Page 27 of Captive Rival: Armani
Looking over the edge of the boat, I calculate that it’s only a few feet across to the pier. Maybe three feet across the water, at most. I can jump that. And it’s not like I can’t swim, although it won’t be a good look if I fall in the ocean. No doubt someone would hear me splashing, and then the crew would come running and my escape attempt would be dead in the water. Ha. Get it? Dead in the—yeah.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I take a deep breath, look both ways, and leap off the yacht.
I hit the pier a little harder than expected, feeling the shock radiate from my feet up to my knees. I start walking, only to realize I have a bad case of vertigo from being at sea the last few days. Stumbling, I go down on one knee with a hiss of pain. Forcing myself back to standing, I rub my knee and look around, but I don’t see anyone watching me from the boat. Thank God I’m not wearing shoes, instead of the stupid high-heeled sandals I brought. That fall could have been a lot worse.
There’s no time to pat myself on the back, though.
Adrenaline pumping, I run down the pier as fast as I can toward the tree line. The whole time, I brace myself for shouts or gunshots or someone to come after me, but I make it into the dense, humid foliage without being accosted.
I freeze for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest. I have no sense of direction, no idea where exactly on the island we are. All I see is ocean behind me and trees ahead, with those lush green hills rising in the distance. This is a terrible idea. I have no idea where I’m going or what’s waiting for me in these woods…but even so, it can’t be scarier than what I left behind back on that yacht.
Armani. I know I can’t trust him.
Plunging into the forest, I immediately step on a thorny branch and regret my choice to not wear shoes today. I have to stop and pull two thorns out of the sole of my foot before I can take off again, picking my way through the greenery more slowly this time. I don’t have a compass, but I use the position of the sun to set off in a roughly eastern direction, and I hike in a straight line as much as I can over the terrain. It’s all ferns and moss and bird calls, so repetitive that I worry I’m walking in circles.
As I make my way up and down gently rolling hills which soon turn bigger and more strenuous, I try to brush off the anxiety washing over me. There has to be someone around here who would be willing to help me, a scared woman all alone. If I’m lucky, they’ll have a functioning cell phone or even a way off the island. But I need to find one of the other villas first. Which might be difficult, considering that I didn’t even realize we’d reached our own villa until our car pulled up to the security gate surrounding it. Still, knocking on the door (or security gate) of one of the other rental properties seems like my best bet.
There are holes in my plan, I’m aware. But it’s a start. And if I can find a village, or even just a gas station, I might have even more luck. All I need is a working phone, so I can call Juliana and tell her what’s going on. She’ll know exactly what to do. She’ll take charge. She’ll get me out of here. And, worst-case scenario, she’ll make sure that Armani comes to justice if I don’t make it back home.
Without my phone, or a watch, I can only guess at the time passing. But as my feet begin to ache, and the daylight starts to fade, I realize that I’ve been on this grueling hike for hours. In a damn sundress, not to mention. And so far, I haven’t seen any other rental homes.
The good news, I guess, is that I’m not lost. Every time I crest a hill, I can see the ocean. The island isn’t huge. I’m not even sure it’s possible to get lost, although there are probably places in the jungle where I could hide out for at least a day or two. But I’m not trying to playSurvivorhere. I have no water, no food, no shoes, and the only thing I want is to find another human who can help me.
Sweaty, exhausted, and demoralized, I sink onto a rock and put my head in my hands. My nerves are shot. Everything feels like it’s falling apart. The stress is taking a physical toll. My hope is weakening.
Dammit, I need to find a way off this fucking island.
My life depends on it.
But I’ve seen no sign of civilization. No homes, no roads, no power lines, even.
Still breathing heavily, I glance around and take stock of my surroundings. Trees, trees, and more trees interspersed with various tropical plants and random spots of leafy open ground. God, what I wouldn’t give for a monster size Coke right now, with tons of ice, beads of condensation rolling down the sides of the cup. And a huge carton of salty, hot McDonald’s fries to go with it.Get it together, Candi.
Okay. Okay. Think. The sun is starting to sink into the ocean, and that means people will be turning on the lights in their houses as it gets dark. That should make it a lot easier for me to find those houses. I just need to get as high up as possible so I can see better. I need a solid vantage point.
Scoping the horizon, I spy a rocky protrusion jutting into the sky that will give me a solid view. Is it the mountain Armani mentioned, where the cell signal reaches sometimes? Mount Verde? Regardless, it’s clearly my best option. I don’t see any place higher.
With a boost of optimism I forge ahead, taking the long way around a steep ravine, spurred on by the knowledge that I’m burning precious daylight with every passing moment. The incline starts to get more extreme, the terrain more rocky and treacherous, but I persevere. Foot by foot, I manage to climb to the lookout point. Hands on my hips, I catch my breath for a minute until my ears stop ringing and my sweat starts to dry.
I go to the edge of the rock and look out in all directions. There’s nothing around me but treetops. I spy the roof of the villa I’m staying in to the south, but otherwise it’s just green hills, plant life, and a few rocky peaks. The ocean surrounds the island, much closer than I anticipated. I didn’t realize the island was so tiny, and I never imagined there’d only be one house built on the entire place.
It’s literally only Armani’s villa here.
Clenching my hands into fists, I take a few deep, shuddering breaths and weigh my options…
I have none.
My sore, shaking legs give out and I collapse onto the ground. Hard, unforgiving rock presses into my ass and thighs, but I ignore it. Hanging my head, I sit for a while until the air turns cool and the breeze turns into a strong wind that tangles my hair. My feet feel like bruises, I’m starving, and I’m trapped here in mortal danger on this tiny, godforsaken island. This is hopeless.
There’sonefreaking house on this island. The only people are Armani’s friends and employees. No one here will help me if something happens. And it’s almost impossible to believe I’m not doomed.
True, I’m currently somewhat valuable to Armani as a spy who can go back and forth between the Bellantis and the Brunos. But once that’s over, then what? I know too much, I’ve seen and heard too much. He can’t just set me free into the world with that kind of knowledge.
And it’s not as if he needs me around to get his needs met in bed. Esme quite clearly reminded me of that. What else do I have to offer him that would make me worth keeping around?
Sighing with defeat, I steel myself for my return to the yacht. I need to get going before it’s too dark to see my way through the trees and back to the dock.
It’s much easier to navigate going down, but as soon as I start walking, the dread starts creeping up on me again. Has Armani noticed my absence? Is he now waiting to punish me for running off? I can only hope he’s tied up with his “associates” and won’t even know that I left.
