LITMIR.BIZ

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source of fresh water. He whacked it in half and let the end drip into his palm. The liquid ran clear, so he lifted it to his lips to taste. It was fine. He drank a few mouthfuls and passed the vine to her.

      After two days at sea, they couldn’t get enough fresh water. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. When she returned the vine, he quenched his thirst in greedy gulps. They drank until there was nothing left.

      Logan had been worried that they’d die of dehydration on the raft, despite his assurances to the contrary. He was still worried about it. He’d dismissed her idea to drink urine, but at one point he’d been tempted. Anything to get his mouth wet.

      He lifted his gaze to the sun-dappled canopy overhead. He estimated it was early afternoon. They were burning daylight.

      She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree trunk. He couldn’t expect her to hike through the jungle all day without proper shoes, on a mostly empty stomach, after last night’s grueling swim. She didn’t have his training, his muscle mass, or his stamina. It was a miracle she’d come this far.

      Instead of badgering her, he let her rest. He spent the next few minutes exploring their immediate surroundings. The island was a haven for birds and flying insects. Mosquitos were a constant threat. Ferns and elephant plant grew wild.

      He stumbled upon a tree with bumpy green fruits, similar to avocados. The branches were too high to reach, but he picked one off the ground and tucked it into his pants pocket. Then he examined the other trees in the area. He didn’t see any more fruit. A crow-sized bird kept flitting about overhead, squawking in distress. After a cursory glance upward, he noticed what appeared to be a bird’s nest in a crook between two branches.

      He climbed the tree and hit the jackpot. Three eggs. He secured them in his shirt pocket before he descended. When he returned, Cady was on her feet. She was hopping around, swatting at her neck and shoulders.

      Ants.

      That was the problem with taking a break in the jungle: ants. He helped brush the insects off her bare back, hiding a smile.

      She bent over to shake out her curls. “I can still feel them in my hair.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “You don’t look sorry,” she grumbled.

      “Only because I found some eggs.” He took the green fruit out of his pocket. “And a tree full of these.”

      She snatched it from him. “This is a breadfruit.”

      “How do you know?”

      “I’m a chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve studied the local produce.”

      “Can we eat it raw?”

      “It’s not good raw. You cook it like a yam or a potato.”

      “I’d eat a potato raw.”

      She handed the breadfruit back to him, shrugging. It was rock hard with a thick skin. He needed to make a fire anyway. It was safer to boil the eggs, if they could. His mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal. Any kind of meal.

      “Are you ready?” he asked.

      “I guess.”

      They continued uphill. His injured knee slowed him down considerably, so she kept up with him pretty well. The foliage thinned out as they ascended, which made the hike easier. He increased the pace, sensing they were near the summit. Soon they broke through the canopy and he could see the island’s high point.

      A quarter of a mile later, they were there. She sat on a flat rock at the peak, trying to catch her breath. He stood and took in the panoramic view.

      It was majestic.

      Stark, remote, dizzying and majestic.

      He couldn’t see any other islands nearby, just an endless stretch of calm blue water. They were all alone on a big rock in the middle of the ocean. The summit was at the south end, judging by the position of the sun. They’d landed on the west side, which boasted one small, protected cove. The rest of that coastline was sheer cliffs and crashing waves. It was extremely inhospitable, possibly unapproachable. Sharp points jutted up from the sea around the shore like protective daggers.

      The eastern side of the island was less severe, with gentler slopes and softer edges. It had a sprawling white-sand beach, framed by dozens of coconut trees. Beyond that, a sparkling expanse of crystal-blue water, with tide pools and an extensive coral reef system.

      It was a fisherman’s paradise—but largely inaccessible, even by boat. There was no convenient shoring area. The island was small, only about five miles long and two miles wide. Getting around on foot wouldn’t be a problem. He spotted a craggy rock formation to the north, with what appeared to be fresh water cascading down its edge.

      Overall, Logan was pleased. This spot was like a private tropical getaway, untouched by human hands. People paid big money to vacation at secluded resorts and nature preserves. He could survive here a few weeks.

      The company wasn’t bad, either.

      He glanced down at Cady, gauging her reaction. She wasn’t admiring the view or counting the island’s resources. She was weeping. Tears rolled down her pretty face. She wiped them away, sniffling.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “What’s wrong?” she repeated, incredulous. She gestured to the deserted island and the open ocean all around them. “There’s nothing here!”

      His stomach clenched with regret. Of course she was disappointed; she’d been hoping for a rescue that wouldn’t come and inhabitants that didn’t exist. She didn’t care what the island had to offer, other than a way out. She only saw what it lacked: visitors, conveniences, transportation and neighboring islands.

      Logan didn’t blame her for being upset. She hadn’t signed up for this. She’d been kidnapped, traumatized and lost at sea. Now they were on dry land, but still completely isolated. She didn’t want to stay here and battle the elements. She wanted to go home.

      Instead of escaping her nightmare, she was stuck in it.

      With him.

       Chapter 6

      What was wrong? Was he serious?

      She couldn’t believe he’d asked that. He’d lost his damned mind. He was standing at the summit of this bug-infested hellhole like the lord of his domain. He wore a relaxed expression, as if the gut-wrenching view invigorated him.

      “We’re stranded on a deserted island. You’re not disturbed by that?”

      He raked a hand through his hair, scowling. He didn’t look tired, even though they’d hiked for miles. Sweat dampened his face and shirt, but he wasn’t winded. She felt like she might faint from overexertion. He seemed unaffected by the climb. “I’m trained to stay calm in emergency situations, and to follow a specific survival protocol. You see a deserted island, but I see lifesaving resources.”

      “I see a jungle fortress surrounded by sharks.”

      He nodded, as if this was a fair assessment. Then he pulled out his phone and checked for service. Yeah, right. Shaking his head, he put it away. “I’m sorry. I should have tried to manage your expectations better.”

      “My expectations?”

      “I assumed the island was uninhabited, but I didn’t want to demotivate you.”

      “You didn’t want to demotivate me,” she repeated dully. She’d turned into a parrot. She was a jungle parrot sidekick in a shredded red dress, with leaves for shoes.

      None of this seemed real.

      Her stomach dropped as she remembered what he’d said about the possibility of a rescue. She’d been dubious about his claims,

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