A Perilous Eden (22 page)

“No!” she cried out.

His grip was merciless as he dragged her out of the cave despite her desperate protests.

“Your father will not allow this!” she told him.

Dark eyes fell on hers. Cold, evil eyes. He smiled with a curl of his lip. “My father is dead. He died of a heart attack last night, Miss Larkspur. I am in charge now.

“And you, Miss Larkspur, are in very grave trouble.”

10

K
hazar stood with her on the embankment and started to shout. “Tchartoff! Can you hear me, Tchartoff? I'm out here with the woman. She's really important, isn't she? More important than Daldrin, or any of those military men, eh? Ted Larkspur's daughter. You haven't got a choice. You have to come in. I'll kill her, you know I will. I'll take my time. Maybe I'll give her to Juan and then kill her.”

He waited. The water continued to rush by, and the breeze lightly rustled the trees.

“Adam, don't come—” Amber began to shout, but Khazar wrenched hard on her hair. Tears stung her eyes, and she fell silent with a sharp gasp of pain.

“He must be at the complex!” Khazar swore suddenly. He didn't release his hold on Amber as he strode toward the incline, where he gripped a tree trunk with his free hand. “Climb!” he ordered her. She had no choice. He was dragging her along, and she could scarcely bear the pain. But neither could she keep up. Her feet were slipping on the damp earth.

One of his men said something, and a second later she was lifted and tossed over the man's shoulder. He knew the terrain well. He was like a mountain goat, easily using the trees for support and managing her weight at the same time.

They reached the plateau at last, and the man set her down. The moment her feet hit the earth, she started to run, but her hair was seized again, and she was slammed hard against Khazar's chest. “No. You will not escape me.”

Now she had to walk. He shoved her ahead of him, nudging her in the back with his rifle when she would have paused. She kept going, trying to keep her chin high, trying to ignore the cold steel touching her. It was a long walk, and her feet were killing her.

They came at last to the garden, where Khazar stood up on one of the rocks. “Tchartoff! I've got the woman! I'll give you one hour to get here! Then I'll kill her.” He was silent. “After an hour, she will bore me, Tchartoff, do you hear me? After one hour, she dies.”

He waited. Amber felt the tension creeping into her muscles as she stood. They were both listening, but the only reply was the silence of the jungle.

Khazar leaped down from the rock, caught hold of Amber's elbow and shoved her forward again. His men followed as they walked into the compound.

Khazar pushed Amber down a hallway and kicked open a door, then shoved her inside.

It was an office and, she thought, his sleeping quarters. There was a very modern desk, and weapons on the wall, swords and daggers and rifles, and long, evil-looking whips.

But there were Persian carpets on the floor, a sofa covered with damask pillows and, in the far corner of the room, a water pipe. A true indulgence for such a man, she thought.

The door closed sharply behind her. She spun around to see that Khazar was in the room with her. He stared at her, and his eyes were dark with hatred.

“Shouldn't you be mourning for your father?” she asked him.

“My father was a fool. I have awaited his death.”

“Do the men know you feel that way?”

“What the men know does not matter to you.”

She swallowed and backed away from him. He smiled and watched her eyes as she studied the wall. Suddenly he snatched one of the whips and walked toward her. The whip cracked in the air. She felt the cord encircle her neck and grabbed at it. Slowly but inexorably, he drew her closer and closer to him, while she desperately tried to free herself.

She stood before him, and he took up a handful of her hair, rubbing it through his fingers. “What is it he sees that he will die for, eh? Hair like gold? Eyes like the sea? Are you better than other women? Is there magic between your thighs? Should I discover the truth?”

She couldn't move; the whip was too tight around her throat. He drew his free hand along her side, gliding his palm over her breast, cradling her softness. She choked out her indignation, trying to pull away.

He shoved her, unwound the whip cord, then released her so suddenly that she tumbled on the sofa. Smiling, he straddled her, and she swore, trying to knee him. His palm cracked hard against her cheek, and for a moment she saw stars. Then she felt his hand on the bodice of her shirt. A scream bubbled in her throat as she felt his touch upon the bare flesh at her collarbone.

Then the door burst open, and they both started, swinging around.

“Khazar!”

Adam had come. He stood there, eyes narrowed, watching his enemy. He was armed with a heavy pistol, and it was aimed at Khazar.

Khazar smiled his lazy smile and rose, jerking Amber up with him, holding her close. “I have your woman.”

“Let her go.”

“No. I will kill her if you don't drop the gun. I will snap her neck. You know I can.”

“Yes, I know it,” Adam said quietly. His mouth was grim, his eyes icy, and he was calm, completely at ease. He waved the gun idly around and sauntered into the room, then leaned casually against the desk. Amber stared at him in amazement. He didn't seem to care in the least that Khazar was threatening her life.

“You killed my wife, Khazar,” he said.

Khazar shrugged. She felt his every movement. His elbow was locked around her throat. She had never realized the man's strength before. If he bent his elbow just a bit more, he could snap sinew and bone. “I meant to kill Adam Tchartoff, the great military commander, the jungle fighter from the American forces who had learned everything about stealth and explosives. No one could ever pin you down. No one knew who you were. Many people wanted you dead. Your assassination would have been a tremendous coup. You let your wife die instead.”

“And my daughter, Khazar. You're forgetting. My baby daughter. She was small and innocent, Khazar.”

“You let them die. It was to have been you.”

“It was to have been the three of us.”

Khazar shrugged. “In death I will find glory.”

Adam shook his head. “I don't think you believe that, Khazar. I think you're just warped through and through. I think your birth was an accident, and your upbringing made you imagine that you can terrorize and torture and kill, and claim it's all noble.”

“Who gives a damn what you think, Tchartoff? Now, drop the gun.”

Adam shrugged, dropping the gun on the desk. “It's over for you, Khazar. All over.”

“Get out of the way.”

Adam arched a brow politely, then moved toward the door. Khazar, dragging Amber with him, inched toward the desk. His hold on her eased as he reached for the gun, picked it up and aimed it at Adam's heart.

He was going to shoot. He was going to shoot Adam straight through the heart. She couldn't bear it. No matter how frightened or horrified she had been, she couldn't allow that to happen. She screamed, shoving her arm hard against his. The gun exploded.

But Adam didn't fall. He was already in motion, wrenching her from Khazar's hold, shoving her behind him and toward the door. “Get out, Amber—”

“Adam, you're alive—”

“Amber, the gun was loaded with blanks. I would never have come near Khazar with a loaded gun when he was holding you.”

Khazar began to swear savagely at Adam in Arabic. Then his words came in English once again, and he smiled. “It is just us, then—no guns, no knives. Just our hands.” He stretched his fingers before him to emphasize his point. “Yes, it has come to this.”

Adam kept his eyes locked tightly on Khazar's. He spoke with sharp command. “Amber, get the hell out of here.”

“Adam, I—”

“For the love of God, Amber, go. I can't fight him with you here, don't you understand?”

She understood. She was a distraction.

“When I am done with you, I will find her. There is nowhere for her to run. I will find her, and I will kill her,” Khazar vowed.

“Amber, he's a liar and a dead man. Run. Get the hell out. Find Daldrin down by the river. Follow it to the boats. And hurry. This place is going to blow sky-high.”

“What?”

“Damn you, hurry! It's going to blow.”

“Blow! Adam, I can't leave you—”

“Go!”

Tears stung her eyes. She had to go; she realized that. It was his only chance. She hurried for the door, then paused. “Adam, I love you.”

He didn't reply, and suddenly Khazar made an animal grunting sound and flung himself at Adam.

Amber tore out of the room. She raced down the hallway and tried several doors. She couldn't just run away; she had to find a weapon—she had to rescue Adam.

The doors were all locked; the compound seemed to be deserted. She ran at last into the garden, praying that she might find Daldrin or one of the other American prisoners, praying that she did not encounter one of Khazar's men.

The garden was empty.

She started down the trail, screaming. Someone leaped out of the brush, accosting her. She started to scream. “Stop, Miss Larkspur, I'm here to help you. We need to reach the river.”

She pulled back, looking at the man. He was young, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, and wearing the worn remnants of a business suit. He was somewhat gaunt, but he was good-looking, like the boy next door.

“We have to go back. We have to get a gun and go back. Are you one of the military men?”

He shook his head and smiled wryly. “No, I'm a banker. What the hell they ever wanted with bankers …” He shrugged. “You have to come with me.
Now
. We've only got a few minutes left.”

“What?”

“We have to get out. The place is set to blow. Come on.”

“No, no! Adam is still there.”

He stared at her unhappily and tapped his watch. “Tchartoff said to leave by eleven. And he said to take you.”

“No!” She wrenched herself away from him. “I have to help Adam!”

The words had barely left her mouth when the earth shuddered violently. The young all-American in the business suit leaped forward, covering her shoulders, bringing her down to the ground. Just as he did, dirt and foliage flew as the compound behind them exploded, sending fire and rock and concrete into the sky.

It was all coming apart. The earth shivered anew.

“We've got to get to the river!” the young man yelled frantically. He stood, pulling Amber to her feet. An explosion rent the air again. Amber screamed, looking on the chaos that had once been a building. Adam. Adam was in there. Adam might well be just so much charred wreckage, like the pieces of building raining from the sky.

“Miss Larkspur, we've got to go!”

She was numb. She couldn't move. He gave her a sudden shove, and she slipped off her feet, landing hard on her buttocks and sliding fast down the incline just as she had before. She splashed into the river, and the cold water brought her to her senses. Adam had come for her. He had managed to take care of Khazar's men and release the prisoners. The compound had seemed empty except for him and Khazar, and then it had exploded.…

The young man landed beside her with a heavy splash. He caught her arm. “Come on!”

It wasn't an invitation that left her any choice. She staggered up, and they walked together through the shallow water to the falls, where they walked through the first set of rapids, then slipped on the slimy footing. The water carried them over smooth stones, and then over a second incline. The sound of the water rang more fiercely, and it rushed around Amber, slapping into her mouth until she choked. She was tossed and turned, but she really didn't care; she couldn't feel anything.

And then suddenly she found herself in a quiet, sandy pool, and though the water continued to flow, its force was gone. She breathed in deeply, tasting salt strongly on her lips. She looked out and realized that they had come to the sea. As she staggered up, she saw a small cruiser moving toward them from the open water.

She stared at it, not moving.

The young man rose behind her and touched her arms. “It's one of ours, Miss Larkspur. Can you swim?”

Still numb, she nodded. He took her arm, leading her. She staggered with him until the water deepened. Mechanically, she began to swim.

Twenty minutes later, strong arms pulled her from the water. She looked up into an old and trusted face, Ian Daldrin's face. She stared at him searchingly, then burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around her, along with a warm blanket.

“She's in shock,” someone whispered.

“No, no,” she protested. “Adam. Adam is back there.”

“It's all right,” Daldrin told her. “You're safe, Amber. They're radioing your father. He'll meet us in St. Thomas. You'll be all right.”

“Did Adam make it out?” she asked desperately.

“He might have. There are other boats, Amber. Someone might pick him up.”

She shook her head. Daldrin was patronizing her. “It exploded. The whole place exploded.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And he was in it!”

“He might have made it out.” Daldrin looked around. “Someone get some water. Please. Quickly.” He smiled awkwardly at her. She realized that he was soaking wet, too, that he had swum out to be rescued, too. She wanted to smile, because she was so proud of him; he had never faltered. He and Adam were two of a kind. Adam might have grown into his golden years just like Daldrin, dignified … noble. He might have. They'd had a chance … a fleeting chance.

Daldrin was wonderful; the businessman was wonderful; the crew was wonderful. Even the Navy doctor who shot her full of sedatives was wonderful, but no sedative in the world could lighten her heart.