After a few moments, she flipped back over and struck out again. She was on a tight schedule and needed to be on that boat before Jonah or Mad Dog discovered she was gone.
She’d left a note for D, not that Jonah wouldn’t know exactly why she was gone, but she wasn’t so callous as to simply disappear without explanation.
Jonah would know, and he’d come after her. She’d just have to make sure she stayed one step ahead of him and accomplished her goal as quickly as possible.
The current began to drag more forcefully at her, and she didn’t try to fight it. She swam hard as it pushed her to shore and rested when it began to suck her back.
Three steps forward, two steps back.
She chose the angle of entry and put all her concentration into making sure she wasn’t yanked off course. The waves pounded at her as she swept between jagged rock outcroppings. Pain shot through her leg when her knee cracked into a rock just below the surface, but she gathered her wits and used it to push off and propel her closer to shore.
Her feet glanced off the bottom, and she reached down, digging for a foothold, only to be dragged back and slapped again against the rough surface of the rock.
With the next wave, she plunged beneath the surface and grabbed at handholds to pull herself forward. She was almost there, damn it.
She broke the surface, gasping for air, and planted her feet on the bottom as she fought the current. Then, with the next oncoming wave, she lunged for the shore, finally crawling and collapsing onto the sand.
Her leg ached like a mother, but she didn’t have time to evaluate her injuries.
She hauled herself up and limped up the incline and into the dense foliage and rock that sheltered the tiny island. She hit the button on her watch, and the green neon glow illuminated the time. She had twenty minutes to make the rendezvous point.
She made it to the opposing beach with five minutes to spare, bursting out of the thick, vine-ridden underbrush. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the boat in the distance.
Right on time.
The boat stopped a quarter mile from shore and flashed a single beacon toward the beach. Ignoring her pain and exhaustion, she plunged into the surf and waded out to do battle again with the rocks and current. At least this side wasn’t as bad as the western front.
Several long minutes later, she reached the boat and threw her hand up to grasp the side. A strong, male arm hoisted her up and over, and she collapsed on the bottom, sucking air like a fish out of water.
The boat sped off as she caught her breath and mentally took stock of her condition. Aside from a few bumps and bruises and the pounding her knee had taken, she’d escaped relatively unscathed.
She pulled herself up, clutching the side as they rolled over a swell, and took position beside the guy manning the boat.
“How far until we rendezvous with the chopper?” she shouted.
He pointed to the onboard navigational system that charted their course, and she could see their ETA was fifteen minutes. Enough time for her to collect herself and prepare for the next leg of this insane venture.
She examined the tear in her wetsuit and wiped at the blood seeping from the cut. It stung like hell, but it didn’t appear too serious. She slouched in her seat and tried to relax as much as possible as the minutes ticked by. Finally the boat slowed, and the guy cut the engine. They came to a stop, rocking and dipping with the waves.
A few seconds later, the sound of a chopper heading in their direction echoed through the night. When it hovered overhead, Tyana heard a thump as the rope ladder hit the deck of the boat. Her driver grabbed the lower rung and motioned her to hurry.
He held it in place while she gripped the rungs and hauled herself up. Another pair of hands gripped her wrists when she neared the top, and she found herself lying facedown on the floor of the helicopter as it soared away.
Damn, what a night. In other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the rush. Right now she was just trying to get her bearings.
Really big hands wrapped around her arms and jerked her upright. She found herself looking into the dark brown eyes of Tits, a bald-headed, bad-assed, mean-tempered son of a bitch. He liked to call himself a cross between an African American and a European mutt, whatever the hell that was.
He gave her an earpiece with a mic extending around to her mouth, and she grinned tiredly up at him as she put it in place. “Tits, love the earring, dude. When did you get it?”
He fingered the gold hoop dangling from his fleshy earlobe. “You like it? Did it myself.”
She tried not to shudder. “It’s you. Definitely you. Now what’s up with the meet and greet? Had no idea I rated such special treatment.”
He flashed his perfectly straight, disgustingly perfect white teeth at her in what looked more like a snarl than a smile. “And miss out on this story? Hell, girl, this will only get better when I get the call from Jonah asking me where the hell you are. That’s when the fun begins.”
She gave him a sour look. “Don’t egg him on. It’ll only make things worse for me.”
He patted a thick envelope on the seat beside him. “I got your stuff here, but you don’t get it until you spill.”
“Blackmailing bastard,” she muttered. With a resigned sigh, she gave him the much abbreviated version of the story behind her run-in with Eli Chance and her subsequent meeting with Esteban in Paris.
“And you trust this dude?” Tits asked incredulously. “I seriously gave you more credit for smarts, Ty. I might need to knock some sense into that pretty head of yours.”
She bared her teeth and snarled. “Don’t get condescending on me, asshole. I don’t trust the dickhead further than I can throw him. He has his purpose, though. He can tell me where Eli Chance is.”
“You could find that out on your own,” Tits said calmly.
She nodded. “I could, but I’m on a tight timeline here. If I don’t already have Jonah hot on my ass, he’ll be there shortly. The less time I spend fucking around trying to find Eli, the better off I’ll be. I don’t believe for a minute that Esteban has shit that can help Damiano, but I do believe Eli does. He’s who I want, and if I have to go through Esteban to get to him then I will. I need him to think I’m working for him, though, because he’s made threats against Damiano I can’t ignore. When I’m done with Eli, I’ll take Esteban’s sorry ass out.”
Tits whistled. “That’s quite an agenda you got there, girl.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“You’ll be glad I brought this along, then,” he said as he stuck his hand under the seat and pulled out a bag.
She reached for it, the weight of it forcing her to rest it on her lap. When she looked in, she found a variety of weapons. All her favorites. She looked up at Tits and gave him a wicked grin. “You’re the shit, you know that?”
Tits laughed. “I really need to teach you better American slang. You sound ridiculous. Now do I get a kiss?”
She rolled her eyes, leaned forward and planted her lips against his. She tried to pull away just as fast, but he held her firm, deepening the kiss into a hot, lusty mix of lips and tongues.
She balled her fist and punched him in the gut. He broke away, laughing his fool ass off.
“Ein geiler Wicht,” she muttered.
“I love it when you curse at me in foreign languages. Gets me all hot and bothered.”
“Asshole.”
He grinned again. “Consider that payment for services rendered.”
She shot him a dark look and was tempted to punch him again, but damn, the man was built like a brick house and her hand hurt like hell from her last hit.
“When’s my flight to Paris?” she muttered. “And how the hell am I going to get all this shit on my flight?”