Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You should have told me your friends are a bunch of modern-day pirates,” I said as I walked into the hut, dragging in sand on my legs that I didn’t care to shake off before coming in. I yanked my soaked shorts off with so much anger the fabric scorched my thighs.
“They are not pirates. They are just”—Hunter exhaled, shaking his head—“people Edward and I should have avoided.”
Hunter sat on the end of the bed, elbows pressing into his knee, the good hand gripping his hair. He hadn’t looked up at me since I returned.
“He is coming back, but not alone, right?” I asked, discarding the wet T-shirt I wore on the floor.
Back on the beach, I had sat unmoving in the water, watching Tom getting on his boat, lifting the dinghy to it, and the asswipe had the nerve to wave me a farewell.
I should have flipped him off, but my arms were heavy with dread.
Hunter lay back, rubbing his face and exhaling a long sigh. “Yes. And probably soon.”
From where I stood, it was apparent Hunter needed rest, and maybe I shouldn’t be grilling him right now, but goddamnit, I was mad and scared. “What does soon mean? Tonight? Tomorrow? In one week?”
I couldn’t believe this was actually my life right now.
It must be because I didn’t forward all those chain letters to my friends years ago, and now the promised curse had caught up with me.
First, I barely survived the storm, then almost overdosed on snake venom (okay, fine, that one was on me), and now I had to deal with a questionable man who had no decency to help people in need and stole from us.
“I don’t know.”
“How much do you owe Tom?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“A little over one hundred thousand.”
“That’d better be rubles and not dollars.”
He released a weak chuckle, which was followed by a low curse. It was unclear if it was because of the pain in his hand, or this situation, or both.
For a brief moment, I debated whether it was safe to give Hunter another penicillin injection.
Instead, I pressed an antibiotic pill out of a blister pack, shook out two Tylenol from a bottle, and sat them on the nightstand next to the mug that still had some water from the morning. “Take the meds and lie in bed.”
Neither of us had eaten since yesterday evening, and even if hunger wasn’t clutching my stomach (fear was doing enough of that job), Hunter and I needed to replenish our strength.
I rubbed the skin of my face with my hands and pulled them over my head, tugging on my hair with frustration.
Anger at Hunter for not being honest with me bubbled up in my chest, but seeing him unwell tamped it down.
I exhaled an aggravated breath like a dragon releasing its steam. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?” I said, keeping my tone cool with difficulty.
“Because you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have met Tom. Ever.” Hunter slowly sat up, and his bloodshot eyes looked everywhere but me. “Who I owe money to is none of your business.”
Ouch. That hurt, but I could deal with it.
Hunter had all the right not to tell me everything about his past. When I asked him what he planned to do once he found the treasure, Hunter mentioned he wanted to pay off the debt.
I just assumed it was credit cards, school loans, or a mortgage, the normal things people owe money on, and not a debt to some thug.
“Maybe your financial situation isn’t my business, but you should have warned me about someone searching for you and the treasure.
I specifically remember asking if someone else was looking for it, but you didn’t answer my question.
You deliberately hid it from me. You owing them money puts me in danger because I’m stuck on this damn island with you.
” I walked to the door but stopped before exiting.
“When Tom returns, we’ll be outnumbered and utterly screwed.
You should have been honest with me about it from the start. ”
“And what would you have done differently if you knew about Tom and my debt to him?”
Nothing. I wouldn’t have slept well at night that was for sure.
“I wouldn’t have used a flare pistol to bring his attention to us.”
Hunter shook his head, then looked at his swollen hand. “It wasn’t you. He was on his way to the island. If not today, he would have come another day.”
I nodded slowly, because Hunter was right, it wasn’t my doing that brought Tom here. And now he had more reasons to come back. If he was on his way to Rarotonga, that meant we had at least eight hours before he returned.
“I’m going to make us something to eat,” I said, and left the hut.
I snatched the spear I had thrown earlier and went to the beach, planning to let out the frustration on the fish. I walked to the dock where a lot of fish liked to congregate, hoping it would be easier to stab one.
What else didn’t Hunter tell me about his life?
Were there more people he owed money to?
Dismay pooled in my gut at the thought I’d let myself fall in love with another man who lied about debt.
Why did Hunter need such a large sum of money?
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and just like Edward, he could have poured all the money into the treasure search. Or worse, gambled it away.
“You’re so stupid,” I muttered.
It took all my strength not to return to the hut and yell at Hunter. It wasn’t the best time for that. Tom was coming back and not alone. Hunter needed to get better so he could help me make a plan—any plan—defensive, offensive, or escape.
One saving grace was that the journals contained no information about what we found, but just a lot of tables with numbers and letters, pointless charts, erroneous markings on the sketched map, riddles, and numerous ideas about where the treasure could be hidden on the island and in the water.
The black stones overrun by snakes camouflaged trunks with doubloons and cut gems, but the bat cave, crammed with loot, was out in the open. Sort of. They had to find it first.
I waded into the water waist-deep and lifted the spear over my shoulder, watching fish meandering near me, ignoring their looming danger.
My eyes darted from one fish to another, unsure which one I should try to catch.
The shaft wasn’t light, and its weight pulled on my muscles.
If I waited any longer, I would drop it.
With a quick move, my arm went down, my body bent forward, my chest hit the water. A wave smacked me in the face.
“Fuck.”
I straightened and wiped saltwater out of my eyes.
The prong missed the fish and stabbed the sand.
I tried again. And again. Several times more.
Yet no fish, just a pulled muscle in my shoulder blade.
The irritation at Hunter now was replaced with annoyance at my inability to catch our fucking dinner.
We needed protein. Eggs would work, but I wanted fish.
Or chicken. I squinted at the beach, where a brown hen pecked at something near the lower underbrush between palm trees.
Nope. I cringed. For some reason, I drew the line at killing a bird.
Fish was okay, but not chicken. Go figure.
Closing my eyes, I went back to the time when I watched Hunter fishing here.
He walked into the water slowly, and after he took his position, he became statue-like, patiently following the prey only with his eyes.
With a quick jerk of his arm, he sent the spear into the water.
Hunter didn’t bend. He also mentioned that refraction caused fish to appear in a different location than they actually were.
Drawing out my arm slowly halfway, I scanned the water for my target, my fingers firmly gripping the shaft. My eyes stalked a slow, large fish. Heart rate quickened. Breathing slowed. I broadened out my arm and readied for the attack.
“Aim lower,” I whispered Hunter’s advice. “Strike just under where you think the fish is.”
I discharged the pole in a quick move, letting it completely out of my fingers. The sharp metal tips pierced the fish.
“Oh my God!” I shrieked with excitement but then scrambled to grab the pole before I lost our dinner to the ocean.
I wished someone besides the chicken on the beach had seen me doing this.
Maybe it was beginner’s luck, but I didn’t care, and the proud feeling inside my chest swelled to the size of a hot air balloon. I caught the fish. With a spear.
I grinned, briefly forgetting about Tom and the trouble coming our way, and lifted my proud catch out of the water. “I’m badass,” I said to the fish. “And you are my dinner.” Shoot. Perhaps it was time to get out of here before sharks smelled the blood, and I turned into their dinner.
I popped into the hut to share my achievement with Hunter, but he was asleep. If he hadn’t been sick earlier, I would have woken him up so we could debate what to do about the earlier visitor and his unavoidable return. But Hunter needed rest to get better, so I let him sleep.
The fire I’d started earlier in the pit became the perfect grilling coals.
I gutted and cleaned the fish, stuffed it with lemon and orange slices, and placed it, wrapped in banana leaves, over the coils.
I couldn’t stop smiling as I collected mangos and avocados, then peeled and diced them.
The fishing triumph boosted my mood, and nothing felt impossible now.
If I could catch dinner on my first try (well, not try, but on the first day), there was nothing stopping me from standing up against Tom and whoever he brought with him.
Unless he showed up alone but with a gun.
Or worse. Not alone, but still with guns.
With Hunter’s current condition, it was one and a half against them (however many that would be).