“Please don’t start listing all the things that might go wrong.” She couldn’t hide the begging tone in her voice.
He laughed. “My lips are sealed, I promise.”
Tyler crept toward the front of the raft and sat back on his feet, but leaned forward. In this position, he was able to place his hands into the water and paddle.
Charlie wanted to help, but she figured if she just started paddling on one side, she’d throw off his rhythm. Instead, she sat with her eyes focused on the island up ahead, of what could potentially become their new home if there proved to be no one there either. She hoped whatever shipping lane the last ship had been on also went past this island. She tried to calculate its position and the possibility, trying to take her mind off the unfathomable depth that was surely now beneath them, and the numerous creatures it contained. She risked a glance toward the water. The color had gone from completely clear, so she could see the bottom of the ocean bed, to dark and fathomless. She didn’t like the fact Tyler’s hands and arms were in the water, moving enough to catch the attention of anything swimming beneath.
The other island grew closer. She could hear Tyler’s labored breathing as the paddling became hard work.
“Can I take over?” she asked, wanting to help.
“No, just stay in the middle.”
She perched, keeping her eyes glued on the island. They were about midway now. The ocean grew rougher, the raft lifting and dipping. Her stomach started to turn.
Something bumped beneath the bottom of the raft.
Charlie froze and Tyler pulled his hands from the water.
“You felt that, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
He craned his neck to look back at her and nodded, before placing a finger to his lips.
The bump came again, harder this time, and Charlie clamped her hand to her mouth to suppress a shriek. The raft rocked, waves sloshing over the sides. She was on her knees, her fingers gripping tight to the top of one of the bamboo poles. Her knuckles were white, and though the sun beat down hot and fierce on top of her head, she felt chilled to the bone.
Only one thing explained the bumping. Shark.
She dared lean to one side, peering into the water. She couldn’t be certain, but she felt sure she saw a long, lithe shape powering slowly and silently through the waves. Her heart pounded, her breath tight in her chest. Her whole body trembled. What if the creature kept bumping the raft and knocked their bindings undone? They’d end up floating in the ocean with only a couple of pieces of bamboo to cling to and a huge shark swimming below.
“Sit up straight!” Tyler hissed. “It’ll see your shadow move on the water.”
So she was right. Tyler must have seen it when he was paddling. She shrank back into the center of the raft, sitting still and silent, her eyes wide. She and Tyler stared at each other, both thinking the same thing, both waiting for another jolt to the bottom of the raft, perhaps this time one which would send one or both of them flying into the water. She’d never been so scared in her life, tears of pure fear filling her eyes. The minutes felt like the longest of her life, her whole body tensed for action.
But the seconds passed into minutes, and nothing happened.
Tyler began to relax. “It must have gone.” He spoke in a low voice. “It was probably just inquisitive. Sharks don’t need to eat all the time. It’s just the ‘Jaws’ effect that makes us think they’re only out to kill.”
“Jaws did a damn good job on me,” she replied. “So do you think it’s gone?”
“I couldn’t say for sure. We’ll wait for a few more minutes, then we’ll move slowly. It’ll take a little longer to reach the other island, but it’s best to be safe.”
“You can say that again.”
They waited a few more minutes and nothing happened. Tyler slowly resumed his position and placed his arms back in the water. She wanted to cry and snatch him back out again, terrified the next time he sat up, he would be missing one or both of his hands. In her mind, she couldn’t help imagining his sudden scream of pain, and then him being yanked off the raft and into the deep water below, blood blooming on the surface of the ocean like algae.
Tyler paddled with slow, steady strokes. Gradually, the other island grew near, until Charlie noticed they were now closer to the new island than their old one. The blobs of green palms took shape. The island looked much the same as the one they’d just left, a cove of white sand lined with a mixture of pine and palm trees. Even the middle of the island was the same, rising in another rocky peak, though it didn’t appear to be as steep or treacherous as the one they’d just left.
Tyler continued to paddle.
Something bumped against the bottom of the raft again and Charlie let out a scream.
“It’s okay,” said Tyler. “We’ve hit a sand bank.”
She exhaled a sigh of relief. Of course, the water was too shallow now for there to be a shark beneath them. She realized she could see the bottom of the ocean again now, the tiny shells littering the sandy seabed, and shoals of tiny fish darting beneath.
“Oh, thank God.”
She wanted to be out of the water as quickly as possible, remembering a documentary she’d seen once where a shark had practically beached itself to get a seal—or perhaps that had been a killer whale, she couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it had had big teeth and had left a lasting impression on her.
Charlie slipped off the raft and into the tepid water. Together, she and Tyler dragged the raft through the shallows and up onto the beach. Tyler didn’t stop there, but continued to pull it higher.
“We need to drag it above the tide line so it doesn’t get washed away.”
“Who cares if it gets washed away?” She shuddered. “I’m never setting foot on that thing again.”
He looked up at her. “We might have to. It’s better that we have it somewhere safe just in case.”
She groaned and then bent, getting her minimal weight behind the raft to push while Tyler pulled. The raft was heavy enough to leave deep, dark grooves in the white sand, digging in enough to make their job more difficult.
Finally, Tyler said it was high enough and they both dropped, exhausted, onto the hot sand. The heat burned the backs of her legs, but she was too tired to care. Every muscle in her body ached, and the high of the adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins seeped away, leaving her beat. She was also horrendously thirsty. They hadn’t been able to carry much fresh water with them and so she hadn’t had much to drink since leaving the other island. The sun had been magnified on the water, burning down on her, though she’d tied her t-shirt around her head like a bandana, trying to keep off the worst of it. Her skin felt tight and tingly, and she knew her shoulders would suffer from some painful sunburn as soon as the sun went down.
Tyler’s fingers grasped for hers, and when they made contact she turned her face to him lying in the exact same position as she was. “We can’t stay here, Charlie. We need to go and find water.”
“I’m too tired to move.”
He pushed himself to sitting, his legs bent, elbows on his knees, his neck and spine curved. “Okay. You wait here, then. I’ll find some water and come back.”
That shocked her into sitting. “I thought I’d made it clear how I felt about you leaving me! What if something happens to you out there? No, we stay together.”
“In which case, you need to get up.” He offered her his hand.
Using the last of her strength, she reached up and took it. Tyler pulled her to standing and then slipped a hand around her waist. Her legs felt weak, the muscles trembling as though she had a wasting disease. He allowed her to lean into him, supporting her, though she knew he must be exhausted—after all, he’d done most of the work.
The island appeared to be very similar to the one they’d just left. Palm trees lined the beach they’d landed on, though the peak in the middle of the island was nothing like the tall ridge of cliffs they’d needed to breach to get h
ere.
“There will be fresh water somewhere on the island,” Tyler said. “All this greenery wouldn’t thrive unless there was. We just need to find it.”
“I feel sick,” she muttered. “And my head hurts.”
“You’re dehydrated. Please, Charlie. Sit in the shade and let me go and find some water.”
“No.” Her tongue felt thick and furry, and she slurred her words. “You’re not leaving me.”
His grip around her waist tightened and she knew he wasn’t going to abandon her. She prayed the same was true for if they ever made it back into the real world, but the way she felt right now, she wondered if she’d even survive the day, never mind make it off the island.
They pushed through the bushes and trees, deeper into the shaded interior of the island. She managed only to place one foot in front of the other—and sometimes barely managed that, her feet dragging through the dirt so Tyler basically pulled her along with him. She didn’t register their new surroundings, or how far they’d been walking or for how long. She felt as though she was drunk, missing pieces of time.
Suddenly, she was lifted off her feet and she blinked open her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she’d been walking with them shut. Tyler had picked her up and now carried her like a child.
“No, put me down.” She struggled in his arms, blinking back tears with the shock of understanding just out of it she was. She must be really sick. She hoped it was dehydration and she hadn’t picked up malaria or dengue fever or something equally horrible.
“No.” He held her tighter, squeezing the fight out of her. “You didn’t want me to leave you, and I’m not planning to.”
“That was before, when I could walk myself. You can’t carry me. I’ll end up breaking us both.”
“No, I’m not leaving you. I promised—” His words cut off and he drew to a halt. “Charlie, look.”
She blinked, forcing herself to focus. Up ahead, the forest opened out into a clearing. A man-made structure stood in its center.
“Is that a hut?”
Tyler nodded, and she felt his body tense with anticipation. In fact, it wasn’t just a hut, but far grander, with a porch running around the outside, a couple of seats perched on it. The place didn’t seem dilapidated, or as though the forest was trying to reclaim it. It looked positively civilized.
“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”
Movement came in the doorway, and a woman appeared. She wore a khaki t-shirt and shorts, with glasses on her face, and short hair. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, and she turned back slightly, without taking her eyes off the new arrivals, and shouted, “Philip? You need to get out here, now!”
She ran toward them, arms outstretched as if to take Charlie from Tyler. “Oh, my God, what are you people doing out here?” Charlie recognized a British accent.
“We were in a plane crash a few days ago,” Tyler said. “We got washed up on the next island. Do you have water? Charlie is severely dehydrated. We spent half the day on the ocean getting here.”
A man appeared in the doorway, wearing much the same outfit as the woman. He was in his forties, with thinning hair and long, gangly limbs. “What the hell?”
“They need water, Philip,” the woman called to him. “Get the canteens.”
They pulled Charlie into the shade of the porch, and, carefully, Tyler placed her into one of the wooden chairs. The man arrived with a silver canteen of water and opened the top, handing it to her. She fumbled the canister, but Tyler helped her, lifting the rim to her lips. Mercifully cool and clean, she gulped the water down. It was the best thing she’d tasted in a week. Knowing she’d had enough, she pushed the canister away. The water sat uneasily in her stomach, and humiliated and ashamed, she leaned to one side and vomited it onto the porch.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes streaming.
“Don’t be silly,” said the woman. “Just take it slowly.”
She tried again, taking little sips. After ten minutes had passed, she began to feel a little better. “Tyler needs to drink too,” she said.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got my own.” He turned to their saviors. “Do you have any contact with the rest of the world?”
The man nodded. “Of course. We have a satellite phone.”
“Oh, thank God.”
He crouched in front of her, and touched her face. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to make a call to get us to safety.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Charlie lay in a hospital bed, Tyler in another room farther down the corridor. A window to her right looked out over the tall skyscrapers of Singapore, the view only marred by the slats of white blinds which cut the window into sections. The walls of the hospital room were equally white, as were the bed sheets and the hospital issued gown she wore. A drip containing a saline solution and some antibiotics were hooked up to a stand beside the bed. The doctors had checked her over when they’d arrived and announced that, other than dehydration, exhaustion, and a whole plethora of insect bites, she was basically healthy. They’d keep her in for a few days until she was fully rested, and then discharge her. Once discharged, the production company would put her on a plane back home to Los Angeles.
She’d asked after the rest of the crew, but no one else had been found, though they’d recovered Agatha’s body and would be flying it home to be buried. Charlie told them that she’d like to be notified about its arrival. She hadn’t thought Agatha had any family, but apparently she’d had a sister and a niece who would be claiming the body and making funeral arrangements. Charlie planned on being well enough to attend.
She wished Tyler was in the same room as her. She’d barely seen him since getting off the island, and she missed him with an ache that was almost physical. The reporters had done their best to swarm over the hospital, but because they’d been airlifted by helicopter, so far the reporters had been kept at bay. Even so, she was dreading being released and the carnage that would ensue. She hated that she’d dragged Tyler into her exposed, vulnerable life, and she hoped he wouldn’t hate her for it.
A knock came at the door. “Come in,” she called out, glancing toward the sound.
The door cracked open and a young man wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard enter the room. “Ms. Charleston. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better, thank you.” Jeez, doctors were getting young these days. She must be showing her age.
He crossed to the other side of the bed and checked the levels on the drip, and then turned back to her. “Do you mind if I ask you some quick questions?”
She forced a tired smile. “No, of course not.”
He picked up the pen hanging from a piece of string and attached to the clipboard, and positioned it above the paper attached. “Have you had any spells of dizziness?”
She shook her head, “No.”
“Any prolonged headaches?”
“Not since the first day. Since then, the headaches have gone.”
“That’s good.” He scribbled something down. “So how long were you on the island before you found your agent’s body?”
She frowned. “Not long. It washed up the next day.”
“And would you say Tyler Janson saved your life?”
“He was certainly instrumental in my survival, yes.” Her frown deepened. “Is he all right?”
“Yes, yes. He’s fine. Suffering from dehydration, like you, but otherwise he’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “So how would you describe your relationship with Tyler Janson? Would you say you’ve grown close over your ordeal?”
She carefully pushed herself to sit higher on the bed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t really see how these questions will give you any reflection about my health.”
Color rose to his cheeks in two high flushes.
Something dawned on her. “Oh, my God. You’re not a doctor are you? You’re a god damned reporter!”
She grabbed her sheets and pulled them closer to her chest, as if t
hey could protect her somehow.
“If you could just answer a few more questions for me,” he said, putting out a hand as if to steady her. “So many people want to hear your story.”
“Help!” she screamed. “Someone help! Who the hell let a reporter in here?”
“I’m sorry Ms—” he started to say, stepping toward her so she cowered back. She thought he was going to continue with his apology, but then he whipped something out of his back pocket and a light burst in her eyes. A cell phone! The little bastard had taken her picture. She could imagine her confused, exhausted face appearing on the front of numerous magazines, looking drab and feeble in the hospital issued gown.
The hospital room door slammed open, and Tyler’s huge form filled the doorway, dwarfing the young reporter. He wore a hospital gown like her, though it was tiny on him. Blood dribbled down the inside of his arm, where, she assumed, he must have yanked out his drip. A couple of female nurses scurried along behind him like worried mother hens.
“What’s going on, Charlie?” he demanded. “Who the hell is this?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s a reporter. He was pretending to be a doctor.”
The reporter lifted a finger as if to make a point. “Uh, actually, I never said I was a doctor, you just assumed.”
“What the hell else was I supposed to think? We’re in a hospital and you come in wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard!”
The nurses entered with a gasp. “You can’t be in here, sir. We’re going to have to ask you to leave or we’ll have to call security.
Tyler strode over, almost comical in his hospital gown, except for the furious expression darkening his face. “Don’t bother. I’m all the security she needs.”
He grabbed the other man by the scruff of his shirt, as if the man were an errant child, and started to haul him from the room, the man’s feet scuffing across the floor as he tried to get traction.
Charlie remembered something. “Get his phone, Tyler. He took a picture of me.”
Dangerous Encounters: A Romantic Suspense Boxed Set Page 41
