“Felicity!” I called. “What are you doing?”
But she wasn’t listening to me. I watched in sheer terror as she inched her way around the building, her fingers gripping the horizontal wooden slats. This was all my fault. I should never have listened to Cole. What was I thinking?
Felicity braced herself as a rogue wave slammed into her back, then continued her scrabble toward the window. It was so dark, I could hardly make out what she was doing, but I could tell she’d reached the end of the ledge and was climbing higher up the slats. Finally her body jerked inward, and she disappeared into the window. I breathed a sigh of relief.
A few seconds later, she flung open the front door. “What did you do?” I asked. “That was terrifying.”
“There’s a latch that opens the slats for airflow,” she said. “I unhooked it and went through his bedroom window.”
I felt terrible when I saw Jackson sprawled across the couch in his living room, still wearing the muddied clothes he’d had on when he left our bungalow. This was all my fault. How could I have trusted Cole? I knew better.
Felicity bent over his face, slapping his cheeks, to no avail. She put her ear to his chest.
“Oh God, he’s not dead, is he?” I cried.
She shook her head. “Get me some water.”
I extracted one of the bottles of water from my backpack, and she splashed it in his face the same way I’d done to her. He gurgled, but didn’t wake up. “Jackson!” she shouted into his face.
I grabbed the water and dumped it over his head as she pushed him up to sitting, finally eliciting a gasp and splutter. “It’s me,” Felicity said. “You have to wake up. Stella drugged you with that lemonade.” Disoriented, he looked from her to me and back. “It’s okay. We worked it out. I’ll explain everything later. But we have to go. The water’s rising.”
He rested his head on Felicity’s shoulder. “Nope,” she cajoled him. “You have to get up. The hurricane is here, and your father’s trying to kill me.” She turned to me. “Give me a caffeine pill.”
I extracted one of the caffeine pills from the backpack and handed it to her.
“This should wake you up a little.” Felicity placed it on his tongue and helped him wash it down with water. “We have to go now,” she said, sliding her arm around him. I did the same on the other side, and we rose together, standing him precariously on his feet.
“Where are we going?” he asked, groggy.
“There’s an office off of reception where you guys can sleep and wait for the storm to pass,” I said, proud of myself for having a plan. “Cole will be in the wine cellar with me. I’ll make sure he stays away.” No part of me was excited about being stuck in a wine cellar with Cole for however long it took for this storm to pass; nor was I looking forward to the backlash when he discovered Felicity and Jackson were not, in fact, sleeping in their bungalows, but that was the way it had to be. Felicity was probably right that he wouldn’t risk his own life to check on them during the storm or move them to safety, and if he decided to, I’d just have to stop him somehow. I’d gotten us into this mess, and I would have to get us out.
Outside, visibility was so low we could hardly see five feet in front of us. We stumbled down the flooded pier and onto the beach, where the storm surge had buried most of the sand underwater. Palm trees bent under the strain of the wind; the path that led to the main building had turned into a muddy river. As we mounted the stairs that ascended to the pool and lobby, I noticed one of the railings had been pried off, leaving a mess of twisted wood and nails behind.
Lightning flashed as we skirted the pool, illuminating a table and a number of loungers floating among the greenery that blanketed the surface. Somewhere a door banged; something rough and sharp scraped my leg. We moved past the restaurant, around the outside of the building toward the entrance to reception, where I groped desperately along the wall for the door handle until finally I felt something give.
“Got it.” I exhaled, and the door swung in. “If I don’t come back, hide somewhere else.”
Felicity gave me a thumbs-up, and she and Jackson flattened themselves against the outside wall as I stepped inside. The darkness of the lobby was like a blindfold, but at least there was less danger of being swept out to sea or impaled by flying debris. I stood still, listening, straining my eyes to see. But I could make out very little definition in the shadows, and all I could hear was the scratching of a branch against the roof and the wailing wind.
The coast seemed to be clear, but I took a few tentative steps over the tiles to be sure, wincing at the loud squelching of my tennis shoes as I crept toward the wide hallway that led to the restaurant. I gasped as my hips collided with something solid and smooth—a leather couch, I determined, feeling along it with my fingers. Which meant I wasn’t moving in the direction I thought I was. Without a wall to guide me, I was completely lost in the dark. I tried to picture the couch in the room to orient myself, but the room was full of furniture arranged into different sitting areas. It was hopeless.
I inched backward in the effort of retracing my steps to the door to find my bearings, but quickly slammed into a heavy table, sending a vase crashing to the floor. I flinched. Even the noise of the storm wouldn’t drown that out. Somewhere a door banged open, and heavy footsteps trod over the tiles. My heart
