone under his heel. Her numb hand pinned, fingers useless, and before she could do a thing, he was on her, his weight on her back, knee digging into her spine.

He planted a hand on her neck, leaned his weight forward, snatched up her blade, and held it to the side of her head at the opening to her ear. She went dead still. No breathing, no movement whatsoever but the tightly controlled clacking of her teeth.

“I don’t want to kill you. Please don’t leave me without a choice,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rushing river’s roar. “Now put the rifle down, all right, mate?” He was talking to Elias, she realized. “Throw it in the river. We’re better off without it.”

Elias’s eyes were trained on her attacker with a deadly watchfulness. She’d bet, judging from his expression, that if she didn’t have a knife point literally inside her ear, the man would be dead.

Or maybe not. He was dangerous.

He sighed and leaned down to speak close to her face. “Tell him. Tell him to do what I ask.”

Leo wanted to tell Elias not to give in, to yell at him to fight until the very last minute, not to give up, not to worry about her—she probably wouldn’t feel a thing—but she was afraid to move her mouth. And God, though it was tough to admit, she really didn’t want to be stabbed in the ear.

“Good,” the man said before Elias had even begun to move. As if he’d read his opponent and already knew it was a done deal. “Good lad,” he said with a breathless half laugh that made her sick to her stomach. “You two…” Another chuckle, this one weirdly affectionate. Like they were all friends here. Like they were just a few pals meeting up for a pint after a rough rugby match. “You two have run Deegan’s entire team ragged. Right, Deegan?”

She opened her eyes and focused through the animal fear on Elias tossing the rifle into the water, his hands going up just before the blond man rose and shoved him to his knees. “You’re dead,” he snarled, one hand on Elias’s collar, the other gearing up to punch him.

“Deegan,” the dark-haired one warned. “The client won’t be happy.” The weight on her back shifted and Leo shut her eyes hard. No, please. Something rustled—possibly from his pocket—he jostled her and yanked first one arm, then the other behind her back, put something around her wrists, and pulled tight. Though she felt nothing, she could only assume it was plastic cuffs. “Here. Restrain the giant.”

He threw one at the other man, Deegan, who sucked in an angry-sounding breath, shaking his head, then grabbed the handcuffs and roughly put them on Elias.

“Wasn’t hard, now, was it?” The man with the British accent was all friendly bonhomie. Leo’d never heard anything creepier in her life. He backed off of her entirely and stood up. “Now let’s get you warmed up. We’ve got lots to talk about.”

He smiled at Leo. Her teeth chattered loudly in response.

Behind his back, the other man hauled off and punched Elias in the face.

Which was the wrong thing to do.

***

Every cell in Elias’s body was throbbing—from pain, cold, fear. He couldn’t tell anymore. Didn’t fucking matter anyway.

The guy’s punch snapped him out of his stupor and made him mad—as hell.

These were bad men. The shit they’d do to them—to Leo—didn’t bear thinking about.

Elias would do anything to get her away. He’d take twelve more hits to the head, he’d jump into the falls, cut off his own fucking hand. Head roaring with the sound of rage and rushing water, he bent and used it like a battering ram, head-butting the big blond asshole in the solar plexus with every ounce of strength he had. The guy fell and Elias kicked. Again. Again, his body heating with the movement, nothing in his brain but pain—his, the other guy’s. It didn’t fucking matter. Nothing mattered but getting out.

Survival.

The man rolled, and Elias went after him. Kicked. Another kick. He needed to get these cuffs off. Needed to pummel him with his bare hands.

“Elias!” Leo screamed. “Behind you!”

Halfway through his turn, he dipped, got slammed with what felt like a sledgehammer to the head, and went down.

***

“Idiots!” Ash was angry. He’d had enough of Deegan’s stupidity. The big mystery man hadn’t listened either. He’d thought, after all the giant’s careful planning, that he at least would see reason. But no. Not a bit of it. And now there was blood everywhere, the men acting like beasts instead of civilized human beings.

He turned to find the woman on her knees, watching him, her stare the most threatening thing he’d seen in his life. Unease snaked down his spine. “I want to talk!” he bellowed at her. Hand shaking, he swiped his hair from his face and threw an arm behind him. “How is that talking?”

“Your friend…” She put one foot on the ground. “Hit…” With obvious difficulty, she pushed up to standing. “Him.”

He could have knocked her over with a feather. And yet she wouldn’t stop. Like the bloody Terminator, she kept coming.

“He did.” Ash glanced at Deegan. “But he’s not my friend.”

Clearly unhappy with that response, she rushed him—no doubt slowed down by her dip in the frigid river. He sidestepped, slipped in behind her, wrapped his forearm around her neck, and pulled tight. “I don’t want to kill you. Understand? It’s not my objective. I want Turner. And I want what he has.”

She shook with something that couldn’t possibly be laughter. Cold, probably. “It’s…not…here.” Her teeth rattled. “Never…fucking…was.” Another bout of shaking, so hard he felt it to his core. “No Turner. No virus.”

He went still. “No virus?”

“It’s not here.”

“Where is it?” he asked, keeping his voice as level as possible.

This time, there was no doubt that she laughed. The sound was so incongruous, given the situation, that his unease turned into something else—something far deeper, more disquieting. Like fear, only colder. Had the virus been destroyed?

On the ground, one of the men moaned. He had no idea which of the two. He wasn’t sure he cared. “Stop laughing,” he said.

The shaking only got worse. He loosened his hold and let her drop to her arse. Shit. This was out of control.

He looked around, spotted his things, and went to get them. When he turned back, she was on her side, shuddering. No surprise. He was wet just from holding her, the cold already seeping through his clothes. She was soaked through.

“Deegan!” No response. No movement. All right. Well, that simplified things. At least he wouldn’t have to argue with the man. He felt for Deegan’s pulse. It was there.

Sucking in a breath, he stood and reached for his bundle of zip ties. He’d need to do their legs. And then he’d make sure Deegan couldn’t move either.

After that, he’d build a fire, find out the truth, and if needed, call for an evacuation. It was up to him now to end this.

***

Leo wasn’t faking the cold. But she also wasn’t lost to it yet.

When the man drew close, she’d prepared to kick him, but he was smart. He stayed to the side, behind her back.

The moment she realized what he intended to do, she writhed, frantic, but it was too late. He’d already cuffed her ankles together.

Something landed softly over her, making everything dark. A Mylar blanket. It rustled when she trembled. The creepiest thing, though—the part she’d never ever forget—was when he put his hand on her arm and patted her. There, there, the move said. Stay calm. It’ll all be fine.

But it wasn’t. Because this man, whoever the hell he was, wasn’t keeping her warm because he cared about her. He was doing it because they couldn’t question a corpse. Or torture one.

She listened for some sign of what was happening, but the roar of the falls overwhelmed every sound.

Swept up by urgency and something too close to hopelessness, she didn’t wait another second. She half rolled, got the blanket off her face, and took a quick look around. No sign of the Brit. She strained and saw Elias on the ground, bleeding from his head, a couple feet from the man called Deegan.

A low, grim, animal sound burned its way from her guts, up and out, to be lost when it hit the air.

“Please, don’t be dead. Better not be.”

Or what?

She had no idea who she was muttering to. The Brit or Elias or God above. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t accept it.

Like she wouldn’t accept these fucking cuffs.

Pain shot through her as she crunched into a ball, bringing her legs to her chest.

“Leo!”

Breathing hard, she looked up and caught Elias’s eye, flooded with relief.

“Go. Get loose and go.”

Struggling hard to loop her arms over her bottom half, she shook her head, mouth tight, eyes wide open.

Something scuffed close by and she scrambled to cover her arms with the Mylar blanket as the man dropped back down to the rock beside them.

“You take your blanket off, love? Won’t last long without heat.” He’d just squatted beside her when Elias started thrashing, in the throes of what looked like a seizure.

“Elias,” she yelled.

The man stood, eyes narrowed.

“Help him, for God’s sake! Help him! Something’s wrong!” Her chest felt close to exploding as she watched the man dip and examine Elias from a distance, caution no doubt keeping him from getting too close. Her rib cage couldn’t possibly contain her breaths and screams and the wild beating of her heart. “Goddamn it… Please.” The hysteria in her voice was real, though the man wouldn’t care about that. She needed leverage. It came to her a split second later. “Help him. He’s the only one who knows where the virus is.”

With a grunt, the man dragged Elias to the ledge—no easy feat given how much bigger he was. Leo strained to watch as he wedged him against the rise, hopped easily up and then hauled from above, no doubt scraping him in the process. It wasn’t until Elias was up and facing the river, that she caught sight of his face.

Though he shook hard, his eyes were clear and cognizant and staring straight at her. Holy shit, he was faking it.

He closed his eyes once, and with that move gave her all the assurance she needed. I love you, the look said. Get us out of here. And, finally—the biggie: I trust you.

Straining, she shoved hard and forced her hands past her ass to her legs before the men disappeared from view. She couldn’t get her feet through with her ankles cuffed.

Where was the man taking Elias? He’d said something about a fire, which made sense, if he planned to question them. Couldn’t build a fire down here, so he’d gone up, away from the wind and water, she guessed.

She craned her neck, giving her eyes a split second to take it all in—the twenty-foot slab of rock she was stranded on, with an unconscious Deegan. It was stained dark with blood in some places and slanted down to the river that danced on as if nothing had changed when really the world hung in the balance. There. Her eyes narrowed in on something. A bump in the rock face that rose up from where they lay—not sharp as a knife, but certainly caveman worthy. A tool was a tool. Inchworming the few feet to it took much too long. By the time she’d made it, she smelled smoke.

Already? The Brit would come back any second. Shit, shit, shit. Frantic, she lay flat on the rock, lifted her legs toward the protrusion in the rock face, and used it to saw at her bonds. A dozen times was all it took and her feet were free. Quickly, she drew one foot through her looped arms, then the other. Now the rock served to saw her hands. Done. Hands loose, she remained in a squat, spun in a circle, hoping that the man had left a weapon—her knife at the very least? Nothing.

Something moved in her peripheral vision. Deegan? She stared for a few seconds, braced herself, and moved slowly in his direction, pausing for a stunned second.

He, too, had been cuffed. She blinked in confusion. By his own teammate.

What the hell? Was there infighting on the other side? Different groups banding together?

It didn’t matter. She had to get to Elias, get him loose, and get the hell out of here. Now.

But, first, she had to search Deegan.

Hesitating for no more than a second, she steeled herself and patted him down, starting high. On her second pass, she rolled him over, ran frozen fingers up under his thick parka, grossed out by the contact but still enjoying the body heat, and encountered something blocky and hard. A whimper escaped her—a sound of sublime relief or deepest despair. Not daring to hope, she grasped, fumbled, and pulled, blinking for a few shocked seconds before recognizing it for what it was: a satellite phone. The holy grail.

Call. Call now.

No, run first, hide, gather weapons, then come back for Elias. She glanced up at the sky.

Before reinforcements arrived.