"... say we just get it over..."
Slowly, I sat down on my butt and swung my legs around in the sand so my feet were in front of me.
".. . is true, we could just get..."
Holding my breath, I pushed myself up to standing, sidestepping a bit for balance.
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". .. no idea what she's talking about..."
I took a step forward, not knowing what the hell I would find up ahead, but knowing it had to be better than what I had here.
"... but that fa-- Hey!"
My heart seized at the sound of his shout. Within two seconds the gun was pressed into my skull again, right against one of my many fresh wounds. The pain was so sharp I choked out a cry.
""Where the hell do you think you're going?" Mr. Stilted English spat.
"Please! Please, don't," I cried.
"Jesus. If we're goingto do this let's just do it," Red Beard said.
"Fine."
I waited for the gun to go off. Wondered if I would have time to feel the pain.
And then he released me.
"We're gonna go talk to that pretty-boy billionaire of yours," Red Beard said. "Good luck not freezing to death out here."
I heard them moving off through the sand and relief rushed through me. All my emotions welled to the surface and I started to cry. Bawl, actually, but I no longer cared. I just let it all out. I was alive. That was all that mattered. For the m
oment, I was alive.
The boat's engine roared to life. I was still crying when it faded to nothing in the distance. They were going to talk to Upton. Upton was goingto save me.
Everything was goingto be all right.
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CALL FOR HELP
Or not.
As soon as the boat's engine was out of earshot, I realized the hopelessness of the situation. I wasn't dead. That was something. But I was standing on the middle of a beach, blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back. It was the middle of the night and I was wearing only a skimpy minidress, with nothing to protect me from the cold breeze that was kicking up off the water. I assumed the island was deserted, which meant no one was about to stumble upon me and help me. But there could be animals. Huge, scary animals that liked to tear apart human flesh.
Once again, my heart started to pound.
"Okay . . . okay ... all you've got to do is keep yourself alive until Upton pays those guys off," I said to myself, my chest heaving up and down with my panicked breathing. But my brain wouldn't stop. How far was I from St. Barths? How long would it take them to get there,
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to find him, to do the deal? I tilted my head back, trying to see something, anything, through the slit of an opening at the bottom of the blindfold. All I could see were my bare feet. My shoes were gone. Not that they were exactly survival gear, but still. It would have been nice to have them. I wondered when they had fallen off. In the boat? In the water? I couldn't remember. I hadn't exactly been thinking about footwear while those guys were talking about dumping my body.
The wind kicked up and I took a deep breath. First things first. I had to get this blindfold off so I could assess my situation. Find shelter. I sat down carefully, my arms still tethered behind my back, and lay back in the cool sand. Digging my head back as hard as I could into the ground, I squirmed forward down the beach, trying to dislodge the blindfold. The knot edged up a little bit. My heart leapt with hope and I squirmed some more. And some more. The knot edged up ever so slightly again, this time hitting the bruise left when Mr. Stilted English had slammed my head into the floor. Hatred and anger surged through me and I squirmed even harder. By the time I felt the knot moving up the back of my skull again, I was sweating from exertion.
But at least I wasn't cold anymore.