Deadly Christmas Pretense - Dana Mentink

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muscles screamed for escape, but he was between her and the exit. There was only one avenue open: farther up the narrow flight of spiraling metal stairs. She moved as quickly as she could, trying to tread on the stairs where they attached to the wall to minimize squeaking. Maybe he hadn’t actually seen her come in. He might be bluffing and give up.

      Below her, she heard him move.

      Impatience crept into his tone. “I only want the jewelry. Give it back and forget about it.” He paused. “We had a good thing going for a while, Tammy. Don’t throw that all away over a misunderstanding.” He paused. “I know you’re up there... There’s no way out. My phone doesn’t work here, so I’m guessing yours doesn’t, either.” He chuckled. “Cat and mouse game.”

      And I’m the mouse.

      Without warning, he charged, metal squealing under his feet, and she had no choice but to sprint up the stairs. Fear powered her, but he was tall and long-legged. He caught her at the top, grabbing her by the wrists and pinning her back against the railing. Her face twisted away from his, eyes blinded by the eerie glare of the lighthouse beacon.

      “This is fun, Tammy, the cat and mouse, but I’m short on time.”

      She writhed in his grip, trying to kick out, wrench her arms free. He was strong and his height gave him leverage.

      “Get away from me,” she rasped.

      He squeezed her wrists until she thought the bones would crack, angling her torso over the railing, the only thing standing between the lantern room behind her and a plummet to the ocean below. Frigid wind tore at her hair, yanking as if it meant to pull her down into the sea. He used his weight to crush her against the metal. Still she could not turn her face to look at him.

      “You’re going to tell me where you hid the jewelry, who you gave it to. I know it’s someone here, someone you know and trust.”

      Tears of pain gathered in her eyes. “I won’t tell you anything.”

      He pressed harder, his jaw clenched with the effort.

      “You want to die? Such a pretty young thing? Splattered all over the rocks?”

      “You won’t kill me. Then you’d never know,” she snapped.

      “I don’t want to kill you,” he said. “But I will if I have to.”

      “I—” she started.

      She felt his body twitch, as if something past the railing had caught his attention down on the beach. “Who’s the cowboy?”

      Liam, she thought with a surge of hope. He’d followed her.

      She wriggled, but he increased the pressure, nearly expelling all the air from her body. “You give me what I want and don’t involve anyone else, or you know what will happen. It would be so easy.”

      She was too oxygen-deprived to reply.

      “Hey,” Liam shouted from below. “Get your hands off her.”

      Without warning, the man released her and raced away down the stairs. The sudden movement sent her staggering. Her hips hit the rusted railing. Gulping for air, it took a second for her to register that the railing had given way and she was falling backward. Flailing, her fingers desperately sought for something, anything, to save her life.

       THREE

      Liam sprinted around to the walkway a few seconds too late to properly neutralize the guy. He got off only a quick rifle shot that skimmed over the goon’s shoulder, just enough to scare him. It worked. The guy stumbled in his fear and fell. On the ground, he rolled then dived behind some rocks. When he popped a head up, only the whites of his eyes and teeth shone in the thick darkness.

      “Gonna stay and shoot me? She’s not gonna hang on for long. Tough choice, right, cowboy?” he called.

      Liam gripped the gun, glancing quickly upward to see the shadowy movement on the lighthouse platform. He did not dare look too carefully. “Won’t take me long to stop you.”

      “But you’re not that kind of guy, are you? Shooting an unarmed man?”

      “Guess you don’t know what kind of man I am, do ya?”

      “Oh yes, I do.” He came up with a handful of sand and hurled it in Liam’s direction. Liam flinched and the man took off, running full-on into the night.

      Liam had learned when he was seven years old that there was right and there was wrong. The lines blurred at times, particularly in his tenure as a Green Beret, but they were still there, which was why the lunatic was not already dead at Liam’s feet. As he ran into the lighthouse and charged the steps two at a time, he wished he hadn’t learned that lesson quite so well.

      I’ll have another showdown with that clown, he told himself.

      He heard her gasping, struggling to hold on, as he exploded onto the top level to see her fingers clawed around the broken piece of railing. Flopping onto his stomach, he grabbed her forearms. The angle was bad; the leverage was worse. He couldn’t see past the end of his nose, but he hung on for all he was worth.

      She wriggled, fingers white and trembling with the effort.

      “Can you brace your feet on the wall?” he grunted.

      Breathing hard, she shimmied, almost detaching herself from him. He slid one palm down her arm and gathered a bunch of her jacket. “All right. Plan B. You’re going to have to let go so I can haul you up.”

      She whimpered once and the sound went right through him.

      “It’s okay,” he said, trying to gentle his tone. “I promise I’m not going to let you fall.”

      Fear pinched her mouth, bangs scattered over her eyes. “I can’t,” she breathed.

      The muscles in his shoulders began to blare a steady warning. Though she was petite, barely tall enough to climb up in his truck all the months they were dating, her body was deadweight and he could not maintain his hold for much longer. He shifted.

      “Tam, I know I’m not the guy you wanted to run into just now, but at the moment I’m the only one around. We didn’t make it as a couple, but you could always trust me. Isn’t that right?”

      She stopped struggling and he felt her start to lose her grip.

      “Trust me now, Tam. Come on. On three, you’re gonna let go. One...”

      Her eyes rounded in fear, molten and terrified in the moonlight.

      “Two...”

      Again the softest whimper, fear again, but edged with resolve this time. She went dead still.

      “Three.”

      She let go. The downward pull strained every muscle in his body, required every iota of strength he possessed not to drop her. Groaning with the effort, he began to command his body backward, pulling one excruciating inch at a time, the platform creaking in protest. Their combined weight added to the ledge already weakened by time and the salt air. How much longer would it hold? Sweat blinded him and he thought his shoulders would dislocate when at last he pulled back just far enough that her torso cleared the busted railing.

      She crawled up next to him and collapsed. He rolled onto his back, sweat mingling with the cold winter air, sucking in painful gusts as he recovered. She breathed hard next to him, one shuddering gasp at a time.

      Finally she managed to sit up.

      “Thank you,” she whispered.

      “Anytime,” he groaned, unable yet to attain a sitting position.

      Several more minutes passed before he rustled up the strength to roll over and get painfully to his feet while she did the same.

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