“Stop thinking about the what-ifs!” he admonished himself. “Your number one concern is staying warm! Think, Alex. Where would there be wood?” There were plenty of shrubs, but they were too moist. He needed old, dried-out wood. “That’s right!”
He turned directly to the setting sun to get his coordinates. It was a bit of a hike, but when he was looking for a place to land, he’d seen an old wooden boat that had washed up on shore. He took off in a jog, heading due east.
He needed to hurry. He didn’t want to be out too long after twilight. If Irene didn’t find a lantern or candles, he’d have a difficult time finding his way back to the cabin.
~ Irene ~
While there was still light, Irene quickly scavenged the shack for anything of use. She’d pulled back the plain dark-blue curtains, but already it was hard to see.
She searched the darkest spots first — under the bed and other pieces of furniture — and then she sifted through drawers and a closet, pulling out anything they could use.
She piled her finds on a small dinette. A flashlight she hadn’t checked. Batteries she hoped would fit the flashlight she hadn’t checked. A lighter she didn’t try. Matches. A vacuum-sealed bag with sheets and another with a blanket. She was certain that visitors were supposed to wash the linens before they left the island, but she’d yet to find fuel. If — when … they made it through this, she’d find out who owned the place, and she’d repay them for everything they used.
After her search of the closet, she headed to a set of cabinets with a countertop that served as a kitchen. She closed her eyes as she opened the cabinet beneath the sink — hoping — then opened the warped doors. She inspected every canister, but found mostly cleaning supplies. Nothing resembled fuel. She was happy to find a kettle, though. That would work to boil water for coffee.
She lifted a lantern from beneath the sink and was happy to discover it was full. At least they’d have a bit of light in an emergency.
Irene stood, hands on her hips. She turned, taking in the entire cabin again. “Oh, crap. No bathroom.”
She sighed and headed for the front door. She stepped out and headed for a small shack behind the cabin. She lifted the wood latch and stepped inside. “Oh, goodie, an outhouse. It’s official. This isn’t the worst place I’ve stayed.”
Across from the toilet — a hole with woodchips — sat a small alcove with a drain, which held nothing but an empty bucket. Well, not completely empty. Once upon a time, it appeared that a spider had used the metal bucket to catch bugs. She imagined that the bucket and stall were used to take sponge baths.
Again, not the worst place she’d ever spent a night.
Still, since there wasn’t anything of use here, she needed to search some more, then return to the cabin before it got too cold and dark to find her way back.
Outside the tiny bathhouse, she raised her hand to the setting sun. Not even a finger remained between the sun and the horizon. Not that she needed to use her hand to figure out that she wouldn’t have sunlight for much longer.
She jogged toward the crumbling building Alex had referred to as barracks. More like a henhouse. She stuck her head through the open doorway. Chitters and occasional squawks resounded, but it seemed the birds were settling down, which meant that she and Alex should too. Besides, she could see nothing of worth from the doorway, and she damn sure didn’t intend to enter the coop. She’d let Alex do that if he wanted.
Speaking of Alex … She turned and headed back to the cabin. They’d manage. They had a few cans of food, protein bars, and a kettle to boil water. Even if Alex didn’t find wood, they’d make it through the night. It wasn’t as if they’d starve in one night, and now that they had shelter, they wouldn’t freeze.
Together, they’d be able to keep warm. Just thinking about his hands, she felt instant warmth. She’d been so hot this morning that she’d actually opened the hotel window.
Irene peered over the cabin’s roof. The sun had already sunk behind it. She stepped to the side and watched as the sun seemingly melted into the ocean. She’d always marveled how fast it disappeared when it finally hit the horizon.
After she’d been diagnosed and before she’d gotten too ill, she’d spent time on Stinson Beach. In the weeks she was there, she never missed a sunset. She hadn’t missed a chance to reflect on her life either. She’d spent her days walking the beach, and her nights deciding what she would do if she woke up from the operation.
All the years she’d lived in San Fran, she’d only gone to Stinson Beach once. She’d always wanted to return, but never made the time. More often than not, she’d end up in Carmel or Monterey … because it was where a friend or significant other wanted to go. The people she hung out with didn’t want to vacation in Stinson Beach because it wasn’t a party town, and there was little shopping available. But she loved it. Without a doubt, it was one of the cleanest and sandiest beaches on the California coastline.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Seventeen years of her life, gone. She’d done well financially, but she’d gone broke spiritually. She had no love life, no family, and no hope for anything except her career. And her illness had taken that away overnight.
A rush of wind battered her, sending shivers through her core. She gathered her jacket tighter around her and reached for the door handle. She pushed the door open as the wind lashed at her, threatening to carry her away.
Inside, she pushed against the door, fighting the wind that wanted to enter. She finally got the latch to click, then gasped. Alex was in that wind … in the dark. How would he find his way back?
She ran to the window. Peered in both directions. Already, it was nearly impossible to see. If only she’d found some wood or fuel, she could have set a fire.
She whipped around, feeling her way to the dinette where she’d stowed all her treasures.
The lantern. No. Too windy.
She felt for the flashlight. Her fingers gripped the cold metal, and she padded her way back to the door.
The wind howled, shaking the front door. She carefully unlatched the metal handle and held tightly as a gust threatened to slam the wood against the wall. She tugged it closed as she stepped out into the cold. The temperature felt like it had plummeted twenty degrees in mere seconds.
She pressed the button on the flashlight and heaved a sigh of relief when the bright beam shot from the top, blinding her. She whipped the stream of light forward, aiming it at the road, and then the spiny vegetation that covered nearly every exposed inch of the island.
Remembering that most flashlights had a strobe function, she clicked the button again. The flashing light would make a beacon for Alex to follow back.
Several thumps sounded in the sand beside her, and then a black mass charged her from the side, grabbing the metal from her hands.
“Are you crazy?” Alex yelled, extinguishing the light.
She collapsed into a squat, a yelp emitting from her throat. “Oh, God!” She thought she was dead. Thought that Kevin or one of his drug dealers had found her.
Alex draped his arms around her, pulling her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He opened the door and pulled her inside. “Irene … I’m sorry.”
She could feel his warm breath on her face, his hands on her arms as he tried to soothe her, but she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. It was too much. Today had been too much.
“Irene, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just … that LED light is bright; it’s made to be, so rescue teams can see it. My team won’t be here for at least a day or two, so … we can’t take a chance. We need to lie low for a few days.”
She covered her face, pressed on her eyes, tried to make everything go away. “I’m okay,” she said in her hands, partly to assure him, but mostly to assure herself. “You just scared me. I thought Kevin … or … one of his men … had found us. I just wanted to make sure you could find your way, Alex.” Another hitch rose in her throat. “It’s just bee
n a long day.”
It’s been a long year, she cried within, not wanting him to hear her internal breakdown. It was bad enough that she’d fought for her life from an illness. But now she’d crashed in a plane, almost drowned, been nearly choked to death … How much more could a woman take?
“Here …” Alex ushered her from the door to the sofa. “Relax, honey. I’ll make a fire. We’ll be fine. No one’s coming tonight.”
Irene gulped in more oxygen, sniffed, and tried to relax her quivering limbs. “I’m fine,” she choked out through shaky gasps.
You are fine! she screamed internally. You’ve survived worse than this. You investigated and reported atrocities from the streets of San Francisco. You survived cancer, for God’s sake. You can certainly handle a few days on an island.
But what if Alex was wrong? If they couldn’t signal anyone, how would they notify a rescue team they were here? Or worse … Alex had said, No one’s coming tonight …
What would happen when the drug runners showed up tomorrow?
Chapter 7
~ Alex ~
Alex hustled away from Irene, leaving the cabin to pick up the wood pieces he’d chucked.
What had she been thinking, flashing an SOS light?
He knew what she’d been thinking. He’d heard her call his name, and he was grateful. So why had he nearly tackled her instead of just explaining?
He smacked his head with his hand. He wasn’t used to women, normal women that is. His mother would have known better. Nora would have known better.
He’d never welcomed a woman into his world, so other than his mother and Nora, he’d never had to deal with one while on a rescue. Irene wasn’t like Nora and his mother. She was a city girl. A fragile city girl at that. And he’d nearly tackled her in his haste to turn off the flashlight.
No one would be here tonight, he was certain, so he could have just asked her to turn it off. Instead, he’d scared her.
He gathered up the scraps of wood and tossed them next to the door. As much as he didn’t want to open the door in the night when he needed to add to the fire, he also didn’t want to invite any fleas or critters in via the wood.
Before opening the door, he peered up at the darkened sky. It was a clear night, with the stars lighting up the heavens, which meant it’d be cold. He chose three logs and entered. A golden flame flickered on the table, casting flittering shadows across Irene.
“I figured it’d be okay to light the lantern since you found wood for a fire and said we wouldn’t be here more than three days.”
Embarrassed by his earlier actions, Alex simply nodded. “No, that’s great. The light will make it easier for me to start a fire.”
She walked toward him. “I’m sorry I freaked out … and that I used the flashlight. I should have known better.”
He set the pieces of wood on top of the cast-iron furnace. “No need to be sorry. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed out past dark and, as I said, I don’t expect anyone to show up tonight, so I was a bit melodramatic.”
A smile tugged up her cheeks as she stopped in front of him. The candlelight flickered in her hazel eyes, making them dance.
A sharp pain stabbed Alex in the stomach as he stared at her. He moved forward, his fingers immediately finding her soft auburn curls. Without thinking or asking, he pulled her toward him. He dipped his head, finding her mouth. She opened for him, accepting him.
Her hands slid up his chest, and he moaned at the memory of how she’d unbuttoned his shirt and stripped him of the tux within seconds of following him into his room.
He pulled back from the kiss. “Irene …” He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to stop, but we need a fire, honey.” He hadn’t wanted to light the fire in the daytime, as the smoke would easily be visible, so they needed to get it as hot as possible tonight. Not that they needed a fire to stay warm. Their two bodies entwined added up to 197.2 degrees. Not technically, but he liked the notion of her naked body pressed against his again.
She groaned quietly. “Yeah … and food. We might as well use the heat from the fire to cook. I found a few cans of food, and I tossed coffee in the backpack you gave me. You said only necessities, but coffee is a must-have for me.”
Alex pulled her back to him. “Woman, you already know the way to my heart.”
“Mine too … and my head. My head is throbbing, so it’s either the lack of caffeine or water. I figure I’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
He peered down at her. “I am sorry I overreacted.”
“I’m okay, Alex. I just needed a bit of a breakdown. Women do that, you know. It’s our way of getting everything out so we can start afresh.”
He backed away. “Okay. You get dinner started, and I’ll make the fire.”
Irene turned away, and he immediately wanted to pull her back, scoop her up, and carry her to the loveseat. They didn’t need a fire to stay warm; his body was on fire.
But he refrained from drawing her back. That would be irresponsible. If he was wrong, and Vince didn’t find them in the next three days, they’d get mighty hungry. They needed to keep food in their bellies so they didn’t gorge all at once and run out. He’d heard of people eating the eggs of seabirds, but that prospect didn’t appeal to him. And even if he could catch a rabbit, the meat was too lean to live off.
He knelt next to the stove, carefully opening the front, making sure an animal hadn’t set up house inside the cast-iron block. He arranged the three logs upright, added some shards and paper, and then used one of the firestarter sticks from his emergency pack. No sense struggling to catch the fire when he had the right supplies.
In seconds, bright orange flames licked at the glass and heat poured through the vent.
“Fire’s ready!” He stood, tossing a look over his shoulder. Not that he’d done anything spectacular, since he’d had the firestarter sticks, but Irene didn’t know that.
“That was fast. I haven’t even been able to get this blasted can opener to work. It works for about two turns and then stops. I wish all manufacturers would go to pop-top lids. According to a YouTube video I saw, some Millennials don’t even know what a can opener is, let alone how to use one.”
Alex stepped to the counter, retrieved the can opener and can of beans. “I’ll get it. You can start the coffee.” He opened the handle, releasing the catch, then leveled the blade on the edge again and squeezed, turning the handle. Irene just didn’t have enough strength to use the cheap contraption. The rubber-handled one he used at home was smooth. “You’re not serious about Millennials, are you?”
Irene lifted her head from the blue kettle she’d been inspecting. “Dead serious.” She reached into her back pocket, then froze, laughing. “Oops! Where is my head? I was actually going to show you the video on my phone.”
He laughed, then set the can on the counter next to her. “Here. I’ll go find some snow.”
She wagged her head again. “I’m not accustomed to not having electricity and water at my command.”
“That’s just sad.”
“Hey …” She crinkled her nose. “Not everyone hikes and camps for a living.”
Alex laughed. “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about not knowing how to use a blasted can opener. And I thought I was a sorry-ass bachelor because I still live in the family home. At least I know how to use a can opener and build a fire.”
Irene stared up at him, the question he’d seen hundreds of times lighting in her eyes.
He raised his gaze to the ceiling and shook his head. “Yes, I still live with my mother, but I have a very good reason.”
She lifted her hands as if she hadn’t been thinking, What a loser, and turned to retrieve the beans from the counter, but not before he saw the smirk.
“You could get your own snow, you know. I can live without coffee. I had a big breakfast with my family, since you left my bed before dawn.”
She turned back to him. Her top teeth grazed her bottom lip, t
hen she nodded to the fire. “That’s a great fire, Alex. Would you be a dear and bring me some snow so I can make us coffee?”
He snatched up a bucket, exiting the cabin without comment. He pulled out the flashlight, but aimed it at the ground.
He understood why women reacted that way — out-of-towners anyway. The few local women he’d gone out with didn’t have a problem with his homestead. Then again, most of them knew about the vacation rentals at the rear of the property, the ones his mother rented out from May through September. Off-season, though, he and his brothers staked out their favorites. His was the two-story closest to the lake, with a deck leading off the bedroom that overlooked the woods.
All his brothers lived at home; even Sam and Nora had said they wanted to live there after their honeymoon.
Since their father had died, the five of them had decided not to leave their mother to fend for herself in the wilderness. Except Vince. Vince’s wife had insisted they buy their own house, and then she’d left him, so he’d moved back eight months ago. Even with the five of them still living there, there were many times when the house was empty.
His mother knew that one of them would always be home overnight, though. The five of them had a text chain they’d kept going for years, sharing things they didn’t share with their mother and Nora. An unspoken rule was that their mother was never alone. When any one of them said, “I won’t be home,” one of the others would always ping back, “I’ll be home.”
Another stab to his gut nearly doubled him over as he realized he had planned to never text those words again by making the decision to end his life. What had he been thinking? There had to be another way.
He found a fresh mound of snow, far away from the bird barracks. He swiped off the top coat and then filled the bucket.
Alex's Atonement (Midnight Sons Book 2) Page 8
