Saving Valencia_A Steamy Alpha Male Romance Page 4

  “Her ankle’s broken!” the woman cried out.

  I turned around and watched the feral woman carry Angel out in her arms. The scene struck me as odd. Grant came out shrugging his shoulders and looking worse than I’d ever seen him. I watched a sense of relief wash over him as the men wearing black looked around the cave with their guns. Like we had somehow crashed into enemy territory during a damn war or something. I watched the nameless woman carry Angel all the way over to Grier, and I was shocked at how strong she was.

  Grier looked at Angel as if he had seen a ghost and the nameless woman who had yet to introduce herself had anger growing in her stare.

  “I need one of you back up there to rope down the gurney. We have to get her on that helicopter. And Mr. Robbins? You’re going up with them. I’m not sure what’s wrong with you, but something is.”

  Grant stood beside me and heaved a heavy sigh.

  “Who the hell is that?” he asked.

  “Not sure. She hasn’t introduced herself. But she has a point. Once Angel gets up into that helicopter, you’re next.”

  The woman came over to Grant and reached for his shirt. Then, she began to drag his ass behind her. I didn’t like the way she was bossing my men around and pulling on my best friend. I didn’t know who the hell she was, but the least she could do is tuck in her anger at what was apparently a grave inconvenience in her day.

  “I demand to know who you are and what the hell the plan is right now,” I said.

  The woman turned to me with wild eyes as Grier hooked Angel up to the helicopter gurney.

  “I’m Val. Your brilliant head of security was under the impression there were four people on that plane. Not five.”

  “Okay. So what does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “It means Val’s staying behind so we can get you guys to safety.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Yep. Even though the pilot and copilot are dead, we still don’t have enough seats to transport all six of us. Only five of us,” Grier said.

  “I’m sure we can fit another body on board. She can sit on my lap, if push comes to shove.”

  “No. No to… all of that,” Val said. “Safety is paramount right now, especially after something like this. The last thing we need is to fly unsafely and crash again, because we might not have the cushion of a volcanic island to break us.”

  “That was a cushioned fall?”

  “Beats plummeting into the ocean and drowning,” she said flatly.

  “Val, you stay back. And stay right here. Once we get everyone back to Antigua and Barbuda, we’re gassing up and coming right back for you,” Grier said.

  “No. Absolutely not. Completely unacceptable,” I said. “She can’t stay behind by herself. She’ll get herself killed.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Hopkins, Val Bouchard is the most accomplished survivalist on the East Coast. Staying on an island like this for a few hours is damn near a vacation to her,” Grier said.

  “And what happens when night falls?” I asked.

  “I make a fire. I go fishing. And I take a nap,” Val said.

  “She’s not staying here alone,” I said. “I don’t leave people behind.”

  “Were you in the military or something?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then you always leave people behind. Don’t worry. I packed a bag for a reason,” she said.

  “Wait, this was always the plan?” I asked.

  I was irate. Grier’s ingenious plan was to leave a woman in the wilderness to save our asses? Nope. That wasn’t happening. Either we all got in that helicopter together or someone stayed behind with Val so she would have company. I didn’t give a damn if she was the most accomplished survivalist in the entire world. When people were with me, we stuck together. Survival wasn’t simply physical. It was mental as well.

  And being abandoned on an island with no other person in sight wasn’t a very good mental game.

  “We have to get you up in the helicopter, Mr. Hopkins,” Grier said. “We’ll come back for Val in a few hours.”

  “Go,” Val said. “Get on the damn thing and get out of here.”

  My eyes turned towards hers before I stepped up to the plate.

  “I’m staying behind with her to make sure nothing happens,” I said.

  “What?” Val asked. “No. That’s not happening.”

  “Mr. Hopkins, that isn’t smart. You need to be checked out by a doctor. You were just in a plane crash,” Grier said.

  “And I’m fine, save for some cuts and bruises. No concussion. Nothing broken, like Angel. Nothing mental, like Grant. I don’t care what you say, Grier. Nothing is changing my mind. If Val can’t get on that helicopter, then I’m staying behind with her until the second rescue attempt.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she said flatly.

  “And you’re welcome,” I said plainly.

  “Miss Bouchard, we have to get Miss Ratcliffe out of here,” Grier said.

  Val sighed and shook her head as she turned and walked back into the cave. I waved Grier off and he made his way back to the ropes, shimmying up them into the helicopter that hovered over the forest treetops. I listened as the helicopter took off while I stood at the mouth of the cave. I was confident in my decision. I knew Grier wasn’t happy with me and I knew this Val woman thought I was a total nutjob, but I had a moral code I stuck by no matter what. Just because I didn’t have a military history didn’t mean I had to be a selfish prick and leave an innocent woman in the jungle to fend for herself.

  I didn’t leave people behind. I knew what it felt like to be left behind, so it never happened on my watch.

  I turned around and found Val casing the cave with her flashlight. And when she turned to look at me, she gave me the oddest look. A mixture between ‘you’re an idiot’ and ‘I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you’.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t need a knight on a white horse. This is how I live,” Val said. “You should’ve gone.”

  This was how she lived? Where the hell did Grier find this woman? In a treehouse in the middle of the Amazon?

  “You’re not staying in this place by yourself. End of story,” I said.

  “Not much of a choice now, so you can stop talking,” she said.

  “Not much of a talker person?”

  “Not much of a people person.”

  “So, you’re a loner.”

  “No. I simply don’t tolerate people’s fake bullshit.”

  She shined her light directly into my eyes and it made me flinch. This woman was a spitfire. But she was angry. I knew that look in her eye. She had unresolved issues she probably took out on those around her. Like I used to do in the orphanage. Still, I found her intriguing. Her hair was still wild and sweat rimmed the neck of her shirt. Her eyes danced around the cave one last time before she turned off the flashlight and made her way to stand at my side.

  Then, the radio on the ground she had dropped earlier chirped to life.

  Valencia

  “Val Bouchard, this is Grier. Come in if you can hear me.”

  I stepped out of the cave and reached for the radio coming to life on the ground.

  “This is Val. I read you loud and clear.”

  “Just to reiterate the plan. We’re flying back to Antigua and Barbuda to get Miss Ratcliffe and Mr. Robbins to a hospital. We’ll stay to make sure they get into good hands, we’ll refuel, then we’re coming back to get you two. Stay where you are. It shouldn’t be any longer than seven or so hours.”

  “We can’t stay put, it’s almost nightfall and the cave they picked out has signs of bat infestation. If we’re going to be here seven more hours, we need a safer spot. One that doesn’t risk rabies.”

  “Then keep your tracker on you. As long as we fly within two miles of you, the signal is strong enough to track where you are. Keep the radio on you as well. It has a radius of five miles, so I can talk with you before I fi
nd you in case something happens with the GPS tracker.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Remember. Seven hours.”

  The radio went silent and I drew in a deep breath. It would be more than seven hours before they got back to us. That much I knew. Once nightfall hit and cloud cover poured over the island, it would make tracking us harder. It always did. So even though Grier thought seven, I was planning for ten hours of time stuck on this island with a man who thought he was Rambo.

  I turned to face the man behind me and sighed. What the hell had he been thinking? He was obviously deranged, electing to say in a harsh landscape like Montserrat. At the very least, he was pompous about his survival capabilities and his ability to protect me from the wilderness that surrounded us.

  And if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was a pompous man.

  It didn’t matter anyway. The jungle would level his ego in a couple of hours and I would be there to witness it. He’d cry like a child, begging to go home and I would be there to coddle him and tell the beginner survivalist that it would be okay. I did it all the time on my weekend excursions with people who enrolled into my classes. They took four classes, thought they were experts, then cried seven hours in when they figured out just how hard it is to build a fire, make a shelter, and hunt food without the luxurious amenities of a fishing pole and a match.

  Idiots.

  “So since we’re not staying here, what’s the plan?”

  His voice was low, which wasn’t good. A low voice rumbled throughout the forest, and predators on the island would be able to hear us a longer distance away.

  “Stop talking,” I said.

  “Why? Because you don’t like what I have to say? Or ask?”

  “Because the timber of your voice echoes farther through the woods than voices of a higher pitch range. Like mine. If we were at war, it would be like flying a bright pink flag over your station.”

  “Does it have to be pink?”

  I shook my head and bit down onto the inside of my cheek as a smirk crossed his face. Great. I was stuck on an active volcanic island with a comically-deranged Rambo.

  What could go wrong?

  “Follow me,” I said.

  “Then what?” Silas asked.

  “Shut up.”

  I began walking through the woods, feeling him hot on my trail. I reached for my machete and started hacking through the forestry, trying to carve some sort of a patch for us. Even the setting sun was hot on our backs, and sweat dripped down every curve and into every crevice of my body.

  “What’s the goal once we touch down?” Silas asked.

  “Do you ever not talk?”

  “I’m asking you for a plan. You’re not the only one out here and you won’t keep me in the dark.”

  “Obviously.”

  “So, what’s the plan once we touch down?”

  “If we don’t die from a vicious predator that follows the sound of your voice, we’ll touch down somewhere that has a natural shelter with no sign of wildlife in it. Preferably by a running water source. Which is another reason why you need to shut up. Because I need to listen out for water.”

  “If we go that way, the ocean’s--”

  “Freshwater, Silas. We need fresh water. The kind that rushes over rocks or bubbles up from the ground. Now will you shut the hell up so I can concentrate?”

  I whipped around to face him and almost planted into his chest. His musk was strong, and something inside of me flipped. He stopped in his tracks and I felt his eyes on the top of my head, but I froze. I couldn’t move. Something about his smell was entrancing to me, and I breathed in silently so as to conceal how badly my body wanted to draw him in.

  Draw him closer.

  I’d never felt that way before, and it was something new I needed to sift through.

  “Should we find somewhere close to stay? You know, close to the wreckage site or something?”

  His idiotic question pulled me from my mesmerized state.

  “That’s what the tracker and radio are for. In the meantime, we’ve got less than three hours of daylight and at least seven to stick out. You can shut up, follow me, and be comfortable, or you can risk rabies with the bats when I make you turn back because your voice is going to being a liability.”

  I turned on my heels and forced myself to walk away from him. I chopped through vegetation to take my mind off the lingering smell underneath my nose. Sweet, with a hint of sweat and thorny musk. Like smelling a rose before face-planting into freshly-tilled dirt. But even though his body was thick and even though his voice rattled my ribcage and even though his smell scent parts of my carnality into overdrive, his constant talking was driving me nuts.

  “Shit.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Fucking twig.”

  “I need better shoes.”

  “Or a dry cleaner.”

  “Shoes and a dry cleaner.”

  I shook my head as sweat dripped down my back. Just another stuck up rich man with expensive shoes and lavish tastes who expects to be in charge. I knew that was why he kept questioning my plan. Kept me locked into some idiotic battle of wits. He was in territory he didn’t understand and he knew it, so he was trying whatever he could to keep the upper hand.

  But in the wilderness? I was in charge. I was the one that commanded. I was the only person I knew that nature truly yielded to, and that was why people considered me the best. This man would live because of me, then he would jet back off into his world and tell the masses about how he saved the ‘blonde, busty survivalist’.

  At least, that was how one website described me.

  I bent down and picked up a few sticks, shoving them into my backpack. As the sun continued to set, I picked up more and more twigs. I’d chop through some hedges, pull on a few vines to make sure they weren’t snakes we could eat for food, then picked up sticks and filled my bag. I even came across a bird’s nest that had fallen out of a tree and grinned.

  The perfect tinder to help start a fire.

  “You want me to carry that?”

  I tried zipping my backpack full of twigs and brush closed, but it was filled to the brim. The last sliver of sun was casting the faintest of glows upon our faces and for a second, I stopped to watch. His green eyes darkened with the night and his strong jawline was accented by the shadows of the forest around us.

  “It looks pretty heavy and you’re losing a lot of water sweating. I can carry that for you.”

  I didn’t want to admit that it was a reasoning I could get behind, but he wasn’t wrong.

  “Let me do something, Val. I can hack through a trail you blaze or I can carry the bag. You don’t have to--”

  “Sh,” I said harshly.

  “Really? I’m trying to help you and you’re going to--?”

  “You really don’t listen well. Silas, shut up and listen.”

  He drew in a sharp breath as his lips downturned into a frown, but he didn’t speak. Then, he heard it. The same sound I heard. And I could tell he heard it by the way his eyes lit up. Even in the darkness of the jungle, they sparkled with wonder and delight.

  “Is that…?”

  “It is,” I said.

  Then I turned on my heels and began to run towards the sound.

  Both of us would need water before we needed food, and the sound of rushing water grew closer the further I ran. I slammed twigs out of the way and picked up my feet, listening as Silas stumbled behind me. He was a behemoth, and it was showing in his movements. Rigid and lumbering without an ounce of grace or dexterity behind it.

  “We’re almost there!” I exclaimed.

  “Now who needs to shut up?”

  I ignored his comments as the brush began to give way. And right before my eyes just as darkness blanketed our bodies was a babbling brook. The best kind, too. It bubbled up from the ground of the island, which meant it had been filtered through layers and layers of volcanic rock. I tossed my bag to the ground and fell to my knees, dipping
my lips towards the water and slurping as deeply as I could.

  Cold. Refreshing. And just what we both needed.

  “Val. Look.”

  I rose my face up long enough to follow Silas’ finger. My eyes trailed up the brook a little way and watched it dead end into a wall. And raised up from the wall about four feet in the air was a cliff that hung over the water. A cliff that had a massive black hole smack dab in the middle of it.

  “That’s a cave, isn’t it?” Silas asked.

  “Looks like we found where to camp out,” I said.

  And when I looked over at Silas, he was smiling at me. A thousand-watt smile that crinkled his eyes and brought a light to his face that made me warm inside.

  A smile which I didn’t hesitate to return.

  Silas

  I was stunned by her smile. Shocked into silence as her features lit up. Her wild blonde hair seemed richer in tone and her brooding brown eyes sparkled with flecks of gray that shone in the darkness of the wilderness that had swallowed us whole. But as quickly as the smile happened, it faded, and the brooding angry woman I had become quickly familiar with was back.

  She didn’t say a word to me as she got up from her crouched position--hovering over the ground while she drank from the stream. She looked like an animal. A graceful, elegant part of the wildlife around us. She stood to her feet and I suppressed a grin. For a woman who acted the way she did and talked such a big game, she came in a small package. It was amusing to me. She moved towards the dark opening of the cave off in the distance towards the end of the stream of water bubbling up from the ground. I watched her walk away, studying the sway of her hips. The confidence of her walk. The swagger in her shoulders as she slung her bag over her body and clutched the lengthy machete in her hand.

  Even in the darkness, I saw the strength of her forearms flex.

  I walked behind her, watching while she worked. She flung the machete into the ground, causing it to stick right up out of the dirt. She rifled through the twigs and branches and shit she had picked up and found her flashlight, then she clicked it on and studied the cave. It was barren. Empty. But more than that, its edges were smooth.