Page 20

TWENTY

RYDER

The next day, after a silent breakfast of cold oatmeal and weak coffee during which Biff, who is clearly not a morning person, threatens to feed me blackthorn berries if I ask him one more time what Biff is short for, we resume our hike across Isle Royale. I’m exhausted and stressed and incredibly sexually frustrated, but Biff promises we’ll reach the ranger station in just a few hours, and sure enough, after an hour and a half spent trekking across rocky ground in a serpentine formation—harder to track, Biff explains—a small, rustic cabin comes into view.

“Oh my God,” Emily says, clapping her hands gleefully, “is that the ranger station?”

“Sure is,” Biff says, and for the first time since he terrified us at Washington Creek, he smiles. It changes his whole face, making him look like a skinny Santa instead of a crypt keeper, and it warms my heart to see Emily wrap him in a hug.

“Woohoo! We did it!” I cry, then cover my mouth when Biff shoots me a dirty look.

“Sorry,” I whisper, remembering that we’re trying not to get caught. “I got excited.” I raise my hand toward Biff, hoping he’ll high-five me this time, but he only rolls his eyes.

“There’s no time for getting sentimental,” he says, as though I was asking for his hand in marriage instead of a high five. “We’re not in the clear yet.”

But we are awfully close, and I’m practically skipping with relief as we reach the ranger station and bang loudly on the door. Within thirty seconds, a middle-aged man in a khaki outfit ushers us inside, and Emily wastes no time in getting straight to the point.

“You need to call the police,” she says. “Now.”

The ranger, whose gold name badge bears the name rick , reaches for a radio on his desk.

“Okay. Mind telling me why?”

“Sure,” she says. “Basically—and this is a very long story with a lot of twists and turns that I’m really watering down for the sake of brevity—I have a diamond in my backpack, and we witnessed a murder, and this national park is teeming with bad guys.”

“Did you not hear us on the radio?” I ask, gritting my teeth in frustration. “Cover of Darkness, signing off?”

The ranger stares at me but presses a button on his radio at the same time. “I’m not following any of what you guys said, but I’ll call for emergency personnel right away.”

We watch, still panting from our run toward the station, as Ranger Rick calls for backup over the crackly line. Within two minutes, a knock sounds on the door, and I sigh in relief. Finally, we can get the hell out of Isle Royale and put the stress and violence of this whole ordeal behind us.

“Police!” a deep voice shouts.

“Wait a second,” the ranger says, glancing toward the door. “They shouldn’t be here that quickly—”

But the next instant, someone kicks the door in and rushes inside, gun up and ready.

“Malcolm,” Emily says in horror, her jaw dropping as Sinclair’s burly henchman bursts through the door.

Rage fills my veins as Malcolm points his gun at her. I haven’t hiked across Isle Royale for days, running from wolves and armed men and my own self-doubt, just to lose everything when we finally made it to safety. I haven’t found the girl of my dreams in the craziest way imaginable just to let some douchebag with a weapon intimidate her. And I haven’t finally started to examine my own grief at losing Caleb just to multiply it by losing someone else I love.

Love .

It’s love and fury and an endless desire to destroy anyone and anything that threatens Emily that causes me to spring into action, and I reach instinctively for a wooden chair placed at one of the ranger station’s two small tables. Simmering with rage, I hoist it into the air and bring it down as hard as I can over Malcolm’s head. He fires but misses, and I lunge for him, kicking him in the family jewels like all our lives depend on it. He cries out in pain, and I shove him into a souvenir display rack, sending postcards and miniature moose figurines flying everywhere. Malcolm falls to the ground, sputtering, and in a move I learned from the countless WWE WrestleMania matches Caleb and I watched as kids, I execute a near-perfect leg drop on his chest.

“Emily!” I yell, scrambling to my feet as Malcolm drops his gun. “Grab it!”

She’s already diving for the weapon, her jaw clenched in determination, but someone else gets there first. I watch in horror as two more of Killian’s men sprint into the ranger station, one squat and muscled and the other blond haired and lanky. The muscular one grabs Malcolm’s gun just as the other presses a boot to Emily’s back, pinning her to the ground.

“Get off of her, you sack of sh—” I start, but Malcolm’s fist meets the back of my head in a violent sucker punch, and I groan in pain, my head throbbing.

“Get up,” Malcolm commands as his fellow blockhead returns his gun to him. “Now.”

I do as instructed when I feel the cold metal poking my back, my head pounding as I desperately scan the room for anything I can use as a weapon.

“The police are on their way,” says Ranger Rick, his gaze shifting quickly between our three enemies. “So let’s all take a breath and—”

But the breath he takes is a sharp inhale of pain, because in a flash of noise and motion, the stout, muscular henchman shoots Biff and then the ranger in rapid succession.

I let out a cry of fury, and Emily screams and covers her head instinctively. Her captor presses his boot harder into her back, causing her to whimper in pain, and suddenly I don’t give a shit about the throbbing ache in my head or the gun pointed at my back. I only care about her, about getting my hands on the guy who has her so I can tear him limb from limb. I lunge for him, managing to encircle my hands around his throat just as Malcolm kicks me hard from behind, causing my knees to buckle. I hit the ground with a thud as Emily screams out for me, and before I can gather my bearings, someone wrestles my hands behind my back and yanks me to my feet.

“Another peep out of you and I’ll kill her,” Malcolm says through gritted teeth. “Sinclair told us to bring you both in alive, but I have my limits. So stop fighting before I lose my temper.”

Fury courses through me as I hear Biff moaning in pain, but Malcolm only twists his gun into my side.

“Ryder, listen to him,” Emily says desperately.

That’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t have any other choice. My head pounds so badly I can barely stay conscious, let alone come up with a new plan of attack, and with Malcolm gripping my arms so tightly I think they might break, I can’t reach for the wooden chair or the knife Biff lent me.

I grit my teeth as the lanky henchman pulls his boot off Emily’s back and tugs her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her neck in a tight chokehold. She resists instinctually, elbowing him roughly in the gut, but it’s not enough to free her. Instead, the third henchman handcuffs her hands and then mine behind our backs with zip ties, and I’m half-blind with rage as they usher us out of the ranger station.

“Biff!” Emily calls frantically over her shoulder. “Biff, hang on!”

But Malcolm’s partner pokes his gun into her side, and she shuts up quickly. They guide us across the rocky shore and toward Lake Superior, where a speedboat waits idly.

“All aboard, lovebirds,” Malcolm says, motioning to the boat with his gun. “Chop, chop.”

“Uh, no way,” Emily says, shaking her head as if we have any choice in the matter. “I’m not getting on that thing without a life jacket.”

“There’s no time for life jackets,” Malcolm mutters, and it’s all I can do not to spontaneously combust with anger.

“There is always time for life jackets, motherfucker!” I shout, and I’m punished for my outburst by a quick pop to the chin from Malcolm’s buddy.

Malcolm gives me a hard shove so that I have no option but to stumble onto the boat, and he leads Emily aboard just as roughly. The engine roars to life as Blockhead Number Two shifts the gears, and I wrap my legs around Emily to keep her from flying off as we launch into the water.

“We’re gonna be okay,” I tell her. “I’m gonna make this okay.”

But the motor is so loud that I don’t think she hears me, and we fall sideways as the boat zooms through the waves. I close my eyes, growing nauseous with each passing minute, and I don’t know whether I’m more relieved or terrified when I sit up and see that we’re passing the wreckage of the Explorer . But when we near the shore and I spot a smiling Sinclair standing on the edge of the dock, eagerly awaiting our arrival with Caleb’s headphones looped around his fucking neck, I don’t feel relief or terror. I feel only fury. Pressing a gun to our backs, the henchmen usher us off the boat and onto the dock, and Sinclair greets us like the mustache-twirling villain he is.

“Emily, darling,” he says, spreading his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome back!”

She glares like she’d spit on him if she got the chance, but he only chuckles.

“You do look less happy to see me than I hoped, but I warned you about going to the rangers, did I not? And here I thought you were the clever one.” He laughs, and the sound of it makes me want to rip off a piece of the dock and smash it over his evil head.

“And that stunt you pulled at the radio tower? Well, that wasn’t your brightest move, darling,” he adds. “Did you not think we’d be monitoring all possible avenues of communication?”

“She’s not your darling,” I say through gritted teeth.

Sinclair laughs again, more cruelly this time. “And I suppose you want her to be yours? Tell me, Fleet, can you even spell ‘archaeologist’?”

I’m not sure that I could—I know there’s a lot of vowels, and I mix them up in my head sometimes—but I don’t need to be a great speller to be a better man than Killian Sinclair could ever dream of being.

“Sure I can,” I say easily, staring him down. “F-U-C-K-Y-O-U. Do you want that in a sentence?”

Malcolm and Blockhead Number Two laugh, and Sinclair smiles tightly. “Careful, Fleet. You wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt, would you?”

“It’s a little late for that,” I say, thinking of Dr.Sharp, Ranger Rick, and poor Biff, who went into the wilderness for peace and quiet and ended up in a nightmare because of us. “You hurt people. Good people.”

He shrugs. “An outcome that could have easily been avoided, had you two not absconded with my diamond.”

“It’s not your diamond,” Emily tells him, her eyes flashing. “It belongs to the people, not to you.”

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “Emily, I like you, I do, but I find your rigid view of morality highly irritating. So please do shut up and hand over the Evermore.”

She glances at me, and I can see the fear in her eyes. She knows as well as I do that the second we give him the diamond, we’re as good as dead.

“Bad news,” she says suddenly. “We can’t hand it over. Because one of us swallowed it.”

“Well, that’s not an issue,” Sinclair says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll just shoot both of you now, and my men will slice you open to retrieve the stone. Problem solved, eh?”

I can’t help the groan of annoyance that escapes my lips. “C’mon, Sinclair. Don’t you do anything yourself?”

“Well, I’m not about to comb through intestines,” he says in his lilting accent. “That’s disgusting.”

“What’s disgusting ,” Emily says, “is your blatant disregard for the core values of your profession—”

“Anyone know where Butcher is?” Sinclair asks, yawning in boredom.

The mere mention of Butcher sends my pulse skyrocketing, and I remember the vow I made to protect Emily.

“Hang on,” I insist, my heart pounding. “There’s no need for anyone to get Butcher involved.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “ I swallowed the diamond. Not Emily. So you only need to slice me open.”

“Ryder!” Emily cries, shaking her head at me. I understand the message she’s trying to convey— Don’t sacrifice yourself —but at this point, I don’t see another way out.

Sinclair, on the other hand, beams at me. “Excellent. Good on you for showing some courage, Fleet. Malcolm, I’ll let you handle this one.”

Malcolm, grinning like the cat that got the cream, moves toward me, and Emily tries to block him by jumping into his path. He swats her aside easily, and if I could just get these damn zip ties off, I would rip his head off in retaliation for laying hands on her.

“Stop!” she cries, fighting against her own ties. “Leave him alone!”

“Emily,” I say, refusing to let my voice waver. “Emily, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she says, her voice breaking as her eyes flood with tears. “None of this is okay.”

“It is,” I tell her. “I’m okay. Because I know what it’s like to care for someone so much that you’d give your life for them, and this time, I actually have the chance to do it.”

“Just let us go!” Emily tells Sinclair, who observes our emotional display with the bored disinterest of someone watching grass grow. “We’ll give you the diamond, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

“I’d love to, darling, I really would, but the problem is, you saw me shoot Dr.Sharp,” he says, biting his lip like he sincerely regrets this unfortunate turn of events. “And even if I spared you, I’m not going to spare him.” His gaze flickers toward me. “He’s intolerable.”

“And you’re a prick,” I tell him. “I should have let you drown.”

“But you didn’t, because you wanted to be the hero.” Sinclair smiles coldly. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, I’m not wearing a tweed fucking jacket,” I say, spitting the words out. “So I’m still doing pretty good.”

“It’s pretty well , sport,” Sinclair corrects me. “Not pretty good. Bravery doesn’t get you any IQ points, I’m afraid.”

“Leave him alone,” Emily says, glaring at Sinclair. She looks at me, her eyes pleading. “Ryder, don’t do this. Don’t give up.”

But it’s not giving up to lay your life down for someone you love, and as Malcolm reaches me with his gun ready, I realize that’s exactly what this is. If they kill me and search me for the diamond, Emily will at least have a fighting chance of survival. She’s smart; maybe she’ll be able to make a quick escape, or maybe the real authorities, upon finding poor Biff and Ranger Rick, will somehow track their killers here in time to rescue her. Whatever happens, at least I’ll go out knowing I did everything I could to protect her. To give her a chance.

“I’m not giving up,” I tell Emily, meaning every word. I wasn’t there for Caleb when I should have been, and I refuse to let her down the same way. “ Diamond bright, diamond strong, forever you and I belong. Remember?”

“Ah, somebody read the Evermore letters,” Sinclair says, adjusting his glasses. “I’m impressed, Fleet. I wasn’t aware you could read.”

I ignore him, looking only at Emily, at her untamed curls and the rosy pink of her lips and the curves of her body that I was lucky enough to touch.

“I’ve fallen for you, Emily,” I tell her, my heart swelling with emotion. “And I know that sounds crazy, to think you can fall for someone in five days, but here I am. And I wish things had turned out differently. I wish I could help you finish your dad’s bucket list. I wish I could take you to Yosemite and that sticky dive bar and show you my favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips so you can see what makes them special. I wish I could kiss you and touch you and make you believe that these five crazy days together are just the start of something amazing, and that what I lack in wilderness survival skills, I make up for with heart.”

I take a deep breath and focus only on Emily, not on Sinclair or his men or the fact that we’re only meters away from the spot where Captain Sebastian Evermore went down with his ship.

“I love you,” I tell her, relishing the fact that at least for this moment, the sun is shining down on me and the wind is at my back and the woman I love has a chance of survival because of me. “I thought love was a poison that inevitably led to grief, but I was wrong. Love isn’t poison. It’s the fucking antidote.”

And Emily, having listened to my declaration of love with an earnest, heartbreaking expression, says the last thing I—or maybe anyone—expects.

“He’s lying.”