Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

Ring.

Pick up.

Three more rings. He slammed the phone down. Maybe she was on her way.

Except, his gut told him that because of him she was being thrown back into the hell of twelve years ago that she'd only just begun to come to grips with. His heart slugged against his chest in protest.

His feet carried him down the hall to find backup, no more Lone Ranger when Darcy's life was at stake. Max forced himself to think. Think like an investigator. More important, think like the person who would have tortured an innocent woman with horrors from her past just to get to him.

Max focused on climbing inside Perry's twisted mind. He had to figure out where Perry would take Darcy. Find out—and get there before the sick bastard killed her for a personal revenge Max couldn't begin to understand.

"You're a sick bastard." Darcy pushed the words free.

She stepped out of the car into the isolated tropical clearing, each movement like flying through peanut butter thanks to whatever drugs had lurked in Dr. Demented's syringe.

The door slam echoed in the pre-dawn silence, in her throbbing head. She didn't even want to consider what animal tranquilizers might be pumping through her system.

This sure made for a rotten morning-after in the wake of the best night of her life with Max. She had no intention of dying today, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of gratitude that she'd had her night with Max. Just in case.

And he loved her.

Slumping against the rental car, she stared up the deserted path to the looming cliff of Lovers' Leap. The whole climb looked so much more ominous in the haze just before the sun would break the horizon. Sweat trickled down the neck of her flight suit in spite of the salty breeze blowing in off the water.

The ocean roared in the distance like the roaring in her ears, almost as if she'd already been submerged underwater. She had no doubt but that Perry planned to drown her, one way or another.

Her chances of winning a fight were minimal with the drug in her system. Would the effects worsen? Should she take her chances now? Or would she rouse with time?

Soon, please.

Two Perrys wavered in front of her.

"You're one tough lady to kill. Puncturing that fuel tank was difficult to arrange and not as creative as I would have liked. But you're really frustrating the hell out of me."

Good. She intended to continue right on with that mode of attack.

Darcy planted her boots as a twelve-inch lizard scampered by in the negligible light. Odd how the critters bothered her less when put into perspective with the human reptile in front of her. "I can't walk up there. Not with what you've given me."

"Yes, you can." He tucked his shirt into the waistband of his khaki shorts with meticulous care as he scanned the landscape. "I was careful with the dosage. I enjoy the planning, the precision of lining up every detail. You can walk."

She let her legs fold until she sat on the soft pad of grass, too tired to care about lizards. "I won't walk."

If he had to carry her, his hands would be occupied. She would find a way to stop him if she didn't have to expend all her fading focus on standing.

Perry reached behind into his waistband. His hand whipped back around, her vision wavering in a jerky haze.

The cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.

"Walk," Perry ordered. "Or I'll shoot you now. Not creative at all, but in this case, I'll settle. Your choice."

No choice at all. She braced a hand on the warmed metal of the car, prayed for balance and shoved to her feet. Palm trees swelled around the stretch of dirt trail, animal sounds echoing from their branches. The twining vines and floral island scents that had seemed so lush and beautiful during her walks with Max now suffocated her.

Jamming a hand in the small of her back, Perry propelled her up the winding path. "I'd much prefer to weight you down and toss you into the ocean, then let you die of an air embolism as you rise. That would be so dramatic. Definitely creative. And it would be quite poetic for you to die in Max's world."

Perry swacked aside a branch to clear her path in a perversely gentlemanly manner. "But you're damned spunky. I would have to use too many traceable drugs to subdue you enough to put on a wet suit."

She let him talk and ramble while she searched the dense path for some sign of an early-rising tourist, anyone to help her.

"Plan B will work as well. The mild dose of animal tranquilizers I used on you should pass an autopsy. Max will know I did it, but will never have his proof. He'll have to live with that nagging question in his mind. He'll know that his picking up Kat Lowry alerted me to finish you. Now."