My feet sink into sand.
Did I take a wrong step toward the beach instead of walking in a straight line to the airport?
Or did I make it?
I take another and another.
The concrete of the runway greets my feet.
I smile for the first time all day. I bite my bottom lip as the grin spreads.
My lip—Langston’s kiss.
No, stop thinking about him, brain.
Focus.
I made it to the runway. There are no airplanes stored here, but I’ve spotted a handful of planes landing on this island while I’ve spent my time here. There are planes that fly here that don’t belong to Langston Pearce.
There will be a plane if I wait here long enough for one to land.
Tomorrow, come find me, huntress.
Langston’s words ring in my ear.
I don’t have time to wait—to get lucky.
I make my own luck.
There is a small building near the runway. It looks more like an outhouse than an actual building, but I have to try something.
When I get to the entrance, I realize there isn’t even a door.
I exhale loudly.
I’m not counting on there being anyone inside, or any electronics to call for help.
I step inside anyway.
The room is dark. I search the wall with my hand, but I don’t find a light switch.
I should just leave, but it’s the middle of the night.
The explosions and gunfire stopped—not that that’s comforting. It means Langston is probably looking for me now. If I head into the jungle again, I have to deal with jaguars, venomous snakes, poisonous spiders.
I need sleep if I’m going to have any energy to face tomorrow. This tiny building is better than sleeping on the jungle floor.
There isn’t a door, but there are at least three walls to protect me.
I lie down on the floor and curl up in a ball as I hear rain starting overhead.
Please, let the roof be waterproof.
I cross my fingers, squinting my eyes up at the dark roof.
After five minutes pass and I’m not wet, I realize my luck might have changed. At least the roof is holding.
A soft smile spreads as I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep from exhaustion with the help of the lightly tapping rain. The rain will make it harder for Langston to find me. And he won’t think I made it all the way to the runway in one night.
Tonight, I’ll sleep soundly. Tomorrow…
A buzzing wakes me up.
I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I’ve been sleeping in a closet, and this room isn’t much bigger than that, but it’s not Langston’s closet.
I moan, wishing a buzzing noise would stop and let me sleep. It’s still dark outside. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but it can’t be more than a couple of hours at best.
More buzzing.
Wait—buzzing!
There is something electronic in this room. It’s probably just a battery-powered alarm clock, but I can hope.
I move onto all fours as I pat around the floor, searching for the source of the buzzing.
I feel a strap.
A bag!
It’s sitting on a small chair in the corner.
I pick up the bag and put it on my lap, as I furiously search inside.
My heart races. Could I really find a phone? A way to make contact with the outside world and escape?
I touch a piece of glass.
My heart thumps to a stop.
It’s too big to be a phone.
I pull out the device—an iPad.
My heart flutters, not knowing if I should be elated or crushed.
I click the home button to get the screen to light up—praying that the iPad has a cellular connection. I doubt there is wifi.
Please, please, please.
I stare at the screen after the split second it takes to light up. I silence the alarm buzzing the device.
My eyes dart to the upper right corner.
It has cellular reception.
Thank god.
I pull up the phone app and am about to call Waylon when my fingers suddenly stop.
I don’t know what island I’m on. I care about Waylon. He’s a smart man, but he’s never had to worry about money, never gotten scrappy or creative, never dealt with dangerous people. The most he’ll be able to do is call the police or FBI to search for me.
By then, Langston will have found me and moved me to another island.
But who else do I have on my side?
Enzo?
No, he’d take Langston’s side.
Kai?
She’s sweet, but becoming a leader has made her tougher. She will do whatever is in the best interest of the empire she controls, which means not pissing off one of her best employees—Langston. She would help me and then rat me out to him.
Zeke?
He’s always hated me. He wouldn’t help.
Siren…?
Siren! She’s my answer. Yes, she and Langston have a weird relationship that I will never understand. They say they are just friends, but I’ve always wondered if Zeke and Siren have an open relationship. There is no way she and Langston got so close without fucking each other’s brains out.
That might seem to make her the last person on earth I should call to help me, but because Siren is so close to Langston, she will call him out on his bullshit. There is no way any of them: Enzo, Kai, Zeke, or Siren would be okay with Langston kidnapping me and threatening to kill me.
But three out of the four will stand by Langston because he’s one of them. Sure, they’ve been nice to me over the years, but I’ve never been one of them—not truly.
Siren is the only one who will put a stop to this.
I dial Siren’s number from memory. Most people in this day and age don’t have many numbers memorized. Call it a skill I learned from being poor, but you never know when you are going to not have a phone, or when you’re going to be in a dangerous situation and need someone’s help.
Like right now.
I don’t expect Siren to answer—I’m calling from an unknown number. And it’s the middle of the night, or at least, it’s the middle of the night in whatever time zone I’m in.
“Hello?” Siren answers on the second ring.
I let out a long, steadying breath, putting all of my trust into this woman.
“I need your help.”
2
Langston
I watch Liesel run away from me.
Somehow, I keep my feet firmly planted in the sand.
I try to ignore all of her features—her toned legs, tight ass, feminine curve of her hips, long untamed hair. It’s like all of her features were specially designed just for me. She’s my ultimate temptation; one I will never succumb to.
I kissed her to wake her up from her nightmare. That’s it. That’s all that kiss was. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t losing control. It wasn’t a slip.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Liesel keeps running down the beach, around the edge of the island, until the jungle brush blocks my view. I don’t know if she stays on the beach or bolts into the forest. She’s gone, and I have no idea if she’s coming back.
My throat dries, turning into ash at that thought. She has to come back. I don’t have all the information I need from her.
Married.
That’s what she said. She’s married to that old fucker.