All Lauren’s hopes of survival rested on a ten-foot-long piece of foam and a man she barely knew. The last part didn’t seem as true as it might’ve when they’d first ended up on the rocky island.
But what she truly knew about him, his life, could fit in a thimble.
She followed his lead, climbing on the front of the board as he’d instructed.
It felt like she’d been swimming for hours when she caught her first glimpse of land.
Lauren pumped her arms until the board crested the wave again for what seemed like the hundredth time. At that height, she caught another glimpse of the mainland.
“Did you see that?” she shouted back to him against wind gusts that made rain pelt her face.
Another wave crashed down hard, and Lauren spun off the board. She swallowed a mouthful of saltwater, gagging. It burned the back of her throat and nose as she struggled to break the surface.
The surf churned her around as if caught during the Pamplona Bull Run in Spain.
When the wave released, she reached bottom, and then crawled up on all fours pushing forward without opening her eyes. Another swell crashed on top of her and churned her upside-down. Oh, God. Max. What would happen to him now? She wouldn’t survive, and he’d be killed. Her head pounded.
Jaden had said he’d save her brother. Why did words from a complete stranger offer so much comfort?
The board rolled, she took a face full of water up her nose and in her mouth. And then everything went black.
Jaden fought the rushing tide. He’d hit bottom. Sand chugged up his nose, in his mouth, his eyes. He coughed up saltwater, shook his head, and tried to get his bearings. He squinted through burning eyes.
The beach.
They were on the beach. Fatigue dragged him down like a shark pulling its prey under water. He rolled onto his side and wiped the sand from his face. Visibility sucked. He couldn’t be sure which shore they’d landed on, or if cartel waited nearby.
Lauren.
Where was she?
There. Not three feet away. She didn’t amount to more than a lump in the surf. His chest tightened. Nothing could happen to her. To his asset, he corrected. She didn’t move. He could barely make out her face. His gut tensed, his neck muscles strained. She had to be okay. For the sake of this mission. The cartel wanted her. He needed to figure out why. In keeping her close, he held the chips.
“Lauren.” His voice came out as a croak, his throat sore from choking on saltwater. The next thing Jaden knew, the surf crashed on top of him again, yanking him back toward the sea. He crawled toward shore, sat straight up, and then did a quick check for signs of more injuries. Legs looked okay. Muscles ached, and he was more tired than when he’d come off a three-month assignment in the jungle, but he was intact. He crawled to Lauren. She was folded over on her side, her chest slightly moving.
He felt for a pulse, got one, and then gently shook her.
Her eyes blinked open. Closed quickly. An inch-long gash scored her forehead above her right eyebrow. Blood pulsed from it.
“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” He couldn’t even think of what he’d do if something bad happened to her. A vise grip squeezed his chest when she didn’t budge.
He sure didn’t plan to leave her out there. No amount of pain would stop him from taking her to the emergency safe house. If they’d landed on the south side of the island as he suspected, Gregory would be waiting at Beachside Condos. Jaden couldn’t get a message to his contact with a dead cell. He hoped like hell Gregory would be ready for them.
Jaden lumbered to his feet and scooped Lauren up. He couldn’t see more than twenty feet in either direction. Chinks of debris flew past his head. If the winds had seemed harsh at sea, they’d more than doubled in velocity on the beach. Moving her out of the surf, he gently lay her down. He hated the thought of leaving her, even for a minute, while looking so defenseless. Damn it.
Leaning closer, he cupped her face in his hands. Her once bright eyes were fading. “I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on her lips.
She didn’t so much as blink.
Nothing on the beach looked familiar, not that he could see far. He battled to orient himself. Suddenly the fact that the island had three hundred and sixty-five beaches sent a jolt down his spine. Jesus, how could he figure out where they were?
They could be on any one of them—not to mention sand was flying everywhere, blurring his vision and burning his eyes.
He coughed up the little crystals that had flooded every orifice.
Turning his back to the sea, he jogged toward palm trees, ignoring the frustration tightening in his chest. Lauren had to be all right. He would find safety. There would be no other choice.
His hands fisted at the thought of the cartel getting to her before he got back. They get to her, and his trail would run cold. But it was more than business that had him needing to take care of her.
Luckily, the beach was small. Just beyond the wall of trees, he stumbled on a road. No cars, but it was better than nothing. He veered right and listened for sounds of life. Anything.
Instead, he got more howling wind, which seemed to be picking up steam with each blow. Coconut trees were already twisting in every direction.
If anything happened to Lauren before he got back, he’d never be able to live with himself. The thought of her exposed out on that beach gnawed at his insides. He told himself professional pride had him desperate to see
