Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

Paul and Belindaplanted some different leads first thing in the morning, but by nine they were climbing up the first steep mile and then they trudged through mile after mile of the eleven-mile hike along the Na Pali Coastline toward their destination of the Kalalau Beach Campground.

She hoped he was right and this would be the way to avoid getting tagged by Jagger or Hays today. If the men somehow discovered where they'd gone and found them before six p.m., they'd lose their lives today, and even if Jagger or Hays had to wait until nine to leave the Kalalau campsite and follow them, she wasn't fast enough to keep away from a highly trained SEAL captain or lieutenant. They'd have them caught tomorrow, too. Then they'd only have one more day to earn her money.

It was definitely a risk, but so far it seemed to be working out. Belinda appreciated this idea because it had a high chance of success, but also because she was avoiding Jagger. If Jagger and Hays didn't find them in time, she and Paul could call Shawn on the satellite phone, hike out of here in the morning, win her money, and she could fly home.

She was chomping at the bit to talk to her parents and muddle out the story of Jagger claiming he'd come to see her. There were details Jagger shouldn't know and she couldn't imagine the Jagger she knew lying to her. She also couldn't say the words liar and Dad in the same sentence. It wasn't possible her parents could keep something like that from her. Her dad and mom were her rocks and her shining lights.

She focused on the epic scenery—vivid green, tropical flowers, towering mountains, and the roaring ocean far below. A light rain had started falling mid-morning. Blinking the rain out of her eyes dampened some of her enthusiasm for the stunning views.

Earlier, they'd met up with some young ladies who were turning around because of the rain. Buying their backpacks and supplies off them had been a good move, especially when one of them contained a nice-fitting visor to keep her eyes clear. They transferred anything they wanted from their smaller backpacks and she noticed Paul move a gun and a knife.

The backpacks were getting heavier with every step, but when they made it to the remote campground, Paul promised they could wash off in a small waterfall and sleep in a dry tent. Belinda would even have a change of dry clothes. Paul might at least have some dry socks, if they fit over those big feet of his.

She and Paul had chatted as they walked and hiked and slid. She sometimes fell on her rear and he helped her up. He was a very nice guy. At mile seven, they sat to eat lunch. He turned off the cameras and turned off the ringer on the phone so Hays couldn't keep trying to get through and pry details out of them. Then Paul asked about the story of her and Jagger. He mostly just listened as she tried to share everything without getting overly excited, but that wasn't really her personality and she got much too intense several times during the tale.

He stood as they finished lunch. "I have to turn the cameras back on and we need to keep moving, but could we talk in code to continue discussing this?"

"I guess. But truly, there isn't much to discuss. I think he's a big, fat liar." She punched her fists into the air.

"Do you?" Paul eyed her analytically.

"I do." Belinda jutted out her chin. Her parents would never lie to her or hurt her. Maybe they hadn't been Jagger's number one fans, but they wanted her to be happy. They would've supported Belinda with Jagger, if he hadn't given up on her.

"Okay." He shrugged. "I guess we don't need to come up with a code, then. There's nothing more to discuss if you can't trust Jagger."

She let out a heavy sigh. "I did trust Jagger. Until he broke my heart."

"I understand. But you know what my dad always says?"

"What's that?"

"There are three sides to the truth—my side, your side, and the truth."

She thought about that. Her truth. Jagger's truth. The real truth?

"We all view things differently, and most people slant the story to benefit them or at least make themselves look a little better, right?"

She nodded.

"Will you at least talk with your parents when you get home?"

"I will."

"Well, that's all we can ask." He lifted her backpack and helped her shrug it on, turning on her camera, then slid his own on. "All right. Let's keep moving and win this money."

"Thank you, Paul."

"Of course."

They started the trek. The rain wasn't horrible, but it made everything slick, muddy, and treacherous. The wind was picking up, and she suspected a bigger storm was on its way. The wind made Crawler's Ledge, a steep section of rocky cliff that dropped impossibly far, downright terrifying. Belinda repeated one of her favorite Psalms in her head.

I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.

Paul held her elbow and assisted her across. She breathed a lot easier when there wasn't a cliff that would end her life inches from her next step.

Paul told her they were getting closer, about two more miles. She checked her watch. Four-ten. This day had been long and hard, but they were almost to their goal. She looked forward to being off her feet and hopefully out of the rain. Their backpacks had single tents in them, so that was nice.

It could be a very miserable night with the wind howling and sleeping on the hard ground, but she'd at least be out of the rain. She often slept in uncomfortable spots on her African trips. To win a million dollars, she'd suffer through a bad night"s sleep. Not facing Jagger when she was confused by everything he claimed happened was another bonus. She'd ask her parents, but she could only imagine their confusion and frustration at Jagger making up such a tale. Her parents loved her too much to keep something like that from her.

It was almost five in the afternoon when they caught their first glimpse of the campground. Brightly colored tent material peeked through the thick trees, and she could see the beach and ocean beyond. It was a mystical looking place with the rain giving it an ethereal light. The Na Pali mountains towered thick and green above them, shrouded with storm clouds. Those mountains couldn't be traversed by vehicle; they would protect her from Jagger finding her. Only an hour to go and she would win a million dollars for Gardening Goodness.

She should be thrilled and focused on her charity. Instead, being furious with Jagger left a dull ache in her chest. Stewing over whether there was a chance he was right and her parents had lied to her made her body ache. Just as bad was knowing he had lied and they'd never be able to trust each other and form a solid relationship like she'd always secretly dreamed of.

The view was stunning, but for some reason she didn't feel safe. There was a darkness oozing from that picturesque campground that she couldn't explain. Was it the thickening rain and wind making the gorgeous trees, mountains, and ocean look mystical and eerie, like a set from the Lord of the Rings? Would the Marsh Wraiths rise out of the mist or would the Fellbeast swoop down from the mountain range?

She was being silly now, but putting one foot in front of the other took effort. Paul was moving more cautiously as they approached the campground.

"Everything all right?" she whispered.

"Something feels off," he replied just as quietly, his eyes scanning everywhere.

"Oh, good. It's not just me. I keep waiting for the Shelob to come crawling toward us." She looked up at the trees as she said it.

Paul chuckled softly at the reference to the massive spider from Lord of the Rings.

The closer they got, she could see a large boat was rammed up on the beach, the waves battering it. Two men stood nearby on the sand, more indistinguishable shadows than men. The rain was falling thicker and the wind whipping her hair.

A sound like a gunshot cracked through the air.

Belinda glanced at Paul. "Did a tree branch?—"

He pushed her behind him and toward the closest thicket of trees.

"Where did you two come from?" a man yelled, breaking through the trees and running at them. He had a pistol out and pointed their direction.

Paul whipped off his backpack and yanked on a zipper. Could he reach his own gun in time? Why was this guy pointing a gun with threatening intent? It made no sense.

"Drop the bag," the man snarled. He aimed his gun straight at Belinda. His hand was steady, the look in his hazel eyes terrifying. He was desperate, angry, and possibly unstable.

Her heart thudded against her chest. Cold chills covered her body. The man was wearing gray shorts and a dirty white button down with all the buttons undone and blood staining the collar. He was lean, and the long scar down the side of his face would've made him look mean even without the aggressive posture and pistol pointed at them.

Paul looked like he wasn't going to listen, but another man appeared through the trees with a rifle in hand. He was bigger than the scarred guy and in a too-tight T-shirt and ill-fitting khaki pants.

"I'd drop the backpack," the second man said, a lot calmer than the first. "The blood on the collar of Carl's shirt is from slitting the boat owner's neck and stealing the shirt off the dead man's back as his prize." He tilted his head to the large boat on the shore and smirked. "I at least grabbed clean clothes."

Belinda's stomach flipped over. She clung to her backpack straps with clammy palms. What had they walked into? Why had these men killed some boat owner and stolen his boat and now were threatening them without any provocation?

Paul set the backpack down and lifted his hands. "Who are you?" His voice was cold and in control. He didn't seem scared, more affronted that they'd dare point weapons at them and he hadn't gotten his own pistol out. Belinda knew he had a lot of security and fighting experience in the Air Force and with Aiden Porter, but what could one man do against two armed men? For the first time today, she wished Jagger and Hays were racing after them.

"We escaped from the prison on Oahu," the calmer, larger man said. "Took the cabin cruiser by force and were going to sail away, but the police followed us and their boats were too fast. We had friends leave some food, weapons, and tents for us here as a back-up plan." He shrugged. "A back-up plan that's imploding because of the weather. You can go sit with the other hostages. We'll see if you're useful later. If the cops listen and get us a helicopter to fly safely out of here, we might let you all live."

"Abe," Carl said, staring at Belinda. "I think she'll be useful now." He looked her over and licked his lips.

"You dare touch me and you'll wish you hadn't," Belinda flung at him. She trembled, her heart pounding against her rib cage. "Get thee hence, Satan," she commanded him. She couldn't believe she'd said the same verse to Jagger. Her Jagger was a hero and a protector, even if he'd ditched her and lied to her. These men had only evil intent.

Paul held onto her arm.

"Satan." Abe chuckled at that.

"I'll show you Satan," Carl sneered at her.

Paul stepped in front of her.

Carl strode closer. Belinda's stomach turned over. Would he kill Paul to get to her? How could she protect Paul and herself? She'd fight him until he slit her throat like he had the boat owner.

"‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,'" she quoted Isaiah.

"Later," Abe barked at Carl, who stopped in his tracks, looking belligerent but not advancing. "We've got to figure out a plan if they aren't going to send helicopters with this weather. Move," he commanded Paul and Belinda.

They obeyed, walking in front of the pair along a trail and into a clearing. Paul kept his body between her and the two men.

"You can sit over there." Abe tilted his head toward a group of people cowering under some shade trees.

Two more convicts pointed rifles loosely at the group while two more hid behind a rocky overhang on the beach. One aimed a gun and took a shot out at the ocean.

Belinda startled, and one of the women in the group cried out.

"Cops," Abe grunted, pointing at the two boats trolling in the water a fair distance offshore, barely visible through the storm.

At least there were some police trying to help. Did they not dare ram their boat up on shore like the criminals had? If they did, the convicts would probably shoot them and some of their hostages. Who knew? They obviously weren't afraid to kill.

What could they do? Could Paul somehow fight them? If only Jagger and Hays would come. Jagger might be upset at her for not listening to his cockamamie story, but she knew he'd always protect her.

Paul took Belinda's elbow and walked her to the group of people. The guards looked them over but said nothing as Paul nodded to the group of six campers huddled together. He settled a couple feet away, tugging Belinda down next to him. Resting his back against a tree, he muttered, "Lean against me."

She slid her backpack off and leaned into his shoulder. The shot of adrenaline from having a gun pointed at her was settling into body shakes. She needed Paul's support.

Paul calmly glanced around as if cataloguing everything. She felt his hand moving against her lower back. She would've cussed him for getting fresh, but that wasn't Paul, not at all. She looked down and realized the way he had her sitting covered his hand so he could work the pocketknife out of his pocket. She looked away quickly so the guards wouldn't notice, wondering what a pocketknife could do against guns, but at least it was something.

Abe and Carl were a short distance away, discussing something.

"You'll be okay," Paul murmured close to Belinda's ear.

She darted a glance at him, wanting to beg him to know how she could possibly be okay. His dark eyes promised he would protect her, but he only had a pocketknife against six dangerous and armed criminals who held them hostage.

To think an hour ago she'd been worried if they'd effectively ditched Jagger and Hays today. Now she could only pray the two men were hot on their trail. She feared they were nowhere nearby.

Time passed slowly. Belinda leaned against Paul's shoulder, drawing strength from her friend. She didn't know what else to do but pray. She prayed in her head over and over again. Praying for her and Paul and these poor people seated next to them to be safe, for Jag, Hays, and the police to come rescue them. It felt like a very long stretch that any help was coming through the eerie rain.

Paul was ever alert and didn't appear afraid of the men pointing guns at them. She counted two women and four men in the group of hostages. Two of the men were young and well-built. They kept looking at each other and at their captors. Belinda prayed they wouldn't do anything stupid and get themselves killed. None of the rest looked ready to challenge their captors. The brunette cowered into her boyfriend or husband and whimpered the entire time. Nobody spoke.

What were the convicts waiting for? She shivered, wet and terrified. Paul wrapped an arm around her. She appreciated him being here, but how she wished for Jagger.

Suddenly, Carl approached, leering at her, his pistol held loosely in his hand. "Get up, beautiful. It's time for you to be useful."

"Over my dead body," Paul snarled at him.

Carl grinned at that, turning toward Paul and lowering the gun to point it at Paul sitting on the ground.

Paul leaped at the criminal. His knife flashed as he shoved it into Carl's stomach. Carl screamed in anguish. Paul gripped and twisted Carl's hand that held the pistol. It fired as Paul and Carl slammed into the ground, Carl's body underneath Paul's. The gunshot reverberated through Belinda. Her ears rang.

More screams rang out, and Belinda feared Paul had been shot.

Paul yanked back from Carl, holding the pistol. Carl wasn't moving, blood blossoming from a bullet wound on his chest and the knife protruding from his stomach. Belinda was grateful Paul had saved her, but she couldn't look at the body.

The other two convicts watching over the prisoners both shouted in surprise that their friend had been killed and not Paul. They raised their guns, ready to fire.

Shots rang out from out from somewhere to the right, back up the trail. The two guards were both hit. They hit the ground and neither of them moved.

Paul stood, taking aim and shooting at the men down by the beach. One went down and the other darted for cover in a cave.

Belinda's ears rang from the gun discharging right next to her, but she wanted to cheer. Four bad guys gone and one in hiding. Where was Abe?

She looked to see who had shot the guards and come to their rescue. Jag plowed into Abe as the leader rushed out of the trees at the commotion. Jagger picked the criminal up with his forward momentum and slammed him to the ground, using his own body to add to the impact. Somehow the man still had some fight in him, and they rolled around trading punches.

"Jag!" she cried out, jumping up. "You came!"

"Stay down," Paul cautioned, pushing her back down.

He aimed a shot down toward the beach again and then cautiously moved in that direction. She stayed down but pivoted on her knees to watch Jag fight Abe.

Jag ripped the man's gun from his hand and tossed it into the forest.

The convict's leader fought like a cornered badger. Desperation had to be driving him onward. He had nothing left to lose.

Jagger connected with brilliant punches, the muscles in his back and arms on fine display as he pinned Abe and decimated the man's resistance. He flipped the guy facedown and yanked his arms behind his back so hard Belinda heard a crack and a squawk of pain. She'd never wanted someone to feel pain before, but Abe was the leader of these awful men. Men who would break out of prison for whatever crimes they committed there, kill the boat owner and probably other people on the boat they stole, then take all of them hostage.

"Does anyone have rope?" Jagger called to the group.

"For sure, man," one of the young guys answered, jumping to his feet and hurrying for a tent in the woods.

The rest of the group stood cautiously, murmuring amongst themselves and looking around at the bodies and Jagger pinning the leader. Where was Paul?

Belinda focused on Jagger. He looked glorious. He met her gaze and everything about him softened. "Bee … you're all right?"

"Thanks to you," she cried out, clapping her hands together and beaming at him.

Jagger grinned at that.

"‘The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack,'" she quoted Timothy, lit up with happiness. God had rescued them and sent Jagger to help Paul be their avenging angel.

The hiker hurried to Jagger with a length of rope. The young man helped pin Abe down as Jagger tied him up tight. The criminal grunted in pain. Jagger braced his broken arm in front of him with a stick and a T-shirt that the other well-built young man hurried to bring him when he asked. He trussed Abe with his good arm behind his back, his legs secured together and tied to that arm and him lying on his good side, then tied him firmly to a tree.

Finally, Jagger stood. He had smudges of dirt on his arms and tears in his shirt and pants. His strong build and the way he'd rescued them shouted safety and protection. He was the hero of every one of her dreams, and after fourteen long years, he was here to rescue her and love her.

He met her gaze with a heated, longing look, his bearing full of the confidence of a warrior who would always be the victor and come for his lady. A lady who needed to thank him and love him. Right now.

"Yes, sir!" Belinda yelled.

Everybody but Jagger probably looked at her strangely as she ran across the distance to him.

Jagger's grin transformed his face from handsome to carved by angels as he caught her in his arms.

"You're my hero," she said before pressing her lips to his and showing him exactly how grateful she was and how incredible and impressive he was.

Jagger only took a moment to shove his pistol in the back of his waistband, and then he returned the kiss. He swept her off her feet and kissed her. Sparks swirled in the air, music played, and passion and love intermingled in the warmth of Jagger's delicious lips.

They had to be together. She couldn't very well dump the hero of her dreams because of some misunderstanding in the past.

"Jagger." Paul tugged on Jagger's arm, interrupting their moment.

Jagger set Belinda down but kept her close. He gave her a smoldering look and murmured, "More later."

"Definitely," she agreed, so happy and relieved and safe and loved. She noticed the other six hikers were watching them like they were a trending TikTok. She didn't care. Jagger was here.

"One got away," Paul said in a fierce whisper to Jagger. "I went after the one hiding in the cave, but he took off into the forest. He's in the wind now."

"What?" Jagger looked around, doing a quick body count. "No. The police told Hays there were only five convicts that escaped."

"There were six men," Paul insisted.

"One of the campers that was here helped them." The twenty-something man who'd gotten the rope pointed at one of the dead bodies, one of the two who'd been guarding the campers.

"Let's go find him." Jagger released her.

"He's long gone." Paul shook his head. "I tracked him until I lost the prints in the forest. He could be anywhere. We need to go defensive. I doubt he'd dare return, knowing we're both armed and his friends are dead, but you never know when a criminal is desperate."

Jagger nodded, then looked at Belinda. Everything she'd ever wanted was in his gaze. He loved her. He'd come for her. He'd always be there for her. It was just a bonus that his kisses lit her up all the way through and he was handsome as sin. What truly mattered was his heart, his dedication to her, and the deep and lasting love they shared.

"You're all right?" he asked again.

"Yes. I can't believe you came for me." Finally. After all these years, her hero had come for her, and he certainly looked like her hero and kissed like her hero and she simply loved every inch of him.

He smiled. "I was coming to shoot you for the game, but then Hays heard about the convicts. I sprinted through the miles after that call."

He'd sprinted to get to her. Ah, Jagger. But …

"Wait a hot minute." She pulled away from him and instantly shivered. The rain wasn't cold, but being out of his arms chilled her all the way through. Especially as she realized— "You didn't come because you knew I was in trouble and are attuned to my every need and love me more desperately than you love anyone on this planet?"

Jagger's brows shot up.

"I'll keep a lookout and go talk to the group while you two … figure this out," Paul murmured, then walked toward the group watching the drama between Jagger and Belinda.

"Bee …" Jagger pushed at his hair and then held up his hands. "I did come for you."

"Because you wanted to win your game?" Her voice squeaked, and panic made her chest tight. He hadn't come for her.

He rolled his eyes and pulled out the green laser gun from his backpack. "What do you want me to do? Throw it into the bushes?"

She did want him to do that.

"I promised Mercedes I'd give her silly show a hundred percent," he said in a softer tone.

She knew he had, but fire was building in her chest. She wanted him to come for her and her alone. She'd longed for that for fourteen years, and instead of manning up and telling her why he'd ditched her, he had placed all the blame on her parents and had the gall to call her dad a pompous hypocrite.

Jagger was the liar, trying to make her question her loving family so he could get some sweet honey this week and ditch her again, or so he could get in her head and win the challenge for his best friends Mercedes and Shawn. Belinda wasn't his best friend. Not anymore.

"Why don't you shoot me right now?" she flung at him. "It's not six o'clock yet. You can still win your game."

He glanced around. Checking if the bad guys really were dead or avoiding her gaze? "Bee." Jagger rubbed at his jaw, staring at her as if she was off her rocker.

She'd rocked clean off the porch at this point. No turning back. "Shoot me! You found me. You won."

Jagger's dark eyes were filled with frustration and anger. The natural competitiveness in him and his loyalty to his friends must have won out because his jaw tightened and he tagged her shirt.

"Oh, shut up," she barked at the obnoxious voice that came from her shirt. "I knew you would do it," she snarled at him. "‘Which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inward are ravening wolves.'"

"What?" He blinked the rainwater out of his eyes. Then he looked around as if checking for more bad guys before meeting her gaze again.

"You look like this perfect, tough, manly, loving hero, and your kiss transports me to another world, even better than when I was young and dumb, but you're still the jerk who ditched me for no reason and loathes my family. You only came to tag me for the game, not to rescue me because you love me from the bottom of your soul."

He pushed out a breath. "You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met."

Belinda harrumphed and turned away from him. She should be embarrassed about her outburst, but she feared everything she'd said was true. Jagger didn't care about her. He wanted to make excuses and blame her parents for them blowing apart.

If she'd drop her pride, he'd probably mack-daddy with her the rest of the week then go on his merry way, back to being a great SEAL captain and saving the world, ignoring her texts and acting as if she didn't exist. She honored his service, but she couldn't let him break her heart again.

"I need to go help Paul."

"Of course you do. You're the hero, and I'm grateful for your rescue," she conceded, softening her tone. "Please go do your hero job. Don't worry about ever returning to your lady fair pining away for you at home."

Did he have any clue how long she'd pined for him?

Jagger half-laughed. "Ah, Bee …" Her name came out in a husky groan.

Belinda's gaze snapped to his, and she almost faltered at the pleading in his eyes, but there was too much pain and too many years of waiting and hoping he'd come and look at her like that. Now, with the lies he was telling about her parents… She couldn't deal with any of it. Especially after just being held captive and watching those awful men die.

"Don't," she warned him, turning away again.

A few tense moments passed. She prayed he'd reach for her and decimate her resistance, but she'd probably slam her fist into his handsome face if he tried. No wonder her parents hadn't wanted her with him. Not that they would lie to keep her away, but they'd both expressed concerns. She and Jagger were oil and water and would only fight and never mix. She wanted to be a Christian, not be stirred up and angry all the time.

The Lord is my strength. Please, give me strength to resist him.

Finally, Jagger said, "I'd like you to stay with the group until we secure the other convict."

"Fine." She hurried around him and to where Paul had the group moving tents together in a tight clump.

Her heart thumped sadly in her chest. A brilliant and brave rescue and then another beautiful kiss and connection with Jagger had ended in angry words and more hurt. She was probably to blame for overreacting, but them separating was for the best. She knew Jagger could be the hero and rescue her, but he could never be her other half and love her like she needed him to.