Sharon Dunn - Mistaken Target

He turned and started running. She followed behind him.

Moonlight reflected off the metal roof of the community room. He surveyed the area around them. No sign of their assassin. Had they shaken him or did he have another trick up his sleeve?

They entered the community room. Samantha wandered around the small space opening doors and slamming them, searching for anything useful. She tossed a blanket in his direction after grabbing one for herself. “Where would a radio be?”

They were both shivering and wet. She drew the blanket tighter around her. Diego continued to search for the radio. “We should go back to the cabins and get dry clothes,” she said.

He came up beside her. “He might be searching the cabins. That would explain why he didn’t come here first.”

He looked around. The room was maybe twelve by sixteen feet. There weren’t that many places to put a radio.

He walked over to a small cupboard and opened it. Shook his head in disbelief. “No.”

She turned toward him, voice filled with worry. “What is it?”

“The radio is here, but it’s been disabled.” That must be why the assassin was delayed in getting down to them at the bay. He must have seen them heading toward the boat but estimated he had time to destroy any chance of getting help before coming after them. The guy had to be a pro. Not some teenage gangbanger trying to earn his stripes. And how had he known to look in the community room? He must have had intel ahead of time.

Samantha couldn’t conceal the fear in her voice. “What do we do now?” She lifted her gaze toward him, eyes filled with expectation.

He glanced out the dusty window, feeling the heaviness of what they were up against. “He’s out there watching us. I feel it.”

* * *

Feeling a chill, she pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. “We’re sitting ducks in here.”

“We’re sitting ducks anywhere on this island. We have to get off it. I still say that’s our best option.” Diego paced the perimeter of the cabin, peering through each window. “There must be an emergency raft or something. Did you see anything like that?”

She shook her head. “The caretaker would know and maybe he has some way other than the radio that he uses to communicate with the mainland. Do you think we have time to get over to his cabin before the man with the gun finds us?”

“We might have to do that. George is going to come out of that cabin in a couple of hours and start wandering around anyway.” Diego’s expression made it clear he didn’t like that option. He let the blanket fall to the floor. His hand went to his waistband, brushing over a gun his sweater had covered.

She took a step back, wondering if the greater danger wasn’t in the room with her. Her eyes fixated on the gun. “Just who are you?” She edged closer to the door.

He bent his head sideways and hesitated as though he were trying to come up with the right answer. “I’m with law enforcement. That’s all you need to know.” His voice sounded reassuring, almost gentle, but that didn’t mean anything. His caring response might just be a manipulation.

How could she trust he was telling the truth? He’d lied about not knowing why the assassin was here. This was too much. She felt as though her already fragile world had been shaken to pieces. She wasn’t in the habit of dodging bullets. Her legs weakened beneath her, and she collapsed into a chair.

He rushed over to her. “You all right?” He knelt on the floor so he could look her in the eye.

She thought she saw compassion in those dark brown eyes, but she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, not after Eric. “No...” Her voice faltered. “No, I’m not.”

Dragging a chair across the floor, he sat opposite her. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I can’t explain everything to you, and I know you think I’m lying. This is my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t switched cabins.”

“What are you saying? That man came here to kill you?” Anger coursed through her veins. Lie upon lie. “So he’s not just some random crazy who decided to make sport of hunting us down and killing us, like you said before.” What if Diego was no better than the man out there? He didn’t act like a cop.

“I’m asking you to trust me. I will get you out of here alive.” He didn’t break eye contact with her.

She didn’t know what to think or believe. He seemed so sincere. She couldn’t survive on her own. The man with the gun had made it clear he wanted her dead. Right now, staying with Diego was her only option. “How are we going to do that?”

Diego bolted to his feet and started pacing. “We need a way off the island. We need to keep George from becoming a target, too.”

“We can’t stay in here.” She stepped toward the door.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “You can’t just run out there. Let’s make sure the coast is clear first.”

She yanked away from him, fighting off a rising frustration. “None of this would have happened if you had stayed in your assigned cabin. That man wouldn’t have showed up and—”

He turned to face her, eyes like steel. “And killed me. While you slept. You would have been unharmed and unaware, but I would have been dead.”

A rush of remorse filled her. “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I don’t want you to have died so I could have a good night’s sleep,” she said. Her face warmed. She was ashamed for having said that. “I’d never wish anyone dead.”

“I’m alive and you’re alive and we’re together. I can’t help but see God’s protection in all this.” The intensity of his gaze made her take a step back. Eric had sat with her in church every Sunday. Her faith had been the final casualty of Eric’s deceit. But she hadn’t ever heard someone talk about God the way Diego did.

“God? I don’t think He has anything to do with this.” Her voice lacked commitment, compared to the passion she’d heard in his. She studied his face. Some unnamed emotion stirred in her gut. Whoever this man was, either his faith was real or he was a better deceiver than Eric.

Diego’s expression changed as he whirled around, scanning the forest through the dusty windows. An instant later, gunshots shattered the glass. His body enveloped hers, taking her to the floor.

He rolled off her, the warmth of his protection fading.

“Stay down,” he said.

Another window shattered. The flying shards of glass were too clear a reminder of the car accident. Her vision narrowed. She couldn’t move. Her brain fogged. She was shutting down, caught between painful memories and the terrifying present. She felt the strength of Diego’s hands guiding her, almost carrying her as the bullets tore through furniture.

She found herself propped in a corner behind a couch. Diego crouched low and crawled toward one of the broken windows. He peered above the sill, took a shot and dived back down.

Several more shots tore through the tiny room. Samantha pressed hard against the wall. She couldn’t stop shaking.

Diego took several more carefully aimed shots before he dived to the floor, resting his back against the wall.

Samantha’s breath hitched. She counted to five as dust settled around her. The silence was almost as scary as the gunfire. It probably meant the shooter was finding a better angle of attack.

Her throat had gone dry. “Did...you get him?”

He lifted his head above the sill. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just repositioning. Far as I know, he’s only got a handgun. He can’t be too far away if he wants to get a decent shot in.”

Invisible weight pressed on her chest as she struggled to breathe.

He scrambled across the floor. “We should make a break for it.” He hesitated in his step as he registered that he saw how badly she was shaking. “Hey, it’s okay.” He pressed her hands between his. “Most people don’t handle gunfights well.”