The hum of an engine caught his ear as he was pondering this and Tomasso stiffened, and then turned his head to peer through the trees toward the ocean. His eyes narrowed as he saw a boat cruising slowly into view. Thoughts of Jake and Sully, the men who had put him in the cage, immediately came to mind, but there were four or five men on this boat, and most of them were carrying long thin sticks that he suspected were fishing rods.
The engine cut out suddenly as the boat paused almost directly in front of where Abigail had made their camp, and a burst of laughter floated across the water and sand to his ears.
A chartered fishing boat, Tomasso thought, his eyes scanning the occupants as they dropped their lines and settled in with beer and chatter. The long walk he’d subjected Abigail to through the afternoon and night before had definitely got them closer to civilization, and luck had brought civilization closer to them when these fishermen had chosen this spot to stop in. Things were looking up, he thought with relief, and rolled cautiously onto his side and then eased to his hands and knees to get up.
The white gauze wrapping at his groin was like a beacon when he made it to his feet. It stood out in the darkness. Tomasso tugged his makeshift loincloth around to cover it, and then moved cautiously out of the trees. Walking hurt like hell, but knowing it would soon be gone, Tomasso was able to ignore the pain as he crossed the sand and started into the water.
He expected the salt water to sting the abrasions on his damaged member, so was pleasantly surprised when the cool water was soothing rather than painful. Tomasso could only think the gauze was filtering out the salt and keeping it from getting to his wounds. Relieved by that, he struck out for the boat resting about a quarter mile out in the water.
They’d stopped over the reef to drop their lines, he guessed, and they were so busy laughing it up and drinking that no one even noticed his approach until he was pulling himself onboard.
“Whoa, hey! Look here, we got us Tarzan visiting,” the first man to see him said on a laugh as he turned to notice Tomasso pushing himself to his feet after pulling himself over the side of the boat.
Tomasso didn’t wait to see what the response of the others would be. He slipped into first one mind and then another, soothing and calming each in turn as he learned that they were Americans from Detroit on a fishing vacation in Punta Cana.
He now knew where they’d washed up after parachuting out of the plane, Tomasso thought with satisfaction. Near Punta Cana, on the tip of the Dominican Republic. A little more than an hour flight from Caracas. Although, as he continued to read minds, he began to suspect they’d actually come ashore just this side of a village called Boca de Yuma and that, had they walked the opposite way, they would have encountered civilization almost right away. Instead, they’d followed the shore away from the town and were now just an hour or so from another village called El Cabo. Punta Cana, where the fishermen were staying, was further north along the shore past it.
Tomasso grimaced at that, but continued to read minds and learned that, as he’d expected, this boat was a charter, and while the men had spent the last week deep-sea fishing, they’d decided to spend their last night “chilling with some near-shore tight-lining.” He gathered that translated to dropping their lines in the water and getting drunk while they waited for fish to take the bait.
Having gained all the information he needed, Tomasso moved on to the other items on his list of necessities, which included clothing, food, transportation, and blood. Not in that order.
Eight
Abigail rolled onto her back and winced as she became aware of the mild headache throbbing behind her closed eyes. She raised a hand thinking to rub her forehead and hopefully ease the pain, only to blink her eyes open with surprise when something soft brushed her skin before her fingers could reach it.
It was a sheet covering her hand, she saw with amazement. Tugging her hand free of the silky cloth, Abigail sat up and looked around in confusion. She was in a bamboo canopy bed draped with netting in a room that was more windows than walls. What walls there were, were the same white as the ceiling where a bamboo fan turned lazily, moving the cool conditioned air around the room.
Letting her breath out on a little murmur of pleasure, Abigail tossed the soft sheets aside and slipped her feet to the floor. Cold tile met her warm skin, making her smile as she stood and moved to peer out the sliding glass doors. Her eyes moved with awe over tables, chairs, lounge chairs, and a large pool in a private courtyard surrounded by palm trees and flowering bushes.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Abigail sang as she turned away from the terrace, eager to explore the rest of the place.
The next door she opened led into a large bathroom with a big soaker tub, a huge shower, double sinks, and a toilet. It was the bathroom of her dreams, Abigail thought as she entered the room, and then she paused as that thought registered.
The bathroom of her dreams . . .
She was dreaming again, Abigail realized with disappointment. Of course she was. She’d fallen asleep on a beach. What were the chances of waking up here in a magnificent . . . whatever this was?
Zilch, she answered herself. She was as poor as a church mouse, for heaven’s sake, and Tomasso had left the plane naked. Unless he’d had it up his butt, he hadn’t been carrying money or credit cards or even ID. Even if he had, this place looked like a five-star resort. Abigail didn’t think he could afford this kind of luxury any more than she could. No. Staying in a place like this was something she could only dream of.
Abigail looked from the bathtub to the shower and suddenly smiled widely. If this was a dream, she was going to make the most of it, she decided. She was going to enjoy herself before she really woke up back on the beach, hungry, thirsty, and wearing filthy clothes. That thought goading her on, she moved quickly to the tub, dropped the plug, and turned on both taps.
Leaving the water to fill up, Abigail then moved to examine the bottles lined up on the long sink counter. Finding the bubble bath, she snatched it up and dumped the entire small bottle into the slowly filling tub. She paused then to judge how quickly the water was filling. Deciding after a moment that she had the time, Abigail left the taps running and moved back to the counter to grab the bottles labeled shampoo and conditioner, then carried them to the shower with her.
If this were reality, Abigail would have been concerned that turning on the shower would affect the water running into the tub, but since it was a dream, she didn’t worry about it. Besides, in a luxury hotel like this one, that probably wouldn’t be an issue, right?
Within seconds of turning on the shower taps, the water pouring down to the tile floor was warm and tempting. Abigail reached for the hem of her tank top, intending to pull it off, only to find she wasn’t wearing her tank top . . . or her jeans, her panties or her bra. She was completely naked already, and raised her eyebrows at the realization.
She’d been dressed in her last dream and had had to strip, Abigail recalled, but then shrugged. Being naked now in this dream saved her that effort. She stepped under the warm spray and pulled the door closed.
Abigail half expected Tomasso to appear again in her dream at that point as he had the last time. In fact, she’d kind of looked forward to having him there, his body pressing up against her and his hands on her eager skin. But when she’d finished washing her hair and a quick cleanup of her body a couple minutes later, there was still no Tomasso. It seemed this dream was more about being clean than sexual gratification.
Clean was good, Abigail supposed, turning off the taps and stepping out of the shower to cross to the tub. It probably meant she was getting self-conscious about going so long without a proper bath. Swimming in the ocean was nice, but she suspected the lack of drinking water plus the salt from the ocean were combining to dry out her skin. She’d been itchy the last day or so and had noted the beginnings of a rash as she was cooking the fish.
Her stomach rumbled as she stepped carefully into the tub and Abigail recalled that she’d been too tired to eat before lying down to have this dream. It was something she’d no doubt regret when she woke up with an empty, aching tummy. But maybe she could dream up a smorgasbord of all her favorite foods along with her longed-for bubble bath, she thought now. She didn’t know how to do that. Maybe it would just happen naturally when she got out of the tub. Although, in a really good dream it would appear all around her now, she thought. Her favorite foods and a bubble bath sounded even better than a wet dream to her at that moment.