Blooming in the Wild Page 0,68

hue that Joel had seen on a fellow rock climber after a fall that would later kill him. Joel prayed that Frank would wake up with only one hell of a headache and not much more damage.

“Get one of the sleeping bags,” Joel advised Bella quietly. “We’ll wrap him in that so he doesn’t get chilled.”

“Leave him,” Camille said impatiently. “I haven’t time for this.”

Bella ignored her, turning to grab one of the sleeping bags from the back of the cave. Li stalked forward, his eyes wide with febrile eagerness.

Joel scooped the chunk of lava from the floor, hefting it in his right hand as he moved between the Asian and Bella.

“Don’t try it,” he warned the smaller man. “You might hit me with your knife, but I’ll smash this in your face, and you’ll be looking out of one eye for the rest of your sorry life, make no mistake.”

Camille sighed, and Joel looked over to see her training the pistol on him, silencer still attached. She looked all too comfortable with the weapon in her hand.

“Don’t waste time, boys,” she warned, her eyes as pale as ice. “I start shooting in precisely”—she consulted a slender watch on her wrist—“two minutes.”

This new incarnation of the photographer was just stone cold enough to do it too. Joel felt as if he and Bella had been plunged into an alternate version of reality. Camille Whoever-she-was had sure as hell played them all, convincing them she was an amiable professional.

Ignoring Li, who laughed soundlessly, Joel tossed the rock aside and took the sleeping bag from Bella. “Get a water bottle, and put it here beside him, where he can reach it if he comes to,” he told her. Dropping to one knee again, he carefully snugged the light sleeping bag around Frank, moving him just enough to get the bag underneath him and then flapping it over his body.

Figuring he’d done all he could for the Hawaiian, he rose, calling Camille’s attention to himself. “Is this about money?” he asked her. “Because you have to know, my network has plenty. Let the others go, and take me.”

Camille stared at him over the barrel of her gun. “Now isn’t that sweet. Playing the hero. Such a noble type, aren’t you, Joel? But you’re not really, are you?” She smiled tauntingly. “Did you tell little Miss Perfect you’re just a hick from a logging town? And that you’re busy fucking your way around the world, with a woman or two in every port?”

Bella rose to stand at Joel’s side.

“Guess you’ve outed me good,” Joel said, trying to look embarrassed.

“Oh, it gets better,” Camille promised, waving the gun. “Now come along. We don’t want to be late for cocktails aboard the yacht.”

“Cocktails?” Bella echoed disbelievingly. But she rallied quickly. “We’re going to need some clothes, if we’re going for drinks.”

The barrel of the gun turned toward her. “No, no,” Camille said. “No more delays. I’ve a lovely outfit for you on board. I chose it myself.”

Joel urged Bella to his other side, away from Li, who watched them like a shark as they walked silently from the cave, ahead of him and Camille.

“Why do you think she’s doing this?” Bella whispered as they walked out beneath the trees into the sunshine.

“Don’t know,” Joel whispered back. “I’m assuming crazed fan. Just try to keep quiet—let me draw her attention.”

Something flew past Joel’s ear, stirring the drifting strands of Bella’s hair, and smacked into a palm several feet in front of them.

“No talking,” Camille chided. “I might not miss next time.”

Joel’s hand closed on Bella’s like a vise, icy fear slithering down his spine. The woman had just shot at them. She could have hit Bella. Her eyes wide with fear, Bella stumbled.

Joel held her up, trying to reassure her with a look. Damn, he was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe. If he could take either Camille or Li out, that would leave only one of them. Odds he could live with. He might not be a professional fighter, but he trained regularly, and he was used to using his body and his mind to get through tough situations.

His heart sank like a stone as they reached the little beach. Suddenly this was looking like something much more sinister than a wealthy nutcase who wanted a celebrity guest no matter what it took to get him.

Three toughs in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and sunglasses stood spraddlelegged, holding automatic weapons. The Trio, as Joel