“Amy!” Jake yelled.
She turned just as she reached the corner of the walkway. He stood in the frame of the doorway in his boxers holding the cane wastepaper basket.
“It’s okay, be back in five.”
She hurried down the walkway before he could catch up. She’d save the poor snake’s life and prevent Jake from having to go macho ballistic when all he really wanted to do was upchuck at the sight of the thing. It was her fault anyway, because she’d left the slider open. But how would it have gotten in through the screen? This could have been deliberate. Their shadow was a determined man. A cabin stilt would be easy to climb, and she’d seen the man leave the dining room as soon as he’d identified her and Jake. He’d have had time.
Her mind was made up. She’d definitely talk to Jake. In fact she’d tell him everything. If they really were in danger, she’d have to tell him. If he could trust her by revealing insecurities, she could trust him with whatever knowledge she had of the shadow. What Jake did with the information was his right. He was the P.I. on the case and she had to remember and respect that.
The snake curled around her forearm. “Hi, little guy,” she said. “Don’t be scared. I’m going to take you home. Okay?”
****
Stuart sat on the verandah and waited. Hadi had placed food orders, then run back over to tell him what he’d discovered. Stuart had his own story to impart. Hadi had been mildly impressed. He’d hurried back to the dining room to pick up their meals. The steak sat warm and satisfying in Stuart’s stomach. He smirked.
He felt like Pete must have felt—lying there on the branch with a big fat rodent in his belly—satisfied and sleepy. It was quiet in the opposite cabin, but the lights were still on, he’d seen Amy and the guy finally go inside. No screams yet.
“So, where is Pete?” Hadi asked coming through the sliding door. “I’m not hearing any shrieks of horror.”
“The snake will show up soon. Could be under the bed,” Stuart said.
Hadi scoffed and lit a cigarette. Clouds were blowing in, covering the stars, and the winds had picked up. Not bad yet, but not a good sign either. If they had heavy rain, they’d both be trapped here. The first crack of thunder and a small flash of lighting flickered way out near the coast, above the ridge of the mountain.
“The creek will become impassable if it rains heavily,” Hadi said. “That’s why we’d always left the vehicle hidden in shrubs, and tracked down through the forest.”
Stuart nodded, knowing full well Col would be pissed if he found out they’d checked in. Later on he’d sneak over to the lodge, see if he could find Meg. They might have to leave quickly. Hadi jumped up, as if reading his mind, and hurried into the cabin. He left the sliding doors wide open, but the lights off, and tossed their meager belongings into his backpack.
“We paid for one night. First sign of heavy rain and we’re out of here,” Hadi said, settling into the chair. He sniffed at the air. “No decent radio. No television.”
“You could turn on the car radio. You’d have to drive up to the ridge to get reception.”
Hadi grunted and shifted in his seat. “Yes, I know. We came here several times about five years ago. Col tried to buy the resort, steal it from under the noses of the Thompson family. Thompson family refused every offer.”
Stuart nodded.
“It would have done two things, given him validity in the area as a resort owner, and provided added protection for his business. Deals are done by boat, or private helicopter, with transfers made at the island. It’s getting risky. The coastal patrol has increased its efforts in the past year or two. Narcs are everywhere.”
Stuart kept his eyes on the cabin. “I screw up with this, I’m not sure what happens.”
“Quite.”
“He wouldn’t get rid of me, would he? I mean, he’s changed a lot since I knew him.”
“Col isn’t into bumping off his partners. His help maybe.” Hadi laughed. “The drug business through South East Asia, Indonesia mainly, has him worried.”
“You miss your country?”
“Ah, Jakarta, my city. Allah be praised. I’m going back. I like it here—”
“So stay.”
“Can’t do that. I owe my people.”
Stuart knew of Hadi’s privileged British education. Now he was nothing more than a thug, a hired hand. He shifted in his chair. He supposed the pay was good. A few years ago, Col had sent Hadi here to see what scare tactics they could use to force the Thompson’s hand. They hadn’t come up with much, short of fire. Fire would destroy the forest and the forest was Col’s protection, one road in and out. No nosey neighbors and no local authorities to worry about. Stuart frowned, wondered why the three of them, Col, Hadi and himself, had all chosen crime as their way of life. They were all educated men, and street smart. Col was less street smart. He and Hadi were similar, except for the guns, the drugs and guns.
Hadi sniffed and gazed up at the tall trees surrounding the cabins. It was getting colder. The lights were still on across the way. No noise. But it was too dark to use the scope.
What had happened to Pete the Python?
Stuart’s eyes drifted closed. He hadn’t slept in a bed for days, and he wanted to turn in. Hadi shoved back his chair, and Stuart figured they’d give up on Pete. He’d hit the sack, leave the doors open. He stood and immediately dropped to the verandah floor.
“Shit. Amy’s coming down the walkway,” he whispered to Hadi. He stared through the railing. “Looks like she’s got the snake.”
Amy passed underneath one of the solar lights in the clearing, talking to herself, or to the damn snake. Obviously she was going to release it. Who’d have figured? She really wasn’t scared of snakes.
“They make them tough these days. Bitches!” Hadi whispered. He crawled into the bedroom and reached for the backpack. “Scared of nothing.” He pulled out his gun. “I’ll give her something to be scared about.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jake hurried back into the room and pulled on his shorts and a T-shirt. He couldn’t let Amy go wandering around out there in the dark by herself.
What the hell is wrong with me, a grown man shivering over a snake?
He’d spent years in the LAPD confronting all kinds of criminals, and as a P.I. he’d lurked the back streets of Los Angeles. As far as he could recall, he’d never suffered any mishap with a snake. What the hell could cause such a violent reaction? He’d almost upchucked his dinner. He blew out a huge gust of air. The further the snake was from the room, the better he felt. It was always that way. Or, it had been the few times he’d seen a snake, like at the zoo.
He didn’t want to think of the woman he’d been about to get hot and heavy with. She’d seen him at his weakest. And damn, he’d just talked to her about his other problems. He’d done something he hadn’t done in years, he’d let himself get close, he’d trusted, revealed insecurities. Maybe he’d take a walk after he made sure Amy was back safe and sound, or sleep in the jeep. She sure as hell wouldn’t want his wuss-ass around. He slipped his feet into boat shoes and was halfway to the door when he remembered to take the car keys and the cabin key.
Oh, hell, Sarge has the jeep keys.
He’d have to stay in the cabin with Amy.
In the bathroom, he turned on the light, searching to make sure there were no snake cousins lying about, and threw water on his face and over his head. He slipped his knife in his shorts pocket. A scream pierced the quiet.
Amy?
He bolted through the doorway and sped down the walkway, pulling up before he hit the gravel path. He could see Amy’s profile, her face white beneath the last light in the clearing. The man gripped her by one elbow, a gun pushed into the small of her back. He shoved her out of the light and into the darkness of the path that led to the lagoon.
Jake slipped into the shadows as stronger lights in some of the cabins flicked on. Sarge had the gun. He had nothing but his wits, strength, and knife. He touched the pocket of his shorts. Yep, it was there in the leather sheath. If Sarge woke up, came to investigate, it would be great, but he couldn’t count on anything. He had to surge ahead. There was no time to go back and seek extra help.
The man wasn’t going to harm Amy, not if he could help it. He slid along the edge of the clearing making sure he stuck to the grassy areas. He knew where the pathway was and instinct told him the man would drag her down there. The sky was darker than earlier in the evening and clouds were rolling in, it was difficult to see anything. He stood still, and listened.
Nothing!
He tried to recall everything Sarge had ever told him about tracking. Common criminals always left a trail. They were creatures of habit. Use the element of surprise.
A cloud passed over the tiny sliver of moon, making vision impossible. Night on the forest floor was a dark and gloomy place. Something brushed against his forearm. It could have been the snake’s cousin, but he didn’t care. He needed to get Amy out of danger. He hurried down the path and stopped next to a huge eucalyptus tree. He held his breath again, and strained to hear.
Ah, there it was.
The snap of a twig, a slight rustling sound. A sharp retort of a deep voice came from below, slightly to the right side of him. He thought he saw a sweep of light for a few seconds, probably the beam from a flashlight. He remembered the main path veered to the right.
Don’t fight, Amy. Don’t piss him off. I need you to stay alive. Hang in there, kiddo.
He ducked his head and followed the unmarked path watching for tree roots. He knew the fallen log was up ahead. So were the man and Amy. He could cut through the underbrush and circle around and have the advantage of surprise. He and Sarge had investigated the area, he knew the layout. He wanted to run, to crash through the forest floor and get to the log immediately, but that would be foolish. He fingered the knife, still in its cover. He must proceed carefully, monitor his breathing, and gauge every step. No sudden movements, no sounds to alert anyone of his presence.
Minutes later, he crept alongside the log and climbed up the rocks where the giant tree trunk rested. It had fallen from the other side of the pathway, its giant dead roots exposed, and come to rest on the rocks creating a bridge above the path. Anyone using the pathway would duck beneath the fallen log. He slid up onto it and lay still on his stomach. He unsheathed the knife and stuck the tip of the blade into the log.
Footsteps approached and the man shot a beam of light over the path ahead of him. Jake held himself rigid; barely a muscle flinched. Amy was in front and from what he could make out, the man held the gun at her mid-back. Jake’s heart pounded when he caught a glimpse of the fear on her face.
Get a grip, old man. You can’t help her if you’re dead.
He knew what he was about to do would cause her some injury, but at least she’d be alive. Amy ducked beneath where he lay. He counted her steps from the moment she ducked her head, one, two, he turned his head, three and four. Amy’s head appeared underneath the log on the other side.
One, two, he grabbed the knife, and dropped. It was a direct hit and the man lay sprawled and struggling beneath him. Amy was somewhere beneath the man. Jake gripped the guy around the neck and yanked him off her. He’d had to let go of the knife but it was there on the path, in reach. He held tight to the guy’s throat. Amy screamed.
She’d figure it out and take cover. Where the hell was the gun?
The guy struggled, thrashing and kicking, and bucking beneath Jake. He was strong even though the hit had winded him. He caught Jake in the solar plexus with one sharp elbow and Jake felt the air leave his lungs. He reeled backward trying to brace his fall. A sharp pain ran along the side of his ribcage. He reached for the knife but missed.
“Run, Amy,” he yelled hoarsely.
The man sprang into a crouch, one hand leaning against a tree trunk, his gun wavering. Jake leaped to standing, spun out with one leg and kicked the gun from his hand and it hurtled through the air. The guy rushed him like a wild bull and tackled him to the ground.
Jake rolled onto his back, winded, and his head snapped backward hitting an exposed tree root or a rock or something. Pain shot through the back of his head and warm sticky blood trickled down the back of his neck. He gulped at the air, taking it in and expelling it slowly, willing himself to get control. The guy was on top of him, grunting and sweating, and throwing punches that seemed to weaken.
Jake opened his eyes and focused. In one swift movement he grabbed the guy’s throat with both hands. He increased the pressure, digging the pads of his thumbs into his larynx, trying to compress his windpipe. The guy went limp. Panting, he pulled the guy up to a sitting position. The guy flopped forward, gasping, still alive, but having difficulty breathing. He hoped Amy had taken refuge on the other side of the fallen log, or run back to the cabin, but he couldn’t take a second to look. This guy was a fighter and all it took was one self-confident moment, one turn of the head, and the guy could get the upper hand. They were alone. He grabbed the guy by his shirt and at close range, punched him once in the stomach and once up the side of the head, hoping he’d knocked him out for a while.
He kneeled over the guy prepared for action should he regain consciousness.
“I’ve already got the gun, and your knife,” Amy said calmly, and stood alongside of him. She went to hand the gun to him. “Is he dead?”
“No.” He resheathed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. He reached for the gun without looking at her. “You okay?”
“Yes. I am…now, thank you…Jake,” she said softly.
He thought he heard a hitch in her voice. Figured she was crying. He hated to see women cry, but hell, if Amy wanted to cry she could bawl her eyes out. He stood, trained the gun on the guy, stepped backward, and slipped his arm around her shoulder. She sniffled against his sleeve, and he smiled into the darkness.
Tonight they’d saved each other, but what the hell was tomorrow going to bring? And what was this guy after?
Footsteps pounded on the main path, and men’s voices called out.
“Down here,” Jake yelled, as loudly as he could. The man, propped against the rock, stirred a little. Jake kept his eyes glued to him and the gun trained on him. Within seconds, Sarge and Mr. Thompson arrived.