by Anita Kidesu
“How the hell did you manage to land in the middle of those boulders?” Toby asked, coming up behind Jack, making him jump. “You must be one hell of a pilot.”
Jack didn’t answer for a few moments. “For some reason, I think the good man upstairs decided our numbers weren’t up yet.”
“Either that or it was your lucky day,” Steve added, glancing nervously back and forth between the plane and the thick stand of trees surrounding the wreck as if expecting a wild animal to come charging from the jungle.
Jack turned on him. “Lucky day? Look at my plane, for God’s sake. Do you know how many islands there are in the Pacific Ocean? Do you know how many are uninhabited? Do you have any idea…” At loss for words, he threw up his hands and shook his head. “How the hell can this be our lucky day?”
“Well, we’re alive for one thing, Mr. Delaney.” The three men turned as one when Emma spoke. She pointed a finger at the stairs. “I said this before; would you rather be like those poor dead souls? Instead we’re standing here, a little beat up, but at least we’re breathing.”
Toby gave Emma a small grin. “I wouldn’t refer to those people as ‘poor souls.’ If my memory serves me right, they’re the reason we’re in this predicament.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Jack agreed, stepping to the tail section. “I can’t imagine what the hell they thought they were doing.”
Emma shuddered. “I don’t want to think about those evil people.”
“I wish I knew what they had planned to do with us if the storm hadn’t come up,” Toby said as they reached the steps. He pulled out his cell phone. “Shit. No service.” He walked around, aiming the phone at the sky.
“Me either,” Steve said, dropping his phone into his pocket.
“Don’t bother. There’s never any service on these remote islands,” Jack said, following Emma’s movements as she sank to the ground, flinching when her ass met sand. “I wish I knew where they wanted us to go. Maybe it would help figure out where we are.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Maybe we can walk across the beach and find a city or something,” Toby said, dropping next to Emma.
Jack squatted, scooped up some sand, and sifted it back and forth between his hands. “Well, the way I figure it, if there is any civilization around here, we’d have company by now. A plane crashing usually makes enough noise to alert someone. We were passed out long enough that I think rescue would be here by now if they were coming.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and winced when his raised arm pulled at his ribs and his little finger hit the cut on his nose. “I think we should take stock of our injuries. I have a first aid kit inside, and if I remember correctly, Toby is a doctor, so Doc here can check us out.”
“I’m just a resident,” Toby said.
“Well, you have a hell of a lot more medical knowledge than I do. After he’s done, let’s scout around for any signs of people and then figure out what to do with those bodies on the plane. How does that sound?”
At everyone’s nod, Jack stood and pulled off his shirt.
Chapter Three
Emma took a deep breath and tried to avert her eyes as one by one, the men removed their shirts. The sand, a palm tree, the plane—she needed to look at anything but the male torsos being exposed. But time after time, her gaze returned to their bare chests. An unfamiliar shiver rippled through Emma. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth.
Of the three, Jack was by far the best built. Black hair, matching the thick hair on his head, covered his chest and dipped into his shorts. Slim waist. Flat, tanned torso. Broad, muscled shoulders. His brown eyes reminded her of melted chocolate. Her mouth watered.
Except for a few sprinkles of light hair and freckles, Steve’s chest was bare. While not as buff as Jack, he still had broad shoulders and slim waist. A thick crop of blond hair hung over the tops of dark glasses, covering his light blue eyes.
Toby, as pale as Steve, had more hair on his chest. As a medical resident, he probably spent most of his time dressed in scrubs inside a hospital. Surprisingly, his physique was similar to Jack’s. Shades of auburn highlighted his streaked short-cropped, brown hair and mustache.
“If you’re through looking us over, you can go get the first aid kit,” Jack said, his mouth curled in a small grin. “It’s under the co-pilot’s seat.”
Face burning with embarrassment, she ignored the men’s chuckles, flipped her hair over her shoulders, and headed to the plane.
Darn, why did they have to see her checking them out? “I’m pathetic,” she muttered, gingerly climbing the stairs. Twenty-two years old and she’d never been in close proximity to a bare, male chest.
She grabbed the railing, using it to steady herself. Her body ached, especially under her breasts and between her legs. The dead men’s actions were repulsive. She didn’t think she would ever be able to block out the memory of the one who unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis and wagged it in her face before trying to stick his finger inside her. She never wanted another man to put his hands on her, ever. Emma gripped the sides of her torn blouse together. Doctor or not, no way was she letting Toby touch her.
After the bright sunlight, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
“What the hell’s taking you so long, Emma?” Jack yelled.
Emma ignored the bodies lying on the floor, reached under the pilot’s seat and unsnapped the kit. She shuddered as she stepped back over the dead woman, whose eyes stared sightlessly to the ceiling. This could so easily have been her.
What will Jean Paul think when she didn’t show up in England like he’d planned? Would he even be worried? The way he’d treated her and the disgusting things he’d done to her on their wedding night, she wondered if he’d even care if she’d been in an accident.
The day before leaving on their honeymoon, Jean Paul had told her he needed to go to France, but would meet her in England the next day before heading home to the States when they’d finish their honeymoon.
Even though Jean Paul said he’d made sure she had a seat when he’d booked her flight, when she got to the check-in counter, she was told her ticket was invalid. Hours went by with no success of getting on another flight. She had resigned herself to spending the night on a hard, plastic chair, when her cell phone had rung.
“Emma.” Jean Paul’s curt tone raised the hair on her neck.
“Yes?”
“I understand you’re still stuck at the airport.”
“Yes. I probably won’t get a flight out until sometime tomorrow or the next day.”
“I have a lead on a pilot flying out in a few hours.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I want you on that plane.”
“Why?”
“I miss you.”
Emma held back a snort. Based on their first week of marriage, she found that unlikely.
“I’ve contacted the pilot. He’s expecting you. There are several other passengers, including a woman, so you should be safe. It’s not a direct flight, but at least it’ll get you out of Australia.”
“But, Jean Paul…”
“Don’t argue with me, Emma. Just get your ass over there.” Before she could say anything else, he gave her directions. “His name is Jack Delaney.”
“Emma, we’re waiting.” Jack’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Switching the first aid kit from one arm to the other, she stepped from the stifling plane into the cooler tropical breeze, went down the steps, and handed the small container to Toby. Without saying anything, she sat down in the shade of the boulder and closed her eyes before they could rope her into helping. The deep murmur of the men’s voices carried over the rustle of the palm leaves, soothing her battered nerves.
Emma sighed and watched the men. Toby applied a bandage to Jack’s nose while Steve put ointment on some of his own cuts. Bruises crisscrossed both men’s chests. She never knew deep, male voic
es could create visions of rumpled sheets and passionate nights. Even though her temperature rose at her erotic thoughts, a shiver coursed through her. She was married and in pain and shouldn’t be reacting to these strange men.
She left them to their ministrations and tried to clear her mind of three sexy men. She only wanted to be left alone.
“Emma, it’s your turn.”
Emma opened her gritty eyes. Toby squatted in front of her.
“I’m all right.”
“I want to make sure.”
His nearness made her heart to jump. She turned her face away. “I’m fine.”
“Emma.”
Jack joined Toby. Were they ganging up on her? She tried to scrunch back into the rock. At least they had their shirts on again.
“Emma. We know what happened to you before we went down. Your cuts and bruises are bad. Let Toby help you.”
“No. You’re not touching me.”
“How about Steve?” Jack asked.
Emma pulled the pieces of her blouse tighter. “I’m fine, okay? No broken bones, only a few bruises. Give me the first aid kit, and I’ll take care of myself.” She sensed their gazes on her. “Please,” she whispered.
Toby finally handed her the small box, a canteen of water, and some soap. “Wash your hands first, then wash the cuts thoroughly. Use a lot of ointment. If you need help with the ones you can’t reach, let me know.”
“We’ll be scouting out the area,” Jack added. “Yell when you’re done.” Jack and Toby each carried a handgun, and Steve grasped a large branch.
Emma nodded at their retreating backs. Once they were out of sight, Emma pulled up her skirt and removed her underpants. She cleaned her wounds, hissing when the soap hit the cuts around her bottom. On her wedding night, her husband had called her bottom a name in a nasty tone, confusing her, making her feel ugly.
After putting on the antiseptic cream, she reached for her blood-speckled panties and drew back. No way was she wearing them again, at least not until they were clean.
She slipped off her blouse, took off her bra, and raised her right arm. Long, red welts went underneath her breasts, crossed her chest, and continued over her shoulders. Purple bruises appeared on either side of the welts. No blood, but to be safe, she washed them. Her nipples puckered as the warm breeze blew over her damp breasts. This new sensation was not unpleasant, giving Emma pause to wonder what was wrong with her.
She decided not wearing her bra would be far less painful. This created the problem of covering herself. She picked up her blouse. All the buttons were gone and one sleeve torn. She slipped it on anyway and tied the ends under her breasts, creating a crop top. To her dismay, this left not only the upper edges of her breasts bare, but her midriff, too. If she untied the knot to cover her belly, her blouse would be left completely open.
Her college classmates would have a field day with this. Her lack of knowledge on all things sexual had given them something to laugh and joke about.
Here she was somewhere on a tropical island in the Pacific with three men and four dead bodies. She had been tied up, breasts pawed over, and a finger nearly shoved inside her, had no panties or bra to wear, and her breasts were partially exposed. When she got out of this mess and had the nerve to tell them of her experience, they would never believe her.
Right now, her problem was facing the men. Hopefully they were gentlemen and wouldn’t say or do anything about her wardrobe problem. Maybe they already found a nice hotel and a plane to fly out of here. She picked up her bra and panties as she heard them return. Please don’t let them say anything nasty.
“Emma, everything okay?” Toby called.
She closed her eyes, held her undergarments behind her back, and taking a deep breath, stepped out from behind the boulder. No one spoke. She peered through her lashes.
They were staring. Toby at her chest. Jack at her belly and down her skirt. Steve, well she couldn’t tell where he was looking since his eyes seemed to glance at her, dart away and back again, making it seem like his eyeballs were rolling around in his head.
“Shit,” Jack finally said.
“Hell,” Toby added.
“Um.” Steve pulled at his collar.
“What?” Emma resisted the urge to tug her blouse down, but her underwear in her hand would be exposed and no proper lady ever let a man see her “unmentionables.”
Toby walked to her, took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back and forth. “That’s one helluva bruise you have going there, Emma. How hard did they hit you?”
Shivers ran down her spine at his touch.
Then Jack came over. “Fuck. If they weren’t already dead, I’d kill those bastards.”
Since she had heard more foul language in one day than in her entire life, Emma raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he would remember not to swear. He looked her right in the eye and raised an eyebrow back. Obviously apologizing for his language was not in his book of etiquette.
“Turn around,” Jack ordered.
“No.”
“C’mon, Emma. I just want to check out how bad your back is. I won’t touch you unless you’re bleeding.”
Toby took her by the shoulders. Emma flinched. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“That did hurt,” she told him.
“Sorry. Let me see,” Toby asked, reaching for the sleeve of her blouse.
Emma wasn’t going to get away with them not seeing her bruises and welts, so she slipped her panties and bra to one hand and slid one sleeve off her shoulder, exposing the welt.
Jack clenched his fists. “Shit.”
“Hell,” Toby added.
“Dear God,” Steve managed to utter.
“Shark bait,” Jack said.
“Shark bait? What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked.
“Those bastards are shark bait. There’s no way we’re going to waste energy burying them in this sand. What they’ve done to Emma, to all of us, makes them worth nothing more than shark bait.”
“You can’t throw them in the ocean like trash,” Emma said.
“Well, that’s what they are.” Toby moved the sleeve down farther.
The front of her shirt gaped off her breast. Gasping, she grabbed it with both hands, dropping her underwear in the process.
“What the hell?” Jack muttered, looking at her garments on the ground.
Emma squeezed her eyes shut in mortification and knew her face was turning an unbecoming shade of pink, complete with blotches. “It hurts to put them back on.”
“Will you just let me look, Emma?” Toby asked again.
Through the slits in her eyes, Emma watched Jack walk away, running a hand through his hair, kicking at the sand. Toby took a step back as if she had slapped him. Steve’s face was red. “I…I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“Emma, we’d never hurt you,” Steve said, sounding hurt that she’d think that. “Toby’s only trying to help you. No man, if he’s a gentleman, would ever harm a woman. Besides, Toby is a doctor.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered. “I’ve never, um, never…” Her hands fluttered at her blouse, trying to find the words needed to let them know what she was going through. “I was married only last week and I, well, besides my wedding night, have never been touched, um, by…”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “You’re married?”
“Yes. What those men did to me today… Well, I don’t want anyone else touching me.” She looked at each man individually. “Please.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Jack stomped to the plane. “Goddamn, sonofabitchin’, fuckin’ no good bastards.” At the bottom of the steps he turned back. “You guys gonna help me or what?”
Toby looked at Emma and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Emma.” He followed Jack.
“Those creeps will pay for what they did,” Steve added. “You stay here.”
She held back threatening tears, sank to the ground, and picked up her undergarments. “They truly
are gentlemen,” she whispered, smiling to herself. In a matter of minutes, she changed her mind.
Cussing and swearing brought her attention to the stairs. Jack came down backwards, clutching the feet of one of the hijackers. Toby and Steve emerged, each holding the man under his shoulders. What on earth were they doing? Emma jumped up, wincing at the sand stuck in her crotch, rubbing against her cuts.
“Hey, wait!” she yelled.
At the sound of her voice, Steve lost his grip. Toby’s hands slipped free in quick succession, allowing the upper part of the body to fold over. It slid toward Jack, and once he realized what was happening, he jumped over the side of the steps.
Emma would never forget the sound of bone meeting metal, skin slapping against skin. She ran over to the body, now crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.
“My God,” she stammered, plastering a hand across her eyes. “He’s naked.” She turned on Toby and Steve as they came down the steps. “Why is he naked?”
“Forget the fucking dead guy!” Jack yelled from the ground. Tears ran down his cheeks as he rolled around, grabbing the shin of his left leg with one arm and his ribs with the other. “What about me? Oh shit, I think I broke my shin.”
Toby went to Jack, pulled his hands away, and ripped his pant leg up the middle.
Jack swore every time Toby touched his shin. “Will you please quit pressing your damn fingers into my leg? What kind of doctor are you anyway?”
“One who’s had better patients than you.” Toby smiled at Steve and Emma. He stood and wiped sand from his hands. “Nothing’s broken. You’ll just have a few more bruises to add to the collection. How’d that happen anyway?”
Jack glared at Emma. “Miss Prissy-Pants here yelled and frightened Mister Scaredy-Pants over there. He let go of the body. If I didn’t jump out of the way, I’d have one dead, naked, stinky body on top of me. So I jumped over the side of the stairs and caught my shin on the railing on the way over.”
