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“How long have you been Popov’s…hitman?” Curiosity overrides common sense, and I chance a glance at Saint. I want him to know I haven’t forgotten their conversation before the shit hit the fan.
He slouches back, impassive to my question. “Why do you want to know this?”
I pause from sewing him up, startled he asked me this. “Because I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I don’t understand anything.”
“I’m doing this because that’s what someone like me does. I’m not a good man, so don’t try to find redeeming qualities about me. There are none,” he spits. But I don’t believe him. I wouldn’t be here if what he says is true.
I continue stitching him up, my mind racing. I know it’s my funeral, but I need to know. “Who…who is Zoey?” I whisper, biting my lip as I know how this will end.
Her name is the only thing with the ability to make him grunt out in pain. He grips my fingers tightly. “We’re done.” I don’t know if he’s referring to the stitches or the conversation. Either way, he recoils from my hand and ties a knot in the thread himself. It appears I’m finished playing nurse.
Thankfully, I am done sewing him up.
He snares a gauze pad from the first-aid kit and rips it open. He is clearly angry with me for asking him what I did, which just makes me all the more curious. He slaps the gauze over his wound, sticking it down so it’s covered.
Even though he’s unsteady on his feet, he stands, gathering his balance before he walks away.
Sighing, I’m disappointed in his response. We very well may be the only people on this island, which means we’ll have to work together to figure out a way to get off.
Packing up the first-aid kit, I take a quick look around to see if anything else survived. I don’t see anything, but I’m hoping some of our stuff may eventually wash up on shore. Saint is nowhere to be seen, so I decide to gather whatever I can to make an SOS signal.
Dawn is approaching, and now that the adrenaline has worn off, I realize I’m shivering. My dress hangs off one shoulder, thanks to Kazimir’s rough hands. I also don’t have on any underwear. Thankfully, my bra remains unscathed, but overall, I look like I belong on this island—a perfect castaway.
Reaching for Saint’s long-sleeved shirt, I slip it over my head, ignoring the scent clinging to the soft material. It stops mid-thigh, which is perfect as I don’t feel as exposed. Blowing out a breath, I gather some rocks from along the shoreline. This is going to take me all day, so I decide to venture uphill and into the thick jungle.
The towering trees and dense foliage mean I don’t stray too far as I’m afraid I’ll get lost. I gather whatever I can and return to the shoreline half a dozen times. I am nowhere near collecting enough supplies, but I refuse to give up.
The sun slowly rises over the horizon, the vibrant beams skimming the tranquil blue water. The crystal clear water allows me to see the schools of fish swimming through the colorful coral even from this distance. It really is a sight. Too bad I’m stranded out here with someone who probably won’t ever speak to me again.
“What are you doing?” Saint asks, proving me wrong.
Turning over my shoulder, I refuse to appease my curiosity of watching his skin glisten under the rising sun and look into his eyes and nothing else. “I’m making an SOS,” I reply as though it’s a no-brainer. “Maybe we should start a fire?”
“Don’t bother,” he says, raining on my parade.
Spinning around, I place my hands on my hips, unappreciative of his negativity. “How will a passing plane know we’re in trouble?”
He does a quick appraisal of my new attire but doesn’t address the fact I’m wearing his clothes. “There will be no passing planes. Or ships for that matter. This place is off the grid. No one has been here for years.”
I’m suddenly filled with dread. “You don’t know that,” I argue, but a small part of me agrees with him.
“No, I don’t know for certain, but after a quick look around, it’s safe to assume we’re the only people here. I found a small hut, but it’s been empty for a long time. There are some things in there, but judging by the appearance, it was left behind years ago.”
“Years?” I gasp, shaking my head, unbelieving. “Where are we?”
Saint’s cheeks billow as he exhales. “My guess is we’re somewhere near Malta. We left Egypt roughly two days ago. There is no way Kazimir was headed back to Russia, so I think we’ve turned off course. The fish and coral are a sure sign that we’re still in the Mediterranean Sea. Originally, we were headed to Cyprus, and from there, we were going to navigate around Turkey and sail the Black Sea. Once we hit Ukraine, we weren’t far from a port in Russia.”
My mouth gapes open because this is the most information he’s given me since this nightmare began.
“Seven days, that was how long this journey was originally supposed to take.” The frustration is clear in his tone. “But now, I have no fucking idea.”
He doesn’t need to say it. I know what he’s probably thinking. If I had just been obedient, none of this would have happened. But I don’t regret a thing. If I didn’t do what I did, I would be in Russia right now as the personal slave of some mobster.
We may not know where we are, but at least I’m free.
“So what do we do now?” I ask, refusing to just give up.
“Let’s hope some of our stuff washes up. I don’t think we capsized too far away, so I hope the current works in our favor.”
