by Jean Thomas
“One thing.”
“What?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You don’t have to wear yourself out staying afloat. You can put your legs down anytime and stand. Try it and see.”
He was right. She found her feet touching a sandy bottom while her head and shoulders remained above water. The lagoon wasn’t that deep.
“Gotta caution you, though. There’s a bit of an undertow here. You should brace yourself with your legs apart to keep yourself from getting knocked off your feet.”
She didn’t trust his advice, but she was willing to obey it to learn what he was up to. “Like this?”
“Perfect.” With that pronouncement, he jackknifed under the water, his legs flying up behind him like a dolphin flipping its tail.
The next thing Brenna knew he was gliding between her legs, out and around and back in again. This time, though, something fastened on her mound at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers? Or was it actually his mouth?
Whichever it was, he managed a sensation so enticing she felt as if that phantom undertow he had warned her of was about to knock her off her feet. That would have happened, too, if he’d been able to hold his breath a little longer.
When he came up for air, again in front of her, she challenged him with a weak “What are you doing to me?”
“Not enough, that’s for sure. Not nearly enough.”
She knew from experience that Casey had a talent for making a woman believe she was the most desirable female he’d ever encountered. Not by telling her but by showing her with his gifted mouth and hands. He did that now by claiming her mouth with his own. Owning it with a kiss so molten she would have sunk if his arms hadn’t gathered her up tight against him. The man was incredible, destroying all feminine resistance. Hers, anyway.
When his marauding tongue finally withdrew from her mouth, he rasped a concerned “I think I’d better get you on land before we drown out here.”
Turning over on his back, his arms cradled her to his chest. His strong legs pumping, becoming a pair of scissors, he towed her through the water to another boulder. Its surface was also flat, but the water was so shallow here he was able to easily lift her out of it.
Brenna found herself seated on the edge of the boulder, feet dangling in the water, Casey facing her from where he stood up to his thighs. He was close. Conveniently close, she decided.
“You’re safe now.”
She hadn’t been in danger out in the middle of the lagoon, and he knew that. But she could be in danger here, she thought, eyeing the growing erection aimed in her direction like a heat-seeking missile.
“Sun’s coming up,” she observed.
“So am I.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
He leaned into her, supporting himself with his fists planted on the rock on either side of her. His green eyes glittered in the rising sun.
“Know what?” he said.
“I’m not even going to guess.”
“Your breasts want to be touched.”
“You’re sure of that, are you?”
He nodded slowly. “But since my hands are busy holding me up, I’ll have to send in a substitute. How’s this?”
She had no complaints when, with lowered head, his mouth kissed her nipples in turn, sucking on them so strongly she squirmed in unbearable pleasure.
“Oh, the things you do to me, sweetheart,” he muttered roughly between licking and lapping.
The things she did to him? Somebody was reversing something here. She was the one getting all the attention.
“Am I going to survive this?” she moaned.
“Let’s see.”
His mouth transferred to her mouth for another lingering kiss. She could feel down below the tip of his arousal thrusting at her, demanding her attention. She gave it to him, her hand slipping between them to close around that hot length, squeezing it, pumping it.
He pulled back with a groan from both her mouth and her hand. “Too soon, too soon. I want both of us ready for this.”
Having straightened up, he no longer needed his fists to support himself. That left one of his hands free to travel to the portal between her thighs where he located the bud inside. He began to stroke and rub it, slowly at first and then with increasing speed.
Brenna could feel the pressure building. Apparently, Casey sensed it, too. He went at it in a lusty urgency until she cried out his name as he tipped her over the edge. The release came in a series of wild, blinding spasms.
“Now,” he murmured. “Now we’re ready.”
Then, no longer able to restrain himself, he offered her his erection. She accepted it, feeling its heat, as she guided it to her willing, waiting opening.
It was as far as she went. As far as she had to go. Casey was in control from here, proving his capability as he eased into her yearning wetness. He didn’t rest until his length was fully inside her.
Seated as she was on the boulder, Brenna found it necessary to steady herself by gripping his shoulders, her fingers digging into his hard muscles. He voiced his approval when her legs clamped around his tight buttocks.
“That’s right, baby. That’s real good. Just relax now and let me do the work.”
Oh, yes, it was good. Good then and even better, much better, as he drove into her with slow, measured strokes. But relax? That was impossible when, through her haze of passion, she strained to hear his whispered endearments, attempted to return them with her own.
They were on this raging ride together, laboring for the climax that came too soon. His own orgasm swiftly followed her own. Spent, he rested his head against her breasts while she caressed the stubble on his cheek. It was an aftermath she treasured, but it was all too brief.
* * *
She understood his action when he straightened away from her. They couldn’t linger in this state, not with a threat that might still be out there.
“You ready to swim back to the boat?” he asked her.
Before telling him she was, she took one last look at him standing there in the water. The sun was above the horizon now, its slanting rays bronzing that superb body that had given her so much joy.
It was a sight that brought a lump to her throat.
* * *
“No breakfast,” Casey lamented after they dried themselves and dressed.
“I saved the last of the bread,” Brenna informed him, “but it’s probably stale by now.”
“Stale or not, it’s food.”
“How’s our water holding out? Did you happen to check?”
“Still some bottles left.”
After that cherished interlude they’d shared in the lagoon, she hated to think about the hard reality of survival. But if they didn’t find sources of food and water in this place, they would soon be in trouble. For the moment, however, they had the bread and the bottled water.
The sun was so pleasant they dragged the chairs out on the stern deck. They were silent as they sat there eating and drinking. Brenna still had that lump in her throat, but the reason for it had changed from happy to sad.
Sad because she was no longer uncertain of her feelings for Casey. Back at the hotel she had worried she might be falling in love with him again. Now she knew she was in love with him. It didn’t matter whether, broken engagement or not, she had never stopped loving him, only deceived herself she had, or whether this was a new love.
Either way, it had hurt written all over it. How could it not when, struggled though she had, she still hadn’t managed to overcome the lesson of her mother. Because the terrible memory of how her mother had suffered when Brenna’s father died in that blaze remained fresh. As did the recollection of how in the months that followed the life slowly went out of her.
Brenna had experienced that same desperation when Casey had been captured and held in the Mideast. New love or old, she refused to repeat those fears for his safety.
This was foolish. She had no indication her love was anything but one-sided, s
omething she had to deal with on her own. Intimate though they had been back at the hotel and here in the lagoon, Casey had said nothing about his feelings for her.
The closest he’d come to anything like that was telling her in their hotel room, “I’ve missed us like this.”
Meaning what? The sex they’d shared? And if that was all...
“What are you thinking?” he asked her now.
She started, realizing he was smiling at her. It was not a happy smile but one that she thought carried a kind of somber regret. She wanted to ask him about it but decided it was better to just let it go.
Instead, she lied. “Still wondering where we are. Daylight doesn’t help any, does it?”
“Well, it tells us what the land looks like anyway.”
Brenna had already observed it was not flat. The terrain rose abruptly from the shore, climbing toward the summit of what could be defined as either a high hill or a low mountain. It was hard to tell since it was entirely covered in vegetation. There was no sign of anything resembling a building, no sound but the calls of the sea birds. It seemed they were alone here.
A breeze blew across the deck. Brenna shivered. The moving air wasn’t responsible. The breeze was mild. It was the sudden absence of the warm, cheerful sun. She looked up at the sky to see clouds gathering. It would soon be entirely overcast again.
“I think it’s time,” Casey said, “that we go exploring. We need to learn more about this place, try to find food and water.”
“I agree, but those approaching clouds look like rain. We could end up trekking through mud with the only clothes we have soaked.”
He eyed the sky. “I don’t think they indicate anything serious. Nothing like a downpour, probably just a drizzle. As for staying dry...”
He got to his feet, motioning for her to follow him inside. What now? she wondered, watching him squat on his heels and open one of the locker doors.
“I noticed this stuffed in here when I found the blankets.”
“What is it?”
She couldn’t tell, not then when he withdrew it or when he stood, shaking it out for her inspection. Whatever it was, it looked like it was plastic-coated. It also looked a bit dingy.
“It’s a rain poncho, hood and all. Okay, maybe a bit worse for wear, but it should keep you dry.”
“What are you wearing? Is there another poncho hiding in there?”
“Just the one. But I’ve got my own rain gear with me.” Opening his bag, which he’d dumped into a corner when they’d first boarded My Last Dollar, he produced a lightweight, thin nylon jacket with an attached hood. Brenna assumed the garment had been waterproofed.
She looked from the jacket to the poncho. Although she said nothing, he had to know what she was thinking.
“Look, I’d trade, but the poncho is too small for me, and you’d be swimming in the jacket.”
“Please, it’s all right,” she assured him in her best martyr’s tone, the one that had never failed to elicit a grin from him when they were together back in Chicago. She earned one now.
Outfitted in protective poncho and jacket, with the precious water sample Casey wouldn’t risk leaving behind tucked in a zippered pocket and the toolbox knife strapped to his leg, they left the boat for the shore.
The drizzle that Casey had predicted was falling when they picked up a narrow trail that ascended the hillside.
“This beats struggling through the jungle,” he said.
“What do you think?” she said. “An animal trail, or something cut by human hands?”
Casey had no opinion on the subject. His only interest was in fresh water, and that was answered by a clear brook tumbling toward the sea. As for food, banana plants were plentiful, and coconut palms rimmed the shore. These could be supplemented by catching fish.
Although Brenna was grateful for the presence of these needs, her enthusiasm lay in another direction.
This forest is a botanist’s dream, she thought.
She could recognize only a fraction of the plants whose sprawling growth was so luxuriant on either side of the trail. Philodendron vines clinging to the trunks of trees, moss and waist-high ferns and, of course, flowers everywhere. Many she knew; others were nameless.
All of it made an impression on the senses, but the rain pattering on the forest created a special mood. It polished the broad leaves, emphasizing their glossiness. Deepened the perfume of blossoms like frangipani. Heightened the colors of hibiscus and anthurium. Even the wet earth itself had its own pleasing scent.
It was, in Brenna’s estimation, an unspoiled paradise.
They clambered on up the trail, trading few comments, saving their breath for the climb. Halfway up the mountain, they emerged onto a level, natural terrace.
The terrace was clear of all growth, but it was not empty.
To their surprise, the center of it was occupied by the remains of a crude, open-sided shelter constructed of a framework of bamboo poles and a roof of palm leaf thatch that had fallen in on one side. If there had once been walls woven from the same material, they were long gone.
Brenna gazed in wonder at the skeleton.
“Casey,” she said slowly, her voice as soft as the rain, “I know this place.”
Chapter 15
Casey turned to stare at her. “Are you saying you’ve been here before?”
“Not in person, no, but in memory.”
“That doesn’t make sense either.”
“It does, if you know I read about it in my St. Sebastian guidebook.”
“You telling me we’re back on St. Sebastian?”
“Of course not. But the island—and that’s what this is—was recommended as a place to visit, if you had the time and access to a boat. The article was written by a naturalist. I think his name was David Yates. He built the shelter here for himself and spent weeks on the island—Maroa, I think it’s called—observing the unique fauna and flora.”
“What else do you remember?”
“That the island is a couple of hundred acres in area and that the article described a place of anchorage for a small craft only. I think that’s got to be our lagoon.” She swung away from him to look at the heights still above them. “I would love to come back here one day and paint this wild place.”
“You might want to rethink that.”
“That’s a funny thing to say. Why would I want to do that?”
“Because before the day is over, it’s very possible you won’t have such pleasant feelings about the island.”
There was such a severe tone in his words that she turned back to face him. “What are you trying to tell me, Casey?”
“Just that apparently you weren’t the only one who read that article and learned about the lagoon.”
His face wore the same severity as he looked back the way they had come. Not just back and down but out as well. “You see it?” he asked her.
Brenna followed the direction of his extended arm pointing seaward, discovering then what he indicated. The sight had her heart sliding in the direction of her stomach.
Cutting through the water was a powerful cruiser rapidly approaching the island. Not just randomly either. The craft was headed directly toward the mouth of the lagoon. There were at least three people on board. Two of them, males, stood on the bow deck. That meant a third had to be inside at the controls.
Even at this distance, Brenna could identify the blond of their burly nemesis. The second, darker one had a pair of binoculars trained on the lagoon, which meant he hadn’t missed the presence of their boat.
“They’ve found us,” she said flatly.
“Probably been checking out other islands in the area before tackling this one.”
They had been deluding themselves, thinking they were safe here. Or at least Brenna had allowed herself to believe it. Even in their carefree moments, Agent Casey McBride wouldn’t have abandoned his realistic conviction that the enemy wouldn’t give up.
“Maybe they won’t be ab
le to anchor,” she said, clinging to hope. “We had a heck of a time squeezing through the channel, and our boat is smaller than theirs.”
“The tide was out then, the water a lot lower than it is now. They’ll make it through into the lagoon all right.”
“Casey, what are we going to do?”
“Get the hell out of this clearing before they point those binocs up this way and spot us.”
“Do we go down or up?”
“Up, I think. If we go down, we could run into them on the trail. All I know for sure is we have to stay ahead of them. If we can evade them long enough, we stand a chance of locating a good place to hide ourselves. It’s all we can do.”
She knew what he was thinking. She was thinking it, too.
Their pursuers were armed. There was no forgetting this after last night. And she and Casey had no weapon, except his knife.
Not much use against three men and their guns.
“So we run.”
“Yeah, we run, but first...”
She watched him unzip the pocket in his jacket and remove the small, sealed bottle of water.
“I don’t want to risk having this on me any longer. It’s better if it’s hidden.”
Brenna understood how vital it was to Casey to safeguard what had been entrusted to him. And how determined Marcus Bradley must be to get his hands on that water sample and destroy it before it could be tested. One of the spies he had everywhere on St. Sebastian would have learned what Zena King had planned and how she had managed to arrange for the sample to be passed to Casey.
Marcus was too clever after hearing this information not to have had the well immediately shut down or, more likely, had its supply altered to an innocent state. The sample Casey had in his possession, the only one in existence, was dangerous to the billionaire. Because even if the well was now neutralized, its content had damaged Freedom’s women, and the sample could prove that. Marcus had to prevent it from reaching the Miami lab. His hired thugs were the solution. She had no doubt who they were. She had glimpsed the two dark-haired ones around the villa, so it was only logical to assume they worked for Marcus.
Not the blond one, but because he was one of the trio it made sense to believe he was one of Marcus’s thugs.