Deep Rising (An Outside the Lines Novel) (Entangled Select) (11 page)

At this point, Lana was too frantic to care.

She dragged herself into the boat, jerked her legs from the water, and tucked them against her chest. She warily eyed the water before waddling over to take a seat at the stern. She peeled off her mask, slipped off her vest, and removed her flippers.

“How many other tubes do we need to explore?” she asked him.

“How many more can you handle?”

She swallowed hard. “As many as we need to, I guess.”

His eyes sparkled with the same unique color as the moonlight over the water.

“It won’t be necessary.”

“Really?” She pushed her hair from her eyes, covering the relief that had to be written all over her face. “Do you have other people out testing them?”

“No.” He smiled. “The only test tonight was on you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“
What
?
” Lana snarled.

Jared pretended not to hear. He stripped out of his dive gear, anchored the rebreathers, and unzipped the top portion of his dive suit.

She stomped over to him, went so far as to shove him in the chest. “What the hell do you mean ‘testing’ me?” she shouted.

“I left you alone in the hotel, gave you an opportunity to contact your brother or whomever else you might work with. I left you to specify the tubes we would explore. Two SEAL teams have already swept through them.” He shrugged. “We took the same route so I could discover if you planned to betray me.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“My mother happens to be a lovely woman. Pardon me.” He stepped around her and entered the cabin.

“Where are you going?” she screamed.

He glanced over his shoulder. “To get towels.”

She followed him into the galley and paused beside the stove. “Now that you’re convinced I’m innocent, can we dispense with the games?” She crossed her arms. “I
hate
sharks.”

“We are a far greater threat to sharks than they are to us.”

“Spare me the ecology lesson.”

“You’re tired,” he murmured.

“Don’t patronize me.”

Stalking her in the confined space, Jared took the towel and rubbed it over her hair. “I’m sorry, Lana.”

A shuddered breath escaped her and her eyes glistened.

“Darlin’,” he whispered in that sinful Southern voice of his. His eyes softened, crinkling at the corners as he reached for her. For a moment, a stupid, really nice moment, she swayed toward him. In the next breath, she shoved away.

“I want to go back to the hotel now.”

His hands fell away. “As you wish.”

…

Lana’s mood did not improve on the lengthy ride back to the beach. If anything, Jared’s cheerful disposition increased her anger. How dare he? Endanger and entice her at the same time? She watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the way the wind caught his short hair, and how the muscles rippled along his bare arms and chest. With his torso and shoulders openly displayed, despite her best efforts, Lana caught herself staring. The man should’ve had the decency to don a shirt.

When he shifted the throttle into neutral and stepped away from the helm, she avoided his gaze and concentrated on the coast. Something about the bright flickering lights wasn’t right. The contours of the buildings seemed all wrong.

“This isn’t our hotel,” she said.

“Change of plans. This location is more secure.”

Perhaps it was. Or maybe he still didn’t trust her. She’d come in direct contact with a shark—hellooo, a
shark
—and for what? To prove she wasn’t in league with a sibling she hadn’t seen in ages? She’d insisted on her innocence from the get-go. She’d cooperated in every way. And still, it wasn’t enough. “Where are we?”

“Closer to Kilauea. There’s a private house nestled in the mountains. Company owned. It’s isolated and easier to secure.”

A string of lanterns marked the path to the main road. From her position on the boat, the beach appeared deserted. The inviting stretch of black sand beckoned, and Lana experienced the sudden urge to dive into the waters and run along the shore, away from Jared and the horrifying collision course of events she seemed destined to encounter.

Damn him. Damn the sharks.

He angled the boat alongside the bulkheads. Casting the lines onto the dock, he cut the engine and stepped onto the planks. He tied the stern, then the bow.

He jumped back into the boat and ambled toward her.

His swagger rubbed her the wrong way. “What about my clothes?” she asked.

“They’ll have arrived by now.”

Cold and wet and sick and tired of being falsely accused, Lana reached her breaking point. Anger made her reckless, and her hands balled into fists.

“Violent thoughts, Lana?”

“Very.”

He had the gall to laugh. Tousling her hair, he said, “Come along.” He slung a bag over his shoulder and waited for her to exit the boat. “Trust is something you earn.” He guided her along the dock. “It isn’t freely given. You passed that dive test with flying colors. And our intel doesn’t show you attempting to contact Sergei or his associates. We’ve come a long way, darlin’.”

But obviously not far enough.

He paused and clasped her hand. “It has to be this way,” he muttered. “I have a job. It has to come first…” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Like I said, I want to believe you. Tonight’s test was a good start in that direction.”

“Piss off.”

He chuckled. “This way,” he said when they met the sand at the end of the dock.

She jerked her arm free. “I can walk.”

Ignoring her protests, he captured her palm and threaded their fingers again. “I’m not asking,” he growled in a low voice. “It’s dark. It’s late. And if your brother somehow caught wind of your involvement—provided you aren’t in league with him—you could be a target.”

My, but his moods aren’t much more stable than mine.
“Sergei would never hurt me.”

“Don’t count on it. When people snap they don’t give a damn about collateral damage. This isn’t a television drama. He’s killed once. He’ll do so again.”

Lana locked eyes with him. “Does that hold true for you too?”

He stopped, cursed, and then resumed trudging along the footpath. “I do a job, Lana. A dirty, uncomfortable, essential job.”

“Right. This is all work for you. How could I forget?”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice, and when he yanked her aside at the end of the trail, she wrenched free of his hold.

“Are you looking for a fight?” he asked. “Don’t. The next couple of days promise to be stressful enough without internal arguing.”

“Your deception started it.”

“Step outside of your bruised feelings and consider what we’re up against.”

“I know exactly what we’re up against.”

He mumbled something beneath his breath, but she couldn’t overhear the words. Out loud he said, “I’m trying to be patient, Lana, but I’m not a patient man.”

He’d threatened to kill her. Forget about “patience” or her feelings.

This man wasn’t her hero or her friend. And she’d be wise to remember that.

…

Large arching windows offered a panoramic view of the lush mountain cliffs and miles of black sand beach, but neither Lana nor Jared wasted time admiring the scenery. From their position on the white leather couch within the house’s main room, they scrutinized maps and topographic data.

Thinking about the defenselessness of the island, Lana considered the vulnerability of their current location. “This A-frame retreat with all its glass and modern ambiance is breathtaking, Jared. But it has to be a security nightmare.”

“The glass is tinted,” he explained. “It’s bulletproof. The grounds are wired to a state-of-the-art security system. If something so much as stumbles into the area we’ll know about it.”

“Why didn’t we come here beforehand?”

He glanced back at the topographic maps.

“Oh, right. Because you didn’t trust me. Better to use me as bait for sharks and bombers first.”

“Why this location?” he asked, pointing at the map on the table, completely ignoring her.

She sighed, accepting that no purpose existed in beating a particular dead horse. “Which one?”

He pointed to a location on the map.

“I’ve been there. The tube burrows half a mile beneath the mountain.”

“Is it easily accessed?”

“Yes. A hiking trail leads to the tube. Railings and lighting illuminate the way. Oh, and a stairwell leads out of the tunnel at its end. Well, no actually, that isn’t true. The tube itself extends farther, but the lighting doesn’t. A spiral staircase brings you to a small picnic area with benches and Ohia trees.”

“One last question. Does Sergei know about this location?”

She remained silent for so long, Jared asked again, “Lana, does Sergei know about this location?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She frowned. “I told him.”

“When?”

“At our last family reunion. I was so taken with the island I pleaded with my family to make it our vacation spot next time around.”

He shook his head but refrained from playing Monday morning QB. “Why a lava tube?”

“It’s like what we saw underwater. The tubes formed during eruptions, when lava was pouring out of the earth in steady streams. Lava tubes burrow below ground. No drilling required.”

“What about the flanks?”

“Think of the sides of the volcano like giant slabs leaning against the caldera. The slabs aren’t stable. Wind and water erode them over time. Lava tubes act like channels, tunneling the water through the slabs, adding to the instability.”

“And the angle creates the gravity.”

She nodded. “That’s right. Slope and instability are a disastrous combination. Plus, the water permeating the rock levels beneath gets heated by the magma pools.”

“Thermal and hydrostatic pressure.” At her curious expression he told her, “Don’t let the accent fool you. I’m a quick study. Dumb people don’t last in my field.”

“Right.” She looked away. “You don’t really have that much of an accent.”

“I’m from Tennessee, honey. My speech reflects my roots. Not all the time, mind you, but enough that I consciously moderate my diction and vocalizations.” He pushed aside the topographic data. “If Sergei is aware of this specific location, not just from your thesis but directly from you, there’s a significantly higher probability that he’ll target this location. We’ll canvass the tube tomorrow. I suggest you scrounge something to eat and turn in early.”

The mention of eating caused her stomach to audibly grumble. He must be famished too by now. Tilting her head, Lana regarded him. He was only doing his job, and while his technique and personality bordered on the crude side, he could be treating her much crueler, all things considered. It couldn’t be easy, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing whom to trust, never having a decent home-cooked meal or a place to call home. Not that she knew that about him. For all she knew, he could have a wife and kids waiting somewhere. The thought killed her appetite.

Don’t go there. Don’t go there. Keep it light
. “Do you want me to fix you something to eat?” she asked, softening her voice as she extended an olive branch.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Can you cook?”

“Sure. If it’s microwaveable. And I make fabulous reservations.”

“Anything will do. Just try to leave out the arsenic.”

She smiled, baring her teeth. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Fourteen

September 11 - 4:19 am

Forty miles off the coast of Oahu

Sergei consulted the GPS unit, all the while considering it a remarkable modern convenience. He had only to input his desired destination in terms of longitude and latitude, and the course popped onto the screen. Ah, but what a brilliant scientific convenience! The outfitted crab boat was not so technologically advanced it could steer itself, but a flashing line marked where he needed to go. He followed the marker, turning the wheel to the left or right as indicated. The southern winds pushed at his back. This posed a good sign, he decided. In twelve hours, he would reach Hawaii.

He poured a cup of coffee from the thermos beside the console. He wafted his hand over the cup, inhaling the aroma of the rich, Colombian blend. The heat warmed him from the inside out, and the caffeine provided a much-needed boost. He’d been alone at the helm continuously, with only a handful of hours of sleep. Insomnia saw him through the first night, but now his head ached. The pain, at times, bordered on unbearable.

“Be patient, my love,” he whispered to the wind.

The ship phone rang and Sergei regarded it for a few seconds. To his knowledge, no one possessed the number.

“
Da?
”

“We have a problem,” The Wolf replied.

“Where are you?” Sergei asked.

“Slovenia. My American contact tipped me off. My men were killed. I narrowly escaped.” The Wolf detailed an attack on his hotel.

“I’m sorry,” Sergei said.

“The CIA knows your identity. Interpol, too.”

“How?” Sergei’s voice cracked.

“I cannot say.”

Sergei scanned the water. No lights. No vessels. He rubbed at his eyes and strained to see across the vast, black seas.

“Coast Guard?” he asked, anxiousness creeping into his tone.

Static washed over the phone. “No. They have teams in position on the island. I am sending my men to assist you. They will intercept any opposition.”

“I’m grateful.”

“As you should be.”

“I cannot fail. This is God’s will.”

“Of course it is,” The Wolf maintained. “I have invested much. Do not fail me. Do not fail God.”

The Wolf outlined the changes to their plan and Sergei listened carefully.

“It will be difficult to avoid detection,” The Wolf warned. “If you are boarded, stick to your story. The licenses and fishing permits are legitimate. Keep the containers covered and the merchandise below deck.”

“I will.”

“I must regroup. We will not be in contact for some time. If it is an emergency, tell my brother, Matteo, he will know how to contact me.”

“Thank you,” Sergei replied.

“Good luck.”

The red and green lights flashing at the bow and along the stern were visible from two miles away. To prevent collisions, mandatory maritime restrictions required every modern vessel to be equipped with running lights at the bow and stern. This boat contained an automated version that Sergei could manually disable. No point though, really—even if he extinguished the bright overhead fishing lights and the running identification lights, he would still be visible on radar.

A few gulls circled the ninety-foot boat, thinking to catch an easy meal. Sergei considered their presence a good omen. A few birds perched on the rail outside the wheelhouse, and this pleased him.

If boarded he would switch to Danish and adhere to his fishing alibi.

A million thoughts raced through his head, forcing out any traces of exhaustion. The Wolf conveyed much. Sergei deliberated how to implement this latest information. He executed maneuvers in his mind, rehearsed conversations. It wouldn’t be long now.

Tapping his fingers against the helm, Sergei counted the passing seconds. Each moment, every passing minute brought him closer.

By dawn he would reach Hawaii. By nightfall he’d eradicate it.

5:08 am

Kilauea, Hawaii

Staring at the ceiling, Lana couldn’t help but think yet again,
How the hell did I end up here?
Choices existed, various decisions in her life, and they culminated in placing her on this path, but in her wildest imaginings she could not have predicted this.

Peeling aside the duvet, she swung her feet to the floor and paced the room. Moonlight poured in from the wall of windows that made up the left side of the suite. The oversize lounge was centered before the window so she settled herself on the chaise. She drew her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. Her hands started shaking. She couldn’t make them stop. It felt like a rhino was camped on her chest. She experienced such difficulty swallowing that under normal circumstances she would have suspected a food allergy.

“I can do this,” she whispered. “I can handle it.”

Every obstacle, every challenge, every selfless deed in her life had been in preparation for this moment. The clarity of her revelation permeated like a sedative. Come tomorrow, be it the last day of her life or the first in a new beginning, she would take action and participate in something far more powerful and purposeful than she ever envisioned. The knowledge, in its terrifying splendor, brought peace.

A knock sounded at her door, and Jared entered her room.

“I figured you’d be awake.”

She shrugged. “I can’t sleep.”

“It’ll be light in a few minutes. Change clothes.” He handed her a duffel bag.

She noted his attire of cargo pants and a snug cotton T-shirt. Peeking into the duffel, she discovered a matching wardrobe.

His bland expression didn’t reveal his thoughts or feelings. Although she would wager his mood was improved. When angry, he radiated it.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked him. “Or are there other particulars to attend to?”

“I’m ready to leave, and no, we don’t need to do anything else. The sooner we secure the area, the better. We have SEAL teams patrolling the ports in hopes of intercepting your brother, and military liaisons on standby.”

Lana hurried to the small guest bathroom on the opposite side of the room. She thought about drawing the door closed completely, but she left it slightly ajar so they could continue to converse. She could see him through the opening. And when she shifted farther into the bathroom, she met his eyes in the mirror. With her gaze latched to his, she drew her shirt over her head and changed into the one provided. She kicked out of the shorts she’d slept in and drew on the cargo pants.

Aside from the slightest flare of his nostrils and the way his throat moved as if he’d swallowed something large, he didn’t react at all. But then it had been this way with them from the start, all or nothing.

“I’m surprised you’re telling me this much,” she admitted, referring to the details regarding their defenses. Wetting her toothbrush, she dabbed on a wad of toothpaste.

“You aren’t going to leave my sight. You won’t have the opportunity to contact anyone.”

Lana finished brushing her teeth, washed her mouth out with water, and placed her toothbrush beside the sink. The mundane ritual calmed her, and she marveled at the ability of something so trivial to impact her morale so positively. In the reflection of the mirror, she noticed Jared from the corner of her eye. He pushed completely into the bathroom.

“Wouldn’t it be smarter for the SEAL teams to take control of the area before setting up this cat-and-mouse game?” she asked.

“If Sergei escapes again, there’s no telling where he’ll strike next. Or when.”

Lana glanced down at the negative edge sink with its sleek silver fixtures. The water swirled around the shallow marble basin before disappearing over the side. Like the water, she felt her sense of control spiraling down the drain.

“I wish it was otherwise, but you need to come with me, Lana.”

She met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“I’m the bait.”

He nodded.

The acknowledgment shouldn’t have pierced her with such brutal precision, but it did, slashing through her sense of worth, diminishing her to a pawn in this twisted chess game. “You get me into position. I distract Sergei. Then you apprehend him. Is that the plan?”

He released a heavy breath. “If you’re in league with him, it’ll draw him to me. If you aren’t, yes, it will provide a valuable diversion. Either way we’ll neutralize him.”

“Neutralize?”

Reaching around her, he turned off the faucet. With a gentle hand, he guided her to face him directly. “There’s something you need to know.”

Reluctantly, she met his eyes.

“I’m here to remove the threat,” he said.

“I see.”

He elected to be honest with her, she reminded herself. He could lie about the entire situation.

He put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture intended to be reassuring. It fell far short of its mark. She slapped his hand away. “Save your commiseration. It isn’t sincere. You’re asking me to lure my brother to certain death!”

“I’m sorry.”

Lana spun around and stared into the mirror again. Seeing him, seeing herself reflected in his cold, clear eyes, she thought of the millions and millions of people whose lives were at stake, and suddenly any lingering emotion she felt for Sergei dissipated. She understood. Either her brother was innocent and this was all for naught or he was a legitimate threat and they needed to apprehend him. All or nothing.

“I’ll do what I have to,” she said.

“To help this mission or save your brother?”

“Truthfully, any person who’d use my work to harm millions of innocent people doesn’t deserve to live.”

“He killed twelve hundred people already, Lana.”

“I know…”
And I feel responsible
.

“The weight goes away,” he said as if reading her mind.

“When?”

“When you set it right.”

The time had come, Lana realized, to do just that.

The ride to Hawaii’s Volcanoes National Park took less than an hour. Several families camped in the spacious clearing at the park entrance. Lana inspected them, and every car within the parking lot beside the National Park’s entrance. Two government-tagged ranger trucks, three RVs, a beat-up jeep. What did she expect? A Mercedes cargo van? A stretch limo?

She didn’t know what to look for. As a would-be undercover agent, she was heading into completely uncharted territories. Idly, she wondered why someone would own an RV on an island as small as Hawaii, but a closer look at the occupants suggested this might be their permanent home. Considering the disparity between houses like the one she’d slept in and the meager lodgings within a cramped recreational vehicle, she would have preferred to overlook this fact.

Jared moved to the back of the SUV and extracted a large black duffel bag from the trunk. He slammed the door and regarded Lana through glasses so dark she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“As I’ll ever be.”

He tucked a gun into each pocket and started along the trail. “According to the survey maps, we’ll need to hike half a mile north and a quarter of a mile west.”

Lana shielded her eyes with her hand. “The trail is outlined. See?” She pointed to a wooden sign.

“Kodak moments. Great.”

“Volcanoes fuel the tourism of these islands.”

“What about the sun and sand?”

“You can find those for a fraction of the price and flight time in the Caribbean. Hawaii is all about natural beauty and prestige.”

“Unless you’re a native. Half of them live in squalor.”

Jared had obviously reached the same conclusion from the RVs. She lengthened her stride to keep pace with him. He seemed inclined to race right into the fire. Call it cold feet, reluctance, or fear, but she was reticent. The entire scenario with her brother, Jared, earthquakes, and tsunamis posed the fodder of delusional dreams. She stood on an island in the middle of the Pacific, with a pistol-packing covert agent, about to confront a terrorist with a bomb—who was her brother. This state of affairs loomed so far outside the realm of reason it prevented her from coming to terms with the impending task before her.

“Hey,” Jared said, stopping her with a hand to her arm. “Get your head in the game.”

“What are you, psychic or something?”

“I should be so lucky. Your posture and expression give you away. You look like you’re ready to cut and run.” He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Don’t lose your nerve now, Lana. Please don’t put me in that position.”

“I won’t.” She rolled her shoulders. “I won’t let anyone generate a tsunami, Jared. I’ll give my life to prevent that kind of atrocity.”

She didn’t want to think about what course of action she’d force him to take if she suddenly reneged on going any further or if she refused to assist him with the mission. The endless possibilities all ended the same way—badly for her.

“We need to enter the pit crater before we can reach Nahuku,” she said.

“Who?”

“It’s the Hawaiian name for the tube.” Taking the lead, she guided him along the path, pausing when the trail split.

“This is it,” she said.

A stairwell descended into the crater. Hapuu ferns towered overhead. A sheer wall delineated what once included part of the lava shield. Covered with moss and lichens, the pit emerged as deep as it was wide.

Lana pointed to the path. “This leads directly to the lava tube.”

A wooden fence corralled a fissure that Lana estimated to be about thirty feet deep. The crevasse spanned a narrow gap, thankfully too narrow to accommodate a bomb.

“Look,” she whispered. “Pele’s hair.”

“What?”

She was babbling and she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Lana bent and gathered the pumpkin-colored strands. “They’re shards of glass produced from volcanic eruptions. The Hawaiians believed their goddess of fire, Pele, would cause the eruptions as a munificent gift to her people.”

“Hell of a present.”

“Actually it is. With every eruption, the island grows. What could be more valuable than the gift of new land?”

“With the population over six billion and showing no signs of abating, I reckon they’re right.” He extracted a pair of binoculars from his left front pocket and trained them on their back trail. His smooth, economical movements reminded Lana—as if she could forget—of his lethal expertise. His piercing gaze traced the landscape, examining every inch of fern and frond and flower. Lana glimpsed only sunlight and shadow and bright magenta hibiscus.