Darkness(22)

Switching on her flashlight without waiting for a reply, she shone it inside the backpack, instantly spotting the water bottle that was her target.

His head came up off the rock with more speed than she would have thought him capable of. His hand shot out of the Mylar and grabbed the wrist of her hand that held the flashlight. She looked at him in surprise. His grip was far stronger than she would have expected for a man who seemed to be teetering on the brink of passing out.

“No light,” he growled.





Chapter Nine





No radio. No light.

Gina’s insides twisted with alarm as she suddenly understood: he thought someone was out there hunting him. On Attu, in the teeth of the storm. Goose bumps prickled across the back of her neck as their eyes met. His were no more than glinting slits. His hold on her wrist felt unbreakable.

Once again, the questions burned in her mind: Who is this guy, and what on earth have I gotten myself into?

The deadly gleam in his dark eyes immobilized Gina for a moment. She once again became aware of the unexpected strength in the hand gripping her wrist.

A cautious voice inside her head warned that assuming he was too weak to harm her might be the last wrong assumption she ever made.

Finally she remembered where they were, and that he needed her if he was going to survive. Which meant that she should be safe enough for now—from him. The storm was another matter. So was whoever he thought was chasing him, apparently.

What felt like a cold finger that had nothing to do with the weather ran down her spine.

Keep it together.

She inhaled, a deep, steadying breath.

First things first: for any of the rest to be a problem, she had to stay alive.

Which among other things meant making preparations to get through the storm. Which meant she needed to be able to see what she was doing, which meant she needed the damned light.

Her eyes narrowed and her chin came up.

“Do you really think anybody’s going to be out in this?” Her voice was tart as she cast a comprehensive glance at the driving sheets of snow mixed with sleet that pelted down around them, hemming them into a space the size of a subway car. The wind howled like a wolf pack on the prowl. Where they were, sheltered at the base of the rocks, it was so dark she could only really see him when a spear of forked lightning split the black clouds tumbling overhead. “Anyway, the only people on this island besides you and me are my colleagues, my friends. You should be wishing they’d find us. But they won’t, not for the next few hours, at least. They’re hunkered down, riding out the storm.”

He slowly released her wrist, which she took as tacit permission to continue with what she’d been doing. Which she did, grabbing the water bottle and twisting off the lid.

“Scientists. Looking at birds.” There was no missing the skepticism in his voice as he watched her.

“That’s right.” Taking a long drink herself, she handed him the bottle. “Here. It’s water.”

“Water.” He said it almost reverently as he put the bottle to his lips. She could hear him guzzling it as she dug into the backpack again for her fire-starting kit, which was nothing more than a collection of items useful for that purpose rolled together in a ziplock bag.

Propping the flashlight up on a rock so that she could see what she was doing, she quickly made a pile of the cotton balls and small dry sticks that came in the kit. Ignoring the dread that snaked through her veins, she flicked the Bic lighter to set it alight. The small flame blazed brightly in the darkness.

He lowered the water and his head shot up off the rock in the same swift movement. The forceful but inarticulate sound of protest he made caused her to jump. The lighter went out.

“Yes, I know. No fire,” she snapped, glaring at him. She was shivering and exhausted and scared and her patience was fraying. Normally the temperature on Attu in November never sank below thirty-two degrees, but they were well under that already, while the thermometer continued to drop. “Only, without a fire we’re probably going to freeze to death. So whatever you’re worried about is going to have to take a backseat to living through the night.”

The look he gave her was hard with suspicion. She returned it with interest. His left leg moved restlessly, sliding up and bending at the knee as though he sought to make himself more comfortable. She wondered whether he’d hurt himself with his sudden movement. He grimaced, and his head sank back against the rock, as if holding it up any longer required too much effort. He lifted the water bottle again and drank. His eyes continued to gleam at her over it, but she took his lack of verbal response as tacit acceptance that she would build her fire, so she began constructing the relevant pieces.

“The people you’re with—you know them?”

There was no mistaking the mistrust in his voice.

“They’re college professors. Academics,” she replied with a noticeable lack of patience. In a way, though, she was almost glad of the distraction he presented. The knot in her stomach as she flicked the Bic on again, then touched the lighter to the cotton and watched tiny fingers of orange flame spring to life and begin to grow, was exactly what she’d expected, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Instead of getting caught up in horrific memories, it was far better that she concentrate on dealing with him.

“You know them?” he persisted.