Paul slowed down and let the engine idle.He unlaced the boots, tugged them off his feet, and tossed them to Bennett.
Bennett gave the boots a quick study and set them aside.
“Are you going to try them on?”Paul asked.
“I’ll wait.”
There was no way for Bennett to don the boots without putting the gun down, and it was smarter to carry them to shore, regardless.Bennett would have to wade through shallow water before reaching dry land.
With a curt nod, Paul reached for the controls again.
“Get out,” Bennett said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll go on my own from here.”
Paul located the closest shoreline on his left.It was an undeveloped wilderness area, full of scrub brush and live oak trees.He calculated the distance at about a half-mile.Not an easy swim for most people.For Paul, it would be impossible.“I can’t swim that far.I just had shoulder surgery.”
“Did you?”Bennett asked.He pointed the gun at the center of Paul’s chest.“How unfortunate.”
“I don’t think you have the balls to shoot me.”
Bennett flashed his weird smile.“Try me.”
Paul stared him down for several moments, testing his resolve.Bennett’s left eye twitched, but his aim didn’t waver.Perhaps Bennett was capable of pulling the trigger.He seemed unhinged, on the verge of a mental breakdown.Paul could ignore the order, rev up the engine and continue on their way.He could lunge at Bennett in an attempt to disarm him.Or he could jump overboard and take his chances in the water.
He studied the shoreline with trepidation.Swimming offered the path of least resistance.He’d already survived a bullet to the torso, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.Why not try his hand at drowning?
Paul tugged off his socks before he rose to his feet.He kept his gaze on Bennett and started unbuttoning his fly.If he had to swim, he wasn’t going to do it in jeans.The denim would weigh him down and limit his range of movement.
Bennett seemed to misinterpret Paul’s actions as threatening.Maybe he’d been anticipating an attack.Maybe he just wanted an excuse to pull the trigger.He stood suddenly, his gun hand trembling.
Paul dove overboard as the weapon fired.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Vanessa was goingto kill Paul, and Bennett, and whoever had invented duct tape.
She’d thrashed around on the mattress for several minutes in an attempt to break free.Every move she made twisted the tape tighter.She’d ended up flushed and frustrated, huffing from exertion.The irony of the situation irritated her.She’d been dying to work up a sweat in Paul’s bed, but not like this.
After some careful maneuvering, she eased herself off the side of the mattress and into a standing position.As soon as her feet touched the floor, she noticed another problem.Paul had tied her ankles in a way that had felt comfortable when she was lying down.Upright, it was difficult to balance.She couldn’t put both feet flat on the floor at the same time.She hobbled away from the bed in an awkward, one-legged hop.
As it turned out, hopping on one leg with her hands tied behind her back was incredibly difficult.She couldn’t afford to fall down, because she had no way to break her fall, and she wouldn’t be able to get back up.The only alternative was to stay in this room and wait for someone else to rescue her, and that wasn’t an option.
Paul needed her.She knew it in her heart.Emergency scenarios whirred through her mind on an endless loop.She imagined Paul and Bennett wrestling over the gun.She imagined Bennett killing Paul in cold blood.
With grim determination, she inched toward the bedroom door.It was an arduous process.The tape across her mouth made it hard to breathe, and the bindings at her feet and wrists seemed to tighten with every passing moment.Tiny pinpricks of sensation warned her of blood loss to her extremities.
When she finally reached the door, she wilted with relief.She spun around and turned the knob with numb hands.Outside, the hallway stretched into infinity.She continued on one foot, her calf muscle burning.By the time she reached the living room, her legs were quaking and her arms ached.She searched the kitchen countertops for a handy tool to free herself.Paul had left a construction pencil on the surface.Her foot felt like fire as she hopped toward the sink.The only item available was dish soap, and far out of reach.
Damn.
She considered searching the drawers, but she figured they were empty.Even if she did find a knife, how would she use it?She couldn’t move her hands.With no other choice, she continued toward the screen door.Outside, she could get help.She could hobble toward her car and honk the horn.
When she arrived at the threshold, her strength gave out.She lost her balance and fell through the screen door, which came off its hinges.She landed on the porch with a terrific crash.Somehow, she didn’t break an arm or knock herself unconscious.She lay there like a flopped fish for several moments.Panic pulsed at her temples, and a sob caught in her throat.She hated Paul for tying her up, and for offering Bennett a ride to Mexico, but she understood why he’d done it.He’d done it to protect her.Because he loved her.
And… she loved him, too.
