Cami’s Georgia Patriots Romance Collection

by Cami Checketts

  The men lifted off of him, and Preston struggled to his knees, then pushed up to his feet. He focused on Ally. Her lower lip trembled, but she didn’t say anything or break down into tears. Man, she was brave and impressive. He wouldn’t have blamed her for throwing a fit or dissolving into sobs. He was tempted to do both himself.

  “Loco Americano,” one of them muttered.

  The other two nodded, not smiling or laughing.

  Preston felt worse than loco. He felt off-balance, groggy, in pain, and uncertain how he and Ally were going to deal with being stranded on this island. Yet he’d rather be stranded than around these men any longer, wondering if one of them would go after Ally at any moment.

  He restrained himself as the man went toward Ally again with the knife. “It’s okay,” he reassured her, though nothing felt okay at the moment. The sun was bearing down on him, making him sweaty, and he had the insane thought that he wished he’d been kidnapped in anything other than a tuxedo.

  Ally focused on Preston, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. She flinched as the man walked around behind her with the knife, but she stood stoically brave. The man sliced her hands free. She pulled her hands around and rubbed at her wrists; they were red, but she looked okay. Relief rushed through Preston. The man had done what they’d said.

  The guy with the knife walked to him next, and Preston held his hands out away from his back. The knife cut through the ropes easily and Preston shook his arms out, rubbing at his wrists also. His shoulders relaxed, though his neck was still tight and his head aching. He nodded his thanks to the man.

  “You get off boat,” the man who could speak English instructed.

  “Gladly,” Preston muttered.

  He walked toward Ally, took her arm, and helped her over the side of the boat, plunging in the waist-deep water next to her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he slogged through the salt water with her up to the beach. His shoes and suit pants were soggy and filled with water and sand.

  He bent low and whispered against Ally’s cheek. “You okay?”

  She glanced up at him, her dark eyes somber. “I’m not sure,” she murmured.

  He could understand that. Stopping on the dry sand, he turned back to the men, who were carrying boxes off the speedboat. At least Carlos was true to his word and was leaving them with supplies. How long would the supplies last, though? How long would they be here? Gunner had taken Carlos’s brother, so obviously the man was a criminal of some sort. Would Sutton Smith or the government, if they’d already turned the criminal over, allow them to make a trade? Would Carlos even give Gunner their location, or would he let them waste away?

  The men carried the two boxes up to the edge of the sand where some palm trees shaded the spot. The island was lush and beautiful. It would be a dream come true for a vacation, but the thought of being stranded here, with no one but criminals knowing where they were, made it into a definite nightmare.

  Preston guided Ally with his arm, moving through the sand. She stopped, bent forward, and unstrapped her heels. Preston noticed the men watching her with far too much interest, as the movement revealed her neckline and her shapely legs. Did she have any clue how appealing she was? The sooner he could get the men to leave, the better. Straightening, she held her shoes in one hand and gave Preston a forced smile.

  Soon, they reached the shade of the palm trees. The sand was harder packed in the shade where the men had left their boxes of supplies.

  The man who spoke English turned to them and pulled out a phone. He held it up and gestured to them. “I take picture to show brother you here.”

  Preston nodded and wrapped his arm around Ally. Turning her more toward the trees, he hoped some of the background showed in the picture. Maybe there was no difference between tropical islands in different regions, but he hoped there was, a specific tree or … a snake hanging from the tree. He gritted his teeth as he saw the snake coil and slither up the branch. He hated snakes. Pushing the slimy feeling of snakes away, he thought about Gunner. His brother was more serious than the rest of them, and Preston knew Gunner would do everything he could to find them.

  Neither of them smiled as the man took several pictures with his phone. He pocketed it, leered at Ally one more time, and raised a hand to them as the other men strode back to the boat. “Good wishes.”

  “Thanks,” Preston grunted.

  The men pushed off, started the boat, and motored back to the yacht. Preston stood close to Ally, watching them go. Ally still seemed in control. If not for the slight trembling he felt from her pressing against him, he wouldn’t know she was upset.

  He studied the yacht out in the ocean, only blue for miles and miles around it. It was good that Ally was in control, because he was having a meltdown inside.

  Chapter Five

  Ally was going to dissolve into a puddle of tears at any moment. The only thing holding her up was Preston’s arm around her. The air felt sticky and oppressive around her as she watched the yacht motor off into the teal blue ocean. The ocean of nothingness. Everywhere her eyes darted, there was nothing but blue.

  She pulled in a quick breath, but she couldn’t get enough oxygen. Realizing she was leaning heavily into Preston, she tried to push away, but she felt too weak to support her own body weight. Maybe it was whatever drugs they’d knocked them out with. Maybe it was the heat and the lack of water. Maybe it was the oppressive fear that was sucking the hope, faith, and happiness out of her.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed silently for help and strength.

  “Are you okay?” Preston bent down closer to her.

  He was a big guy, strong and tall, and she appreciated how he’d tried to defend her around those men. Those men could’ve easily taken advantage of her. That slimy Carlos who kept undressing her with his eyes and offering for her to stay with him. So gross. Bile clawed at her throat at the very thought of one of them touching her. She said another prayer of gratitude that they were gone. Being stranded was horrific, but anything was better than staying with their kidnappers.

  Awkwardness crept over her, and she didn’t answer him immediately. No matter how tired and afraid she was, she needed to be strong. She sidestepped away from him and straightened her shoulders. “Thirsty,” she managed to get out.

  Preston studied her. He seemed to be the quintessential gentleman and protector of women, as evidenced by how he’d reacted to shield her from those men, but she didn’t like being in a vulnerable position with a well-built man she didn’t know. She didn’t know enough about men to know how one would react in a situation like this. Would Preston go into “me Tarzan, you Jane” mode? The only reassuring thing was that she wasn’t Preston’s type. Yet would that matter if she was the only option and he was used to women clamoring over his perfect body at all times?

  “Me too,” he said, rather than comment on her keeping her distance. “Let’s go find that fresh water Carlos promised.” He grimaced as he said it, probably thinking exactly what she was thinking: How did they trust anything Carlos said? For all they knew, this island was overrun with modern-day pirates or poisonous scorpions.

  The hyperventilation returned. “Shouldn’t we … I don’t know, start a signal fire with the rum?” she tried to joke, referencing Pirates of the Caribbean.

  Preston laughed. “Good idea. Let me see if we’ve got any.” He winked at her, and the air grew hotter.

  He bent down and opened the closest box. Ally couldn’t resist easing in closer to see what was in the box. All she could see was boxes of granola bars and crackers and some cans of food.

  He held up a can opener and a vicious-looking knife. “Well, at least they thought of a couple things we’ll need.”

  As he opened the next box and shuffled through it, Ally could see what looked like either a tent or a hammock. She was praying for a tent. She hated spiders and would struggle sleeping thinking about them—and what if there were snakes? She shivered. Snakes.

  There was a sm
all box that said “inflatable pad” and a bag that contained a fleece blanket. It was hot enough she didn’t like the thought of a blanket, especially a fleece one, but maybe they’d need it. Preston lifted up a towel, a little toiletry kit, and then a huge gray T-shirt and some large, soft-looking cotton shorts. There was more food in the bottom.

  “No matches?” she asked.

  Preston grunted in disgust. “Nothing to start a fire with.” He squatted next to the boxes and shuffled through them both again.

  Ally glanced at the thick greenery. Who knew what was in there? Ugly creatures, ugly pirates? She gave herself a shake; freaking herself out would do nothing. “Do you know how to get a spark with a stick, or something like that?”

  Preston shook his head. “They left that one out when I was a Boy Scout. Flint and steel wool was the craziest we got.” He dusted his hands off and stood. “I guess we wait on the fire.”

  “Okay.” She studied the boxes at their feet, not too keen on staying in this dress until Preston’s brother came. “That’s all the clothing in there?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Preston shrugged out of his suit coat. If she was hot, he had to be sweltering in that thing. Despite her worry of being alone on this island with a man she didn’t know, it was impossible to not notice how perfectly Preston filled out his button-down shirt.

  He looked her over, and Ally tilted her chin defiantly. She must look like a mess, but what did that matter right now? She’d taught herself not to care what a man thought of her looks; only her brain and hard work mattered. “What?”

  “Like Carlos said earlier, they didn’t plan on you being with me.” Preston lifted his shoulders and pointed to the supplies. “One-man tent, one towel, one sleeping pad, the … lack of clothes for you.”

  Ally pulled in a slow breath, wanting to scream at him that it was his fault she was here, but compassion swelled in her—he looked as if he were beating himself up. “If they wouldn’t have brought me, think how miserable you’d be alone.”

  Preston’s eyes widened. He shoved a hand through his hair. “I really appreciate the kindness behind that statement, but I’m calling myself all kinds of names inside. The question is … why aren’t you calling me names?”

  Ally stared at him. “It’s somehow your fault that your brother captured Carlos’s brother, a man who is obviously a criminal, and Carlos retaliated on you and me?”

  His shoulders lowered and his dark eyes got warmer. “I had no idea you were this … amazing.”

  Ally shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  Preston stepped closer to her. She held her ground. “Some of the other players have made comments about how … curvy you are and how they hoped the head of marketing got a hold of them and stuff like that. I’ve been intrigued by you, and of course I noticed how beautiful you are, but I had no idea you were also chill and nonjudgmental.”

  Ally’s chest warmed at the compliments and her dry mouth got even dryer. Preston was an extremely handsome man—and from all appearances, he was a good man—and they were stuck alone on this island, possibly until they died. Did he really think she was beautiful? The other players saying she was curvy didn’t matter to her; it was just another way to say overweight. Preston’s compliments made her wonder if she could trust him or if he was just a schmoozer who said what he thought a woman wanted to hear. She’d never heard someone say she was attractive, not that she’d ever asked.

  “So if a woman is … beautiful—” She cringed at that word. “—they can’t also be ‘chill and nonjudgmental’?”

  Preston smiled. “Don’t twist my words. My mom is absolutely classy and beautiful but still chill and nonjudgmental.” His face crumpled as if someone had jabbed him with a knife.

  “What’s wrong?” Ally stepped closer and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “My mom,” he murmured. Looking away, he shook his head. “This is going to kill her.”

  Ally thought of her own parents, her two sisters. How upset and concerned they would be. Her youngest sister, Kim, had recently reunited with the love of her life, and their wedding was in four days. “I’m going to miss Kim’s wedding,” she said.

  “Your sister?”

  She nodded tightly.

  “Ah … I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll postpone it, until we’re rescued.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She was sorry too. They’d only planned on enough food for him, for—what had the guy said, several weeks? She was going to go insane here for that long, if they didn’t die of heat exhaustion and lack of fresh water first. How close was the water? Was there even a spring on the island or had Carlos lied to them?

  They stood there for a few beats. The beach was silent aside from the soft lapping of the ocean. Maybe they were in the Caribbean, as calm as the waves were.

  “We can’t do this,” Preston declared.

  Ally focused on him. “I don’t see that we have much choice.”

  “No. I know we have to do this.” He smiled and pointed around at the island. “But we can’t let ourselves wallow and get depressed. Let’s go explore, find where we want to set up camp. We’ll build shelters and maybe even a boat, find fresh fruit, start a signal fire with sticks, kill fish and snakes and …”

  Ally’s stomach plunged as his voice trailed off. “Snakes?” she squeaked out.

  “Um …” Preston forced a smile. “I mean, if there are snakes. Maybe lizards or crabs or scorpions.”

  “Stop!” Ally held up a hand, trying to stave off her horror. “You aren’t making this any better. Have you seen snakes or scorpions?” Preston lying and claiming that she was attractive to him was the least of her concerns. She was stuck on a deserted island with spiders, snakes, and scorpions?

  Preston shook his head quickly. “I’m just saying, whatever creature might be on this island that we don’t like—” He held up the knife. “—I’ll kill it. That’ll make us feel better, right?”

  Ally grunted. “I’d rather pray there are no vicious creatures on this island. Carlos said only spiders.” She shivered.

  “See? You don’t like spiders.” Preston grinned like a little boy with his first pocketknife. “I’ll kill them.”

  “What is it with you and killing?” She put her hands on her hips.

  He smiled impishly, finally looking chagrined. “I grew up with brothers, right on the coastline south of Boston. We explored, we built forts, and we killed dangerous creatures. It’s a boy thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I only had sisters.”

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  “What?”

  “The aversion to killing dangerous creatures. We aren’t going to kill the fluffy bunny rabbits or endangered turtles.”

  Her eyebrows popped up. “Well, thank heavens for that. You’re like a little boy trapped in a buff man’s body.”

  He grinned. “I’m feeling immensely better. This will be like being a Boy Scout again—exploring, building things, killing stuff.”

  “Stop with the killing. Please.”

  Preston shrugged, and she had to admit he was growing on her. He was easy on the eyes, but he also had an infectious mischievous spirit about him. “All right. But you’ll let me kill the spiders?”

  “Yes. I won’t complain if you kill spiders or … other scary things.” She shuddered, not wanting to think about what might be in this jungle. “Let’s go find water now.”

  “Good plan.” He nodded, but instead of walking into the thick greenery in front of them, he bent down and scooped up her Christian Louboutin silver heels, which she’d taken off to get through the sand earlier and then dropped by their supplies. She hoped they weren’t ruined from the salt water. That was admittedly the least of her concerns, but she’d still saved up over two thousand dollars to buy them, hoping they’d give her confidence for big parties like the one last night at Bucky’s. Such parties, and the job she’d worked so hard for, seemed a lifetime away on this beautiful, but unsettling spot of e
arth.

  Preston dangled one shoe by the strap over his finger; it looked small and delicate next to how tough and big he was. He held the other shoe against a tree trunk and lopped off the heel with his knife.

  Ally gasped like someone had punched her in the gut. Her beautiful shoes. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Sorry.” Preston didn’t sound nearly repentant enough for butchering her beautiful shoes. She’d said he could kill spiders, not her favorite, most expensive item of clothing. He exchanged the first shoe with the second, and as a scream worked its way too slowly up and out of her throat, he chopped off the other heel.

  “No!” she screamed, staring in shock at her massacred heels. The distinctive red sole had a gaping wound with the absence of the heel. “Those were Christian Louboutins!”

  He held the knife loosely in his right hand and her mangled shoes in the other. “Now they’re practical.”

  “What?” she gurgled out.

  He smiled sheepishly and extended the shoes to her. She gingerly grasped them, not wanting to feel the gaps where the heels used to be. Glancing down, she saw the three-inch heels on the ground amidst leaves, sand, and sticks. The red was splashy, like blood, against the natural greens and browns. Her shoes!

  “Didn’t you ever see Romancing the Stone? My little sister, Lottie, loves chick flicks, so we’ve seen every one my mom cleared as sweet enough for her. She’s really … innocent.”

  Ally just kept on staring at him. What did chick flicks have to do with her shoes? It was interesting that this tough man in front of her had a tender side and would watch chick flicks for his sister, but why had he killed her shoes, then? The hero didn’t kill the heroine’s shoes in those movies. Yet in every other way, Preston definitely fit the role of hero. She shook her head. She wasn’t in a chick flick and needed to stop any fantasies about Preston Steele before they started.

  “In the show, they get stranded somewhere in the jungle like … I think Columbia, maybe. Anyway, she’s wearing heels, and he cuts off the heel and she freaks, like you just did.” He smiled as if she were cute or something. “And she says all shrilly, ‘Those were …’ some fancy brand, and he says, ‘Well, now they’re practical.’”