Island Promises Read Online Free PDF

island prison, let her. Maybe some of those big shots from Chicago will get her out.”
    She got to the end of the marina road, dust swirling around her, the sun baking her, when an old, dirty four-wheel drive vehicle skidded to a stop in front of her.
    “Get in,” Joe commanded, but Riley ignored him and kept walking. “This is no joyride for me, either. More than likely you’re a nut case. But if you’re not, I can’t let you wander around by yourself.”
    “Of course you can. I wander just fine by myself.”
    He sighed. “My conscience will rest easy then that I tried. Piece of advice, though. Make sure you get a sturdy stick when you cross the inlets. If the gators come after you, hit ‘em on the side of the snout. Sometimes if you hit ‘em with enough force, they’ll be so stunned for a minute that you’ll have time to get away.”
    Riley stumbled a little in a grassy area. The vehicle came slowly behind, keeping pace, the engine protesting at the slowness.
    “A woman like you, educated, world traveler, probably already knew that, though. Probably just another insult from a sexist jerk like me. Hell, you probably wrestle gators for fun on spring break in Florida.” He shifted gears and began to make a U-turn. “Wouldn’t want to insult you any further, but Anthony asked me to pass on a tip in case the snakes . . .”
    Without another word, Riley hoisted herself into the passenger seat of the old four-wheel-drive vehicle.
    Riley’s temperature was climbing but it wasn’t because of the balmy late afternoon breeze.
    The man who sat at the scarred metal desk in front of her was raising her blood pressure by the minute as well. They had been going round and round for almost a half-hour. His desk was very organized, as was the other desk in the small block building. But along the walls were boxes and boxes of documents.
    This is what they do with the paperwork , Riley thought.
    She bit her tongue to keep from saying it out loud. They must sweep it off their desks every night into one of those boxes and never deal with it again. She was determined that wouldn’t happen to her.
    “We have to wait for the senior official.” The man’s patience seemed to grow as Riley’s deteriorated. He had a slight British accent, which gave him an elegant air, but he infuriated her even more as she stood sweaty, frizzy-haired, and sunburned. He sat very still, very erect, his white, close-cropped hair a stark contrast to his dark skin. The nameplate, all polished silver, said his name was Captain Ricardo Juarez . “The magistrate will come back, maybe Monday, maybe Friday.”
    “I’ve been trying to explain to you that I can’t wait that long.” Riley picked up her heavy, tangled hair and tucked the wayward strands into the back of the ball cap she wore. A fan was on overhead, but the slowly moving blades only served to push the hot air toward the spot where she was standing. “This magistrate person,” she started, kicking the bamboo chair where Joe had pulled an old hat over his eyes and appeared to be napping, his legs splayed out in front of him. This was the fourth or fifth time she had kicked his chair for emphasis and this time he only grunted and edged the cap lower. “This man,” she started again, using her best broadcasting voice, “could sail away on my boat while you’re waiting for official action. You need to make some kind of injunction or some other legal thing to stop him.”
    Captain Juarez shuffled the papers she had given him. Admittedly they weren’t much—her passport, her plane ticket stub, a color brochure of the Reprieve from years ago when it was for sale. There was no bill of sale, no registration. Edgar, the accountant, had taken care of all that, and she’d left in such a hurry that she hadn’t even thought to look for those papers.
    “I will tell you what needs to be done.” Captain Juarez leaned forward. His short sleeve, khaki shirt and matching shorts showed no sweat