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I battle confusion, my head growing heavy the more my speculation builds.
I can’t make sense of his actions. No matter what way I look at this, his motives seem careless and unpla
So why bring me here? What is his objective?
I don’t know how long I sit there, wallowing in impending doom with the sun directly overhead to sizzle my skin when I hear an abnormal buzzing, burring sound.
I snap my gaze to the left, a speedboat catching my eye in the distance.
It’s approaching.
I’m on my feet in seconds, my heart racing as I flail my arms in an attempt to draw attention. The hope of savior brings time to a grinding halt. The progression takes forever, the boat barely seeming to move despite its generous size.
It’s definitely not small, and the closer it gets the more luxurious it appears. A rail borders the elongated front with enough room for a ta
Much more than a speedboat, it’s a knight in sea-sprayed armor.
I continue to wave my arms, swinging them wildly while I jump, jump, jump.
The boat progresses closer and closer, spurring my hope higher and higher, until it pivots within half a mile of the shore, heading somewhere behind my private island hell.
“Where are you going?” I scream.
I collapse back onto the rock, listening to the burr of the boat as it fades, then abruptly stops.
One minute the sound is there, then it’s gone. I tilt my head, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me.
No. It’s not.
The boat must have diverted to the pier.
I scramble onto my feet and sprint, heading back along the path I came. Through the yard, alongside the pool, and down the other trail. I silently pray as I pant out the distance, hoping and wishing for a quick salvation.
And there it is, my savior, docked at the very far end of the pier.
I glance over my shoulder as I run, cautious of my captor trying to stop me, but he’s nowhere in sight.
Hopefully the sizzling of the frying pan is too loud for that motherfucker to hear me speed out of here. And if I’m really lucky, he’ll choke on whatever breakfast he’s slaved over.
This time, when my feet hit the wooden planks, my heart soars.
Two men are aboard the fancy boat. They’re both in the back, one bent over, tending to something at his feet. The other smiles at me as I approach, the laugh lines of a man well into his fifties filling me with relief.
“Kali mere, omorfo thyma.” He waves at me in greeting.
I stupidly wave back, momentarily stu
“I need help.” I pause, waiting for a glimpse of understanding.
His smile grows wider, the bright white of his teeth in heavy contrast to the dark tan of his skin.
“I have to get to the mainland. Do you have a phone?”
I have to tell someone my location. Nobody knows where I am.
Nobody even knows I was docile enough to meet up with Cole.
“Cell phone,” I repeat as I stop beside the boat. “Tel-uh-fohn?”
The man continues to smile. No, he’s almost laughing.
I frown, not appreciating his humor over my lack of communication when my captor could come after me at any minute. “Ih-mur-juhn-see.”
“He’s not going to help you.”
I turn my attention to the man bent over two large duffels.
His voice is pure American English. Not a hint of an accent.
He straightens, lifting one of the bags onto his shoulder. Our eyes meet and familiarity brings an icy chill to my bones.
Luca Hart.
One of Cole’s men.
His lips are set in a tight line, his brow pulled tight. “I suggest you go back inside.” He lugs the duffel onto the pier, then does the same with the second. “You’re not going anywhere today.”
“I need help,” the old man mocks in a high-pitched, almost unrecognizable accent. “Ih-mur-juhn-see. Ih-mur-juhn-see.” He releases a belly laugh, the noise ricocheting through my head and turning my cheeks to flame.
I retreat a step, then another.
I’ve been furious before. Recently, I’ve been caught in one red-hot rage after another. But what I feel right now goes beyond that.
It’s fire and ferocity. Venom and vengeance.
This man is taking joy from my life-threatening situation.
He wants my fear, and I sure as fuck won’t give it to him.
“Thanks for the ride.” Luca climbs from the boat and drags one of the duffels from the pier over his shoulder. He jolts with the weight, and I force myself not to think of what could be hidden inside.
“Anhjoy.” The old predator grins.
Enjoy? Fucking asshole.
“Yeah… Thanks.” Luca nudges past me and stalks toward the house, not sparing me a second glance.
They’re cocky as hell, with no concern over my possible escape.
They think I’m stuck here, but I refuse to believe it.
The statistics on survival for abducted victims is low once they’re taken to a new location. It’s imperative I find a way off this island. Cole has all the power here.
I need to demand assistance.
This old wrinkled fuck isn’t going to get away with leering, laughing, and loading me with his caustic vibes.
“I need help,” I repeat, this time with a venomous tone as I approach the boat. “You need to give me your phone.”
I move to climb aboard, swinging one leg over the side of the vessel to place my foot on a padded bench seat beneath. “And take me to the mainland.”
I chance another glance over my shoulder, making sure Luca isn’t rushing back to stop me, before raising my other leg.
The unmistakable click of a cocking gun makes me freeze.
My heart stutters and I struggle not to become a victim of hysteria when I tilt my face to find a barrel aimed right between my eyes.
“Off,” he grunts. “Off my boat.”
I raise my hands slowly. “Please lower your weapon.”
“Off.” He jerks the gun toward the pier. “Off. Off.”
“Okay. I'm getting off.” I measure my movements, backtracking gradual and steady. I can feel the aim between my eyes. The pressure heavy.
I watch him, watch the gun, watch anything and everything in the hopes the scrutiny will save me.
One foot reaches the pier, closely followed by the other.
Even without the threat of me being on the vessel, the man keeps me in his sights and sidesteps until he’s under the shade of the cabin, directly in front of the steering wheel.
There’s no smile anymore. No taunting laugh or infuriating leer.
But there’s a
He’s angry I spoiled his fun.
“I’m an American citizen,” I repeat. “I work for—”
My words are cut off by the roar of the boat’s engine. Then he’s taking off, speeding away in a mass of swirling whitewash and taking any hope of escape with him.
I stand there for so long, watching him drive out of view. Then longer, until I’m unable to hear another sign of life. Or freedom.
The anger doesn’t dissipate. It builds, growing alongside my frustration.
My life can’t be in danger. It can’t be, despite the gun that threatened to blow my brains out moments ago. Cole isn’t a stupid man. Thinking he can kill me and get away with it is ludicrous.
Yet, he’s brought me here against my will, exposing himself to a whole new level of crime.