by Rebecca York
Zach. Zach. I’m over here. Zach.
Was she getting through? She had no way of knowing.
Time dragged by, and when he finally surfaced beside her, she clasped him to her.
“Did you hear me?” she gasped.
“Faintly. And I knew you were between me and that land mass we spotted.”
Looking back the way he’d come, she could see the raft still bobbing in the water. “What did you do?”
“I came up under them and cut a couple of slits in the bottom. If they don’t sink, bailing out will keep them busy.”
“Yes.”
They started off again, stroking toward land. Behind them, she heard a loud curse ring out across the open water.
“I guess they found out they’re going down,” Zach muttered.
“Will they drown?”
“Do you care?” he asked.
She was horrified to think that she really didn’t. Those men had tried to kill her and Zach. And they deserved whatever happened to them.
“They’re afraid of the sharks,” Zach said, a sneer in his voice. “A lucky break for us. Sharks don’t go after swimmers.”
She huffed out a breath. “What about all those people who lose an arm or a leg?”
“The shark made a mistake.”
She sputtered a reply. “Oh, sure.”
“I mean, sharks don’t intend to attack people. But if they mistake an arm or a leg for something else, they might bite.”
She shook her hair back. “That’s kind of inconvenient.”
“Yeah. But you’re more likely to get killed by lightning than to get attacked by a shark. In California, there were twenty-eight fatal lightning strikes between 1959 and 2005. And during the same period, there were five fatal shark attacks.”
She tipped her head to the side. “You’ve got those statistics at your fingertips?”
“Yeah. Because I take people out diving all the time. People who are worried about sharks. So I know about them. And I know how to avoid getting attacked. Swimming at twilight when the creatures can’t see well is one of the most dangerous times for attacks.”
He lifted his head and looked toward the receding raft. “We can’t stay here having a shark safety lecture.”
“Right.”
“Where are we?”
“Closer to land.”
She stared toward the dark bulk in the distance. It was still awfully far away. “I don’t know if I can make it.”
“I thought you were a swimming champion.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“It’s like riding a bike.”
“You can’t drown on a bike.”
“You’re not going to drown. Come on.” He struck off toward the land. Grand Fernandino, she hoped.
She tried to keep pace with him, but he was a strong swimmer, and she felt herself falling behind.
He turned around and came back to her, watching her breathe hard. “Relax.”
She rested in the water, and he gathered her in his arms. She let her head drop to his shoulder, feeling peaceful—and so close to him that it made her heart squeeze.
Like two halves of one whole, he whispered in her mind.
Yes.
How did I survive during the years without you? he asked, his inner voice soft.
With difficulty, she answered, because she knew it was the truth. For both of them.
Lie on your back and rest.
Okay.
She turned over and lay staring up at the tropical blue sky, watching small clouds drift by. They were moving fast—faster than she could swim.
“I was thinking…about how we met. I mean before.”
“And?”
“I was in Montana once…”
“Oh yeah?”
“A long time ago. When I was five, I think. Dad was going to see a copper mine he wanted to invest in, and he took me and Mom along…”
Zach moved to touch her shoulder, and she continued without speaking.
I was really bored. And then I started talking to…a boy. I asked him if he wanted to play Sesame Street, and he said yes.
She felt him drag in a quick breath.
Sesame Street. I remember! I was being punished for leaving my bike in the driveway…only Craig had done it! I was in my room…and a girl asked me if I wanted to play. I thought I made her up. But it was you!
Yes! I think that’s right.
And we didn’t lose the connection until I got sick.
They marveled at the shared memory.
We played Batman and Catwoman.
And…Bonanza.
She wanted to drift there, remembering, but Zach broke the spell.
“We have to get to land—before twilight.”
She felt a shiver go through her, remembering the information about sharks that he’d told her a little while ago. So she flipped over and started moving through the water again. But she soon became winded.
Zach treaded water beside her. “You’re worn out.” His voice was tender as he reached for her.
For a moment, he simply held on to her, and she clung to him. She could feel the bond between them like a warm background buzz.
I’ll take care of you.
I’m used to being independent.
We both are.
Alone for a long time—until we found each other again.
Her heart squeezed. Too bad we didn’t both end up on Grand Fernandino before this.
He hooked his arm over her chest in a hold that she recognized from long-ago lifesaving training. With her firmly in tow, he started swimming again.
“This is too hard for you. You can’t get yourself to land and tow me, too.”
His voice turned gritty. “What do you think I’m going to do? Leave you here?”
“No,” she whispered, looking toward the bag he’d tied around his waist. “But maybe you should get rid of the other stuff you’re dragging.”
“No. We may need it.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and let him pull her through the water, wondering how much longer he could keep it up.
Who’s Sanford? she asked him.
The guy who hired me to find his brother’s boat, the Blue Heron. From the way Bill answered, I’m sure they’re not connected.
Wild Bill, that’s what he calls himself. I picked that up from him. He was the man following me in Denver, but I sensed it’s nothing personal with him.
Then what?
Somebody hired him to…follow me. Then close in…for the kill. She heard his mental curse. And you got dragged into it.
No! We’re in this together. Whatever it is.
IT was like drifting on the water with Anna and Zach. On a wide blue ocean. Jordan moved his hips, maintaining his erection and the arousal simmering between himself and Lindsay.
Not the ocean, I think. What I said before—the Caribbean.
He’s a good swimmer, Lindsay replied. Wait. Something’s changed. They’ve made it to land.
Where?
He felt Lindsay mentally shake her head.
I don’t know.
At least they’re safe.
I wish we knew for sure.
We should stay with them.
But Jordan knew that he had reached the end of his ability to drift on the currents of arousal. They were new at this type of sexual encounter, and the pressure for release had finally built to a level he could no longer ignore.
Don’t, Lindsay warned, then gave up the protest as his hips began to move more urgently.
Soon they were focused only on one another, the need for climax so intense that they gave themselves up to the pleasure of each other—body, mind, and soul.
WHEN Zach let go of Anna, she put her feet down in sand, then followed him onto a brilliant white beach. He moved from the sand to the vegetation beyond and sat down heavily, breathing hard.
“Thank you,” she whispered, joining him on the grass and rolling toward him, pressing her body against his in
the most basic of gestures.
Heat flared, fired by the connection between them—and the knowledge that they’d made it to dry land after their ordeal.
They rocked together, and she felt arousal swamp her. They were alive and safe. And together.
His arms slackened around her. Questioningly, she raised her head and saw the fatigue etched on his face.
I’m too tired to be any good to you, he murmured into her mind.
Of course. I wasn’t thinking. You’d be too tired for sex. I mean…
Damn, every thought that popped into her head winged its way straight to him. They didn’t just have to be careful what they said around each other, they had to start with their thoughts.
He managed a laugh. “No insult taken. I know what you meant.”
“I’m rested. You’re not, because you’ve been doing all the work.”
“I’ll recover.”
He lay back, closing his eyes, breathing evenly.
And she relaxed beside him, knowing they would make love soon. For now, she was glad the cool wind helped dampen some of the fire playing over her skin.
RAOUL knelt before the altar, asking for Ibena’s help. She had been with him like a soul mate on this journey. And he thanked her for that. Or was he being too full of himself when he needed her help now—more desperately than ever? Was that the problem?
“The plane went down, and I’ve lost her. But I can feel her spirit. I know she’s not dead. Help me find her again, and I will honor you all my days. I promise on my life.”
He had already dedicated another chicken to the ceremony. A lot of chickens. He’d have to replenish his supply.
Then he brought his mind back to his urgent need. For information. For more than information.
Anna—his Anna—was with another man.
Blood fire!
He must sever that connection and bring her body and soul into his own keeping.
“Help me find her. Help me kill him,” he murmured.
WHEN Zach sat up again, Anna asked, “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”
He untied the bag from around his waist and set it on the grass at the edge of the beach, then looked up at the palm trees around him. He picked one that was leaning over more than the others, then started toward the top, using his hands and bare feet to propel himself upward.
Apparently he’d done it before, because he went up the tree almost as fast as a monkey. And that was after a long swim through the Caribbean.
She might have laughed at his performance, but the situation was much too serious.
At the top of the tree, he found a secure position, then held on with one hand, shading his eyes with the other as he looked in all directions.
Anna watched him anxiously. “What do you see?”
“Just a minute.”
When he came down, his expression was grim.
“What?”
“As far as I can tell, this isn’t Grand Fernandino. It’s a small island in the middle of nowhere.”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
THE MOMENT ZACH spoke, he wished he’d thought of a better way to put it. Way to go, telling her we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.
“It’s the truth,” she answered. “I need to know the truth.”
“Shit.”
This time, you’re the one who’s upset about too much togetherness?
He couldn’t deny it, not when she could read his thoughts. “I’ll learn to deal with that,” he muttered. “So will you.”
She switched back to the previous topic. “If we’re stranded in the middle of the Caribbean, what are we going to do?”
He looked toward the horizon. They still had a few hours of daylight left. But not many.
“Find shelter.”
“Like where?
“Somebody lives here. Or they used to. From the treetop, I saw a house back that way.” He pointed toward a spot that was hidden by vegetation.
She eyed the jungle. “How are we going to find it?”
“I think we can walk along the beach. Most people don’t build too far from the water.”
He picked up the bag of stuff he’d managed to liberate from the plane, glad that he hadn’t abandoned the supplies in the water. The long swim had made him hungry. Reaching inside the bag, he sorted through the contents and pulled out two protein bars.
“We should eat something.”
She accepted a bar from him, and they munched the food slowly as they walked along the hard-packed sand.
When he slung the bag over his right shoulder, Anna came up on the left and clasped his hand so that he felt the undercurrent of communication between them. But they were both tired, and it was easier to speak in words.
“First we find shelter. Then we can make love.” It felt good to say the words. Then he laughed.
“What?”
“I was thinking—be careful what you wish for. I wanted to be alone with you. And here we are.”
“We’ll worry about…the details later. Maybe we can lash together a raft and get off the island.”
“Sure.”
Anna let her shoulder rub against his, the skin-to-skin contact making his shoulder tingle.
“Don’t distract me,” he murmured.
“From what?”
“Checking out the area.”
She moved away a little, and they kept walking up the beach, staying on the hard-packed sand where it was easier to walk.
Beyond the beach was a stretch of wild grass, then a tangle of vegetation.
They came to a place where water tumbled down rocks, forming a small waterfall before it flowed across the sand and into the sea.
“That’s a relief,” he said.
“What?”
“Fresh water.”
She hadn’t even thought about the fact that they might not have anything to drink.
“On a lot of islands, people have to collect rainwater,” he added.
“I guess I’ve always taken civilization for granted.”
He eyed the stream, then pulled at his shorts. “We’re still wet. We might as well wash the salt water off.”
“Okay.”
He put down his bag of booty and pulled off his remaining clothing—his shorts.
He was naked and magnificent, and she angled slightly away, determined not to let herself get turned on again until they were somewhere where they could do something about it.
When he stepped under the water, he grimaced.
“Cold?” she called out.
“Yeah. But it feels good.”
The waterfall was small, and she let him finish washing. When he got out, she took off her shirt, bra, and panties, then stepped under, wincing at the cold. But he was right. It did feel good to wash the salt out of her hair and off her body.
When she climbed out, Zach offered her a thin towel. “From the emergency pack. See, it’s coming in handy already.”
She used the towel, then pulled on her damp clothing again. “Have you been stranded before?”
“Once my engines cut out, and I spent a few days on an uninhabited island. But I had a radio, and I could call for help.”
Ahead of them was a dock with gray, aging boards jutting out into the water. Looking beyond it, she saw a house in the distance.
“If someone’s home, they’re not expecting visitors. And they could be armed,” he warned.
“Right.”
They walked beside the dock, heading into the jungle. The closer they got to the house, the more it looked like the place had been abandoned. At one time the grounds had been landscaped with ornamental trees and shrubs and flowering plants. Now the tropical vegetation was hugging the foundation—and in some cases growing close to the second story.
They stepped onto a wide patio, where weeds grew between decorative tiles.
“This is quite a place.”
“Well, it was.”
Sliding glass doors
ran along the side of the house, and one of them was broken by a tree limb that had fallen through it. But there was no glass on the ground.
Zach peered at the patio and inside to the tile floor. “It looks like somebody cleaned up.”
She shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked upward. The rest of the tree was leaning against the house and looked like it had broken through the roof.
“Probably hurricane damage,” Zach said as he drew his knife.
“Are you expecting trouble?” she whispered.
“I’m trying to be prepared. Stay behind me.”
FOR Raoul, the energy to stay with Anna was a terrible drain on his system. But he forced himself to do it.
As he knelt with his eyes closed, an image formed behind his closed lids. He saw a large white house, stark and modern, with the jungle closing in around it.
Was it real? Or was he making it up?
He squeezed his hands into fists, focusing his mind on the scene, and he saw Anna and the man with sun-streaked hair standing on a weedy patio.
His image of Anna was clear, because his main connection was to her. The man’s features were still blurry.
Anna looked bedraggled. But, thank the saints, she seemed to be all right otherwise.
The man stepped up to a sliding door, a door with the glass missing. Then he disappeared from the scene.
ANNA followed Zach into a large, empty room with a sizeable fireplace and a few pieces of furniture pushed forlornly against the walls. The pieces were hefty. A dining table. A buffet. An entertainment unit.
Big sheets of fabric covered something at one side of the room. When she pulled up a corner of the covering, she saw a wide sectional sofa.
“Why did they leave this stuff?” Anna asked.
“They probably needed a bigger boat to remove the oversized pieces.”
Down the hall was a spacious kitchen with granite countertops and a large eating area.
Behind a set of double doors was a pantry, where rows of cans still sat on the shelves.
“We do have some food.”
“If you want soup,” she answered.
“Better than sea cucumber.”
She grimaced. “That’s supposed to be disgusting. You’ve eaten it?”
