The wind died, and for a moment there was silence. But I kept my eyes closed, clinging to the happy, warm images of my friends. And that’s when I heard it.
A motor. A boat engine. Far off, but getting closer. Undoubtedly getting closer. My heart slammed into my rib cage like a rock off a slingshot and my head popped up, eyes wide. It had been so long since I’d heard anything other than the sounds of nature, I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. I scanned the water anyway. It was already much darker than it had been just moments before, but I saw the shadow of something moving out there on the ocean. Saw the
white foam of wake made by a vessel cutting through the water. My heart leapt and I was on my feet.
It was Upton. It had to be. He was coming to save me. I lifted my arms over my head and waved them around like a crazy person. Which, of course, I was. A few hours ago I’d been talking to a dead guy.
The boat drew closer. Soon I was able to make out its shape. It was a small speedboat, nothing fancy, and there were two people at the helm. Not one, but two. And neither of them was Upton. I would have recognized his shadow. The line of his shoulders. The lift of his chin.
No. It was the kidnappers. They were back. My hope fizzled like a fourth of July sparkler being shoved into sand. If they were back, they were here to kill me. I looked down at my pile of apples and my jaw clenched with grim determination. It was up to me. I was the only one who could save me now. Using my handy bandana sack, I gathered up the apples and jumped down to the sand to greet my executioners. I had promised myself I would be ready when they returned, and I was. But knowing that didn’t stop nervous bile from rising up in my throat.
My plan had to work. It just had to.
They beached their boat and hopped out into the shallow water. Their faces were still obscured by wiry beards and dark sunglasses. As they slowly approached, I reached into my sack of apples with my bandaged hand and drew one out, clutching it behind my back.
“Well, well. Look who’s a little survivor,” Red Beard said.
They were both smiling.
Had
Upton doubled their money? Were they here to bring me back? My heart pounded with adrenaline, hope,
and exhaustion. I gripped the apple as tightly as I could, holding on to it for dear life. As if it could save me. I hoped it could save me.
“Where’s Upton?” I asked, trying to remain positive.
They laughed. Red Beard drew a sweaty hand across his face, wiping under his nose. Both of them, in fact, were beaded with perspiration. Their fake beards were probably itchy and suffocating. Why did they feel the need to disguise themselves? I barely knew anyone on St. Barths. And if they were going to kill me, I’d never have the chance to identify them anyway.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, my heart pounding so hard now I shook with each beat.
“Your little boyfriend never paid,” Mr. Stilted English said.
A gray cloud obscured my vision, and it took a long moment for me to realize it wasn’t actually there. That I had just come this close to fainting dead away.
“He . . . but you went to him? You told him where I was, what you were going to do?” I rambled. Behind me, the apple jumped around in my hand. Upton couldn’t leave me here for dead. He just couldn’t.
But obviously, he had. What motive did these two have to lie? Hot tears welled up in my eyes. How could I have believed Upton when he told me he loved me? I had believed he wanted to be my boyfriend. I had almost slept with him. Sawyer was right about him. He didn’t deserve a girl like me.
“He decided it was a better idea to go to the police,” Mr. Stilted English told me, taking a step forward.
My desperate rambling thoughts were brought up short. Okay.
Well, maybe Upton wasn’t all bad. Going to the police wasn’t as bad as ignoring the situation completely, right? But if he really loved me, why bother? Why not just pay?
“How do you know he went to the police?” I asked. Not that I cared. I was just stalling for time. The longer we stood there, the more the real reason for their visit sank in. Somewhere, one of them was concealing a gun. The gun that held the bullet that was going to kill me.
There was another laugh. “Because we
are
the police.” Stilted English finally lost the stilt and went back to his regular voice, his French accent.
“Surprise, Miss Brennan!” Red Beard added.
In a rush, I realized who they were. Red Beard was Officer Marshall, and Stilted English was Officer Gravois. The cops from the hospital. The ones who had found my assertions so amusing. The ones who assumed I was a spoiled brat who was not, in fact, being stalked by a murderer.
They
were going to murder me. Oh, the irony.
The two of them approached me now, slowly, predatorily, like lions stalking a gazelle. I took an instinctive step back. Officer Marshall stopped in his tracks.
“Wait. She has something behind her back.”
Gravois lifted his dark glasses and eyed me with suspicion. “What are you hiding, eh? Some kind of homemade weapon?”
I let out a shout as I flung the apple at Marshall with all my might. Thanks to my weakened state, it made a pathetic arc in the air and landed in his ready hand. He snorted a laugh.
“What did you think you were going to do? Knock me out with your superhuman strength?”
He tossed the apple up and down a few times. I watched him play his little game and held my breath. He was going to throw it over his shoulder, or down on the ground. What had I been thinking? This was never going to work. What were the chances that he would actually—
Then he lifted the apple to his lips and took a bite.
My heart leapt with joy. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment. Right now he was chewing on poison. The juice trickled down his chin. How long would it take before he keeled over dead? I had to be ready. Had to use the moment of surprise to take on kidnapper number two. Marshall chewed, swallowed, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
Come on manchineel. Work your magic.
But nothing happened. He just licked his lips and tossed the rest of the apple in the sand. Nothing.
My shoulders sagged along with all my hopes. Had Mrs. Ryan been lying when she told us about the dangers of the tree? Was she just that morbid that she wanted to scare us for no reason? Or had I been wrong about the tree? Was it just some ordinary crab apple?
“Say your good-byes, kid,” Officer Marshall said.
He drew a gun out of the back waistband of his pants and pointed it at my chest. My breath stopped in my throat. These were the last few beats of my heart. The cold sand beneath my feet was the last thing I would ever feel.
I was about to close my eyes and see whatever it was my subconscious wanted me to see in my last moments, when suddenly Officer Marshall’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground. His whole body started to shake, and drool poured out the corner of his mouth. Both Gravois and I were so stunned that for a moment, neither one of us moved. But then my eyes flicked to the gun, which was now twitching like mad, Marshall’s fingers curled around the handle. Gravois saw it, too, and at the same time, we lunged.
Except I had another surprise in store for him. Rather than lunging for the gun, I grabbed my piece of driftwood. Gravois was still struggling to release the gun from his buddy’s convulsing grip when I ran over to him, wielding the driftwood like a baseball bat. I was mere inches away when he finally freed the gun. He looked up, and his eyes widened. He started to lift the weapon as I let out a guttural scream and swung. The driftwood slammed into his skull with a satisfying crack. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle and he slumped over the now still body of his partner. I stood over them, my chest heaving with each and every breath, as I started to comprehend what I had just done.
At least one of them was dead. Maybe both. I had just saved my own ass. Who needed Upton Freaking Giles?
I turned and ran for the boat, tripping through the water. All I had to do was shove the thing off the sand, climb in, and get the hell out of here. We couldn’t be that far from St. Barths if they’d taken this tiny vessel from there. I could find it. I’d have to find it. I clutched the sleek white side of the boat and was about to start pushing it away
from the shore, when I glanced inside and my heart stopped.
The keys were not in the ignition.
“
Ma petite!
Where do you think you are going?”
The voice sent a sickening shiver down my spine. I turned around and swallowed hard. Gravois pushed himself to his knees and rose shakily to his feet. He held his head with one hand and lifted the gun with the other.
Dammit, Reed. What was the one lesson learned from watching all those horror movies with Scott and his friends?
The villains are never as dead as you think they are.
Suddenly, there was a huge roar, like another boat bearing down on me from behind. Gravois’s jaw dropped. All my hair blew in front of my face, whipping into my eyes. Disoriented, I felt my pulse start to race. Gravois still had a gun, and now I couldn’t even see.
As the roaring grew louder, I was knocked off my feet by a stiff wind. A gunshot split the air and I gasped in a breath before dropping down under the water. The cool waves enveloped my hot skin as I scrambled backward into deeper water. Once I was there I stayed down. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew Gravois was shooting. If I stayed beneath the surface, maybe he wouldn’t be able to get a good shot.
Shoving my hair out of my face under the water, I blinked my eyes open and looked around. I could make out the fuzzy outline of the underside of the boat, and I started to swim around it. If I could just
put the vessel between myself and Gravois, I’d at least have something to take the bullets for me.
Another shot. The bullet whizzed by me underwater, sending up a cloud of sand. My heart caught. I swam with all my might, my lungs bursting from the strain, and grappled my way to the other side of the boat. When I got there, I burst through the surface. I had to. My needy lungs were begging for air. The sky was completely dark now and I was crouched in shallow water between my jetty and the boat. From the shore, I heard shouts, but the roaring was gone. What the hell was going on? Who was shouting? Had Marshall woken up? And what the hell
was
that roaring sound?
Another shot sounded and I sucked in a breath. Down I went. I huddled next to the boat underwater. Gravois was obviously wasn’t going to quit until he finished the job. What was I going to do? I couldn’t stay down here forever. Couldn’t even stay for another ten seconds. I needed to breathe. I needed to live. I needed a miracle.
And then, strong arms closed around me from behind and yanked me toward the surface. I let out a scream of terror, thrashing my legs and arms, trying to get free. But it was no use. Gravois had me. His grip was so tight I couldn’t even begin to move. It was over. I had tried. I had tried so hard to stay alive these last few days, but it was over. At least I would go down fighting.
“Reed. Reed! Stop! It’s me! Calm down!”
Suddenly, all my limbs went limp. I hung there, like a rag doll, his strong arms around my chest.
“Upton?” I whimpered.
His breath was ragged in my ear, but I could smell him. The clean, island scent of him. I leaned back against him, tears coursing down my face.
“You’re not really here,” I sniffled. “I’m hallucinating again.”
“Can you stand?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer. He placed me down in the water and my rubbery knees managed to keep me up. He kept one hand on my back as he walked around to face me, tilting my chin up so I was looking into his too-blue eyes. He had reddish-brown stubble all over his chin and cheeks and looked exhausted. Gray circles under his eyes. A pallor about his once tan skin.
“You’re not hallucinating,” he said. “I’m here.”
My entire body collapsed. Deflated. Every ounce of adrenaline, gone. Upton caught me in his arms as my frail, parched, dried-up body heaved with sobs.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay now,” Upton said.
I felt his arm slip under my back and he scooped me from the water as if I weighed nothing. He lifted one of my arms so that it was slung around his neck and I curled against his chest. I could hear his heart. He was really here. He’d come for me. He’d finally come.
As Upton walked up the beach, I blinked my eyes open. Several men surrounded Gravois and Marshall, securing handcuffs
to their wrists. Marshall appeared to be alive, though still unconscious. I hadn’t managed to kill either of them. Which I guess was a good thing. Although at that moment I wanted them dead. Wanted them dead more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
“Where’re we going?” I asked as Upton walked away from my jetty, sticking to dry land.
“Helicopter,” he said.
My head lolled back and I saw the blades overhead, jet-black against the dark sky. So this was where the roar had come from. That was what had knocked me off my feet. Upton handed me to another man who was crouching inside the helicopter. He deposited me on a vinyl bench and took my wrist between his fingers, feeling my pulse.
“Have you eaten anything since you’ve been here?” he asked.
I shook my head no.
“Drank anything?” he asked.
“Some water. Evian,” I added needlessly.
“First thing we have to do is get her hydrated,” the man said.
Upton had climbed in behind me and was sitting at the end of the bench. I felt dizzy lying on my back and sat up, curling against him.
“You really should lie down, miss,” the man said.
I let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl.
“Can’t you start an IV from here?” Upton asked, laying a protective arm down my side.
There was a pause. “Certainly, sir.”
“What’s going on?” I croaked as someone barked an order and someone else rummaged around behind me. All I could see from my point of view was the white cloth of Upton’s shirt, his forearm, and his big, silver watch. I didn’t care to see anything else. If I could stay in this position forever, that would be just fine.