Island Promises Read Online Free PDF Page B

stains. Probably because he didn’t do enough work to sweat. “This is not Cheecago. This is our country, the Shalee Islands. And you must live by our rules.” For the first time, the man raised his voice.
    “Let me tell you what I think about your rules,” Riley began.
    “You may return next week,” said Captain Juarez, interrupting her. He opened a desk drawer and placed Riley’s papers, including her passport, inside and locked it. “Now,” he said, rising, “we are closing.”
    “You can’t do that!”
    Joe had come to life and was tugging her toward the door. Ever since she’d met him, he seemed to be pushing or pulling her. She shook him off.
    “Do you know who I am?” She was yelling. “Do you know I could expose this on American television?”
    From behind her, Joe’s arm went around her waist. “Time to go,” he whispered in her ear.
    “No! I need that passport. He has no right.”
    “Riley, I’m warning you,” Joe said softly.
    Captain Juarez stood, an old-fashioned rotary dial phone in his hand.
    “I’m not leaving here without my papers and some satisfaction.” Riley tried to get away from Joe’s grip.
    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Before she knew what was happening, Joe took her arm, spun her around and threw her over his left shoulder as though she were a duffel bag. Suddenly she was seeing the world upside down. She heard Joe say something to the captain. She heard the captain laugh, which made her madder, if that were possible. Then they were on the move.
    Stunned, it took her several moments before she found her voice. Then she protested for him to let her down, to stop being such a brute. She tried to punch him, but her arms were swinging wildly and hit only air. He kept walking, past the old vehicle they came in and trudged up a hill, breathing hard. The blood was pooling in Riley’s head and she felt lightheaded.
    Joe dropped her in soft grass and fell down beside her panting, both of them on their backs, letting their cramped muscles release. After a moment, Riley sat up slowly, feeling her blood return to its rightful pattern. The scene before her was restful, postcard beautiful. They were at the top of a grassy cliff that overlooked the sea. To either side of the cliff were palm trees and sweet-smelling flowers. Before them lay the water, so clear and aqua she could make out the top of a reef offshore. The sky was so bright it hurt her eyes but she couldn’t look away. The sound of waves breaking, of exotic birds, and of their own labored breathing surrounded them.
    She tried to slow her breathing, to get in the zone. She’d taken a meditation class once where they talked about zoning out. But she hadn’t lasted more than one class. Peace and calm were not her thing. Action and persistence were.
    She punched Joe on the arm.
    “What the hell? As if that arm isn’t sore enough from carrying you all the way up here.”
    “If you’re kidnapping me and stealing my boat, I want you to know I won’t go down without a fight.” Although she wondered how much fight she had in her right now.
    “You need to get out of Chicago more,” he said. “You sound like a gangster in a late-night movie.”
    “You’re not kidnapping me?”
    “Why the hell would I want to do that? You can’t cook. Your diplomatic skills need work. And you’re stealing my clothes.” He ran a finger down the button front of the denim shirt she wore. The finger lingered a moment too long on the bare skin right above her belly button where the shirt had fallen open.
    “You stole my boat.” She rose up on her elbow and studied him. His hair was darker underneath where the sun hadn’t touched it. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were fixed on her face.
    “My boat,” he said. “Free and clear. I have all the paperwork. Bought it from a charter company.”
    Despite herself, Riley felt a strong desire to touch him. Too tired, too much sun, too little food—that was what was