Riptide (32 page)

Coupled with the fear that they were going to be buried alive right where they stood, his cool tones when she was scared out of her mind made her crazy.

“Were
you
hurt?” She searched his dusty, torn clothes, his dusty hair, the streaks of blood on his cheek and arms. She ran her hands across his shoulders, his chest, searching for any signs of serious injury.

His fingers ghosted across the stinging cuts on her upper shoulders and he grunted. “We’ve got a long walk.” He reached out and briefly touched a gentle hand to her cheek, then undid the top two buttons of her shirt.

Bria managed a smile. “I don’t think now’s the right time to undress me, do you?”

“Fucking hell,” he said savagely, baring her shoulder where a large dark bruise was already forming. “How bad does it hurt?”

Bria shrugged back into her shirt and briskly did up the buttons. “Don’t feel it. We’d better make tracks, don’t you think?”

“Liar.”

She blew out a long, shaking breath. “If it hurts, I can’t feel it. I think my body and brain are numb.”

He took her hand and started walking, fast, hugging the roughhewn granite wall. “Sooner than later, whoever’s up there is going to come down here to make sure they finished the job.”

“Ah.” Her voice shimmered with false cheer. “That makes more sense than my mountain trying to kill me.” The look he shot her said without words that he considered she might have sustained a concussion, but she waved it away. “Let’s get off the road. If I remember correctly, there’s an animal trail leading to the beach. It’s a dangerous climb, but—”

“Can you do it?”

“Of course.” She’d never actually done the climb; her parents had always said she was too young. But Draven had. She remembered waiting at the base with her mother, watching Draven and her father scale the almost vertical rock face from the beach up to the road.

They’d promised she’d get her chance. Twenty years later, here it was.

They followed a switchback around a sharp corner, and Bria pointed to a shrubby, graveled area on the side of the road about fifty yards away. “The path is that way.”

The road here was also littered with rubble, but nothing new was falling.

“I haven’t heard another explosion in a while. This is just residue from the last blast,” Nick told her grimly. “Which means they’re on their way, searching for our bodies. Hopefully the wrecked Vespa will buy us some time.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Ready?”

“Yes.” They bolted, hand in hand, away from the safety of the wall, running flat-out diagonally across the road toward the guardrail. Stomach in her throat, she felt as though they had targets on their backs. Slipping and sliding, Bria helped by Nick’s strong arm around her waist, they came to the small gravel area with its curved guardrail, beyond which was a sheer drop-off to the sea and the rocks hundreds of feet below.

Nick helped her over the metal rail and down the first forty feet, which, while at a fairly steep incline, was crab-walkable as long as they held on to whatever was available—a shrub, a clump of grasses, a protruding rock.

Always, Nick’s steadying hand, his strong shoulder, or his iron hard forearm was there to support her as they descended.

Sweat ran down Bria’s throat and stung her eyes, making a multitude of small lacerations on her exposed skin itch and sting. Fire ate at her shoulder, causing it to throb with every heartbeat.

“Stop,” Nick said in a harsh undertone, suddenly yanking her flat against the side of the mountain, her face pressed to the hot dirt. She heard it too. A vehicle crunching up the road fifty feet above them. It went a mile or so farther up the mountain toward the caves, then after an interminable ten minutes, during which every inch of Bria’s body itched or vibrated with tension, the car returned, stopping, she presumed, where the Vespa had taken a dive.

Nick shook his head when she shot him an inquiring glance. She closed her eyes, and crouched still until even the faintest sound of movement disappeared down the switchbacks.

She opened her eyes to find Nick watching her. She raised a brow as she’d seen him do, and he gave her a faint smile. “You’re a remarkable woman, Bria Visconti.”

“Gee, Mr. Cutter,” she said sweetly, but with a note of sincerity she couldn’t hide. “You sure know how to show a girl a great time.”

His smile deepened, and he reached over to brush the damp, tangled hair from her cheek before pointing back down the path. “The next bit looks tricky. Steady, and deliberate. Don’t hurry. They’ll have done their job if we take a header to those rocks below.”

“Thank you for putting that cheerful image in my head,” she told him dryly, then grabbed a sturdy shrub, testing it to see if it would hold her weight. It did, and she lowered herself another five feet. Nick stayed right with her all the way down.

It took them almost an hour to reach the bottom. By the end, she was filthy, covered in more dirt and scratches than she could ever remember from her childhood. Her ankle and shoulder hurt, and she desperately wanted a bath.

A long, hot, forever soak. Preferably with Nick. They never should have left the cave.

Standing on the rocks, the surf shooting up foaming waves nearby, Bria glanced up at where they’d climbed. “I used to wait here while my father and Draven went up.” She wiped the grit from her eyes. “I thought they were so brave, and I couldn’t wait until Dad would let me climb too. Now I realize my mother must’ve had her heart in her throat every second.”

Her arms and back ached from hanging on to whatever she could find, and the contortions needed to get from one handhold to another, but she had a feeling her father would have been proud.

Nick brushed a kiss across her dirty forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” she tossed out lightly. “Beginning with giving me a bath.”

But he didn’t rise to the easy bait. Instead, he cupped her chin on one filthy hand and skimmed his lips across hers, so softly that her heart skipped a beat.

“Are you okay?”

“God.” Bria gave a shaky laugh at his appearance. “Do I look as scary as you do?” He was covered in a thick layer of dust; runnels of sweat had cleared filthy trails down his face and neck. Bloody scratches seeped and made new estuaries in the dust. His T-shirt was thick with dust and had large holes in it, his jeans ripped and torn.

“You look beautiful.”

Bria managed to laugh. “Crazy man. You must have a concussion.”

There was a narrow strip of beach between the water and the jagged rocks, then the side of the mountain loomed over them. “I think we can walk on the beach all the way into Pescarna,” she told him.

“We’ll risk it. Hiding between these rocks makes better sense in case anyone is watching for us, but frankly I’m going for speed. We need to get to the airport ASAP. Whoever was after you on the boat has followed us to Marrezo. It’s not safe for you here.”

She couldn’t disagree. She hadn’t even gotten to speak with Draven. The last thing she wanted was to bring trouble, especially potentially lethal trouble, to his door.

This time Nick didn’t take her hand, and Bria matched her stride to his as he walked at a faster clip through golden sand that was so fine it squeaked under their tennis shoes. Small waves broke a few feet off the beach, and the sun was hot overhead.

She remembered skipping along this beach as a child, searching for shells that would tell her the thrilling stories of mermaids in the deep. She remembered her kite was pink and Draven’s red as the gulls wheeled about in the breeze while her parents napped on a blanket in the sun.

The breeze smelled of ocean and seaweed, and felt good on Bria’s hot cheeks, drying the sweat and cooling her skin “What should I tell Draven?”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact his, they can work it all out. Don’t worry about him.”

“But—” She did worry. Other than Antonio, Draven was all the family she had left. By now he’d have returned from Rome, and would worry if she didn’t return.

Nick’s smile was very white in his filthy face. “Antonio will make sure he pays off the loan, and he’s going to try and convince your brother to get better financial counseling.”

But where will I be?
Bria didn’t ask.

Chapter 19

Every time Nick heard a vehicle on the road far above them, he ducked into the shelter of the large rocks beside them, pulling her down with him. Bria never heard a thing until the car was almost directly on them. “You do have ears like a bat,” she teased.

He nodded. “One of my many skills.”

“I’m quite fond of your bedroom skills, myself.”

“Just the bedroom?”

“Steam room,” she murmured. “Hot springs. Whatever.”

He turned and gave her a sexy wink, but didn’t encourage her banter.

She was too tired to try.

They reached the fishing village an hour later. Nick proved he had cab-attracting skills as well. There was one cab in Pescarna, and they practically bumped into it near the docks.

Nick had a knack for getting what he wanted.

She just wished he wanted her. What would it be like to be in a family like the Cutters? Close-knit siblings all in business together? Working together with a common goal? A fourth brother they’d yet to welcome home. It seemed exciting to her. A dream actually, since she’d practically grown up an only child.

The cab bumped along the cobblestone streets and within minutes they were at the airport where the crew waited, playing cards with the ground crew in the terminal building.

A half hour after flagging down the taxi, they had boarded the plane, which immediately taxied down the runway. “Now what?” Bria tightened the seatbelt across her lap.

Nick looked out the small window. “We’re going to Plan B.”

“Cool,” she settled back. Too tense to relax, and too grateful to still be with Nick, no matter the reason. She’d talk to her brother as soon as she could. But not now. “What
is
Plan B?”

He accepted the hot towel the flight attendant handed him with a pair of tongs and a smile. He scrubbed at his face, then dropped her hand to give her a look that made Bria’s blood cool in her veins. A second ago she’d been hot from all the running, climbing, and fear; now she was ice cold.

She twisted her hot towel between her fingers because suddenly she had a bad, bad feeling when Nick fixed his blue eyes on her face and didn’t smile.

“I didn’t know if Halkias’s attack on you was sexually motivated, or—” Nick paused. “Something else. Plan A was bringing you here, where your brother’s expensive security detail would make sure you were safe from whatever is going down on board the
Scorpion
. I didn’t believe that you were the target. But I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to take the risk that you
were
.”

“I’m not.”

Nick cocked a brow. “Really?” he said savagely. “We’re here in Marrezo, and some sick fuck just tried to bury you under an avalanche!”

“Maybe some sick fuck followed
you
and tried to bury
you
under an avalanche!” Bria returned hotly. “Why would anyone want
me
dead? It’s not like I wrote a shitty press release, or overbilled a client to warrant it. I don’t
know
people who kill people.”

“Could be an enemy of your brother’s. Bria, this looks political. Others might be aware that Draven is drowning in debt.”

“That makes no sense at all.” She kept her voice rational and even with Herculean effort. “How would killing me have anything to do with him?”

He looked at her calmly. “Maybe there’s a large life insurance policy on you.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” Bria’s pulse raced so fast she felt sick. “First of all, there isn’t. Second of all, even if that was the case, who bought the policy? Can you even buy a life insurance policy on someone else? If so, that seems an open invitation to murder every day of the week. And who’d do it, if they could? Draven? That would mean that my own brother wants me dead, which is patently absurd.”

She felt hysteria building. She’d never been hysterical in her life. Furious, cranky. Irritated. Annoyed. Hysterical? No. But hysteria was rising like a poisonous tide inside her, making her want to cry. Or throw up. Or both. The thought that anyone—particularly her brother—wanted to kill her was insane.

But if
she
wasn’t the target, then
Nick
had a killer after him.

That almost made it worse.

“I agree. It is,” Nick said in his cool, calm, rational voice, which should’ve been comforting, but freaked her out another layer.

“But until all questions have been answered to my satisfaction, and since we don’t know if whoever pulled that stunt was after you, or me, I’m not risking leaving you anywhere unprotected.”

Bria wasn’t foolish enough to tell Nick she could take care of herself. Yes. In a dojo. But someone had tried to kill her twice, either her, or by association with Nick. She wasn’t stupid. “Where, then?”
What about you?
She wanted to scream
. Who will protect you?

“Not back on board.”

“Sacramento is a long way away.”

“No. I have friends who’ll keep you safe until this is resolved.”

“Do I have any say in this?”

“No.”

“I don’t want to go off with someone I don’t know to—Thanks,” she added to the attendant who brought her another wet towel and took the used towels. “Where will they stick me?”

“Wherever they consider you the safest.”

In other words, not with him. Bria twisted the second, unused, towel in her hand. “And you’ll be back on the
Scorpion
with a killer on board.” It wasn’t a question. And Nick didn’t answer. In fact, as he’d wiped the dirt off his face, he’d frozen back into the man he’d been when she’d first met him.

Inscrutable. Cold. Impersonal.

As soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, Bria excused herself and went to the bathroom to wash up. When she saw herself in the mirror she started to laugh, albeit a little hysterically. She was a mess. Dirt she’d missed with the towel, sweat-streaked makeup smeared by her own attempts to clean herself, blood from the multitude of cuts, filthy clothes. No wonder the flight crew had looked at them strangely when they’d shown up in the cab. The real wonder was that the cab had picked them up at all.