“I need the duct tape,” Max said just loud enough to be heard. “It’s in the duffel bag.” When Lola found it, he told her to tear off a piece, then he wrapped it around the poor dog’s mouth.
Although Lola knew it was necessary, she still felt bad for him. “Can he breathe?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max answered, the tone of his voice all business as he handed over the dog. “He just can’t bark.”
Even as Baby Doll scratched at the tape with his paw, his whole body shook with excitement. “You don’t know how close you came to living in Mexico,” she chastised as she squeezed him against her breasts.
“Colombia,” Max corrected. He knelt by the duffel and for the first time she noticed the rifle strapped to his back. A gray baseball cap stuck out of his back pocket. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like some sort of rubber was stretched over the rifle’s barrel.
“Are you going to kill those guys?” she asked.
“Do you have a problem with that?” He pulled out the two pieces of Styrofoam and stood.
Did she? Not if there was no other way. “No,” she answered, and held Baby as Max once again taped the water wings to the side of her dog. “Have you ever killed anyone before?”
He didn’t answer and asked instead, “Do you think you can swim without hyperventilating or making any noise?”
If it meant getting off the island, she could do anything. “Yes.”
“Good, because our getting out of here depends on it.” Once again he knelt by the duffel. He pulled out the flashlight and a map, then he stuffed her pashmina inside. Next, he filled the bag and her purse with several big rocks.
“What are you doing?”
“These are going in the blue hole. I want nothing left behind that could identify us.”
“My toothbrush is in there. I’ll need it.”
“You’ll have a new one by morning.”
What he didn’t say was that she might also be dead by morning. “I’ll need my wallet. It’s Fendi.” His exasperated grunt told her what he thought of that. “Okay, but I’ll need my American Express.”
He pulled out the cash she had in her wallet, but no credit card. With her free hand, she stuffed the money in her bra.
In one fluid motion, Max stood and shoved the flashlight and map beneath one arm. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out something square. Moonlight shone off silver foil, and Lola thought it looked a lot like one of those chocolate mints, the kind room service left on her pillow when she called for turn-down service.
“Is that a mint?”
“Condom.”
For several silent moments she stared at him through the darkness. He had to be kidding. “I thought you said those were too small for you.”
He looked up and their eyes locked. “They’re not for me.” For a brief second she thought she saw a corner of his mouth tilt up, but she wasn’t sure. “Take this,” he instructed as he thrust the flashlight toward her. Once she held it in her free hand, he ripped open the condom, stretched the latex, then rolled it up the flashlight. When he was through, he tied the end to his belt loop. “I want you to follow right behind me without making a sound.” He rolled up the map and slipped the thin condom around that, too. “You and I, and your mutt, are going to swim to that boat out there, slip aboard, and haul ass out of here.” He tied the map to his belt loop. “When I tell you to do something, I want you to do it. Don’t think about it first. Just do it. Right now, I just want you to say ‘Okay, Max.’ ”
She wasn’t in the military. She wasn’t used to taking orders. But she trusted him with her and Baby’s lives. “Okay, Max.”
He placed his hands on his hips and looked her up and down. “You’re going to stick out like a shiny beacon.”
“What do I do?”
“I’ll take care of it in a minute. Right now we need to go over the op plan.”
“Op plan?”
“Operation plan,” he explained. “Once we’re on board the boat, I’ll take up a position in the rear, and when I tell you, I want you to start the engines.”
“Me?”
“Have you ever driven a boat?”
“No, but I drove a motorcycle once.”
He wiped his hand across the stubble on his jaw. “It’s easier than driving a motorcycle. Just turn the key and push the throttle forward.”
“Do I have to put it in gear?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. It’s ready to go.”
“Okay. Turn the key, then push the throttle forward,” she repeated as her stomach twisted into knots. “If I pull it back, is that reverse?”
“Yes, and don’t even think about doing that.”
Her stomach twisted a bit more. She could do this. No sweat. “Anything else?”
“Yes, keep your head down.” He adjusted the rifle on his back. “Ready?”
Not really. “Yes, Max.”
“Then let’s rock and roll.”
She suddenly felt sick. This was it. They would either make it off the island or die. She followed him to the blue hole and stood on the large rocks as he slid the duffel and her Louis Vuitton bag beneath the water. Everything she possessed disappeared in the blue hole. She held Baby tight as the three of them moved down the hill toward the beach. Just as she’d agreed, she followed Max. She stuck her hand in the back pocket of his jeans, as she’d thought of doing earlier that day, and neither of them made a sound.
They knelt beside the stream he’d helped her across on their way up the hill. He handed her the baseball cap, and as she stuffed her hair beneath it, he dragged his fingers through the mud, then smeared it on his face and arms. She was next, and she closed her eyes as he spread the cold wet dirt over her cheeks.
“Think of it as a facial,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes and looked into his face close to hers. “That mud is clean,” she whispered back.
One brow lifted the dirt on his forehead and his silent laughter touched her cheek. “Clean mud? That’s a new one.”
The mariachi music stopped and Max glanced over his shoulder toward the beach. The muffled voices of three men rose above the sound of the surf, their slurs not quite as loud as before. Max dug into the mud, and with quick impersonal hands rubbed it on her arms and legs. Baby attempted to jump from her grasp, but she held him closer. Then Max rose and she followed him through the trees and brush. Again she was impressed with how silently he moved for such a big guy. They kept to the deepest shadows, Max sometimes blending in so well, she had to hold on to the back of his shirt so she wouldn’t lose him. Sometimes she reached beneath the rifle strapped to his back and touched him just to reassure herself that he was still Max. Still strong and warm and alive. And each time she did, she felt a bit stronger herself.
He led her to a part of the beach away from the drunken men, and together they walked out into the ocean. The waves rushed over her ankles, then her knees and thighs, washing away the mud, which had started to itch. She walked out until just her shoulders were above the water, then she and Baby paddled against the current making little progress.
The third time Max came back for her, he reached beneath the water for her hand and placed it on the barrel of his rifle. She grabbed Baby with her other hand, and without a word, Max towed them. Lola kicked her feet, careful not to make a sound. She had the feeling that even if she didn’t help, he could have managed.
Salt water filled her mouth and splashed into her eyes. One shoe fell off her foot, and the muscles in her arms and legs burned. It seemed as if they’d been swimming for an hour when they finally came upon the open boat. Max cut the anchor rope, then took Baby from her and set him in the bottom. He grabbed the side with one hand, grabbed her butt with her other, and shoved her over the gunwale. She slid to the bottom like an exhausted fish and stared up at the night sky. Tired and afraid and so winded she could hardly catch her breath. Max passed the rifle over, and it hit her shoulder. The boat rocked as he hoisted himself over the side and landed smack on top of her. The air whooshed from her lungs and his forehead knocked the visor on her hat. Immediately he lifted his weight from her, straddling her on his hands and knees.