The Mercenary by Cherry Adair Read Free Book Online Page B

she
    bobbed once more to the surface and then she felt something grab her sweater from behind. Tory let out
    a gargled scream.
    “Have…a…heart…honey. If I’d wanted them to…know…we were coming I’d have sent
    a…telegram.”
    Tory was too exhausted and too relieved to see him to answer back. She relaxed marginally as he
    started towing her—hopefully, toward dry land. Kicking her legs and using her good arm, she tried to
    help. He used the swells to propel them through the surf.
    Sand scored her stomach as the waves pushed them farther up the beach. For a moment she simply lay
    there with her face pressed to terra firma, the waves hungrily sucking at her quivering legs.
    “Time to go.” Marc got to his feet, pushing his dripping hair out of his face and pulling her up beside him.
    For one horrible moment Tory didn’t think her legs would work as they reeled unsteadily. Marc’s arm
    came out to support her, bumping her hip with whatever it was heroes wore around the waist.
    The moon played hide-and-seek with the clouds, illuminating the hard planes of his face only
    sporadically. It started to rain. Tory sighed. “I hope we’re checking into a Hilton. I’d kill for a hot bath
    and a cup of tea.”
    The rain poured down in a torrent, and she licked her lips. The water was sweet and fresh, washing
    away the crust of salt. Looking up to the black sky, she let the water sluice over her face and tripped
    over a large dead tree limb. Marc used her own momentum to keep hauling her on. She glanced around
    curiously. It was pretty hard to see anything in the dark. The ocean gave off a faint phosphorescence and
    all she could see was gray beach stretching out in front of them. Up ahead was the solid outline of a cliff.
    She tugged on his hand and he stopped. Tory could just make out a feral gleam in his eyes. “I hope you
    don’t think I’m going to climb that cliff. Because I’ve got to tell you—” Afraid that he’d yell that she was slowing him down, but terrified of heights, Tory was a little relieved
    when she caught the faint flicker of his smile. “We’re checking into the Hotel Grotta Zaffiro.”
    “Oh, please,” Tory said fervently to his turned back, “don’t be joking.” He tugged her hand, leading her
    to the base of the cliffs. It was rockier here and her bare feet came into contact with hard stone instead of
    hard-packed sand.
    “In twenty minutes you’ll be up to your pretty neck in hot water,” he promised.
    Tory grinned. It sounded like heaven and gave her a new burst of energy as she scrabbled over a big
    boulder.
    They seemed to be climbing, but it wasn’t straight up. Piles of large rocks, some worn smooth by the
    waves, others harsh and porous, littered the base of the cliffs and they had to pick their way carefully in
    the dark. That hot bath was her sole focus.
    Surely they would have to find a road soon? The rain had stopped and the sky had lightened to pewter
    as they climbed. Marc hadn’t said a word for ages. He turned to help her up.
    She was out of breath and panting as she dropped her hand to her knee and hung her head, gulping for
    air. Her hair pooled on the rocky ground in wet, curling skeins. When she straightened, Marc was
    grinning.
    “What?”
    “You look like Medusa.” He laughed softly as she gave a horrified gasp, her fingers going to her snarled
    and tangled hair. Taking her hand he pulled her after him. “Actually, all things considered, you look damn
    good. Come on, princess, your bath is waiting.”
    “I hope this hotel is at least a two-star—Oh, Marc, no.” Disappointment rocked her back on her heels
    as she realized what he’d done. “Please, tell me we aren’t going into a cave.”
    “We aren’t going into a cave,” he said agreeably, his fingers tightening on hers as he pulled her toward a
    small hole in the face of the cliff.
    She saw the narrow beam of light pool at his bare feet as he turned on a flashlight, angling it so that