Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

Belinda's pulsefelt like it raced the entire day. It was unnerving to know Jagger and Hays were chasing them and yet she loved thinking of Jagger pursuing her, coming for her, loving her.

She and Paul didn't slow down and he must've stayed up all night last night planning evasive maneuvers. They traversed the island in different vehicles, changed clothes often, and hid her hair in a hat. He almost made her dye her hair, but luckily he didn't dare slow down for that. She didn't know if his pride was on the line or if he just genuinely wanted her to win the money.

By a little after five p.m., they were in Waimea Canyon on the south side of the island. The Uber driver let them out and they took off on the Waimea Canyon River Trail.

"I haven't seen any sign of them," Paul said proudly, checking over his shoulder again. "If we can keep up a fast pace, I don't know how they'll reach us before six."

"That's amazing. Thank you." Her legs, feet, and the shoes rubbing against the blisters on her heels hurt, but she kept moving. She wanted that million dollars for her charity, but she wanted Jagger more. Was he missing her? Surprised he hadn't caught them? Ready to be done with her and their confusing muddle of a relationship?

She prayed for him as they hiked along the beautiful trail, thick with greenery with occasional views of the river. She prayed for her dad, her mom, Hays, Paul, Mercedes, and Shawn.

Darkness washed over her, and she looked over her shoulder. She couldn't see anybody. The darkness was … in front of them. What did that mean? Was she simply feeling the pressure of Hays and Jagger tracking them? Stress over her and Jagger's relationship? Recurring fear from being a hostage and seeing those men killed?

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

The verse from Philippians always calmed her, but she was strung tight right now.

"How are your legs and blisters and feet?" Paul asked.

Belinda smiled at him. "Tender, but nothing I can't handle for a million dollars."

"You're a tough lady." He smiled back and kept moving.

She checked her watch. Five-thirty. Almost there.

The longer they walked away from civilization, the quieter it became and the more uneasy Belinda felt. Just them and the river and some animals. What else was hiding out there in the green abyss? Her feet should want to move faster, carry her away from her pursuers, but she found herself dragging, not wanting to go forward.

"Do you feel … darkness?" she asked, swallowing against the fear creeping up her throat.

Paul didn't answer at first. Finally, he said, "Is that what it is?"

"Should we turn around?"

"I think this is our best bet for winning."

They walked in silence for a couple more minutes, then Belinda asked quietly, "Did they ever find the escaped convict?"

Paul shook his head.

"Isn't this trail basically the other side of the Na Pali coast?" Her voice pitched up. She was being crazy. No way the convict had been out wandering for two days. Yet he could be. With this paradise island, he'd have fresh water and fresh fruit. She'd seen people survive on much less than what the convict could easily find here.

"It's probably the closest, but still a lot of miles, and the terrain …" Paul whistled. "I've taken helicopter flights over the area. It would be near impossible for a human to navigate it. He'd have to be a mountain goat."

Bleating from their right made them both jump. Two mountain goats were on the nearly vertical mountain to their left.

Belinda laughed nervously, hoping that wasn't some omen. They kept walking, but everything inside her screamed that they should turn around. Was something wrong at home? Maybe Mercedes Belle had died. Wouldn't they call? Paul had promised after the Na Pali debacle to answer the phone no matter what.

She glanced at her watch. Nine more minutes. They could head back now and still win. Unless Jagger or Hays were on this exact trail.

"I think we should turn around," she said.

Paul pivoted to her. "We might lose the million dollars if we do."

"Better that than our lives."

His eyes widened. "Belinda. Even if the convict somehow made it to this trail…" He gestured to the gun strapped on his hip. "I'm not putting this in a backpack this time, and it's only the one guy."

"But he'd be desperate and crazy," she said quietly, half afraid he could hear her. Her heart raced, and she put a hand to it.

She and Paul studied each other. He wanted her to win the money. He liked Jagger and Hays, she knew that, but he also wanted to best them and prove he could.

Then they both heard it.

Footsteps. Pounding footsteps coming from behind Belinda. Somebody was pursuing them from the trailhead.

Paul ushered her in front of him. "Run," he urged.

It was instinct to run, but Belinda felt like she was running in the wrong direction. She felt it deeply.

Being chased was unnerving, but there was something worse in front of them.

The footsteps behind them grew closer and closer, and then she heard it.

"Bee!"

Her heart lurched, and all the fear disappeared. Jagger. He had come for her. She stopped on the trail and whirled around.

"Belinda," Paul groaned, picking her off her feet and carrying her away from Jagger. "We've only got four minutes. Keep running. Please."

"No, Paul. No. It's not Jagger we need to run from. Please listen to me!"

He stared at her, and something in her gaze must've convinced him. He stopped moving, set her on her feet, and spun to face Jagger. He must've decided to change tactics, because he ran at Jagger as if to tackle him so he couldn't shoot Belinda's shirt.

She knew she should probably hide so he couldn't tag her shirt. Only minutes left and she'd win a million dollars, but all she wanted was to see Jagger and feel the safety only he could give her.

He rounded a corner in the thick growth and cried out, "Bee!"

Paul dashed at him. Jagger had the laser tag gun out along with his real pistol. Why both guns? Was her premonition correct and something dangerous was out there?

Jagger stared at her, aimed the laser gun at her chest, and she knew he had to shoot her for Mercedes.

His gaze became laser focused, and he tossed the laser tag gun into the overgrowth.

Stopping in his tracks, she heard Paul ask, "Jagger?"

"Bee!" Jagger darted around Paul, shifting his real pistol to his right hand.

Belinda sensed movement to her left. A disheveled, dirty, terrifying-looking man darted toward her with a gun pointed at her head.

"Give me the keys to your car," he screamed.

A shot reverberated through the air. Belinda screamed and dropped to the ground, putting her hands over her ringing ears.

Was she shot? She didn't feel shot. What if the man had shot Jagger or Paul?

Footsteps approached and then Jagger's arms were around her. He lifted her up and against his chest.

"Are you hit? Are you all right?" he asked urgently.

Belinda clung to him, dazed. "I'm fine," she managed. "Are you?"

"He's dead," Paul confirmed, kneeling next to the guy.

Belinda buried her head in Jagger's neck and shuddered.

"Is it the escaped convict?" Jagger asked.

"Yes." Paul stood and pulled the satellite phone out of his backpack. "I'll call the police and Hays. You've got her?"

"Always." Jagger easily swept her feet off the ground and carried her far enough away that she couldn't see the body if she decided to look.

She didn't want to look. She only wanted him.

"You saved me," she whispered, gazing up into his dark eyes.

He let her feet slide to the ground but held her close against him. His eyes were far too serious.

"Jag." She framed his jawline with her hands. "I'm going to tell you you're my hero and give you lots of honeyed kisses, and I promise I won't yell at you after and sting you."

Jagger smiled slightly at that, but then his body trembled against hers and she could swear his eyes got bright. "Oh, Bee. Today has been one of the worst of my life. Almost as bad as the day my dad died, the day I lost you, the day Grayson died, and the day my mom died."

"Your mom died?" she squeaked out, feeling like the worst human on the planet. How could she not know about his mom?

He nodded solemnly. "And now Mercedes …"

"Oh, no," she moaned. "Is she …?"

"Not yet, but I don't think I'll see her alive again."

"Oh, Jag." She slid her hands around his broad back and hugged him tightly.

He hugged her back. Birds chirped. Paul's voice was muddled and in the background. The river flowed beside them.

They held onto each other, and she hoped she helped with Jagger's sorrow. He didn't cry, but she didn't know if a man as tough as Jagger would ever cry.

Easing back slightly, he looked into her eyes. "Then I couldn't find you anywhere and I guess I should've just called, but I needed to talk to you and see you. Deep inside, I knew I had to find you, and not for the show. I promised Shawn I'd give this show a hundred percent for Mercedes—it's her passion for some reason—so I had both guns out."

"Why both guns?" She was so grateful he had.

"An impression. I've had them in the military." He shrugged as if trying to write it off.

"You were inspired. Running for me, choosing to protect me. Thank you." It was past time she arched up and kissed him.

"You're safe. That's all that matters." He blew out a breath. "Bee … Hays and I have a mission. We got the call a couple hours ago. We have to be to Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickman by five a.m. for briefing and transport."

Their time together was over. He had to leave her. How would they be together after this? Could they … someday? For the first time, she wanted her parents to have lied. She wanted Jagger to be telling the truth and to be in her life. She loved him, and after reconnecting with him, and him proving himself her hero, she knew without a doubt that he was the only man she'd ever loved and the only person she knew who loved her sting almost as much as her honey. She couldn't imagine going forward without him.

She looked into Jagger's deep-brown eyes, and she knew. She trusted him. Maybe the story was like Paul said, somewhere between the truth from both sides. She didn't know, but it didn't matter. She wanted to trust and love him and be with him.

"The police are almost here," Paul interrupted. He looked between them. "Do you want me to wait down the trail for you?"

"It's okay." Jagger took her hand, and they went to stand by Paul.

It wasn't okay. Belinda didn't feel like anything was okay. She had an awful premonition. Worse than when she and Paul had been walking straight at an armed convict. Would Jagger be killed on this mission before she could prove to him that she trusted him and chose him? Was she really going to do that? Even if her parents vowed they were telling the truth and she had no answers to the pain of the past fourteen years?

She clung to Jagger's hand and stared up at him. He met her gaze.

She trusted him. She had to.

Please protect him on this mission. Please let him be able to come for me.