Page 135 of Until the End

“Stay away. From boat.” Sanborn grimaced in pain. “Bomb. On timer.” He swallowed and coughed, spitting up blood. “She’s…already…dead,” he said in a dying whisper, and one last breath left his body.

43

3:33 p.m.

Castle stood frozen. He held Sanborn’s limp body as his mentor’s eyes rolled back and his lids lowered slightly. The hand clasped on Castle’s wrist went slack.

She’s already dead. Those final words buzzed in Castle’s ears like flies. She’s already dead.

A bone-deep misery flooded him. He railed on the inside, his gut churning, insisting it wasn’t true.

It couldn’t be. He couldn’t lose Kit.

Castle forced himself to shove aside shock and think. Sanborn was great at manipulation and even better at strategy. If Kit had already been dead, there wouldn’t have been a drawn-out discussion about her, minutes wasted on a moot point when he needed to flee the scene.

Minutes wasted.

The part about the timer, a secondary trigger to the handheld detonator, was probably true. Sanborn had been keeping track of the time, wanted it wasted, even in death determined to win.

Castle looked at the watch on Sanborn’s wrist. It was counting down.

Three minutes, twenty seconds left.

There wasn’t much time. He had to risk it and go to the boat to see the truth for himself.

Ripping the watch from Sanborn’s wrist, Castle released his dead body. He hoisted himself out of the water up onto the dock and ran to untie the small raft. After jumping in, he primed the engine three times, and on the second pull, it caught, and he took off for the boat.

Castle steered the inflatable raft, keeping an eye on the time. The one thing he had to have faith in was its accuracy.

Desperation clawed at him. I can make it. I have to. Kit was alive. She had to be and needed him. Every other possibility he blocked out.

He reached the small cruiser and tied the raft to the ladder.

Another time check—one minute, forty-two seconds. Heart pounding, Castle climbed onto the deck.

He ran to the cabin. The door was locked.

Inside, Kit lay on the floor, hands and feet bound, unmoving. His chest pinched. She’s just unconscious, he told himself. Further in the cabin, Khan was alive and bound to the wheel.

Why kill Kit and not Khan instead of letting the blast take care of them both?

Castle kicked in the cabin door, slamming his sodden boot heel against the lock. The latch gave way, the frame buckling from the force. He rushed to Kit and dropped to a knee beside her.

Pressing two fingers to her throat, he felt for a pulse. Thready and weak, but she was alive. Knee-buckling relief tangled with rage the likes of which he’d never known.

Damn you, Sanborn. He’d distracted Castle, lied with his dying breath to try and destroy his last chance to save Kit.

Castle gathered her into his arms. “Kit!” He patted her cheek. Her skin was pale and cold, and her clothes were wet. She must’ve tried to escape.

Any attempt to swim while her hands and feet were restrained would’ve been too taxing on her heart, not to mention the stress and strain of being kidnapped.

Sanborn’s betrayal ate at Castle like poison.

He fished her meds from his pocket. The bottle was still sealed. No water had gotten in. He flipped the lid off and slipped a Nitrostat tablet between her lips, under her tongue, where it’d dissolve.

Less than a minute on the watch’s timer. They had to get off the boat before it blew.

Standing with her tucked against his body, he glanced at Khan. Even if Castle had been inclined to spare the terrorist, there wasn’t time to get them both to the skiff and still get a safe distance.