“My pleasure,” Domitian said, but he was beaming at her, and she knew he was pleased she’d just given him an excuse to pack the water. It might help keep Dressler from realizing too quickly what they were up to. She could only hope, anyway, Sarita thought.
The moment she stepped out of the kitchen, Sarita’s mind turned to what they might need for this escape. The problem was they hadn’t discussed how they meant to travel. Did he plan for them to traipse through the jungle or follow the beach?
Following the beach away from here would be easiest and probably safest, at least from whatever animals, reptiles, and insects might inhabit the jungle. On the other hand it left them out in the open and exposed should Dressler realize what they were up to and send men to search for them along the shoreline.
Then again, while heading straight out into the jungle might make for a shorter trip and one where they were less likely to be found again by their kidnapper, it also meant they might be walking into unknown peril. Sarita had lived in the city as a child here, she and her parents living in Caracas before moving to Canada. She had no idea what animals could be found in the jungle around this house, but knew there were tigers and jaguars in Venezuela’s Amazonian jungle as well as bushmaster snakes. Yeah, the jungle didn’t sound a good bet to her.
Hurrying back through the bedroom to the bathroom, Sarita turned on the shower taps and then went to fetch towels. She meant to grab one, but quickly changed her mind and grabbed four instead, tossing three on the makeup table before taking the other with her to sling over the shower. It had occurred to her that the large towels could come in handy. They could be useful just as towels, but could also be used to bundle everything up in and carry slung over their shoulders like Santa’s sack. That was the reason for two of them. The third one was because she was considering turning it into a toga rather than using a sheet. The towels were quite big and should reach well below her knees. They were also thick, offering more protection from bugs and snakes. But aside from that it would demand the least effort. She could wear a swimsuit, wrap the towel around herself and then use one of the large safety pins in the sewing kit to pin the towel closed. She could even use a second one to secure it to her bikini top so that there would be no risk of the towel dropping and tripping her up.
Satisfied with that idea, Sarita stripped off her bikini and stepped quickly under the water.
She took care in washing the cuts along her upper legs as well as those on her feet. And was careful to scrub every last inch of her body to be sure she removed every trace of the dried blood she’d missed during her earlier shower. She even shampooed her hair again to ensure she removed any drops of blood that may have splattered there. With all of that, it still didn’t take her more than three or four minutes to shower.
Turning off the water, Sarita tugged the towel off the panel where she’d placed it. She scrubbed her hair with it to dry it as much as possible and then simply wrapped it around herself, toga-style. Grabbing the other three towels as well as both the first aid and emergency sewing kits, she then left the bathroom.
Sarita entered the closet a moment later and quickly went through the swimsuits in the drawers again. She retrieved and donned the most decent of the remaining bikinis, a black number that she hadn’t noticed earlier. It actually had more than a thong back unlike most of the others, and the top actually looked like it might at least cover her nipples.
She opened the first aid kit next, considered the contents, and then set to work smearing her injuries with antiseptic cream. Once that was done, she slapped a fabric bandage over each wound, including the ones on her feet.
Satisfied she’d done all she could, Sarita set the first aid kit next to the sewing kit and grabbed one of the large towels. She wrapped it around herself, and then opened the sewing kit to retrieve a couple of the large safety pins to pin the towel into place.
Satisfied, she then turned her attention to the shoes in the closet.
Seven
Domitian closed the last box along the wall and shoved it away with irritation. He’d come downstairs to finish searching the boxes and see if he could find anything to wear besides the boxers he presently had on. It was a sensible idea. He could hardly go traipsing into the jungle in just boxers. Well, really he could, but Sarita couldn’t in a negligee and high heels, and she had mentioned that those were the only clothes available to her here besides bikinis.
Unfortunately his search had turned up nothing. Not only were there no clothes in the crumbling old boxes in the room at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn’t anything else they might use when they left this place either.
Turning away from the boxes, Domitian started for the stairs. He would check on Sarita and see if she was nearly ready. He had set out some things in the kitchen for their supposed picnic, but they would need more than he had out. He just didn’t want to bring the rest out until Sarita was ready to go. The more time they had to get as far away as they could from the cottage before Dressler sent his men out to stop them, the better.
He headed to the kitchen first, hoping she might be done with her shower and waiting for him there. Domitian didn’t find Sarita, but he did find proof of her recent presence. It looked as if someone had ransacked the place and he was quite sure that neither Dressler nor any of his men were responsible for it the moment his gaze slid over towels, canned food, and a first aid kit.
That was all he bothered to catalog before hurrying to the bedroom. They had to get moving. If Dressler was watching the camera feed, all that stuff on the island would tip him to the fact that a simple picnic wasn’t their intention.
A muffled thudding reached Domitian’s ears long before he reached the bedroom. Frowning at the sound, he pushed through the door and spotted Sarita almost immediately. There was a closet to the left of the bed that he hadn’t noticed before. The door was open and Sarita was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a towel . . . trying to beat a shoe to death with a . . . can opener?
Slowing, Domitian walked to the door and peered down at her.
“Hi,” she said, not bothering to glance up.
“Hi yourself,” he responded. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get the heel off this shoe,” she answered, and then gave the heel another whack with the can opener before explaining, “I’d rather not go traipsing through the jungle barefoot if we have to go that way.”
Sarita paused to examine the shoe she’d been pounding. “The leather feels soft. It might flatten out a bit with a little wear. I just need to get the heel off—”
Her words died as Domitian bent, plucked the shoe from her hand and snapped the heel off with little effort.
“Huh,” Sarita muttered, taking the shoe when he handed it back. Pursing her lips, she examined it briefly and then muttered “Thank you” as he bent to pick up the second shoe and snapped off its heel as well.
“We have to go,” he said, offering her a hand to get up.
“Yeah. I know.” Ignoring his hand, she got to her feet and moved past him into the bedroom. Grabbing two large bath towels off the bed in passing, she led the way to the door.
Domitian followed, his gaze on her legs below the towel she had wrapped around her body. She’d obviously taken a shower as suggested. Her hair was still wet, he noted.
“I gathered together some things we might need before I thought of the shoes,” Sarita announced as she led him through the living room.
“That would not be the pile of stuff on the island in the kitchen would it?” Domitian asked with a frown.
“Yes. I thought we could load it all into these two towels and carry it Santa-style.” She held up the bath towels she’d grabbed as she spoke.
“Santa-style?” Domitian echoed with bewilderment. What the hell was Santa-style?
“Like a sack,” she explained. “We put the items in the middle, gather the ends, and hoist them over our shoulders to carry them.”
“Dear God,” he muttered with dismay.
“What?” Sarita asked over her shoulder and he could hear amusement in her voice. “You’re a big strong guy. You could probably carry it all by yourself if you had to.”
“Yes, but Sarita, we cannot possibly drag everything you have piled in the kitchen with us,” he said reasonably. “I do not think everything will even fit in two towels. We would probably need six to fit it all. Surely we do not need all of it?”