Dead or Alive (4 page)

“I didn’t keep it pointed at your head, did I?  I eventually moved it to your waist, instead.”

“Oh how
kind.
”  She clapped her hands together.  “How amazingly kind of you, Archibald.  Wow.  Really.  Where do I send the flowers?”

Her voice rose higher and higher with each sentence she said.  As his head began to spin, Remy suddenly realized that he didn’t have the energy for this.  Almost a year in the pen and he’d forgotten how wonderful it was to breathe in the scent of a woman, but he’d also forgotten how exhausting it was to listen to one who refused to shut up.  Violet was giving him just enough of both to drive him absolutely insane.

“You’re going to bleed to death soon.”  She whispered.

“I’m fine.” He continued to look down into the ocean water blankly.

She couldn’t tell if his blank stare was boredom, or if it was his body finally succumbing to all of the blood he was losing.

“Son of a bitch.”  She sighed and leaned into the back, swiping up her blazer.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to slow the bleeding.”

“Why would you help me?”

She froze.  “Because we’re so far over water that I can barely see land, and I don’t know how to fly a helicopter.  Now shut the hell up and hold this taunt.”

Still suspicious, Remy gave in.  He tried to move, and winced.  Never in his life had he experienced such pure, unadulterated pain.

Violet watched him struggle, wondering what he was doing, before she realized he was lifting his bloody leg over the plane’s controls and into her lap.  She barely had a moment to protest before his bloody pants leg was lying across her thighs.  Immediately, blood began pouring out of his wound and onto her skirt.

Horror covered her face.  She’d offered to help him stop the bleeding, not to have him sling his huge, bloody leg across her lap.  "Oh my god, this is disgusting."  She looked to him with a newfound hatred.

Remy was not interested and not listening.  Instead, he was ripping to shreds the blazer that she'd just taken off.

Violet forced herself to look away from the sight of her two thousand dollar suit being destroyed. It was far too painful. She’d already known using it to stop his bleeding would ruin it, but he seemed to be taking a little too much pleasure in—unnecessarily—ripping it to shreds.

Remy frowned in pain as he rolled up the pants leg of his prison garb.  When the wound on his upper thigh was presented, they both cringed down at it.  It was an absolute mess.

"You need a doctor." Violet stated the obvious, once again.

"You're absolutely right. Unfortunately I'm a fugitive with a bullet in his leg and a loudmouth hostage.  You're going to have to do."  He handed her the blazer.  "You offered to stop the bleeding, I’m letting you.”

Violet was already regretting her offer.  Perhaps she should just let the son of a bitch bleed to death.  She seriously considered this, but her thoughts came to a grinding halt when he pressed her torn blazer into her hand.

“Tie this around my leg as tight as it will go. Take off your stockings and secure it with those.  If I scream, pay me no mind, just keep going."

To both their surprises, Violet snatched the blazer and did as she was told with little argument.  With a sigh, she reached under her skirt and shimmied out of her nylons.

Remy forced himself to look away while thinking about the distant promise of her hands on him.  Even if it was just to tend to his oozing wound, he ached for her touch so badly it was curling him inside out.  After months of fat, balding prison guards snatching at him, Violet’s dainty hand would surely be to his undoing.  He’d never been so ready to come undone.

Watching him from under her eyes, Violet laid the nylons across the top of his leg, then she dabbed away the blood on the wound with her favorite blazer, cringing the whole time, until she could see it perfectly.

"The bullet only grazed you, there's no entry hole."  It was a small lesion, but precise, and she knew it must hurt like hell.  She wrapped the blazer around the wound, as tightly as it would go.  Apart of her relished in his groans of intense pain, since she wasn't exactly his biggest fan at the moment, but another part of her hated it, because she hated knowing another human being was in pain.  She hated even more being the cause of it.  She finished the job quickly and efficiently, then looked up at him.  "There."

Remy studied her work, nodded his approval, then rolled his pants leg back down while looking at her. "Thank you.  You did better than I thought you would."  He moved his leg off of her lap with a wince.

"I have two tomboy sisters remember?  I know a thing or two about oozing, bloody wounds.  It'll be fine for now, but not long enough for you to do what you say you're going to do.  You're going to need disinfectants, antibiotics."

"You see that small compartment next to your knee?”

Taken aback by the change of subject, Violet looked toward her knee.  “I see it.”

“Open it for me, will you?"

She hesitated, then leaned over and opened it.  A few papers and a pair of shiny handcuffs gleamed up at them.  Violet stared down at the handcuffs in complete dismay.

Remy smirked. "I thought so.  Cuff one of your wrists, please."

Her head shot to him, making her thick hair fly, then frame her face. "Excuse me?”

He closed his eyes, willing himself to be patient, then opened them. "Just do it.  The sooner you do what I say, the sooner we land and the sooner I let you go, so just do it."  He waited for her to cuff her left wrist, and when she had, he took the other cuff and closed it around his right.  He took the key out of the hole and slipped it in his pocket.

"Oh my
god,"
she cried, staring at their linked wrists.

He raised his hand, causing her to raise her own, as well.  "This is what happens when you run from me.  All right?  I'm through with your stubborn attitude and your hard head.  From this moment on I
am running this show, not
you."

"And you prove your stance as the big Kingpin of the helicopter by handcuffing our wrists together?  How's that for logic."

"Shut up."

She watched him for a long moment, then a slow smile crept to her face.  “Don’t fucking tell me to shut up.”

If she had any idea how long it had been since a woman smiled at him like that, she wouldn't do it.  Her filthy mouth was doing nothing to help her, either.  If she kept this up, he would happily take her right there in that aircraft, bum leg and all, and give her a real reason to spew that kind of profane language.

Remy assumed this was as close to shutting-up as she'd ever come.  He leaned forward, pushing his blonde locks out of his eyes while he looked out at the sky.  "It’s getting dark." 

He looked over to her and destroyed what was left of the gel in his hair, causing the rest of it to fan down just above his ears and shadow his eyes even more. Violet would never tell him how much she actually loved the way he looked right at that moment.  It was as if that silky blonde hair of his balanced out his grouchy demeanor, creating a happy medium of him.  Just as quickly as it was there, though, he was pushing it back again, eternally annoyed by it. 

"It’s getting dark," he repeated.

She took a beat, looked away from him, and then looked back. "Back there... back on the roof…" She paused. "Would you really have shot me if I'd kept running? Or would you have let me go?"

He caught her gaze and held it for a long moment.

“Would you have let me go?” Her eyes grew bigger as she repeated the question.

He was surprised to hear such trepidation in her voice, since she'd been such a hard ass up until then.  He was happy she'd asked him this, because he knew exactly how to answer.  He knew exactly what she
didn't
want to hear, and exactly what would make her fear him the way she should’ve been fearing him from the moment he'd grabbed her.  He looked her dead in the eyes and answered. "No, I wouldn’t have let you go."

Violet's mouth dropped, and she examined his face, looking for any clues that he was lying.  She couldn't find one.  Eventually, she gave up and looked away, not sure what to make of the answer he'd just given her.

They flew in silence for so long she almost drifted off, and was startled out of her revere when Remy suddenly unarmed the locks of the helicopter.

Her eyes flew to him.

“We’re losing fuel,” he croaked, his deep voice having grown much weaker in the short time they’d been airborne. He lifted their cuffed wrists and fiddled with the hundreds of different buttons on the console. “I disabled the GPS after we took off, and I’ve been flying under the radar, but that’ll only keep them off our tails for so long. And we’re losing fuel.”

Violet nodded, craning her head when he stopped speaking at what she would describe as a pivotal point of the conversation.  “Why are you telling me this?”

Remy turned away from her and swung open the door of the helicopter.  She cried out in surprise, but the sound was muffled by the violent wind that instantly hit them, almost knocking them both out of their seats.  Remy grabbed a hold of the nearest safety handle and looked out of the open door, taking in the black waters of the Pacific Ocean hundreds of feet below.

He looked at Violet from over his shoulder. His blue eyes shone under the moonlight as the wind blew his blonde locks into his face.

“We have to jump.”

3

Violet’s mouth hung open as Remy released the handcuff from her wrist.  Being linked to him by the cold, hard metal suddenly seemed desirable.  If Remy was aware of her stupefied state, he didn’t show it. After freeing her, he laced the open cuff inside of the gun’s trigger guard, locking it with three clicks, then he engaged the safety.

She wanted to tell him that there was no point trying to hold onto that gun. The moment the gunpowder got wet, it would be all but useless until it dried. She didn’t.  She was now more convinced than ever that, while he
needed
that gun, he had absolutely no intention of using it on anyone.

Once it was cuffed to his wrist, he reached into the back of the plane and grabbed a yellow box.

She wondered what it was, but the gravity of the situation overrode her curiosity.  “I’m not jumping.  There’s no fucking way I’m jumping.”

Remy tossed the yellow box out of the aircraft, watching it splash in the water. “We’re going to start a rapid descent.  When we’re within fifty feet of the water, we’ll jump.  That’ll help ease the impact.”

“There will be no impact because I’m not fucking jumping.  This is…” Violet’s words slowed to a stop when, as promised, Remy began quickly descending towards the water until she could see the white bubbles of the waves crashing against the dark ocean waters.  It looked like millions of milky dots shattering against a pool of black ink.  Her eyes flew back to Remy just as he took her blazer from around his bloody leg.  He secured one arm of the blazer to the joystick, and the other to the safety handle on the ceiling.  The helicopter immediately stopped falling, and began a slow climb, once more.

“This should keep it in the air for a while longer.  We have sixty seconds before we’re too high to jump safely.” He turned to her.  “I spotted a buoy floating about ten feet away.  We should be able to make it.  I’m going to count to three.”

Violet almost screamed when he took her wrist. “Archibald, please…”

“We’re dangerously low on fuel, and we’re hundreds of miles from land.  One way or another, this plane will crash into the ocean. You can go down with it, or you can come with me right now.”

She was horrified.

“I know you have no reason to believe me… but I won’t let anything happen to you.  I promise.”

She jammed her eyes shut, then nodded, gripping his arm in return.

His blue eyes grew serious as he looked at her, the moonlight making them blaze bright in the darkness.  “One…”

“Oh god.”

“Two…”

“Oh my god.”

“
Three!”

“Oh my fucking god!”  She released a blood curling scream as Remy fell sideways out of the helicopter, taking her with him.

The fall was quick.  Too quick.  They hit the water hard, plunging rapidly into the infinite depths of the dark, freezing abyss.  Violet held her breath as the shocking chill of the water surrounded her, and immediately began to kick.   When she realized Remy was no longer holding onto her, she slowed her swim and looked down just in time to see his pale hand disappearing in the black expanse.

For a moment, she contemplated letting him go, letting him sink.  With his bum leg there was no way he’d have the power to kick his way to the top.  He’d held her at gunpoint for the better part of the day.  She should be happy to let him drown.

But she couldn’t.  She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to live with herself.  Plus, that nagging instinct was back.  The one that screamed inside of her that this man wasn’t a killer. This man wasn’t a monster.  She couldn’t let him go without getting to the bottom of all this.  If Remy
was
innocent, and she helped him prove it, the things it would do for her career were beyond measure.  Even if her gut was wrong, and he
was
guilty, she’d still have the story of the year on her hands.  One that could possibly land her a show of her own, if she played her cards right.  That story would be gone completely if the main suspect died before she could even close the case.

It was decided. Violet rotated, and swam deeper into the water, reaching out just in time to catch his hand before it disappeared into the darkness completely.

She came above the water with a gasp, holding an unconscious Remy against her heaving chest.  She kicked wildly to stay above water, struggling against the weight of the large man she held.  The waves slapped at her face as she fought, almost taunting her, and she began to pant. He was at least three times her size.

She caught sight of the bright yellow buoy he’d mentioned, in the distance, screaming out at her against the starry night sky.  It looked to be about fifteen feet away, but she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to make it there while dragging Remy with her.

Thankfully, he came to, seconds later.  His breathing was horse, uneven and ragged.  He immediately began coughing violently, swallowing and spitting what seemed like gallons and gallons of water as the unforgiving ocean continued to try and claim them.

Violet wrapped her arms around his waist when she saw the waves choking him, overpowering him.  He’d gotten his head above water, but he clearly wouldn’t have the strength to keep it there for long.

She supported him against her chest as she began an upside down, backwards paddle towards the buoy.  It was slow going, and the wicked waters never relented in its bid to conquer them both as they treaded sluggishly along.

As they moved, Remy swiped the yellow box he’d thrown out of the plane from the water as they passed it.  His breathing was still alarmingly ragged.  Violet was reminded of the horrible asthma attacks her older sister used to have when they were kids.  He sounded on the verge of death.

With a heavy heart, she realized he probably was.

“Are you okay?”  She gasped, between kicks.  Her legs were quickly growing weak, like pudding, but she didn’t stop kicking.

Remy didn’t respond, but the relief in his eyes was poignant when they finally reached the buoy.  It looked like a ray of sunshine calling out to them in the darkness, bobbing up and down against the rhythmic sway of the waves.

As soon as they both had a secure hold on the bright marker, they struggled to catch their breath.

As if their brains were working in unison, they both looked up into the sky at the same time.  The helicopter was still moving onward, slicing through the stars.  Every once in a while, it would veer off to the left, or to the right, but it didn’t fall from the sky.  Violet felt a cosmic connection to that plane.  It seemed to be putting up just as much of a fight as she and Remy just had.

“How is it still flying?” she asked.

“Auto pilot,” was all Remy could choke.

Violet’s wide eyes watched as the helicopter finally disappeared into the foggy night sky.

“It’ll crash soon,” Remy added, pressing his forehead against the buoy when he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.  A violent cough escaped his lungs.

“Don’t talk,” Violet admonished.  She noticed that his previously olive skin had gone ghost white, and his eyes were taking on a subtle grey tint, a stark contrast from their usual kind blue.  They had to get out of this water as soon as possible.

As if her silent prayers had been answered, Violet threw her head over her shoulder in shock when the buoy was suddenly illuminated with light.  The faint sound of an engine roaring stole her breath as her eyes searched the area frantically.  Two headlights were closing in on them in the distance.

Then, there it was.  A speedboat.  Coming right for them.

Violet’s mouth fell.  The police had finally arrived.

Help had finally arrived.

She looked to Remy, her brown eyes locked with his blue, and she was shocked to realize that she didn’t even want it anymore.

***

But it wasn’t the police.

“You folks doin’ alright?”  The middle-aged man with a full beard trained his large flashlight on Remy and Violet, his kind brown eyes jumping back and forth between them wildly.

Violet’s teeth had begun to chatter from being inside of the freezing water for so long.  She tried to respond, but couldn’t.

She was grateful when the kind stranger parked the boat as close to the buoy as he could before leaning over the edge and grabbing her arm.  He pulled her inside with ease, before reaching for Remy and pulling him in as well.

The moment the kind stranger took in Remy’s bloody prison suit, the handcuff that was still dangling noisily from his right wrist, and the gun attached to it, he realized his colossal mistake.

But it was too late.

“Thank you so much, sir—” Violet’s gratitude was cut short at the sound of the gun cocking next to her.  She cut a look at Remy sharply from the corner of her eye in disbelief.  Did Remy really have a gun trained at the head of a man who’d just saved their lives?

With his free hand, Remy retrieved the only red life vest in the boat, and tossed it to the man, who immediately donned it.  He understood what was happening, and his eyes remained heavy with regret as he inflated the vest, raising his eyes to Remy’s.

“Archibald, this man just saved our lives!”  Violet cried, now realizing what Remy was going to do.

Remy’s heart felt shredded. He didn’t want to do this, but there was no other way.

“In the water,” he commanded.

“Remington Jacob Archibald!”

Remy ignored her.

With hesitation, the man threw one leg over the edge of his boat.  “Please don’t do this.” Through his shock, he’d found the will to beg.

“The water.” Remy’s breathing was still ragged, so the order sounded weak and strained, but it was still clear he meant business.

With sad eyes, the man lowered himself into the water.

Chest heaving, Remy held up the heavy yellow box he’d swiped from the helicopter and tossed it into the water.  The kind man caught it in unsteady arms.

“It’s an E.L.T,” Remy explained. “It’s a transmission device. As soon as we’re out of sight, flip the switch at the top, and rescue personnel will be here soon.”  Remy gave a quick nod.  “And thanks.”

Violet threw him a look, wondering if he’d seriously just thanked a man whose boat he was about to steal.  As she opened her mouth to chide him, her words were stolen from her when he suddenly slammed his foot on the gas, sending the boat flying forward at an alarming speed.  She flew back into the soft seat at the rear of the boat, clawing for any solid surface. As she collected herself, holding tight to the side of the boat, she looked over her shoulder just in time to see the man flip the switch on the E.L.T.

As he faded rapidly into the distance of the dark fog and murky waters, Violet could only pray that help arrived for him as quickly as possible.

***

The moon was high when Remy finally pulled the boat up to an unknown dock some time later. He didn’t kill the engine.

Violet took in the silent, marshy waters that surrounded them, nothing but wet greenery and trees all around.  It reminded her of the small town she’d grown up in, in Louisiana.  Her family had gotten the hell out of that town for a reason, and she didn’t appreciate the unwelcome dejavu this area was giving her. Against her will, her heart leapt ever so slightly at their deserted surroundings.  Where the hell were they?

When she looked back to Remy, any small fear she may have felt vanished, quickly to be replaced with anger toward the man before her. “We really shouldn’t have left that poor man back there.  That water is freezing.”

Remy’s jaw tightened.  There it was again.

We.

Without answering, he lifted his handcuffed wrist, which was still locked around the gun. The key to the cuffs was long gone, so he got to work taking the weapon apart, sick and tired of having it attached to him by those cuffs.  He pulled apart only the pieces of the gun that were necessary to release it from the cuffs, and put it back together with ease.

Within seconds.  Violet’s eyes rose to his, amazed at how quickly he’d dismantled and reassembled that weapon. She didn’t ask the questions that danced around in her head.

Army?

Marines?

It had been too fast, too precise.  He knew his way around that gun like it was an extension of his arm.  Perhaps he
hadn’t
missed his mark back on the roof.  She’d had the distinct feeling that he would never shoot her then, and that feeling was amplified now.

As he retook the freed gun in his hand, Remy met her gaze and tried to make sense of the look in her eyes. His bad leg shook, sending one terrible shot of pain blazing through every inch of his body after another, but all he could think about was how easily she could have let him drown back there.  He couldn’t remember anything that’d happened between the moment he’d jumped from the helicopter and the moment he’d come to, head above water, cradled against her soft bosom.  She could’ve let him sink to the bottom.  Not a jury in the world would’ve convicted her.

But she hadn’t.

Breaking away from the power of her eyes, he retrieved a yellow box from the floor of the boat.  Violet’s eyes followed him. It looked exactly like the box he’d left with the man back in the water, except this one was smaller.  He set it on the edge of the dock before turning back to her, eyes riveted to the floor of the gently rocking boat.