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“Will you at least talk with your parents when you get home?”
“I will.”
“Well, that’s all we can ask.” He lifted her backpack and helped her shrug it on, turning on her camera, then slid his own on. “All right. Let’s keep moving and win this money.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
“Of course.”
They started the trek. The rain wasn’t horrible, but it made everything slick, muddy, and treacherous. The wind was picking up, and she suspected a bigger storm was on its way. The wind made Crawler’s Ledge, a steep section of rocky cliff that dropped impossibly far, downright terrifying. Belinda repeated one of her favorite Psalms in her head.
I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.
Paul held her elbow and assisted her across. She breathed a lot easier when there wasn’t a cliff that would end her life inches from her next step.
Paul told her they were getting closer, about two more miles. She checked her watch. Four-ten. This day had been long and hard, but they were almost to their goal. She looked forward to being off her feet and hopefully out of the rain. Their backpacks had single tents in them, so that was nice.
It could be a very miserable night with the wind howling and sleeping on the hard ground, but she’d at least be out of the rain. She often slept in uncomfortable spots on her African trips. To win a million dollars, she’d suffer through a bad night's sleep. Not facing Jagger when she was confused by everything he claimed happened was another bonus. She’d ask her parents, but she could only imagine their confusion and frustration at Jagger making up such a tale. Her parents loved her too much to keep something like that from her.
It was almost five in the afternoon when they caught their first glimpse of the campground. Brightly colored tent material peeked through the thick trees, and she could see the beach and ocean beyond. It was a mystical looking place with the rain giving it an ethereal light. The Na Pali mountains towered thick and green above them, shrouded with storm clouds. Those mountains couldn’t be traversed by vehicle; they would protect her from Jagger finding her. Only an hour to go and she would win a million dollars for Gardening Goodness.
She should be thrilled and focused on her charity. Instead, being furious with Jagger left a dull ache in her chest. Stewing over whether there was a chance he was right and her parents had lied to her made her body ache. Just as bad was knowing he had lied and they’d never be able to trust each other and form a solid relationship like she’d always secretly dreamed of.
The view was stunning, but for some reason she didn’t feel safe. There was a darkness oozing from that picturesque campground that she couldn’t explain. Was it the thickening rain and wind making the gorgeous trees, mountains, and ocean look mystical and eerie, like a set from the Lord of the Rings? Would the Marsh Wraiths rise out of the mist or would the Fellbeast swoop down from the mountain range?
She was being silly now, but putting one foot in front of the other took effort. Paul was moving more cautiously as they approached the campground.
“Everything all right?” she whispered.
“Something feels off,” he replied just as quietly, his eyes scanning everywhere.
“Oh, good. It’s not just me. I keep waiting for the Shelob to come crawling toward us.” She looked up at the trees as she said it.
Paul chuckled softly at the reference to the massive spider from Lord of the Rings.
The closer they got, she could see a large boat was rammed up on the beach, the waves battering it. Two men stood nearby on the sand, more indistinguishable shadows than men. The rain was falling thicker and the wind whipping her hair.
A sound like a gunshot cracked through the air.
Belinda glanced at Paul. “Did a tree branch?—”
He pushed her behind him and toward the closest thicket of trees.
“Where did you two come from?” a man yelled, breaking through the trees and running at them. He had a pistol out and pointed their direction.
Paul whipped off his backpack and yanked on a zipper. Could he reach his own gun in time? Why was this guy pointing a gun with threatening intent? It made no sense.
“Drop the bag,” the man snarled. He aimed his gun straight at Belinda. His hand was steady, the look in his hazel eyes terrifying. He was desperate, angry, and possibly unstable.
Her heart thudded against her chest. Cold chills covered her body. The man was wearing gray shorts and a dirty white button down with all the buttons undone and blood staining the collar. He was lean, and the long scar down the side of his face would’ve made him look mean even without the aggressive posture and pistol pointed at them.
Paul looked like he wasn’t going to listen, but another man appeared through the trees with a rifle in hand. He was bigger than the scarred guy and in a too-tight T-shirt and ill-fitting khaki pants.
“I’d drop the backpack,” the second man said, a lot calmer than the first. “The blood on the collar of Carl’s shirt is from slitting the boat owner’s neck and stealing the shirt off the dead man’s back as his prize.” He tilted his head to the large boat on the shore and smirked. “I at least grabbed clean clothes.”
Belinda’s stomach flipped over. She clung to her backpack straps with clammy palms. What had they walked into? Why had these men killed some boat owner and stolen his boat and now were threatening them without any provocation?
Paul set the backpack down and lifted his hands. “Who are you?” His voice was cold and in control. He didn’t seem scared, more affronted that they’d dare point weapons at them and he hadn’t gotten his own pistol out. Belinda knew he had a lot of security and fighting experience in the Air Force and with Aiden Porter, but what could one man do against two armed men? For the first time today, she wished Jagger and Hays were racing after them.
