Just as I am about to venture from beneath the table, I hear the sound of someone’s approach. A pair of well-muscled, hairy legs stands directly before me.
“Wake up,” Conner says, and removes something from the table above me.
He walks over to her holding a pitcher of water. With exaggerated motion, he pours it into a glass. She does not stir. He splashes the water in her face, startling her awake. My hand tenses around the hilt of the hatchet. Gwen blinks and coughs.
“You gotta be thirsty,” Conner pours another glass, takes a deep gulp, and emits a satisfied sigh. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Gwen. I can be good for you, if you’d let me.”
“Get away from me,” she rasps, her eyes smoldering with hatred.
He shrugs. “A little gratitude would go a long way—”
“Gratitude?” She laughs bitterly. “You killed my husband.”
“He was a lead weight tied to your ankle… dragging you down. Now with me—look what you get: food… protection. I don’t ask for much in return. Just for you to be a bit nicer towards me.”
Her lips twist into a contemptuous smile, an expression unlike anything I ever saw on her before. “And until I am, you’re going to starve me into submission. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” she sneers.
He kneels down so that they are face to face and cups her chin with his hand. “I have all the time in the world. Something tells me you’ll be seeing things my way before long.”
He stands up and places the pitcher back on the table above me.
“See you in the morning,” he breezily says as he leaves.
When I am sure they are gone, I lift the table cover and poke my head out. “Gwen.”
She looks at me in a daze. “Phillip?”
I hurry to her. “Yes, baby, it’s me.”
“Phillip! You’re here! I thought… they said…”
“Shhh,” I press a finger to her smiling lips and quickly kiss her. “I am not dead. We’ve got to hurry before they come back.”
I untie her and help her to her feet. She immediately embraces me, squeezing me as tight as an anaconda, and despite our danger, I find myself laughing.
“Oh, Phillip,” she repeats over and over, weeping now.
I kiss her again, longer this time, and lead her to the water pitcher. She swallows half the pitcher in the blink of an eye. Holding her hand, we sneak towards the cocktail lounge where there are fewer torches and we can blend into the shadows. I need a moment to figure out my next move. We take refuge in the gift shop. Conner removed whatever edible items the gift shop held, but stacks of towels, t-shirts, and assorted trinkets remain. At the back of the shop, we kneel behind a shelf of conch shells.
Breathlessly, we touch each other, almost afraid to accept that this is real—that we are together once more. In a rush of words, I tell her of my escape from Goat Island, of battling the dog pack and sabotaging Action’s sneak attack. She tells me how Conner separated her from Pamela by locking Pamela in my empty bungalow, and then how he shackled Gwen in the restaurant, forbidding anyone to feed or even speak to her—all in an effort to break her will.
It seems we cannot get the words out fast enough, and as we speak our hands caress one another, lovingly lingering over every piece of exposed skin. Our words falter, trail off, because nothing is as important as the way we feel right now. She touches my thigh and my body responds. Our lips collide, hungrily devouring each other, hands clawing off what little clothing we have. Deep inside me, a tiny voice cries that we should not be doing this, we are in too great a danger, and we must flee. The roar of my passion obliterates any restraint. No thoughts of danger or death. Not now.
She draws me on top of her, needing me as much as I need her. In one push, I am deep inside her, and she grips my back, pulling me close, arching her back with animal lust.
Pulsing within her, I cradle her face in my hands. I need her to look at me. I need her to look into my eyes when I speak.
“I love you,” my words are thick with emotion. “I love you, I love… oh, Gwen, I love you.”
Light blossoms in the depth of her beautiful eyes as if a firecracker bursts into sparks, and I know, in that instant, she reaches ecstasy. I am not far behind her. She touches the stubble on my jaw and coos, “My Phillip. My love,” and with that I explode inside her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We lay side by side, gasping for breath, hands entwined. Gwen bolts upright and grabs her dress. “Phillip, we’ve got to go. If they catch us…”
I hurriedly put my shorts back on and peek through the glass entrance door. “It’s daybreak. I don’t see anyone, but they’ll all be awake soon. We cannot climb the cliff wall, so we’ll have to make a dash for the lagoon.”
“But they’ll hear us,” she shimmies into her dress.
“By the time they realize what we’re doing we’ll be long gone.”
“Conner will follow me.”
I furrow my brows. She is right. Conner will never let Gwen get away.
“Then let him follow,” I grimly reply, and extend my hand to her. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
We start to run for the burnt out lagoon bridge, but Gwen stops me. “We can’t leave without Pamela.”
Her face is anguished. As sorely as I want to get away from the resort, I know that Pamela would be in a terrible position if we leave her behind. Bereft of Gwen, her only ally and friend, Pamela would be at Conner’s mercy.
“Okay,” I agree. “We’ll make it quick.”
We take twenty steps in Pamela’s direction, round the corner of a bungalow and run right into Robby. He is outside his bungalow, smoking a cigarette, and is as shocked to see me as I am to see him. The cigarette falls from his mouth. Before he can yell for help, I pounce on him, knocking him backwards. I try to cover his mouth, but he uses the advantage of his bulk to flip me over, pressing his forearm down on my throat. My face turns red and my eyes bulge.
Rob heaves his weight onto his forearm, bringing his ruddy, leering face close to mine. Whap! Something wet sprays on my brow. Robby’s mouth hangs open, as though he was about to say something important but then completely forgot what it was. He rolls off me with my hatchet sticking out of the back of his skull.
“I… I had to. He was killing you,” Gwen stands back in shock over what she just did.
I wipe the blood from my brow and rest my hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, baby. You had no choice.”
Someone makes a little gasp. We turn to see Robby’s girlfriend. She wears a rumpled nightie and her hair is flat on one side. She sees Robby lying face down on the ground and screams.
We run. No time for Pamela. Robby’s girlfriend continues to scream. People shout from their bungalows. Doors swing open as people stomp outside. Torches flare to life. If we can make it to the lagoon bridge, we can run to the point where it ends and swim the short distance that remains to the other side. Bob and Dean get there ahead of us. We skid to a halt. Dean looks at me as though seeing a ghost. Bob wields a crow bar and viciously swings it at me, driving me back from the bridge. We dash the other way, but by now numerous people stream in our direction, their torches bobbing in the darkness.