After they polished off the strawberries and the rest of the Champagne, Rania lay flat on the blanket and Moj massaged her shoulders, her back, down to the swell of her ass. He rubbed her thighs and calves, but always kept his hands away from anywhere dangerous.
Then it was his turn.
Rania straddled him, working his thick muscles. He was so strong, his skin so soft, maybe they would have sex. Eventually.
After the massages, they fell asleep in the shade.
Rania woke first and used binoculars to check on the rusted old catamaran out near the channel. Still in the same place. They were probably doing a live-aboard tour.
When Moj stood, she waved him toward the lagoon.
“Why don’t you do some snorkeling before the sun dips much more? The light is perfect now. Put on the shorty suit,” she said and pointed toward the beached launch where his gear was still stowed.
* * *
Moj hated to leave Rania after their long, slow massages, but she insisted on keeping watch while he snorkeled.
He slipped on his full flippers, spit into his mask, and then slapped toward the shore to give it a rinse. He dove toward deeper water and floated at the surface for a few moments to get his bearings as to the lay of the lagoon floor beneath him. He had a small utility knife in his belt, just in case. Even when snorkeling, you never knew when you might run into trouble.
A few minutes into his float, little pieces of the tension of his non-stop professional life began to break off and drift away. A blur of motion below caught his eye before a huge manta ray did a slow underwater ballet. A school of small fish in black, light turquoise and yellow followed the ray. Another mass of bright orange clown trigger fish hovered near a coral head farther below. He sensed before he saw a big shadow coming from the depths behind him. Wonder replaced a moment of fear when the shadow formed into a giant turtle paddling her way toward deeper water.
He surfaced for a deep breath through his snorkel and then began a lower-level dive to see what other secrets the lagoon might reveal. He kicked his way to the bottom and spotted a couple of eels staring from inside their coral hidey holes. A whitetip shark knifed past, and then a bit of motion out of the corner of his eye revealed an octopus skittering along the bottom from one set of rocks to another, changing his color to match his surroundings as he went.
Moj glanced above, his lungs straining. The ominous shape of a hammerhead shark loomed. The amazing creature was perfectly silhouetted against the light glimmering off the surface. Three huge swishes of the tail and the huge predator disappeared.
Moj knew humans were far more dangerous than sharks. The hammerhead was nothing to worry about.
He returned to the surface and floated quietly for a while. The gold necklace holding the wedding bands felt heavy all of a sudden and oddly uncomfortable. Like it didn’t fit anymore.
Rania was changing things. Their picnic and the long, slow touching had left him off-balance. He was used to women who came on strong because of who he was. Rania was willing to let whatever was between them take its course without pushing. They’d lain together on the blanket, caressing for more than an hour before they both drifted off. He couldn’t remember being that comfortable in the arms of a woman in a long time.
Maybe Cloude was right. Maybe it was time to move on.
He straightened and treaded water for a few moments to look toward the beach where Rania was packing and loading the launch for their trip back to the Bonnie Blue.
* * *
Rania put the binoculars back into a zip pocket on her overalls and ran to help Moj get out of his gear so they could make a fast exit from the lagoon. The niggling between her shoulder blades had ratcheted up a notch. The power cat was no longer anchored. The crew had pulled anchor and were steering lazy circles near the channel she’d have to take to head back to the Bonnie Blue’s anchorage on South Malé Atoll.
Sunlight sparkled off something on the catamaran, a scope, or binoculars. Whoever they were, they were professional. But even rank amateurs could get lucky with a bullet.
A few minutes before Moj returned, she’d loaded the Sig. The small toy she always kept for “just in case” she’d slipped into a cargo pocket in her overalls.
Ready for what she was afraid might be a tough run, she forced herself to relax and put a sexy smile on her face before walking up to Moj on the pristine beach.
“We have to go, Moj,” she said, and unzipped his shorty dive suit. When she reached up to pull the suit down from his shoulders, Moj pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. When he deepened the kiss, she pulled harder on the suit and then explored his mouth with her tongue.
His kiss melted her skin, but now was not the time.
She shook her head hard when he tried to take her down to the sand with him. Then she pulled him close and whispered into his ear, “We have to get out of here. Now. But those people out there can’t know we’re on to them, so don’t turn around.”
“What?” he said a little too loudly, though he kept his eyes straight ahead.
Shhhh,” she said. “Don’t let them see us arguing. They’re watching us with a high-powered scope. When we leave the lagoon, they’re going to make their move. I don’t want them to know we’re on to them.”
Moj’s jaw dropped.
“Are you some kind of James Bond or what?”
“I do this for a living. You have nothing to worry about.” She turned with his gear and walked quickly back to the launch. Moj followed, a little more slowly.
“Shouldn’t we call the authorities or something?” he asked, his voice a little dubious.
“They would never get here in time,” she said. “You’re not in Tampa Bay.”
After stowing the rest of their gear and untying the line, she pulled in the small anchor and they pushed off. She started the powerful outboard and then steered easily through the lagoon’s shallow path to deeper water. Rania didn’t want whoever was watching to think she was in a hurry.
“Do you trust me to protect you?” she asked, once they’d cleared the lagoon and the cat moved closer.
“You bet, Baby,” he said, and came to her side at the helm.
“Then if they make a move, do exactly what I say, and we’ll get out of here.” She leaned over and brushed his cheek with a soft kiss before standing and pulling out the Sig.
* * *
Vikram switched from the long scope to regular binoculars.
Their quarry was clearly oblivious. Neither Moj nor his beautiful bodyguard had given Bert’s catamaran a second glance. They’d left the beach without a care in the world.
The inflatable launch was almost out of the lagoon and on track to cross in front of their bow in a few minutes. He turned and gave the thumbs-up signal to Bert and Wally, who had been staying out of view behind the cabin.
Vikram led the way with a long rifle, and his brainless partners brought up the rear. They’d thrown the swim ladder over the side to make it easier to pull the hostages aboard. He and Wally would brandish their rifles at the hapless couple while Bert went down to their launch and strong-armed them back onto the Fukawe.
The plan couldn’t fail. They had the element of surprise, and Bert wasn’t holding a gun. With the ten million dollars, Vikram would win back his criminal empire and control all of Africa.
It was all going perfectly, until it wasn’t.
The hottie driving the launch made a sudden switch away from their bow. She tore off in a froth of green water.
“Shit!” Vikram sped back to the wheel to chase after them.
Bert sat down hard as the Fukawe accelerated to keep from falling overboard. Wally stood holding an AK-47 behind Bert in the cat’s netting between the two fins. At least the black South African had the sense to fire a warning shot at the fleeing launch. They couldn’t let them get away!
Instead of running, the chick behind the wheel made a full-power turn, pushed their multi-million-dollar hostage behind her and came straight for t
hem, firing shots from a mean-looking gun.
Vikram’s jaw went slack. What was she doing?
Wally screamed when she grazed his forehead and sent his beloved hat spinning off into the Indian Ocean. He dropped his assault rifle and dove in after the hat.
“Bert! Pick up that rifle and shoot them!” Vikram screamed from behind the wheel.
Bert frowned, obviously upset that Wally had gone overboard, but he snatched up the AK-47 and fired over the heads of the couple in the launch. As they turned and fled toward the northwest channel, Bert peppered their inflatable with three or four shots. The powerful outboard kept the launch flying away from them in spite of the leaks.
Vikram pushed the cat’s power into full-ahead and they lurched away.
“No, Vik!” Bert howled. “We have to get Wally and his hat.”
“Never!” Vikram shrieked back. “This is our chance. We’ve disabled their launch.”
Bert shouldered the rifle and aimed it at Vikram. “You’ll be turning the Fukawe around now, and you’ll be doing it quick. I like you all right, Vik, but Wally is family!”
At gunpoint, Vikram was forced to take the cat in a wide turn and head back toward Wally.
When the idiot finally climbed up the swim ladder, his sodden straw dripped water onto his already streaked glasses. Wally launched himself at Bert.
“I thought you left me,” he sobbed onto his friend’s shoulder.
Rifle over his shoulder, Bert hugged Wally while Vikram seethed.
The two morons had to die soon, Vikram thought, but not before they ran down that bitch and took Moj hostage. He was too close to that ten-million-dollar ransom money to give up now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rania cranked the huge outboard into a high, ear-splitting whine to put distance between them and the kidnappers before the inflatable lost too much air to stay afloat. She could tell from how low they were riding in the water she was losing the battle.
With the noise of the motor, she couldn’t explain their next move to Moj, so she pointed to the long Pelican gun case in the bottom of the boat.
Moj picked up the weapons holder and at a nod from her, tossed the waterproof case into the clear channel. He put his flippers back on, and within minutes he was in the water, clinging to the metal container bobbing along courtesy of its inner flotation.
She cut the motor and joined him before the inflatable folded in on itself and sank under the weight of the heavy outboard. Rania reached for the GPS in her pocket, but then realized it was gone. At some point, either during the fight or when they’d plunged into the sea, she’d lost the device.
“Now what?” Moj asked, cocking his head and giving her a wide grin.
“What are you so happy about?” she demanded. “Those goons tried to grab you, and now we’re adrift with nothing but a gun case. And I lost my GPS.”
“You think you have problems? When those assholes shot at us, I froze. A woman saved my ass, so I can’t go back to civilization anyway and show my face.”
“You don’t mean that.” Rania had heard that sexist tune too many times.
“Totally kidding. I am happy, though. You know why?” Moj chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get you all to myself for a while.” And then he added, “But I guess we didn’t need all the drama and fireworks. What did they want? Money? Nobody takes along thousands of dollars while they’re snorkeling.”
“Those jerks were probably going to hold you for ransom. For a lot more than thousands of dollars.” Rania kicked harder to get them nearer an island. With both of them kicking, and Moj’s flippers, maybe they could avoid the heavy current in the channel. She didn’t want to think about that possibility.
The thought no more than popped into her head than the gun case picked up speed and they stopped making headway toward an island inside the atoll. They were in the clutches of the current now.
“What the hell?” Moj said, and kicked harder.
The fast-moving water was sweeping them onward at a rate that made Rania’s heart pound in double time. A hundred feet ahead, she saw something a little to the left of the line they were being dragged along. A flat length of coral protruded from the water. The depth there had to be next to nothing.
She pointed toward the shallow reef, and Moj put more parallel effort into the sweeps of his fins. Gradually, they edged out of the current. When Rania said, “Now!” they both stood and lunged across the coral. Moj held the gun case close, and they made their way inside the atoll.
Now that they were out of the clutches of the powerful surge toward the ocean, Rania could start assessing the next challenge. She had no idea where they were, but she damned sure wasn’t going to be picky about where they landed. For now, all they needed was a firm piece of land, and the closest terra firma looked to be about a mile off. They would have to leave the relative safety of the reef and swim toward the distant island lagoon.
They both saw the island at the same time, and when she turned toward Moj, all he said was, “Let’s go for it.” Rania dove in with the gun case, and Moj paddled alongside, his fins slicing easily through the water.
* * *
Moj finally staggered ashore and turned to help Rania drag the gun case up on the beach. She stood for a few minutes, scanning the thick jungle interior before motioning for him to help her hide the heavy armory behind a clump of coconut palms. He kicked off the fins, picked up some loose brush and threw that over the case.
They both sank into the sugary sand, which had lost some of its romance now that they’d spent the last several hours fighting for their lives. He was exhausted and gasping for air but revived at the sight before him: Rania had peeled out of her heavy, soaked overalls and hung them over a low-lying bush.
“Come here, Baby,” he said, and patted the sand next to him. She dropped down with a sigh and took a few deep breaths.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should have picked up sooner on those losers tracking us.”
“Not your fault,” he answered decisively. “I even told you to ignore them. And besides, you might have lost your GPS, but we must have some kind of homing beacon or phone. This is the twenty-first century.”
The look she sent him was not encouraging.
“We had a homing beacon. There was one in the ditch bag on the inflatable, but that’s at the bottom of the channel now. Welcome to the eighteenth century. You can be Friday, and I’ll be Robinson Crusoe.”
“I’m feeling more like Thursday. Surely someone will come looking for us, once we don’t return by dark,” he said, half posing a question.
“Of course, Lindsay will call the authorities and launch a search, but unfortunately, there are about twelve-hundred islands in the Maldives. Only two hundred of them are inhabited.” Her mouth turned down in a little frown that made Moj want to pull her close for a cuddle, but he sensed that would be a bad idea considering her mood of high alert and anxiety.
She jumped up and paced back and forth, kicking up plumes of sand.
“We have to search the interior of the island to see if we can find some fresh water for drinking. Oh, and then we should walk the perimeter of the beach. This island might be inhabited, on the other side.”
Moj stood and captured her shoulders mid-pace.
“Stop,” he said. “I’m marooned on a desert island with the hottest woman I’ve met in a long time. How about letting me enjoy the moment a little longer?”
A tiny smile quirked at the corners of her mouth.
“You’re right,” Rania said. “This place has coconuts everywhere. We could stay here a really long time and do whatever it is people do when they’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.”
He pulled her in for a long kiss and moved his hands down her body in a slow exploration. Damn, this woman felt good. Suddenly, she left him mid-pucker and danced back, her toes sinking into the sand.
“That’s wonderful, really great,” she said. “Hold that thought for later. Let’s walk through the center of t
he island and search for water. Then we’ll head to the other side and explore the perimeter of the beach from there.”
“What makes you think we have to go all the way to the center for water?” he asked. “Can’t we just check around here?”
“These islands have very shallow aquifers of fresh water.” She raised her finger as if she were lecturing a class. “The only access to springs will be at the highest elevation of the islands. And this one can’t be more than two miles across at the most.”
“Just my luck to get stuck on a deserted island with an engineer,” Moj said, with a mock grimace. “With a smoking hot body. And wearing nothing but a black bikini.”
Rania raced over to her sodden overalls and pulled a backpack-type cloth bag from one of the side pockets. She shrugged the bag over her shoulders, gave an exaggerated sway to her hips, and beckoned to him before disappearing into the undergrowth.
Moj looked down at the swollen appendage poking at the front of his swim trunks, shook his head, and said to no one in particular, “Guess we’ll just have to follow her, old buddy.”
* * *
A mile run was nothing to Rania, a short morning workout. But thwacking her way through a green wall of vegetation with nothing more than her utility knife? That was something else. And the little sunlight seeping through the island green growth faded a little more with each passing minute. They’d have to turn back soon, even if they hadn’t found a water source.
She was so intent on pushing ahead, she wasn’t paying attention to her feet. Her toes jammed hard into something metal and immovable. For a moment her mind refused to register what she was feeling.
“Damn! What was that?” She bent over so suddenly, Moj nearly fell over her.
“Now what?” Moj regained his footing and peered at what had stubbed at her toes. “Is that a fuel can?”
“Yep,” Rania said, and hefted the container. “Feels like about twenty-five gallons. Look, there are three of them.”
“Then we’re not stranded on a desert island?”
Rania smiled at the disappointed sound of his voice.
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