Finally, with one last push, the blindfold came free. Yes! Relief rushed through me. I sat up and looked around. Thanks to the ever-present blanket of stars, and a nice, fat moon, the night wasn't pitch-black. I could see that the beach was wide and white, reaching up to a thick forest of vegetation behind me. To my left was a long, flat rocky ledge stretching out into the water. To my right, nothing but sand stretching on for what seemed like miles. Out in the ocean . . .
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nothing. No sign of St. Barths or Kiran's party island or any boats of any kind. There was nothing but water as far as I could see.
All I had was my blindfold, and the bandana they had used as a gag, which was lying in the sand a few feet up the beach. No food. No water. No blanket. No tent. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Hopelessness started to cave in on me like a thousand tons of rocks. Where was I supposed to go? Into the trees where animals probably lived? It wasn't like I could sit out here all night on the cold beach in the wind. I would, as Red Beard implied, freeze to death.
Could that happen in one night? Would Upton sail out here to rescue me only to find my cold, dead body?
No. I was being ridiculous. This was the Caribbean. Sure the nights were cool, but not freezing. And there had to be something I could do. I shoved myself to my feet, ready to check out the tree line, and saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something tossed into the sand near the edge of the water. My heart leapt with hope and I ran for the water's edge. It was my purse, my still-wet T-shirt, and one of my shoes. The men must have thrown my things there, intending to bury them with me or something. Get rid of the evidence. But the stupid morons hadn't realized something. My phone was in that purse!
I dropped to my knees and leaned forward, grabbing at the clutch with my teeth. I only succeeded in pushing it farther away. If these things got any closer to the water, the tide was going to come in and sweep it out to sea. Cursing under my breath, I got up again and kicked all of it up the beach, working my way up until I was a few feet away from the forest's edge.
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"Okay. How the hell do I get at my phone?" I said through my teeth.
I looked down at my bare feet. It was worth a shot. Sitting my butt down on the cold sand, I managed to pull the purse toward me by gripping it between my feet. Then I held it down with the sole of one foot while nudging the toes of my other foot under the flap. The second it opened, it flapped closed again, the magnetic closure working against me.
"Dammit!" I cried, frustrated tears stinging my eyes.
This was ridiculous. I needed my hands. Even if I got the damn phone out of there, it was going to be impossible to work the touch screen with my sandy toes. I shoved myself to my knees, then my feet, and walked toward the flat rock. There had to be something there I could use. Something sharp to cut the twine, or something I could use as a wedge to shimmy the coil from my wrists. I walked all the way around the base of the rock. There were plenty of stones, but all of them had been smoothed out by the pounding surf. The desperation was just starting to fill my chest again, when I saw a large patch of white clinging to the black rock. I moved closer to inspect it and saw that it was a colony of rough barnacles, porous and scaly, almost like a pumice stone.
My jaw clenched. It would take hours to break through the twine this way. But it was the only hope I had.
I turned around, backed my hands into the barnacles, and started to move my arms up and down. The barnacles snagged my skin and I winced in pain. I leaned forward slightly, trying to keep my arms
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away from the sharp surface as much as possible, and kept going. Up, down, up, down, up, down. I kept catching my skin, and each time it stung even worse, but I just gritted my teeth and kept working. At times it felt as if the twine was loosening, but then I'd try to pull my hands apart and nothing would happen.
After what felt like an eternity, I stepped away from the rock, panting with exertion and exhaustion and fear and pain, and pulled as hard as I could. My wrists felt as if they were being slit open with a paring knife. I shouted against the pain and strained even harder. Harder, harder, until I couldn't take it anymore.
Nothing happened.
That was when I let out a scream that scared a dozen birds from one of the trees at the edge of the forest. My heart constricted at the reminder that I was not alone, and I went back to work.
Gritting my teeth, I told myself that the pain wasn't there. I moved my shoulders up and down, tearing my wrists apart, and simply took it. There was no other option. I needed my hands, and this was the only way to free them. Sweat popped up along my lip, across my brow, under my arms. My wrists burned. I clenched my jaw tighter and kept going.
Two minutes later, the rope fell into the shallow water at my feet. I was free. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
I whipped my arms around to inspect them. There were nasty, bloody cuts around my wrists and scrapes all up and down my forearms. The wounds stung in the cold night air, but the pain was nothing. I was free.
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I turned around and sprinted for my phone. Falling to my knees in front of my clutch, I ripped it open and dumped its contents onto the ground. My heart fell to my toes. My phone was not there.
"No! No! No!" I shouted, moving aside the lip gloss, the compact, the Tic Tacs. As if an iPhone could be hiding beneath any of this stuff. Of course it wasn't there. The men had been smart enough, at least, to take that with them. There would be no calling for help. No relief of friendly voices. Nothing to do but wait.
I lifted my shredded wrists and took in a long, broken breath. All that work, all that pain, all this blood . .. for nothing.
I turned around to face the ocean, curled my knees up under my chin, rested my face between them, and cried.
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NO STOPPING HER