Mistaken Target. Sharon Dunn
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Diego’s feet pounded the soft ground of the forest. Adrenaline charged through his body. He pushed his legs to move even faster. Samantha’s grip on his hand was like iron as she kept pace with him. Minutes had passed without any more gunfire. Maybe they’d shaken the assassin.
It was his fault that Samantha had almost been killed. He suspected the man had come for him. If only he hadn’t switched cabins.
Another thought hit him. The shooter had known which cabin he was supposed to be in. Only people in the Bureau would have access to that information. The leak might be within the Bureau.
He glanced over his shoulder. How close was the attacker? He couldn’t hear anything. He was used to running for his life on city streets. Sound didn’t carry in the forest like it did in an urban setting.
He brushed a branch out of the way before it hit Samantha, grateful for the time he’d spent walking the island. It made navigating in the dark that much easier—and it was an advantage their attacker didn’t have.
Samantha planted her feet. “Where are we going?” Her voice was filled with suspicion.
“He came in a boat,” he said. “I think if we can get to it, we can get away.”
“Shouldn’t we call for help? There must be a radio even if the cell phones don’t work. The caretaker would know.”
They were wasting precious time. “George is safer if we don’t involve him.” He’d already put one person in danger. He wasn’t about to do it to another. And anyway, he wasn’t sure they would survive while they waited for help to show up. Escape seemed like the best option.
She remained still, facing him in the dark. “Who are you?”
“I can’t say.” He understood why she was looking for answers. He hated the deception. She was an innocent in all this, but he had to protect his own identity. The less she knew, the safer she would be. “We really need to keep moving.”
She responded to the urgency in his voice and took off running again. He sprinted to get in front of her and lead the way. They ran hard for another five minutes. Feet pounding, air filling his lungs.
She stopped to catch her breath.
She tilted her head toward the stars. Her words came out in fearful halting spurts. “He said...that because I saw him. He was going...to have...to kill me.”
The images of the attack must have been raging through her head the whole time they were running. She wasn’t like him, used to dealing with the trauma and violence. Moved by compassion, he reached up and placed a palm on her cheek. “It’s gonna be okay. Let’s get to the boat.”
She jerked away from him. “It’s going to be okay?” Her voice turned to ice again.
He spoke in a whisper while part of his attention remained tuned in to his surroundings. “It’s not that far to the boat. We can get off the island.”
“What about the caretaker? What if that guy is back there hurting him?”
She was thinking of others when her life was under threat. That said something about her character. He thought for a moment. “I think he’ll be all right. He’s after you because you can identify him. The old man is safe as long as he stays in his cabin.”
He reached out a hand, but she didn’t take it. He couldn’t force her to come with him, and there was no time to waste convincing her further. He just had to hope that if he left, she’d follow. He turned and took off running. A few seconds later, her footsteps pounded behind him. He understood her hesitation in following him, why she was suspicious. But couldn’t she see that he was trying to save her life?
They ran in an arc to the edge of the forest. The terrain changed from the lush debris-laden forest floor to rocky beach as the lapping of the waves pressed on his eardrums.
He glanced over his shoulder. Still no sign of their pursuer. He’d been on their heels and then nothing. What had delayed him? Had they really been able to throw him off or did he have some other surprise attack up his sleeve? “So you saw the guy? You could tell the police what he looked like?” Knowing who had come to kill him—who had got that confidential and protected information from the FBI—would go a long way to finding out who had blown his cover.
“Yes... I suppose. It was only for a quick second.” Her voice sounded far away, as if she couldn’t accept the reality of what she’d experienced. “I’m not sure how well I could describe him, but if I saw him again, I’d recognize him.”
“We’ll get back to the mainland. I’ll fix this,” he said. He meant it. His lack of forethought had dragged her into this mess. That meant that it was his responsibility to keep her safe.
“Will you?” Disbelief colored her voice. She whirled around and trudged forward.
Her words were like a knife through his heart. He was a man of his word. Why would she doubt that? He shook off his frustration. Fine, he’d have to prove himself to her. He surveyed the dark shoreline. He knew from the landmarks along the beach where to find the boat. “Over here.”
The boat was pulled halfway up the shore. He moved to the back of the boat to start the motor. The cold water of the bay suctioned around his feet.
“Once I get the motor started, I’ll need your help pushing it out to deeper water.”
She nodded and then turned back toward the tree line. She was smart enough to watch for their attacker without being told. For a girl from the burbs, she had solid survival instincts.
After twisting the throttle, he yanked the rip cord once. The motor sputtered but didn’t ignite to life. He tried again, exerting more force. Still no results. He tried a third time. The engine sparked and then caught.
“He’s here. I see him.” Her voice reverberated with terror.
Diego glanced up, not seeing anything distinct. The shooter must still be close to the trees. “Let’s go. We can make it. Jump in to steer. I’ll push off.”
As he pushed the boat off the sand, the first gunshot came so close to his head his ear stung with pain. Samantha flattened herself in the boat with her hand still on the rudder. He jumped in. More shots were fired as the assassin made his way toward the water.
The motor clattered and then stopped altogether.
“We can restart it,” Samantha said.
The shooter was too close. They weren’t going to make it out of the inlet in time. “We’ve gotta bail.”
He dived into the water and prayed that Samantha would do the same. He swam parallel to the beach, toward a rock formation that would shield them. He pulled himself up on the hard, rough stone.
A moment later, Samantha’s head bobbed to the surface. He pulled her up. Both of them were shivering. He peered around the rocks. “He’s trying to save the boat. Now’s our chance to get away.”
He slipped back into the icy water, swimming toward the beach but putting distance between himself and the man struggling to push the malfunctioning boat back to shore. The attacker would be as wet and cold as they were by the time he rescued that boat.
They hurried back toward the camp, running across the rocky shore and then into the trees.
A gunshot exploded behind them. Samantha stuttered in her step, releasing a scream that was almost a gasp. “Keep moving,” he commanded. Gripping Samantha’s hand, Diego sprinted into the shelter of the forest.
He zigzagged through the evergreens. The sound of the assailant close on their heels, footsteps and branches breaking, spurred him to run faster. Though they were shrouded in darkness, Diego managed to steer them back to the camp.
Several minutes passed without any additional gunfire. They slowed their pace, both of them out