Adam

by Irish Winters

  How mortifying to have thrown up in front of the man you’d just verbally sparred with. Ugh. Just the thought of what he must’ve seen brought a hot flush of embarrassment. She shivered, but brushed the unwelcome memory off. That moment would forever stand as one of her worst, and yet… he’d stood resolutely at her side.

  Unlike Brit…

  Her mind seemed determined to size her ex-husband up against this unexpected new man in her life, but there was no comparison. Brit was Esquire, his hands smooth, his wardrobe impeccable, and his motives forever self-serving. He whined when his plans went awry. He berated and belittled for petty reasons, and heaven forbid that his wife stepped out of line or caught the attention of the press instead of him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there’d always been something quirky about her ex. Something borderline—creepy.

  But Adam? She honestly didn’t know which magazine suited him. Maybe something sports related? Maybe fitness? His hands were wide and rough; his nails trimmed but his cuticles were ragged. A working man’s hands. A little worn, but capable of tenderness. That one moment of being crushed to his side there on the curb in Alexandria had nearly tossed her poor stomach from the sheer pleasure of it. Even angry, he’d been thoughtful. Concerned for her, the daughter of a man who had proven to be more enemy than friend. And Adam was strong. Rugged, hot-damned—hot.

  Shannon continued investigating the man in her rams who had more nerve than most. How odd that a dimple pinched his left cheek. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked peaceful and the dimple persisted, a reminder that a boy lay deep inside this heavy, male body.

  The sensation that she’d met him before lingered. Where on earth would a meek writer like her meet a man of action like this one? Only in a war zone, and she didn’t do stories or exposés on the military. Besides, she had no idea what service he’d been in, whether Army, Air Force, or... oh, my gosh. Navy?

  Her heart thudded to a complete stop. That’s where I’ve seen this guy before. In my dream. He was that guy, but how could he be? What did it mean? Her fingers trembled when she traced that soft indentation on his cheek again. Leaning forward, she sniffed for the telltale sign of wintergreen. When she didn’t catch any hint of it, she shook her head at her foolishness. Reality check. You, Shannon, are losing your mind. It was just a dream. Don’t be stupid.

  There were a lot of similarities, but Adam wasn’t that guy. No way.

  “Are you awake?” Izza asked from her prone position beneath the palm.

  Shannon startled, hoping Izza wasn’t somehow intuitively able to read her idiotic thoughts. She turned to Jamie and Braxton’s mother. That was who she saw now—those two cherubs from Izza’s cell phone, faces smudged by love, waiting for their mama to come home and play. Only Izza resembled a zombie now, her eyes sunken and too dark, her beautiful olive-colored skin too pale.

  “Yes, I’m awake,” Shannon whispered in reply. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m good,” Izza answered quickly. “When these guys wake up, they’re going to be hungry. We need to be thinking about finding them something to eat.”

  “Okay,” Shannon agreed. Izza probably meant scavenging or hunting, but Shannon had no experience with cooking much less foraging, so she thought about the dinner Dillon had offered instead. Did anything in the galley survive the crash? She might be able to swim out to the wreck to get some food.

  “How’s Adam?” Izza asked quietly.

  Reality struck. Dillon hadn’t survived. He was one of those bodies Adam still had to bury. Shannon bit her lip, ashamed. Here she’d been worried about dinner while poor Dillon laid dead on the beach somewhere. Tears blurred her tired eyes.

  “Shannon.” Izza’s sharp whisper jolted her back to the moment. “Listen up. It’s just you and me right now. How’s Adam? Is he bleeding anywhere?”

  “Not that I can see.” She smoothed a hand over his bicep, eager for his warmth under her fingertips. Touching him brought a level of secret pleasure and strength, so she smoothed her hand over the same strong muscle just to feel it again.

  “Lift his shirt. Check him out. Is his chest or stomach bruised? Any swelling? Tell me what you see.”

  Carefully, Shannon lifted Adam’s still-damp shirt, feeling timid for all of two seconds. It didn’t take long to get confident. She tugged his shirt up farther to see more of this handsome specimen. He seemed built of squares and planes, from the defined pectoral muscles and the relaxed furrows of his abdomen to his thick biceps and hefty forearms. Ropes of hardened musculature, thick and powerful, lay relaxed at the moment. He made two of her. Easy. But blackened and purpled bruises colored him from his collarbone all the way to his belt.

  “He’s got massive bruising,” she told Izza. And he’s smooth-chested, she thought. And, oh, my gosh. A thin trail of hair that began just above his navel marked his abdomen, running down beneath his belt. She squelched her desire to take advantage of him in his sleep, maybe unbuckle that belt and see if he was injured anywhere else. That might be important.

  “He’s not bleeding though, is he?”

  “Not that I can see,” Shannon whispered, remembering she wasn’t alone. Sharp-eyed Izza was watching.

  “Shannon!”

  She looked up into Izza’s annoyed face. “Y-yes?”

  “I asked you if he’s bleeding. From his mouth? His nose?” Izza snapped. “What’s the matter with you? Did you hit your head, too?”

  “No. Sorry. I’m fine.” But he’s handsome and hurt, and when he wakes up, he’ll think he needs to save the world. He’ll leave me. I may never get another chance like this.

  Dutifully and also lovingly, Shannon tipped his face gently to the side so she could see his entire mouth. No blood, just two tanned lips pressed together in deep slumber. He huffed a breath at the disturbance. She traced the skin below his bottom lip with her thumb, telling herself she needed to be sure there was no blood, but wondering how his mouth would taste. How a kiss from this guy would feel.

  He moaned softly, but didn’t move away. Neither did she. Her palm cupping his chin felt warm and perfect.

  “No.” She looked directly at Izza so as not to betray her feelings. “He’s not bleeding. Just badly bruised on his chest and down his side. I think he might have a broken rib, though. He seemed to have trouble catching his breath before. How’s Connor?”

  “I’m fine.” With a big stretch, Connor rolled out of Izza’s arms and flopped onto his back in the sand. He groaned out a long yawn. “Crap. What a landing.”

  “How’s your head, honey?” Izza asked, her voice full of worry.

  He slowly pulled into a sitting position, his arms on his knees as he grimaced and squeezed his temples. “Hurts like hell. How’s yours?”

  “I’m good,” she said again, but this time Shannon really looked at her. Izza hadn’t moved from the trunk of that palm tree other than to lie down beside it with Connor. She’d answered far too quickly, too.

  “Izza?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Izza replied just as quickly, but Shannon saw through the lie this time.

  So did Connor. He knelt over his wife, his hand gentle on her shoulder. “You’re hurt, aren’t you? Damn it, where? Tell me.”

  Tears welled up in Izza’s angry eyes. She was fighting whatever pain she had. “My leg’s cut, but mostly... would you look at my back? I think something’s stuck inside of me.”

  Carefully, Connor eased her to her side to face Shannon. Lifting her soiled top, he winced and closed his eyes. It had to be real bad. “Can you hold her steady? Don’t let her roll over.”

  “Sure.” They were lying close enough that Shannon reached for Izza’s arm to keep her still, while not disturbing Adam. “Hang onto my hand, Izza.”

  “This is going to hurt, baby. Sorry.” With a grunt, Connor pulled something about three inches long, thin, and silvery out of Izza’s back. She shuddered, clutching Shannon’s hand, but she didn’t scream.

  He leaned over to kiss her chee
k while he pressed his palm into her back. “I’m really sorry. It wasn’t deep, but that thing had to come out.”

  She nodded, her eyes squeezed tight and tears running down her face. “What was it? The wing off that Gulfstream? It felt big enough.”

  He didn’t spare a smile at her poor attempt at humor. “I don’t know for sure, maybe a piece of metal molding or something. I can’t believe you let me sleep this whole time with that thing in your back. What’s the matter with you?”

  Poor Izza squeezed her eyes shut and choked. “I couldn’t... let you go.”

  “Baby,” he growled, lifting her gently against his chest, his own face awash with tears. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. We’ll get through this.”

  Shannon’s eyes overflowed. She looked away, touched by the depth of emotion around her. The beauty of this island paradise was nothing compared to the love between Connor and Izza. And she had—Brit.

  His snide remark when she’d called the night before the flight flashed to her mind. As usual, he’d acted as if he had better things to do than hear her out. Instead of showing any interest in the news of his impending fatherhood, all he’d said before he’d hung up on her was “So? Take a pill. Get an abortion. I don’t care which, just get rid of it.”

  It. Her baby and hers alone. He’d called it—it.

  Her eyes went instinctively to her stomach, where a man’s weary head rested against the child growing deep inside of her. Deep blue eyes gazed tiredly into hers. Adam lifted his hand to her jaw, his thumb warm and gentle on her cheek. “Hey,” he muttered hoarsely.

  “Hey.” She returned the simple word. Somehow it was enough.

  “How long?” he asked, his fingers stroking her still.

  “You slept for a couple hours,” she answered, leaning into his touch. “We all did. I guess we were tired.”

  He breathed out a long sigh, lowering his hand back to his chest. Holding him seemed natural. She didn’t want him to leave, despite the fact this was probably not the most comfortable position for him. But the temperature was perfect and he needed his rest. And a foolish woman could hope.

  He snuggled his face against her stomach, his arm curled around her backside, pulling her close like a pillow. She ruffled her fingers through his hair and watched his heavy eyelids close. His breathing returned to slow and steady, so she closed her eyes. Too soon this magic moment would end, but she let her foolish romantic feelings linger. He seemed content to stay. She wished he would.

  They slept again. It seemed the sun would never set, but gradually the day ended. When it did, both Adam and Connor were suddenly energized.

  When Adam woke this time, he must have been more awake than the first time. He pulled slowly away from Shannon, his eyes dark and hooded. He lingered when he was back to his hands and knees beside her, and her breath caught. It was the perfect moment for a kiss. Did he feel it, too?

  “Damn,” he hissed as he shot her a look she couldn’t translate. “I’ve got to find Donavan. I should never have lain down. Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

  “You didn’t lie down,” Shannon corrected him. “You collapsed. We all did.”

  He didn’t argue, just sprang into action despite his injuries. “How are you guys doing?” Adam asked his teammates, brushing the sand off his hands and jeans.

  “I’m good,” Izza said quickly.

  Shannon stifled the urge to correct that cover-up. None of them fit the definition of good, but these people all seemed intent on denying their injuries. What was up with that?

  “Better,” Connor answered. “Let’s see if we can find the others before it gets dark.”

  Shannon looked away when Adam turned his back and walked toward the wreck with Connor. She had no reason to expect more, but his leaving left her chilled.

  “You hungry?” Izza’s hand on her arm distracted her.

  “Not really,” Shannon replied, but obviously Izza was. This was the second time she’d mentioned food.

  “Damn. Look at you. Your arm’s broken.”

  Shannon glanced at her purpled, swollen arm. The pain was more like a dull ache that wouldn’t let up. “Yes, but it doesn’t hurt. I feel better now that I’ve slept.”

  With her other hand for support, she worked her way up the trunk of the tree, making sure she was strong enough to stand before she let go. Her clothes had dried except for where she’d been sitting on them, and her hair was dry. Smelling of fuel and dirt, but dry.

  She pushed it out of her face. Fresh water to rinse would be nice. She itched all over. Another drink wouldn’t hurt, either. “Guess I’ll look around for something to eat. Do you think there are any berries on this island?”

  “Yeah. Big ones.” Izza pointed directly overhead. “They’re called coconuts.”

  Shannon glanced up. Big brown berries attached to a very long trunk and stuck in the sky like these were didn’t offer much hope. “Let me see what else I can find.”

  Unsteady on her feet, she took a few tentative steps toward the stream behind them. Water meant vegetation. Hopefully, some of that leafy greenery would be edible. Her injured limb reminded her it was truly broken, so she clasped it against her chest to minimize the pain.

  Any other day, she would have been enthralled with the magnificent colors the fading sun splashed across the tropical sky. Not today. Their life-and-death struggle had effectively sucked away the simple pleasure of a sunset. Plenty of trees and bushes enclosed the center of the island. Shadows lay long in the fading sun. She headed into the green.

  “Don’t go far,” Izza cautioned.

  “I won’t.” Shannon called over her shoulder. “There’s some kind of a trail in here though. Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?”

  “I’m fine, but you be careful. It’s probably an animal trail. Maybe deer. Don’t get lost.”

  “I won’t,” Shannon promised. She took another step, remembering that tiger from Swiss Family Robinson. He’d followed a trail, too, hadn’t he?

  A large bush farther along the trail overflowed with white berries, but when she reached it, the white berries turned out to be tiny puffs of downy flowers. The sound of the surf receded while the twittering of birds grew louder. She startled a flock of small brown birds that scattered at her feet instead of flying away. Looking back at her path, Shannon kept careful track of how far she’d gone from Izza. So far, so good. The stream was no longer visible, but trickled beneath the shrubbery.

  She took a few more steps, still cradling her arm. Holding it eased the throbbing ache. Considering everyone else’s injuries, she’d gotten off lucky.

  Glancing up, she spied what looked to be clusters of big green fingers. Bananas! Proud of herself for locating food, she planted her feet and prepared to bring home the groceries. She stretched both hands toward the biggest bunch, intending to break several clumps off. Even with one broken arm, she could still haul enough for everyone to get a taste. Way to go, she congratulated herself. While Adam and Connor are looking for Donavan, I found something to eat, and—

  Plop. Something landed on the back of her outstretched hand. Something big. With legs. The darned thing was so big it nearly covered her hand. Two furry fangs snapped at her, right before it danced up her broken arm like it was after her.

  “Spider! Spider!” she shrieked, shuddered, and shrieked again. Shaking her hand to send that creepy insect flying didn’t work. Pain from the break radiated up her arm. The huge hairy insect wouldn’t let go. Another blood-curdling scream let go all the way from deep in her gut. “B-b-big s-s-spider!”

  She stomped the jungle floor. Long yellow legs with clusters of tiny black hairs clutched her arm with the longest stabbing feet. The hairy beast took calculated, mechanical spider steps up her arm, each leg lifting up and stepping down with precise intent until—

  It… it stopped.

  Tilting its ugly yellow body upward, it faced her like it intended to run straight up her arm, over her shoulder and into her hair.
It wanted to build a nest. That’s what it meant to do. It was a mother, too. And now it would wrap her up in a fuzzy cocoon and make a nest out of her and feed her body fluids to its gazillion, creep, crawly babies, and…

  Oh. My. Gosh! It... it has a thousand eyes. It’s looking at me!

  Twisting her hair into a ponytail, just in case, Shannon squeezed her eyes shut. Out-of-control goose bumps shivered up her back and into her scalp. That thing was still attached to her arm. It wouldn’t let go!

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Spiders could bite. Some were poisonous. The things had fangs! She couldn’t bear to look. It was coming. Sticky! Icky! Scratchy!

  Another scream crawled up her throat, and—

  “Shannon!” Adam burst into the small clearing where she stood frozen and still screaming her guts out. He spun her around, her back to his chest with one fist lifted to protect her.

  She gasped. He had to be blind not to see the ten-pound monster on the verge of sucking every last drop of her blood out of her hand. Her broken arm hurt when he’d grabbed onto her, but she didn’t care. She kept her insect-laden arm paralyzed and stuck straight out in front of her. That thing could be laying eggs on her skin right this very minute. May be inside of her! Pretty soon there’d be thousands of tiny, hairy, hungry, baby spiders running all over her body and—Ewww!

  “Shannon. What the hell’s wrong?” he growled against her head.

  “It’s... it’s a spider!” she shrieked, her eyes closed and her head turned into his neck, so she didn’t have to look at it. “Get it off me!”

  His body tensed. She thought he might be scared too, but when he didn’t respond fast enough, she peeked one eye open. Bemused blue eyes stabbed hers. He grinned, tipped his head back to the sky, and… Darn him!

  Adam laughed.

  There she was, under attack by what had to be the biggest spider ever, and he laughed. She tried to elbow him away, but he groaned when she bumped his ribs and she thought she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry. I hurt you, didn’t I?”