“Actually, this might work out better all the way around. After we check the little house on the north end of the island to make sure my grandmother is okay, we can sneak around and find out all we need to know to help your uncle and his Rogue Hunters attack the island.”
“Si,” he agreed. “But how do we get that information to him?”
Sarita shrugged. “There is a phone in the big house. If there isn’t one in the little house, then we can sneak into the big house and use that one. We could call your uncle, give him the location and all the pertinent info, and coordinate with him.”
“Coordinate?” Domitian asked with alarm.
“Yes. Find out what time he expects to attack the island so we can help. We can even try to get in and free the kidnapped immortals so they can help from on the island,” she added thoughtfully.
“No,” Domitian said firmly. “You will wait somewhere safe while I—”
“Domitian,” Sarita interrupted patiently.
“Si?” he asked warily.
“Please don’t go all Ramsay on me.”
“Ramsey?” he squawked, seriously insulted. “I am nothing like Dressler.”
“Gordon Ramsay, not Ramsey Dressler,” she said dryly. “I know you’re a chef, but that doesn’t give you leave to go all Gordon Ramsay and start trying to boss me around,” she explained. “I’m a police officer, trained for confrontation, and I’ve also studied martial arts since I was thirteen. As I mentioned, that was the first thing Dad signed me up for in Canada. Of the two of us, I’m more equipped to deal with this.”
“I am more than a chef,” he said indignantly. “I have been a warrior, a knight, a pirate. I can handle myself in battle, Sarita,” he finished stiffly.
“Oh yeah. I guess you can help then,” she said, turning to head for the stairs. “Come on, we should get as much sleep as we can today so we’re well rested tonight.”
Domitian turned, but didn’t start moving right away. Instead, he stared after her with suspicion, wondering how his trying to protect her had somehow turned into his having to justify his involvement in the battle that would come.
She’d turned the tables on him, he realized. And quite neatly too. And was now prancing off thinking he was going to let her risk herself by helping on the island.
“Sarita,” Domitian said sharply. “We need to—” He’d meant to say they needed to discuss this further, but his voice died in his throat when she reached back to undo the top of her bikini and let it drop into the water as she mounted the stairs.
Turning once she stood on the terrace, Sarita faced him. Her hands were on her hips and her head was held high and proud, he noted before his gaze fell to her beautiful bare breasts. God, he loved her body.
“Hurry, Domitian. You need to make love to me so I can sleep,” she said huskily. “I think we should stay in bed all day to be sure we are well rested for later.”
He was across the pool and out, scooping her into his arms before she quite finished the last word.
“As you wish,” Domitian growled as he strode toward the house.
Eleven
Eyes narrowing, Sarita scanned the island in the distance, looking for any movement that might tell her someone was patrolling the beach and might notice their approach when they got closer. In truth, she wasn’t worried about Domitian being seen, he was mostly under water with only his head bobbing up once in a while as he took in air.
Sarita, however, was presently lying on her stomach on an inflatable pool lounger and was much more visible. She knew they’d have to pop the mattress and let it sink soon, but that was okay with her. She hadn’t really wanted to bring it anyway. She would have taken it willingly if she’d been trying to reach the island alone, just for safety’s sake. But with Domitian to help her, she hadn’t expected to need it. She’d insisted she could alternate swimming and floating and make the distance without the air mattress when he’d brought it up as they ate their last meal on the island in the cocooned bed. He’d insisted they bring it, however, arguing that her resting would slow them down and they needed to reach the island before dawn. With the lounger, she could rest on it when she wearied and he could tow her as he swam.
Sarita had given in and retrieved the air mattress from the wicker chest where she’d seen it earlier. Leaving Domitian to blow it up by the pool, she’d gone to collect scissors, and had taken them with her to the bedroom. She’d made the rope to pull the air mattress in the privacy of the cocooned bed in the hopes of not giving away what they were up to any earlier than necessary. It was the sheets actually on the bed she’d used, cutting thin strips that she’d then braided together. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken too long. Still it had been later than they’d wanted when they’d taken the mattress and rope and headed for the beach.
Unfortunately, as Sarita had feared, she’d spent a good portion of the trip on the air mattress. Oh, she’d swum more than half the distance under her own steam, but Domitian was a much faster swimmer than her and she’d found herself having to climb onto the mattress to rest more often than she’d liked. It was humiliating each time he’d noticed her flagging and had relegated her to the mattress to be towed along like a sick whale pulled out to deeper water by a boat.
That thought made Sarita cast a quick glance around at the moonlit water for any sign of a shark or anything. They’d been fortunate and not encountered anything like that so far, but how long could their luck hold out?
Movement below her made Sarita glance down through the clear plastic window in the center of the lounger’s headrest. She half expected to see the shadow of a fish swimming along under her. She’d seen that once or twice in the bright moonlight, the darker shadow of a fish in the dark water, or even a flash of color if it was right beneath the mattress. This time, though, she was shocked to see a human figure swimming past under the mattress. She saw the clear outline of a head, chest, and arms moving quickly through the water headed toward Domitian.
Cursing, Sarita immediately lunged off the mattress after the figure.
Domitian was just thinking they were getting close enough to the island that they should stop, pop the air mattress, and leave it behind when the makeshift rope tied around his waist suddenly seemed to go slack. Stopping, he turned swiftly in the water to look back and saw that while the lounger was still there, Sarita was gone.
Frowning, he quickly reached under water, grabbed the rope at his waist and gave it a tug. Pain seared his back as the cloth dug in before the makeshift rope snapped, but he ignored it and dove under water. The ocean was dark, but Domitian had no problem spotting Sarita some fifteen feet away. Still, it took him a second to accept that she appeared to be struggling with something. Not something, someone, he realized. It was a man, and he was dragging Sarita down deeper in the water and away from the air she needed to survive.
Growling in his throat, Domitian shot forward, swimming hard to reach them as quickly as possible. Sarita couldn’t survive long under water without air. She already appeared to be flagging while the man showed no signs of having the same problem. Swimming up behind the man, Domitian didn’t even hesitate, he simply snapped his neck, then caught Sarita by the arm and kicked for the surface, pulling her with him.
He’d feared she was unconscious on first grabbing her, but Sarita started coughing and sputtering the moment her head broke from the water. It was music to his ears. Relief racing through him, Domitian dragged her to the air mattress, and lifted her to lie across it, then held on to it with one hand as he patted her back to help her spit up the water she’d swallowed.
“Are you okay?” he asked with concern as she gasped for air.
Sarita nodded, but simply continued to suck in great drafts of air. When she’d recovered enough to speak, she turned a stark face to him and gasped, “His face.”
Domitian frowned, and then glanced around for the man, but he hadn’t floated to the surface. A sliver of concern slipping through him, he said, “Wait here,” and released the mattress to dive under water again. He spotted the man right away, motionless in the water where he’d left him some fifteen feet away.