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“Captain, we were attacked by a drone.”
“What the fuck!” His captain was so loud, I heard him.
Tyler gave a summary of the explosion on Rhino, my boat sinking, and how we managed to get to this island. “We need immediate evac, sir, before the bastard behind that drone sends in more assholes to kill us.”
Tyler looked like he was seeing right through me as he squeezed the shattered screen to his ear to hear the voice on the other end.
“Understood,” Tyler said, nodding.
He ended the call, checked the screen, possibly to assess the battery life, then his eyes met mine. There was something raw and exposed in that gaze.
“It’s not good,” he said. “Levi still isn’t available, and the border force boat is still out of action. He’s contacting Aria and Air/Sea rescue and putting out a mayday call.”
“Shit. Then let’s hope the good guys find us first.”
“Agreed.” He turned his attention toward the ocean, and I followed his gaze.
All my life, the ocean has been my haven. Now, it was working against me. I had a rotten feeling that lack of drinking water was the least of our worries.
We found a shady patch at the edge of the tree line, and I collapsed into the warm sand without grace. Tyler sank down beside me, and we both sagged with fatigue as we sat in silence, watching the waves crash into the shore.
I leaned against the rough bark of a palm tree, and its shadow was a perfect palm shape on the sand a few feet away. Tyler sat against another tree and his eyes fixed on the horizon. Grit stuck to my skin and salt-crusted my lips.
Tyler tugged the device from his pocket, and as he placed it onto a massive fallen palm leaf next to him along with the phone, I noticed the nasty circular scar behind his ear.
He pulled his half-empty water bottle out of his other pocket and offered it to me.
“You still have water?” My eyes bulged. “I finished mine ages ago.”
“It’s all yours.”
My dry throat forced me to take the bottle. I drank one mouthful, and the tepid water was a balm for my parched throat. I passed the bottle back to him, and without drinking, he rested it on the leaf next to the phone.
Time stretched endlessly, and as the sun dipped lower behind the rock island at our backs, shadows lengthened along the beach. I was torn between being pissed off that Tyler didn’t open up to me like he promised and being too damn tired to care.
Hunger pains rumbled from my insides and blended with the crashing waves and the distant cry of seagulls that raced back and forth in time with the swell. I removed my booties, tipped the water out, and rested them upside down against a skull-sized rock.
“Indiana,” he said, breaking the quiet, “if I tell you about Operation Vivid, I could be putting your life at risk.”
“I know. You told me.” I dug my toes into the sand. “I never got anywhere without taking a risk, Kingsley.”
He shifted in his seat so he could share those stunning eyes of his between me and the ocean. “I was an undercover cop for three years in Melbourne. It was supposed to be a straightforward six-month assignment.”
“Nothing’s ever straightforward.”
“No. That’s true.” He huffed. “I was good at my job.”
“You still are.”
“Many would disagree.” He scanned the beach. “Look at where we are.”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?”
“Will you let me tell this?”
“Sorry.”
He chuckled, but then a hardness crossed his expression. “I witnessed some things that I can’t tell you about . . . and because of the way I handled myself, I was able to go deeper undercover.”
