Island Peril Read online

  “Maybe you’re not ready to meet someone new.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve only been out on two dates.”

  “No, I’ve gone out with two different girls.”

  Ella thought back. “You kept seeing the one you had nothing in common with?”

  “We had one thing in common.”

  “Star Wars?”

  He chuckled at her joke, scanning the trail.

  She wasn’t surprised by the admission that he’d engaged in a physical-only relationship. It was a typical rebound move. Abby used her friends-with-benefits situation to avoid commitment—and to protect herself from getting hurt again.

  “Why haven’t you gone out with anyone?” he asked.

  “Who says I haven’t?”

  “Have you?”

  “No.”

  His lips curved into a knowing smile.

  “Do I give off a desperate vibe?”

  “No,” he said, laughing a little. “You give off an absent-professor vibe, as if it doesn’t occur to you that men find you attractive. Maybe you just don’t notice them looking because you’re too busy thinking about...plate tectonics. I’ll bet you get wrapped up in research and forget to eat.”

  Ella didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. She often lost track of time and skipped meals while she was working. Although she could satisfy her other physical needs, her love life had been sadly inactive. A battery-operated device wasn’t the same as a flesh and blood man. “I’m not good at this,” she said, gesturing between them.

  “At what?”

  “Social interactions.”

  “You’re great at social interactions.”

  “I stammer and blush and spout science terms.”

  “Like speleothem?”

  Groaning, she clapped a hand over her eyes.

  “It’s adorable.”

  “Anything but that.”

  “Okay, it’s sexy.”

  She looked through her fingers. “Sexy? Come on.”

  “I like big words. Say ‘transtension.’”

  He was teasing her again. She knew enough about male—female dynamics to sense that. But he also seemed sincere in his compliments. And he was so handsome, with his tawny hair and thick eyelashes, his strong hands and toned body.

  Maybe he liked big words...and small breasts. When his gaze dropped to the front of her shirt, her nipples tightened in response.

  “Transtension,” she said, lifting her lips to his.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KISSING HIM WAS a bad idea.

  They were stranded on a remote, inhospitable island. Drug smugglers had chased them away from the beach. This was an ill-advised time for a make-out session. Not only that—he struck her as a commitment-shy adventure seeker who still had feelings for his ex.

  The man had lost both of his parents in a horrifying seismic event. He wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, especially not with a woman who studied earthquakes.

  Even so, Ella didn’t pull away when his mouth touched hers. If anything, she leaned toward him, breathless with anticipation. His kiss was chaste and undemanding, a mere brush of lips. Her skin prickled with awareness and heat rose to her cheeks. She felt suspended in time, blood rushing through her veins.

  He kissed her again, barely tasting her. She smoothed her palm down his chest, over his heart. Its rapid beat belied his calm, controlled actions.

  He was excited.

  So was she. She wanted a real kiss, with tangled tongues and frantic groping. She imagined his hands on her body, her fingers threaded through his hair. His mouth on her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist.

  None of that happened.

  Instead of kissing her senseless or flattening her against the picnic table, he stopped there. Jaw clenched, he returned his attention to the trail.

  “Were we fraternizing?” she asked, letting her arm fall to her side.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If you’re planning to report me.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “I think you get a pass in extreme situations.”

  “It’s not the situation I’m reacting to.”

  His suggestive comment made her feel like a temptress, like a mermaid or a siren, irresistible to men. If he kept glancing at her mouth, she was going to spontaneously combust. She wondered what would happen between them after they got back to the mainland. Maybe he’d call and ask her about transtension.

  “You were right about the dating website,” he said.

  “Which part?”

  “I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship.”

  “Because of your ex?”

  He nodded, staring across the campground. “She stood by me after my parents died, and she helped me get through the tough times. Or maybe we just traveled around to escape reality. Either way, it was hard to lose her.”

  His words tugged at her heartstrings. He’d obviously loved her.

  “I didn’t know I was over her until I saw you.”

  Ella stiffened beside him, surprised by the revealing statement.

  “You’re the first girl I’ve wanted without making a kneejerk comparison to her. I didn’t even think of her until your sister asked why I came to LA.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t declared his intent or asked her out on a date. He hadn’t really even kissed her properly. She couldn’t hinge too much importance on his attraction to her. They had an instant connection, explosive chemistry and common interests. That didn’t make him steady boyfriend material.

  Ella wasn’t opposed to having a fling, however. If a good time was all he could give, she might enjoy taking it.

  An hour later, they packed up and left the campsite, heading back to the lookout point. The beach was deserted, their kayaks still on the sand. “It’s after six,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I can’t imagine those guys are still in the area.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He went first, descending the trail with caution. The afternoon wind had dissipated and the sun had slipped lower on the horizon. Most of the crescent-shaped beach, which faced east, was cast in shadow. Although both kayaks were intact, some of his gear had been disturbed. “They stole my radio.”

  Ella’s stomach clenched with distress. The radio was their only means of communication. Without it, they couldn’t call Santa Rosa or give an update on their whereabouts. What if a helicopter or Coast Guard vessel couldn’t come to their aid tonight?

  He studied the calm sea conditions and fading light.

  “Can we make it back by dark?” she asked.

  “No, but I have fog lights.”

  She’d never kayaked at night before. “Is it safe?”

  “It’s not as safe as staying here, but I think the risk is worth taking. Search and rescue efforts are time-consuming and expensive. They might not send a crew for us until morning. We’re not injured. The danger seems to have passed.”

  Ella would much rather self-rescue than wait for help. Her stomach growled with hunger and her warm sleeping bag beckoned. Paul’s emergency blanket couldn’t compare to a cozy tent, and snuggling with him might be uncomfortable in more ways than one. The idea of Abby staying up all night bothered Ella, too. She didn’t want to be responsible for her sister’s next break from reality.

  “It’s up to you,” he said.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  He flashed a grin, seeming relieved. Maybe he didn’t trust himself not to touch her for another twelve hours.

  She carried her kayak to the edge of the shore and climbed into the cockpit, attaching the spray skirt around her waist. Using the blade of her paddle, she pushed off the sand t
o get going. Within minutes, they were leaving Cuyler Harbor.

  So long, sea caves. So long, seals. So long, campground.

  As they paddled through the space between San Miguel and Prince Island, the sound of a motor alerted her. Ella glanced over her shoulder, watching in horror as an inflatable Zodiac emerged from the mouth of the sea cave and sped toward them.

  The smugglers had been waiting for them the whole time! No wonder they’d taken the radio but left the kayaks intact. It was easier to ambush them in the water. Ella and Paul couldn’t outdistance a speedboat or return to the harbor. There was nowhere else to land at San Miguel, just a shoreline of steep cliffs.

  She turned to Paul, her heart in her throat.

  “To the island,” he shouted, pointing to the left.

  Prince Island offered an unlikely sanctuary. It was just as craggy and inaccessible as San Miguel, but it was closer. She paddled hard, doubting they’d be able to evade the drug smugglers or take shelter there.

  “Get ready to bail out!”

  The Zodiac was closing in on them, engine buzzing. A sharp pop split the air and Paul’s right paddle blade shattered, the shaft rocketing from his hands.

  Oh God.

  He tipped his kayak over and exited the cockpit in one smooth motion. Another blast exploded from the speedboat. Shrieking, Ella dropped her paddle and bailed out of her kayak, terrified that her body would be peppered by bullets. The icy slap of water against her face was like a reaper’s call.

  They were going to die.

  She kicked away from her kayak and tried to swim fast, but her safety vest impeded her movements. It was designed to keep her above water and was covered with shiny reflective strips. She removed the PFD in a hurry, leaving it floating behind her.

  Seconds later, a bullet slammed into the deck of her kayak. Bits of orange plastic went flying in every direction.

  Ella dove under the surface, letting out a flurry of bubbles as she screamed. She continued swimming toward the small island, coming up for air once or twice. A graveyard of sunken rocks lurked below the surface. This obstacle course of unseen dangers would be difficult to navigate by boat.

  “Ella!”

  Paul waved at her from behind a large rock about twenty feet away. She made her way toward him with a final burst of energy, pushing herself hard. When she reached him, he put his arm around her and propped her up against the solid barrier. “They can’t see us here,” he said, his breath ragged.

  That was true now, but it wouldn’t be for long. The Zodiac cruised by and circled around, preparing to return for another look. Even if they couldn’t maneuver closer, they could find a better angle to shoot.

  She trembled at the thought, cold shivers wracking her body. The water was the same temperature as earlier in the day, about sixty. But they didn’t have a warm beach to stretch out on or any sunshine to soak up. Twilight had descended, bringing dark shadows and deep chill. Choppy waves crashed against the rock they clung to.

  The boat passed by again. Excited shouts rang out in Spanish. She glanced at Paul, knowing they’d been spotted.

  He wiped his face and studied the short distance to Prince Island. It rose up from the ocean like a building with vertical walls—and no entrance.

  “We have to go,” he said, pushing off the rock. “Come on.”

  Ella swam after him with numb arms, shocked into obedience. She wanted to get out of the water before her heart rate slowed and her lips turned blue. Dying of a gunshot wound seemed preferable to drowning or freezing to death.

  Paul was a stronger swimmer than Ella. He cut through the water with strong strokes and arrived at the edge of the island. Once there, he climbed up a jagged-looking slope near a narrow crevice at the base of the cliff.

  She paddled toward him, trying not to panic. Her limbs were too cold to function. It sounded as if the Zodiac’s engine had stalled. When she finally reached Paul, he clasped her hands and hauled her out of the water. She slid toward him like a seal, belly scraping along the rough edges.

  A glance over her shoulder revealed that the men were in the area they’d just left. The boat appeared to have gotten hung up on something. One of the men was using a pole to push against the underwater obstacle.

  “This way,” Paul said, pulling her into a dark, cramped space.

  It wasn’t a safe hideout by any stretch of the imagination. Just a dead-end crack in the cliff, a narrow armpit of wet rock. The smugglers couldn’t get here in the Zodiac, but the fissure offered very little cover and no exit. Paul shoved her behind him and drew his knife, chest heaving from exertion.

  The men’s voices were raised, arguing.

  “What are they saying?” she asked.

  “I think their boat is taking on water.”

  While they waited, tense and dripping, the engine restarted. Ella held her breath, praying the men wouldn’t come after them. Paul’s knife was no match for a gun. She couldn’t bear the thought of him battling an armed assailant.

  To her shock and relief, the Zodiac sped away.

  Paul returned his knife to his pocket with a shaky hand and sank to the ground, as if his legs couldn’t hold him. She knelt with him, sobbing. They embraced for a prolonged moment, amazed by the stroke of luck.

  They’d been chased by aggressive criminals—twice. They’d been shot at in open water. Against all odds, they’d survived.

  “We can’t stay here,” he said, releasing her. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Will they come back?”

  “I don’t know. They’re a lot more persistent than I figured!”

  She swallowed hard, unable to fathom why. They’d barely gotten a glimpse of the men or their boat. This level of violence over a few thousand dollars’ worth of marijuana seemed extreme, to say the least.

  He leaned out of the crevice to study the sea. “I don’t see your kayak.”

  “They shot through it.”

  His mouth thinned with determination. “Mine’s still floating. I’m going for it.”

  “No,” she said, panicking. “Don’t leave me.”

  This time, he couldn’t compromise. “If my kayak is intact, you can paddle to San Miguel while I swim. Either way, we need the gear. I’m already cold. We have to act now before hypothermia sets in.”

  Tears of anxiety sprung into her eyes because she knew he was right. “Be careful,” she said, touching his wet jaw. She could feel the grain of stubble beneath her fingertips and the taut muscle in his cheek.

  He cupped the nape of her neck and crushed his mouth over hers. This was a real kiss—hard and fast and passionate.

  Before she could recover her breath, he was gone.

  She bit the edge of her fist as she watched him swim toward the kayak in swift strokes. It was almost full dark now, grainy and dim. The post-sunset haze created a sepia tone, like an aged photograph. Her eyes strained to keep Paul in sight. He didn’t have far to go, maybe fifty feet.

  As she waited with fingers crossed, he reached the kayak. His face was pale in the meager light, teeth gritted. Instead of climbing into the cockpit, he removed a dry sack from the storage compartment and headed back. Her safety vest bobbed on the surface nearby, reflective strips twinkling. He grabbed it for her.

  “Put this on,” he said when he reached her.

  She shrugged into the PFD. “Was your kayak damaged?”

  “Yes. Bullet hole in the hull.”

  Ella slid into the water with him, cringing with discomfort. There was nothing to do now but swim. The drug smugglers must have taken the Zodiac to the larger boat, which was no longer in sight.

  Only a half-mile lay between Cuyler Harbor and Prince Island. As she swam toward the beach, the distance stretched out like a nightmare sequence. She kicked after Paul dully, trying to stay focused. If not
for her safety vest, she might have sunk like a stone. Fatigue and cold seized her muscles, rendering them almost useless.

  She blinked at the ghost-white beach. Almost there.

  “Come on, Ella,” Paul said. “You can do it.”

  By the time they reached the shore, she was so drowsy she couldn’t stand. He dragged her out of the water and lifted her into his arms, carrying her across the beach. He was shivering from the cold, his biceps twitching. For some reason, she wasn’t reacting the same way. Her body was limp and unresponsive.

  He set her down near the palm tree they’d rested under at midday. “I’ll get you warm,” he promised, yanking his shirt off.

  Although she wanted to admire his bare chest in the moonlight, her eyes refused to stay open. He barked at her to stay awake. She heard palm leaves rustling and twigs snapping, as if he were building a hut.

  She smiled, imagining grass skirts and ukuleles.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELLA DRIFTED IN and out of reality for the next hour.

  At some point, Paul lifted her and set her back down on the mat. He took off every stitch of her wet clothing before covering her with the emergency blanket. Then he curled up beside her, buck naked. Not even female curiosity could rouse her. She was vaguely aware of a fire crackling, warming her blood.

  The return to lucidity wasn’t as pleasant as the departure. Her muscles started to contract uncontrollably. She thrashed against him, legs cramping, shoulders shaking. For several minutes, she shivered on and off, quivering in his arms. Then the trembling ceased and she felt better, almost normal.

  He helped her sit up for a sip of water. She drank in thirsty gulps, clutching the shiny blanket to her breasts.

  “Are you okay now?”

  “I think so.”

  “The cold affected you more than it affected me. Less padding, I guess.”

  “You don’t have any padding,” she noted. The blanket rode low on his lean waist.

  “I have greater muscle mass.”

  Murmuring an agreement, she tore her gaze from his biceps and glanced around. He’d made a cozy fire out of palm fronds and driftwood. The sky was black as pitch and misted with stars. “Where did our friends go?”