by J. KRAMER
Dropping the two bags he started to sprint back to the cottage knowing full well that even at this pace, it would still take him more than an hour to get back. His heart filled with apprehension that when he got back, he’d find Becky gone, he ran fast as he could. Surely she wouldn’t leave him now? She loved him, she’d said so many times. Wanted to spend the rest of her life with him…
***
“Let’s investigate that island in the distance, Harry,” Gavin Roarke told his aide. “Tell the captain to close in and drop anchor.”
“What the hell do we want with a deserted island?” Harry asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t deserted. Anyway, deserted islands always fascinated me.”
“We sure as hell won’t find what we’re looking for there.”
“Probably not, but I still want to go to the island and take some pictures. It looks quite beautiful.”
“If we return empty handed, we’re out a lot of money. Burke paid us in advance, remember?”
“I know,” Gavin sighed. “But if his standards weren’t so bloody high we would have found a willing victim soon enough. What he wants is hard to find. She has to be petite, blond, and a child of nature, a carbon copy of his late wife. Where the hell do you find a young woman fitting that description?”
“Damned if I know,” Harry said.
“I don’t need his money anyway. You know that. I planned this trip long ago and am doing Burke a favor. He insisted on paying me.”
“You might not need the money, but I do.”
“If it means that much to you, I’ll pay you. Forget Burke. He owes me anyway for past favors. We can’t help it if we can’t find his wife’s double.”
“Okay, boss.” Harry saluted and walked away to give the captain the order to approach the island.
Gavin lifted the binoculars and focused on the island. At first he thought his imagination was playing parts, until the distance between the yacht and the island narrowed. What he saw through the binoculars excited him. A naked girl stood watching the yacht. Her hair shone silver and her body was a golden brown. “Bingo!” he said softly and wondered if she was on the island alone. But what would a girl be doing there all by herself?
He waited until it was time to drop the anchor and raised the binoculars again. The girl startled and bolted, like a frightened gazelle. She gracefully crossed the beach running towards a pile of rocks. He sucked his breath in sharply as she climbed, her rounded, firm buttocks now facing him.
Harry returned to stand beside him. “What are you looking at?”
Gavin lowered the binoculars and grinned. “I think we’ve found her.”
“You’re kidding. Here? You’ve got to be hallucinating, man.”
“You’ll see,” said Gavin. “Go lower the dinghy.”
“We’re actually going to the island?”
“Yes. Get a move on.” Impatiently he waited while Harry lowered the dinghy, then climbed the rope ladder down to it.
Harry rowed while Gavin trained his binoculars on the island and scanned the beach as far as he could see. Except for exotic birds, he saw no other signs of life. Maybe the girl did live there all alone.
Gavin jumped out of the dinghy, waded to the beach and waited for Harry to pull it out of the water. He pointed to the footsteps in the sand. “Look, Harry.”
“Shit, maybe you’re right. They look like a woman’s footprints.”
“Let’s follow them and see what we find.” They followed the footprints to the rocks. Gavin stopped for a moment, but he’d seen her climbing so he knew they were on the right trail. He waited for Harry to join him before continuing. The tracks were clearly visible and it wasn’t long before he saw the cottage.
Gavin whistled. “Well, would you look at that? There’s a vegetable garden and all. She’s got herself a nice little nest here.”
“What makes you think she’s alone?”
“I don’t think. That’s why I brought this,” Gavin said as he pulled a gun from his pocket.
“Jesus. You’re not planning to use that?”
“I’m not a killer. You know me better than that. Others do my dirty work for me.” Gavin walked to the door and knocked. There was no answer from within. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he said in a singsong voice.
When there was still no answer he opened the door and looked inside. “Oh my God, we’ve walked into a small art gallery. Look at these paintings,” he breathed. “She must be an artist hiding from the world. You know how strange artists can be at times. Loners, recluses.”
Harry glanced at the paintings. Art wasn’t his thing. “Fuck. Who cares about the paintings? Where’s this elusive girl you claim to have seen?”
“Hiding. From the way she bolted, I’m sure she spotted us.”
“She could be hiding anywhere on the island.”
“I have a feeling she’s right under our noses. Like here,” he said softly and yanked the cot away from the wall.
Becky gasped. She crouched as far into the corner as she could, whimpering softly. “Please? Don’t hurt me?”
“We won’t hurt you. Why don’t you stand up and greet your visitors properly?” Gavin asked pasting on his most charming smile.
Becky covered her face with her hands. She peeked between her fingers at the two men. She didn’t like the looks of the one, but the man who had spoken was incredibly handsome almost in a feminine way. His black hair was short and neatly combed. He had a small moustache. Opposed to Lucien’s roguish good looks, this man’s face was finely chiseled, his mouth small, his lips not too full. His grey eyes did not have an unkind expression in them. Slowly, she stood up her hands now flat against the wall. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gavin Roarke. This is Harry, my first mate.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for a girl who looks like you. How old are you? What is your name?”
Becky hesitated. Then when Gavin backed away she dared step forward. “I’m Rebecca Ferguson. I’m twenty.” She didn’t know why she gave them the information, except she had a suspicion that they could be detectives. Maybe they’d been searching for her all this time and to lie now would do no good. She didn’t have to go with them if she didn’t want to. If they wanted a statement from her, she could give it to them right there and then. She waited for them to tell her more.
“Hi Rebecca. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Gavin offered his hand. “Do you live here alone?”
“No. My husband should be back any minute now.”
“I see. Aren’t you going to shake my hand?”
Becky held out her hand to feel it grasped firmly in Gavin’s. Suddenly he yanked her toward him and twisted her hands behind her back. “You’re hurting me. Let me go,” she yelled and screamed loud as she could, hoping that Lucien would hear her.
“No one to hear you, baby. Don’t worry. We don’t mean you any harm,” Gavin said while tugging at the shirt. He had to let her wrists go for a second to pull the shirt over her head.
Becky saw her chance. She dove away from her assailant but in her haste to get away from them she tripped and fell hitting her head against the leg of the table.
“Shit. She’s passed out,” Harry said. “You were right, boss. She’s perfect.”
“I know,” Gavin said softly. “Look at that body. Now if she’s a virgin as well…” he crouched down and pulled Becky’s legs apart. “Mm, she shaves. Wonder if she was telling the truth about a husband. Why else would a girl bother to shave her clit unless there’s a man around? Plus, would she paint herself?” Carefully he inserted his middle finger into her vagina and probed deeply, at the same time feeling his cock react. He withdrew his finger and held it under his nose for a moment to savor the smell of her pussy. “Pity. She’s not intact. Maybe she was telling the truth. We’ve got to get out of here,” he told Harry. “Pick her up. We’re taking her.”
“We’re supposed to find someone willing. When she
wakes up, she’ll resist.”
“It’ll just make our voyage home more interesting. She’s the one. I don’t think we’d find anyone better looking than this woman. She could be the daughter of Burke’s late wife.”
Harry picked the girl up in his arms and walked out the door with her. Blood dripped steadily from Becky’s head, leaving a trail on the wooden floor.
Gavin looked at the paintings. Most of them were of the girl as a child. Except the last few. Drawing in his breath he examined them, his cock straining against the fabric of his shorts. They were exotic pictures, wild and sensuous, and would look perfect in his living room. He placed the canvasses carefully on top of each other.
“Are you coming?” Harry yelled.
“Yes. Just gathering some stuff,” Gavin replied while picking up the pile of paintings.
“Shit, how do you expect us to take all that and the girl in the dinghy?”
“It’ll fit. Get going.”
Once they were on board and Harry had locked Becky safely in a cabin, Gavin ordered the captain to go full speed ahead. He hadn’t spotted a boat but he couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t one elsewhere on the island. And if the girl really did have a husband and he suspected she was telling the truth because surely she couldn’t have painted those paintings herself, he didn’t want to be followed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucien panted from the exertion he’d just subjected his body to in the worst heat of the day. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and body.
He stopped for a moment when he saw the multiple footsteps in the sand and gazed out over the ocean. He saw nothing, no boat, no yacht. The ocean was calm that day, too calm. He shaded his eyes but there wasn’t a speck against the horizon. Seagulls circled above squawking loudly. Abruptly he turned around and started to run. His heart filled with apprehension as he raced toward the cottage. The door stood wide open. Bursting into the cottage he saw no sign of Becky. He called out at the top of his lungs, “Becky! Becky, are you here somewhere? Are you hiding? Becky!”
No answer.
He flew out of the door and searched around the cottage but there was no sign of her. With a sinking heart he returned to the cottage. As he entered he suddenly noticed the dark drops on the floor and a larger stain near the table. It had almost dried. He scraped it with his finger and saw that it was blood. Becky’s blood. It had to be. His heart almost stopped beating with the pain that shot through it. “Oh my God, she’s gone. Whoever it was, hurt her and took her along or they killed her and dumped her body in the sea for the sharks,” he muttered. “No one ever comes to the island except the supply boat. Who could have been here? Tourists? But why would they harm her?”
He sank onto the cot and rested his chin on his hands. “Where are you, my love? How will I ever find you if you’re still alive?” he said softly and sobs began to wrack his body. Long, screaming howls came from deep within, resembling a wolf’s cries that had lost its mate.
Finally, his grief subsided though his heart felt as if it had been sliced in half. Hopelessly he gazed around the silent, empty room and noticed the missing paintings. He had to get back to the mainland. The boat was almost due to bring his supplies but he couldn’t wait that long. He had to get to the mainland now. Somehow.
A thought occurred to him. Like a madman he ran to the beach and started to collect driftwood. After he’d built a pile at least six feet high or more, he ran back to the cottage to fetch the large container of turpentine.
He drenched the driftwood with the turpentine then lit a match and set it on fire. It didn’t take long and he had a roaring fire going. Black smoke spiraled up to the stark blue sky.
Quickly he ran back to the cottage and dressed in shorts and a shirt and grabbed his bag and his wallet. As an afterthought, he grabbed the spare container of turpentine. Determinedly, he set out to the other side of the island cursing himself all the time for living like a total recluse, for never investing in a boat.
Once he got there he collected more driftwood and built another fire. Surely a plane flying over or a distant boat, or the coastguard, would spot one of the fires and know that he was signaling. They knew to leave him alone normally, but if they saw the excessive amount of smoke, surely they’d come? He sat on a rock and waited, his eyes scanning the horizon. Every now and again he’d collect more driftwood to keep the huge bonfire going. If need be, he’d sit there all night and the next day and night.
The next morning Lucien heard the purr of the boat’s motors even before he could see it. Soon as it came into his view he started to wave his arms frantically. It didn’t take long for the coast guard to come to his rescue.
“Lucien, are you in some kind of trouble?” Captain Bob McKenna asked. “We spotted all the smoke and figured you were signaling for help.”
“I’ll say I need help. While I was on this side of the island a boat moored on the other side where I live and kidnapped my wife.”
Bob’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Your wife? You got married? When did that happen?"
“Not too long ago. Can we go now? I need to find her.”
“You’ll have to file a missing persons report with the police. Did you see the boat?”
“No. I was too far away but I heard it and went back to the cottage fast as I could. By the time I got there, they’d taken her. I’m not even sure if she’s alive anymore. I found blood in the cottage,” he said wistfully.
“We’ll have to inform the authorities so they can investigate. Did you hear any shots?”
“No. But the blood…”
“Maybe she cut herself or something,” said Bob, trying to comfort the frantic man. “Okay, let’s shove off.”
Once in the motorboat, Bob asked, “What is your wife’s name, Lucien?”
“Becky. Becky Ferguson.”
“You don’t say. I’ll be damned. There are posters up of her all over town. She’s been missing for a while now. Big reward offered too.”
“She doesn’t have any family, she told me.”
“She has parents and a brother. They’ve been worried sick about her. Apparently she took the dinghy out to sea the night the family was terrorized and their house was burglarized. They feared she was dead.” He rubbed his chin. “So she made it to your island and you married the girl?”
“Yes.” Lucien didn’t want to tell them any more. He was shocked that Becky had lied to him. But hadn’t she told him several times there was something he needed to know? Maybe she’d wanted to tell him about the burglary and her parents. Where was she now? Who would have kidnapped her?
“Fortunately they caught the two guys who terrorized the Ferguson family. They’re behind bars now.”
So it couldn’t have been them, Lucien thought. Then who had taken her and why? Where had they taken her?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Okay, we weren’t followed. Maybe the girl was lying and if she wasn’t, I don’t think anyone can see us from the island now,” Gavin said. “I’d better go and see to her head.”
“She was bleeding pretty bad.”
“Yes. I noticed. Head wounds always bleed profusely.” Gavin entered the cabin and looked at the unconscious girl. The pillow under her head was stained red with blood. “Damn. Why didn’t you put a pressure bandage around her head? Get me the medical kit!” he ordered.
Carefully he turned the girl’s head sideways and parted her hair. The cut wasn’t very big and had almost stopped bleeding. He could treat it himself with butterfly tape. A large contusion surrounded it. She’d wake with a major headache, he knew.
While waiting for Harry, he looked at the girl’s body more closely and felt his cock bunching in his shorts straining against the material. He’d become bored with the usual flock of society women who fought for his attention. They were all the same, shallow and after what he could offer them. This girl was wild, untamed. A thought entered his mind. Burke didn’t have to know that he’d found just the right girl for him. He could keep her
for himself. After all, Burke hardly ever attended any of his parties.
Gavin reached for her lush breasts and stroked them softly. Even in her unconscious state the large nipples hardened under his touch and the aureole puckered. Never had he seen such large nipples on a woman. They fascinated him, especially now they were as hard as rocks. He made a mental note to measure them. Fantasies entered his mind, long forgotten dreams and now he was going to make them reality with this girl. He could already see those dark, suntanned nipples pierced with gold rings, maybe small diamond studs decorating the aureole. She’d look absolutely exotic. But when she woke up, would she retaliate? He liked a woman with a bit of spunk, but hardly felt like battling a tigress.
When Harry returned with the medical kit, he quickly withdrew his hand and tried to control the pulsating bulge of his cock. He leaned forward and pretended to be examining the cut. “Give me the pressure bandage, Harry.”
After bandaging Becky’s head, he took the pillow from under her head and handed it to Harry. “Toss this in the ocean and get me a clean pillow. And at the same time order the captain to pull into the next harbor. I want to buy the girl some clothes and we need to gas up.”
“We need supplies, too, and booze.”
“So? That’s your job. Why even mention it?”
“I need money.”
Gavin shook his head. “You’re being difficult, Harry. When we moor I’ll give you money.” As Harry took the stained pillow from his hands he noticed a strange expression in the man’s eyes, almost one of jealousy. The door closed, just a tad too hard. “What’s wrong with that man? It isn’t as if I’ve never been involved with women. What’s he afraid of?” Gavin wondered aloud. “Maybe he wants her for himself. Well, after I’ve had my fill of her, maybe I’ll let him have her for one night. That ought to satisfy him.”
When Harry returned with a clean pillow he barely opened the door and tossed it on the bed.