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“We escaped from the prison on Oahu,” the calmer, larger man said. “Took the cabin cruiser by force and were going to sail away, but the police followed us and their boats were too fast. We had friends leave some food, weapons, and tents for us here as a back-up plan.” He shrugged. “A back-up plan that’s imploding because of the weather. You can go sit with the other hostages. We’ll see if you’re useful later. If the cops listen and get us a helicopter to fly safely out of here, we might let you all live.”
“Abe,” Carl said, staring at Belinda. “I think she’ll be useful now.” He looked her over and licked his lips.
“You dare touch me and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Belinda flung at him. She trembled, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “Get thee hence, Satan,” she commanded him. She couldn’t believe she’d said the same verse to Jagger. Her Jagger was a hero and a protector, even if he’d ditched her and lied to her. These men had only evil intent.
Paul held onto her arm.
“Satan.” Abe chuckled at that.
“I’ll show you Satan,” Carl sneered at her.
Paul stepped in front of her.
Carl strode closer. Belinda’s stomach turned over. Would he kill Paul to get to her? How could she protect Paul and herself? She’d fight him until he slit her throat like he had the boat owner.
“‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,’” she quoted Isaiah.
“Later,” Abe barked at Carl, who stopped in his tracks, looking belligerent but not advancing. “We’ve got to figure out a plan if they aren’t going to send helicopters with this weather. Move,” he commanded Paul and Belinda.
They obeyed, walking in front of the pair along a trail and into a clearing. Paul kept his body between her and the two men.
“You can sit over there.” Abe tilted his head toward a group of people cowering under some shade trees.
Two more convicts pointed rifles loosely at the group while two more hid behind a rocky overhang on the beach. One aimed a gun and took a shot out at the ocean.
Belinda startled, and one of the women in the group cried out.
“Cops,” Abe grunted, pointing at the two boats trolling in the water a fair distance offshore, barely visible through the storm.
At least there were some police trying to help. Did they not dare ram their boat up on shore like the criminals had? If they did, the convicts would probably shoot them and some of their hostages. Who knew? They obviously weren’t afraid to kill.
What could they do? Could Paul somehow fight them? If only Jagger and Hays would come. Jagger might be upset at her for not listening to his cockamamie story, but she knew he’d always protect her.
Paul took Belinda’s elbow and walked her to the group of people. The guards looked them over but said nothing as Paul nodded to the group of six campers huddled together. He settled a couple feet away, tugging Belinda down next to him. Resting his back against a tree, he muttered, “Lean against me.”
She slid her backpack off and leaned into his shoulder. The shot of adrenaline from having a gun pointed at her was settling into body shakes. She needed Paul’s support.
Paul calmly glanced around as if cataloguing everything. She felt his hand moving against her lower back. She would’ve cussed him for getting fresh, but that wasn’t Paul, not at all. She looked down and realized the way he had her sitting covered his hand so he could work the pocketknife out of his pocket. She looked away quickly so the guards wouldn’t notice, wondering what a pocketknife could do against guns, but at least it was something.
Abe and Carl were a short distance away, discussing something.
“You’ll be okay,” Paul murmured close to Belinda’s ear.
She darted a glance at him, wanting to beg him to know how she could possibly be okay. His dark eyes promised he would protect her, but he only had a pocketknife against six dangerous and armed criminals who held them hostage.
To think an hour ago she’d been worried if they’d effectively ditched Jagger and Hays today. Now she could only pray the two men were hot on their trail. She feared they were nowhere nearby.
Time passed slowly. Belinda leaned against Paul’s shoulder, drawing strength from her friend. She didn’t know what else to do but pray. She prayed in her head over and over again. Praying for her and Paul and these poor people seated next to them to be safe, for Jag, Hays, and the police to come rescue them. It felt like a very long stretch that any help was coming through the eerie rain.
Paul was ever alert and didn’t appear afraid of the men pointing guns at them. She counted two women and four men in the group of hostages. Two of the men were young and well-built. They kept looking at each other and at their captors. Belinda prayed they wouldn’t do anything stupid and get themselves killed. None of the rest looked ready to challenge their captors. The brunette cowered into her boyfriend or husband and whimpered the entire time. Nobody spoke.
What were the convicts waiting for? She shivered, wet and terrified. Paul wrapped an arm around her. She appreciated him being here, but how she wished for Jagger.
Suddenly, Carl approached, leering at her, his pistol held loosely in his hand. “Get up, beautiful. It’s time for you to be useful.”
“Over my dead body,” Paul snarled at him.
Carl grinned at that, turning toward Paul and lowering the gun to point it at Paul sitting on the ground.
