Survival Instinct Read online

  Cold dread slid down Scott’s spine. He needed to get Abby out of there, and fast.

  The fisherman at the bar looked antsy, their attention obviously focused on Tim and Abby’s conversation.

  “You know, I probably should go. Thanks for the game, Tim,” Abby called. She swept over and grabbed Scott’s hand, whisking him off to the door.

  The last thing he heard before the door slammed behind them was Tim’s warbling voice, now frantic, as he shouted, “We can’t let them get away!”

  NINE

  “Run!” Abby screamed to Scott as she pulled him by the hand through the mud-and-gravel parking lot. She’d seen coherence hit Tim’s eyes the second he’d realized what he’d told her. Tim had always cared too deeply about what Trevor thought of him. If he thought he’d betrayed his brother’s confidence, who knew what he might do?

  Though Abby had been the first one out the door, Scott’s long legs quickly carried him past her. He held tight to her hand, and by the time they reached the edge of the parking lot, he was pulling her.

  “Hurry,” he encouraged her in a low voice as the door to The Brick opened behind them.

  A quick glance back told Abby that all three men had come out after them. She choked back a scream and scrambled forward over the uneven ground, hardly noticing the thick layer of ice that coated the ground after a night of freezing rain. She feared the men behind her far more than she feared falling down.

  The side of the bluff fell away in front of them in a steep track of overgrown sidewalk. Scott paused for a second in front of her, but before she could stop herself, her forward momentum carried her sliding into his back. He tipped forward unsteadily, threw his weight backward, and their feet shot out from under them on the slick ice. They skidded down the bluff in a tangle of legs and flailing arms.

  Abby tried to grab hold of something, to gain some measure of control over her path, but the slick ice coated everything. She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare give away their position to the men who followed them.

  The men’s voices carried through the night.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Down the hill!”

  “I don’t see them.”

  “There! On the sidewalk!”

  “Not on foot, you idiot. We’ll take the truck. They won’t get far.”

  An engine roared to life above them as Abby and Scott continued their out-of-control slide down the steep incline. With an angry bump, Abby’s hip rammed into the side of the curb where a street bisected the slope.

  Scott gained his feet and tried to pull her up. “Come on, hurry. They’re right behind us.”

  Abby managed to get one knee hooked over the curb before her leg slid sideways and knocked Scott’s feet out from under him. He landed half on top of her, sending them both skidding downward again. She flung her arms out, grasping for a hold as the incline steepened further and they hurtled downward with increasing speed.

  “Hold on!” Scott fingers wrapped around hers, and though they continued to shoot down the hillside, he somehow got her tucked between his knees, with his arms wrapped safely around her shoulders, positioned as though they were riding a toboggan. But instead of a solid sled beneath them, the seats of their jeans shot across the ice, every bump and rut jarring their legs, bruising them as they went.

  The sound of an accelerating engine echoed across the bluff above them, and Abby realized just how close their pursuers were. With a jolt, they skidded to a stop at the next curb, and Abby looked up to see the church.

  “Hurry.” Scott pitched them forward again, but the ground leveled on the church’s lot, and though they skidded crazily on their hands and knees, they no longer moved forward with any speed. “We’re sitting ducks. We’ve got to get out of here,” Scott hissed at her as he lunged himself off the sidewalk and onto the church lawn.

  Abby rolled forward until she reached the grass. Though every blade bore a thick coating of ice, the uneven surface gave her some measure of traction after the smooth slickness of the sidewalk and street. “This way,” she shouted, scrambling sideways across the churchyard.

  With a minimum of slipping and sliding, they scuttled past the church to the edge of the steep ravine that cut through the west side of the lot. Abby paused for a second and looked down at the jagged ice-covered rocks. Her tender legs cried out in protest after all the bruises she’d bought with her trip down the bluff. But then headlights flashed in front of them as the truck made the corner at the top of the street.

  “Down!” Abby cried, stepping off into the darkness and landing with a skidding thump on her rear. Beside her, Scott descended more or less on his feet. He reached the bottom of the forty-foot ravine and pulled her after him toward the storm drain that ran beneath the street.

  “Duck,” he urged as he leaned toward the dark opening.

  Abby balked. “No,” she whimpered, blinking at the blackness. “Anything could be in there. Do you want to wake a hibernating bear?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Scott whispered intently at her ear. He tugged on her arm.

  Above them, the truck screeched to a halt and the men’s voices rang through the night.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “I saw them by the church.”

  “Check the ravine!”

  Abby realized she had no other choice. She pressed her cheek to Scott’s warm flannel shirt and ducked with him into the darkness.

  The space was tight, the metal freezing cold against their backs, the voices above them much too close. At any moment, Abby fully expected a badger to attack them from the darkness, or Tim’s crazed face to appear in the opening before them. She pinched her eyes shut and waited.

  Scott’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek as he sucked in huge silent breaths. She clung to him as though somehow, by just holding him tightly enough, she could ward off everyone who hunted them. Her mind swarmed with fear and prayers as she asked God to make them invisible, to blind the eyes of their pursuers, and shield them from danger.

  “I’m not going down there. I’ll break my neck.” A thick Wisconsin brogue echoed off the rocks as the beam of a flashlight bounced through the ravine.

  “I don’t see them anyway.”

  “So what did they do? I didn’t see what happened.”

  “They know things.” Tim’s voice stuttered uncertainly. “They know things they shouldn’t know.”

  “You and your conspiracy theories,” the other voice followed. “Here I thought they were some of Sal’s guys.”

  “Sal’s guys?” the brogue chided. “Nah. Sal don’t work with girls or pretty boys.”

  The voices faded and a moment later, Abby heard truck doors slamming.

  Though her breathing slowed, she still clutched tightly at Scott’s quilted flannel shirt. A shudder chased up and down her spine as she considered how close they’d come to capture. She sucked in a trembling breath.

  “What was that, Abby?” Scott’s lips skirted her hairline as he whispered close to her ear. “What were you doing up there?”

  She twitched a tiny shrug. “I could see the wheels turning in Tim’s mind. I knew at any moment he’d realize he shouldn’t be talking to me. I had to ask him. I couldn’t beat around the bush any longer. I had to know.”

  Scott’s hands made their way up her back and pressed her tighter against him as he spoke. “But why did you even go into that place? What were you thinking?”

  She pulled away from him slightly and tried to look at him, but the darkness inside the drain was too deep for her to see anything but the tiniest glint off his eyes. “I thought we needed answers. And we got some.”

  “But at what cost?” Scott pressed.

  “We know what they’re after now, don’t we?”

  “They’re after us.”

  “They want the rings. And the land.” Abby closed her eyes and rested her head against Scott’s strong shoulder. She felt so tired and sore. “Did you hear what Tim said? They’ve been smuggling
in fake diamonds and passing them off as the real thing for years. Only now someone’s figured out what they’ve got, and they have to cover their tracks. That’s why Trevor wants his ring back-because if the authorities knew where it came from, it would lead them straight to him.”

  “And you could do the same thing, Abby.”

  “Do what?”

  “Lead the authorities to Trevor.”

  Abby swallowed. “I will. I don’t owe him anything. I’ll tell Tracie everything I know. I’ve got the ring in my pocket right now. She can have it. It’s evidence.”

  Scott shook his head slowly behind her. “If Trevor finds out you know what you have, he’ll come after you. He killed Mitch, he’ll kill you.”

  “He doesn’t know I know.”

  “Tim may have been drunk, but he could still remember what he told you.”

  “Yeah, but he won’t tell his brother that he ratted him out. Tim adores Trevor. He’d never expose his own failure to him.”

  “He adored his brother five years ago, you mean. You don’t know that’s still the case.”

  Abby sucked in her breath through her teeth. Scott had a good point. “It doesn’t matter,” she protested. “Tim won’t tell Trevor. He’s not that stupid.”

  “Isn’t he?” Scott’s arms tightened around her. “Abby, you can’t go home. It’s not safe. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Abby pulled back and looked him full in the face in spite of the darkness that cloaked his features in blackness. “We’ve got to find your mother, you mean.”

  “Not we,” Scott corrected. “I have to find my mother. You need to get out of here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s too dangerous for me, but not for you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  Scott didn’t answer.

  Abby pushed herself out of the storm drain and stood. “This is ridiculous. Fine. You want me out of here? I’m out of here.”

  “Wait.” Scott crawled out after her. “Abby, be sensible.”

  She turned to face him and hissed in a half-shouting whisper, “I am being sensible. It’s the middle of the night. Tim’s too drunk to make it back to the bar by himself, let alone find his brother and rat me out. If Trevor wanted to come after me he’s had plenty of time to do it, but I still have his ring and until he gets it back, I don’t think he dares do anything to hurt me. So I’m going home and going to bed, since obviously you don’t want or need my help.” She tried to stalk off, but between the rough-cut rocks and the ice, she didn’t make it very far.

  “At least let me walk you home,” Scott insisted, placing a steadying hand at her back.

  “Fine.” She wiped a tear away quickly before he could see. And then she let him walk her home in silence. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, though she wanted terribly to ask him why he could offer help to her but wouldn’t allow her to help him.

  Scott felt strange sleeping in the room his mother and stepfather had reserved at the Seagull Bay Motel, but since it was the only room he could get in the wee hours of the morning, he lay down on the bed that smelled of his mother and begged God to let him see her again. After the rough way he’d left Abby, his mother was the only person he had left in the world. He couldn’t allow himself to lose her, though at the same time, he knew he had to prepare his heart for that very real possibility.

  Mitch was dead. The very thought sickened him, especially when he considered the possibility that Mitch may have been the last link he had to his mother’s whereabouts. For having never liked the man, Scott still felt remorseful that he’d died, and betrayed that the man had been in cahoots with the diamond smugglers all along. He couldn’t imagine how his mother would respond. He prayed he’d have the opportunity to tell her.

  His body ached. Several bruises were rising up from his trip down the bluff and the tumble over the brownstone ledge, and his arms and shoulders cried out in pain from the exertion of rowing the canoe. The day had been long, and morning was only a few hours away.

  But he couldn’t sleep. His mind continued to turn over scenes-seeing Mitch through the cold tinted windows of the sheriff’s patrol car, seeing his mother for the last time as she’d stood on the pier waving goodbye to him as he set off for Rocky Island. And Abby.

  The problem was, Abby was right. The only reason he didn’t want her helping was because he was afraid she’d get hurt. But he was just as likely to get hurt without her help, quite possibly more so. He already owed her his life at least twice over. She’d rescued him from Devil’s Island, and alerted him to the problem with his brakes before it had caused an accident.

  Through it all she’d been sweet, even funny at times, courageous, creative, strong. All qualities he looked for in a woman. And she worked for the Eagle Foundation so he knew that, unlike Mitch, she’d share his vision for conserving the land he’d inherited. Once again, he felt guilty when he recalled how little he’d told her about the land. After all she’d done, Abby had a right to know the rest of the story.

  He’d shortchanged her. He’d done what he’d always done, fallen into the same pattern his fellow Christian counselors at the office always pointed out when he broke up with a girlfriend. He’d refused to allow himself to be vulnerable. He’d refused to let her help him. When he’d felt himself drawing close to her, he’d held back. Worst of all, when he’d felt himself falling for her, he’d pushed her away.

  Though he loved his job as a counselor and lived for helping others, Scott resented the way his knowledge of human nature gave him insights into his own behavior. Because he knew what he was doing was wrong. He could have been happily married years ago if he hadn’t worked so hard to chase caring women like Abby out of his life. But this time the stakes were much higher. Abby wasn’t just a sweet girl like the other women he’d dated.

  Abby was someone very special. He’d been attracted to her back in college, and he’d never quite forgotten her. She’d openly expressed her feelings, opinions and faith through the poems she’d written for the class they shared, and Scott had always respected and admired her convictions. Through God’s grace, she was back in his life again. Miracles like that didn’t happen every day.

  But instead of thanking God for bringing her back into his life, he was pushing Abby away. Though he’d told himself he was only concerned for her safety, deep down, he knew there was more to it. He didn’t want to see her get hurt, but he didn’t want to be hurt by her, either. Losing his grandparents and his father had hurt him. Losing Abby just when he’d found her again was a blow he didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to take.

  He was left with a choice he didn’t want to have to make. He could move back into his comfort zone and push her away. It was what he’d always done, retreating to the comfort of God, who he knew would never forsake him, whenever a friend moved away or a loved one died-especially when his grandparents and his father had passed away. Or he could take the greater risk and allow Abby into his heart.

  At the very thought, he felt the blood pumping fiercely through his veins and he gripped the tangled bedsheets. How could he let Abby get close to him-assuming she’d even condescend to speak to him again after the cold way he’d treated her earlier? What if she rejected him? What if she was killed? Then he’d be more alone than ever before, and with only a broken heart to show for it.

  Shaking off those fears, he snapped on the bedside lamp and fumbled about in the nightstand drawer until his fingers found what he wanted. A Bible.

  Flipping it open, he quickly found the verses from Ecclesiastes that he’d used so many times in counseling sessions with engaged and married couples.

  Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:

  If one falls down, his friend can help him up.

  But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

  Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

  But how can one keep warm alone?

  Though one may be o
verpowered, two can defend themselves.

  The ancient words burned into his mind as he stared at them, speaking to him with the authority of God’s own voice. He was alone, with no one to help him up, no one to warm him, no one at his back to defend him.

  The words spoke to him like a promise. Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.

  The longer he stared at the text, the more certain Scott became that he wouldn’t be able to rescue his mother by himself. But with Abby on his side, they could at least hope to keep each other safe. Though the emotional risks involved still intimidated him, he knew his only hope was to be reconciled with Abby, and to ask her-to beg her, if necessary-to help him continue the search.

  He rolled over onto his side and clutched the extra bed pillow. “Dear God,” he whispered into the darkness, “I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I can do it. I need Your help.”

  TEN

  Abby filed into her usual pew and flipped absently through the Sunday worship bulletin, her eyes blurring over song titles and announcements, unseeing. Prayer concerns and upcoming events jumbled together, but all she could think about was Scott and his mother.

  Poor Marilyn. She was out there somewhere, almost certainly hungry, cold and afraid. Probably hurting. Possibly even dead. Abby wanted more than anything to be out there searching for her, but she knew Scott didn’t want her help. His rejection stung, not only because of her feelings for him, but because she’d believed she could contribute to Marilyn’s rescue. But Scott must not have thought so, or else he would have let her help.

  As she’d mulled over Mitch’s words the night before, Abby had concluded that Marilyn’s captors most likely had taken her out to Devil’s Island again, awaiting Mitch’s signal, waiting to kill her. Unless, as they’d clearly threatened Mitch, they’d jumped the gun and disposed of her already. Abby shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the thought.