“Thank you,” Ben said, the tight spring of tension uncoiling inside him.
“Don’t dawdle, boy.” The captain undid the ropes tying the boat to the dock. He gave Ben a succinct nod. Ben wondered why the old man had a change of heart. Whatever the reason, Ben was glad. “If we hurry, we might beat the storm.”
Once they were out on the ocean, the boat’s small motor humming over the sounds of lapping waves, Ben’s gaze strayed to the small window. He watched lightning zigzag into the sea. In good weather, in daylight, the trip to the private island took an hour. With rain, wind, waves, and the black of night—it would take much longer if they made it at all.
Cold fear made his gut clench.
What if he was already too late?
Eight
Santos checked his wetsuit and then put on the dive hood. He pulled on his dive boots and then his shoulder holster. He checked his .45. Fully loaded. Ready to make his problems go away. He slipped it into the gun holster.
He went to the back of the boat, opened the hold, and pushed the Jet Ski into the water. A few minutes earlier, he’d circled the island and noted the only building—a three-story house. He sure as hell couldn’t tie up his boat to the pier and walk to the house without being seen.
The storm was already letting loose, and he knew he’d lose visibility once the wind and rain picked up. He’d have to land further up the beach, far enough away not to be seen. If he ran all the way and found easy entry into the house, he just might get there before the storm unleashed its full fury.
Santos waded down into the water and climbed aboard the Jet Ski. At least the thunder would cover the sound of his engine. He wheeled the watercraft around and hit the accelerator.
“How far?” shouted Ben. The roar of the wind and the slap of water against the boat nearly drowned out his words. The cabin was stifling and hot, but at least it protected them from the storm.
Captain Wise shrugged, his attention on the gauges, and his grip tight on the wheel. “In fair weather, about fifteen minutes.”
“And in this foul weather?”
“Don’t know.”
Ben looked out the window and saw nothing but blackness. How the Captain knew his destination much less how far they were from it boggled the mind.
His gaze sought the dark ahead, hoping to catch some glimmer of land or light. It was like looking into the gaping abyss of hell. If he didn’t arrive in time to stop Santos, he’d never forgive himself.
For what seemed like the fiftieth time, he tried to text Hayley. And for the fiftieth time he received the “text failed” notification. He hadn’t been able to call her directly. And he’d been trying to since he found that text. Logan’s fucking landline didn’t work, either. It seemed the incoming storm had cut off communication with the island. He hadn’t even been able to get to through to Logan using the ship’s radio.
“A few minutes more,” promised the captain.
Hurry, damn it, thought Ben, fear churning in his stomach. Hurry!
The night sky lit up ominously as lightning crackled along the nebulous clouds. The once blue ocean had turned black, churning with whitecaps that looked gray against the moonless night. The rolling tide had carried off a lounge chair that had been sitting on the sandy beach. Even though the humid air was warm, Hayley shivered. A deep sense of foreboding had fallen over her since the clouds had rolled in. She tried to shake it off.
His arms enfolded her from behind. “What are you thinking about?”
“If this storm will sink our island.”
“It won’t. I’ve checked the weather reports. Most of this mess will blow past us in a few hours.”
“Until then?”
His hand went inside her robe and cupped her breast. “I’m sure we can find ways to pass the time.”
Hayley tilted her head sideways and leaned back into his embrace as his warm mouth connected with her neck. Moisture gathered between her thighs along with a dull ache pulsating with need. It was as if her body was trying to make up for the six months of distance she’d put between them. She turned in his arms and untied the soft, terry cloth robe he wore, licking her lips with satisfaction as his erection eagerly greeted her hand.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said.
He dipped his head, his mouth dancing across her lips. She parted for him, relishing the taste of his tongue as it thrust between her teeth. Being in Logan’s arms, she cussed herself for letting him go in the first place. She’d let pride and stupidity get in the way of her ultimate happiness.
The howling wind, the roar of the ocean, and the explosions of thunder only added to her desperate need.
“Logan,” she whispered then moaned as his fingers moved lower, sliding between the slick folds of her sex as she stroked his length with hers. He scooped her into his arms and took her to the bed.
Then she completely forgot about the storm.