Tempt (Take It Off #3)(29)
Author: Cambria Hebert

Duke joined our hands. He didn’t say anything, but the skin around his mouth tightened.

“I’m going to go closer,” Nash whispered. “Stay here.”

“Wait,” I whisper-yelled.

He turned back. “If you hear gunshots, run. Run and don’t look back.”

That was probably the scariest thing I ever heard in my entire life. The idea of Nash being shot. The idea of me running away and leaving him behind.

The thought of never seeing him again.

He didn’t give me a chance to protest. When he disappeared, my stomach began to churn violently. The avocado I ate earlier threatened to make a second appearance. Even though the food did make me feel better, I shouldn’t have eaten it. I should have pretended I was too weak to continue and then Nash would have taken me back to the plane. We wouldn’t be here right now… He wouldn’t be out there…

I jumped when he reappeared, his eyes a little wider, a little darker than before. I stood, ripping my hand out of Duke’s and rushing forward. I threw myself at him, but he was ready. He caught me, folding me close and burying his face in my hair. I could feel the pounding of his heart against my chest and I knew that he had been afraid.

“What is it?” I whispered, pulling back and searching his eyes.

“There are definitely other people on this island.”

“Did you see them?” I asked excitedly, thinking this might be our lucky day.

“No,” Nash said, and I noticed he wasn’t as excited.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked past me at Duke. “You knew, didn’t you?”

He only nodded.

“Knew what?” I demanded, not enjoying being the only one who didn’t know what was going on.

“These people won’t help us,” Nash answered, his eyes never leaving Duke.

“What people!” I demanded, my voice a little louder. Nash placed a couple fingers to my lips.

“Pirata,” he whispered.

Like I knew what that meant. After days of listening to him randomly speak Spanish, it still sounded like a bunch of gibberish. I wanted to shake him and say, “Use your words, man!” but I decided that probably wouldn’t be a good idea, so I gave him an exasperated look instead.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “I’ll show you.”

The three of us moved out of the cover of trees and onto the beach. This side of the beach was a little different than our side. It was a little rougher here; there were some rocks around the shore, some of them jutting out into the ocean. Against the rocks sat what appeared to be a little one-room cabin—well, more like a shack.

The wood was all weathered and gray; the roof was uneven and flat. There was one window, but it didn’t have glass. There was a piece of what looked like tin rested beneath it, and I had the idea that whoever lived there just placed the tin in the window when it rained.

There were no steps leading into the crooked, warped front door. The shack just sat right there in the sand.

I wasn’t curious at all what was inside.

In fact, the idea of going in there at all gave me a serious case of heebie-jeebies.

The pristine white sand was cluttered here—littered with empty barrels and a long wooden table with more barrels shoved beneath as stools. Beside the table was a chest and I wandered over and lifted the lid. Inside were playing cards and poker chips. There were cigarettes and cigars. I pocketed one of the many lighters, thinking it might come in handy if we ever needed to start a fire quickly.

There were empty beer bottles all over the place, some of them rolling around in the surf. Fishing nets were strung among some of the barrels and a bar ran across the middle of a large fire pit. I assumed it was used to hang fish from to roast.

I wandered a little closer to the surf, toward the rocks and away from that creepy shack. Something on the rocks caught my attention and I jogged to it, looking at the chains that literally hung from the jagged rock.

My stomach churned again. Why would someone have chains like this? A smear of something dark against the rocks gave me the answer and made me gag. Blood.

Obviously, these chains weren’t here for fun and games.

I left the chains, my overactive imagination not needing to see any more, and something on the water caught my eye. I ran around to the side and saw it, sitting out in the open right there on the other side of the rocks.

A boat.

Not just one boat.

Many boats.

I turned, seeking out Nash and Duke. They weren’t far, and I waved my arms at them, trying to get their attention without yelling.

Duke saw me first and came jogging forward. I saw Nash shove something in his pants and then look up. I waved to him and he ran over, his eyes searching the area all around me.

“Look,” I said excitedly when they were both within hearing distance. I pointed to the boats.

Nash let out a whoop of joy and picked me up, spinning me around. I grinned. Finally, a way off this island. “We even have a sailor right here to sail us to safety!” I said, touching Duke on the arm.

He gave me a warm smile, but not before sadness passed behind his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Nash said, and the three of started toward the boats.

As we got closer, it became clear that something wasn’t quite right.

From where we stood before, the boats appeared heaven sent, like a beacon, a sign of home and safety.

From up close… They were a disappointment.

The first boat we came too was nothing but a mere shell. The engine, the steering wheel, and everything that would make the boat actually run were stripped away.

Nash climbed onto the boat and it sagged down into the waves dangerously low. He let out a curse and climbed out. “There’s a hole in it.”

I stepped forward and sure enough, just his weight caused the boat to take on water.

I ran to the one not too far away. It was on the shore, the waves barely reaching it. It was stripped of parts just like the other one. This one had tarps and rope inside.

We started checking all of them, refusing to give up hope, praying that just one would be suitable to sail.

But none of them were.

All hope inside me died.

The kind of death suitable to a graveyard.

A boat graveyard.

“Some of these boats were once really nice,” Nash said, looking at them all grimly.

“Not anymore,” I intoned and set back in the direction we came. Maybe we should search the creepy shack. Maybe there was a phone or something inside.

But that’s when I saw it.