It was a tiny efficiency situation, but meals were clearly intended to be cooked there. And where meals were prepared there would be silverware—and most importantly for her, knives.

She let her tongue slip out to dampen her lips, deciding if she were caught in the middle of her escape attempt, she could tell Clay that she was just trying to make it to the bathroom. She should have to go by now. It was only dehydration that was preventing her from being in serious discomfort.

Glancing back toward the door, making sure there was still no sign of Clay, she scooted to the edge of the bed and twisted to the left, sliding her feet onto the floor. Her knees trembled, unsteady after so many hours of disuse, but after a moment her bones found their centers and her bare feet adjusted to the cool temperature of the tile. She didn’t know where her sandals had gone, but she didn’t need shoes to escape. She’d spent half her life on the island barefoot anyway. All she needed was to get her arms free and get out of this cottage. From there she would find a way to get to help.

Strengthened by the thought, she gave an experimental tug, heart lifting when the bed slid toward her. It wasn’t secured to the floor. It was heavy, but it wasn’t far to the kitchen and there was only the small couch in her way. She would be able to make it across the room in a few minutes.

She leaned over, taking a long drink of the water by the bed, wincing as her throat muscles protested the work she was forcing them to do. But she was still dying of thirst and as soon as she was free, she wanted to be ready to run.

After her drink, she tugged the bed away from the wall and around the bedside table. A few minutes later she had dragged it past the couch and into the tiny kitchen. She stopped a few feet from the drawers, heart racing as she reached out with one bare foot and gripped the drawer pull with her toes. She fumbled the first time, but the second time she managed to slide the drawer open and was rewarded with the rattle of silverware inside.

Biting back a cry of celebration, she pulled the bed frame closer to the open drawer. She glanced down, spirits sinking when she saw only a few rusted forks, spoons, and butter knives, and one dented steak knife that looked like it had seen sharper days. But it was all she had and thankfully the rope Clay had used looked like it would be easy to cut. It was soft, silky rope, not anything course or covered with a protective coating.

She bent low, straining against her bonds as she reached for the knife with her mouth. It took a few tries and she banged her forehead on the counter once when she dropped the knife halfway to standing, but finally she had the wooden handle of the steak knife between her teeth.

Glancing back toward the door, silently thanking whatever force was keeping Clay away from the cottage, she crawled back onto the mattress on her knees, facing her hands. The rope was twisted now that she’d reversed her position—her right wrist pinned beneath her left and the rope cutting deeper into her flesh—but she could reach her left wrist easily. All she had to do was get through the rope and she would be able to free her other hand.

Using her tongue to flip the knife over, she positioned the blade and clenched her jaw, teeth digging into the handle as she bent over, bringing the blade to the rope. She sawed back and forth with short, sharp jerks of her head. Almost immediately, she was rewarded with frayed, fuzzy strands of white fluffing around her mouth.

She got through most of the first loop and moved on to the second, hoping that if she hacked far enough through all three lengths of rope she would be able to squirm her hand free without risking cutting herself with the rusty knife. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a tetanus shot and it might be a long time before she was able to get to a doctor.

She didn’t even know if she was still on Ko Tao. She’d been unconscious for at least one night, maybe more. Clay could have taken her all the way to Bangkok in that amount of time, but judging by the smell of the breeze rushing in from outside, she would bet she was still on the islands.

But it might be a different island, one without a large local population and no medical clinic. Still, there had to be a way back to civilization. Clay had brought her here somehow. With a little luck, she would be able to use that same method to get herself out. She could hotwire a car, drive a boat, and fly a plane. She was uniquely equipped to survive something like this, a fact she kept repeating to herself as she hacked through the second length of rope and started on the third.

Whatever knot Clay had used, it was elaborate. Each length of rope encircled her wrist separately and was secured before being joined to a more intricate knot between her wrists. She was halfway through the third rope and already planning her dash to the front door when she heard footsteps on the gravel path outside.

For a panicked second, she froze before clenching her teeth and sawing more frantically. She cut through the last rope and into her skin, leaving a deep gash that immediately began to fill with red. But if she could get out of here before Clay got inside it would be worth risking a case of lockjaw.

Grabbing the knife in her now free hand, ignoring the blood running down her arm, she quickly sawed her way through the ropes binding her right wrist. By the time she saw a flash of movement outside the screen door, she was already running for the bathroom, praying there was a window she could crawl out of.

“Harley!” Clay’s shout came from behind her. “Stop!”

Yeah right.

How about I run like hell instead?

Chapter Eight

Harley

Harley slammed the door behind her and locked it, sobbing with relief as she saw that the bathroom became a laundry room. And on the other side of the stackable laundry machine was a door leading outside.

As she dashed through the small space, she grabbed the hand towel hanging near the sink and wrapped it around her bloody wrist. The wound was definitely starting to sting, but she was so high on adrenaline she barely felt it.

Breathing hard from a combination of terror and going too long without food or much water, she shoved through the door, emerging into another sunny day in paradise. It seemed wrong for the sun to be shining on a day like this, but Mother Nature had proven that she didn’t give any more of a damn about human drama than humans gave about her polar ice caps.

Harley froze, taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. She was in the middle of a clearing, near several other cottages, on the other side of which lay thick rainforest, much denser than anything on Ko Tao. She was definitely on a different island, but she didn’t have time to wonder which one.

She had to move, hide!

She broke for the forest, sprinting for all she was worth, refusing to look back over her shoulder, even when she heard Clay shout again and the thud of his footfalls following her across the grass. She clenched her jaw and pumped her arms harder at her sides, silently thanking Dom for forcing her into the best shape of her life. If she ever saw him again, she was going to kiss him senseless, and vow never to skip abs and legs again.

And she was going to see him again. Him and Jasper.

She hit the cool shade of the forest and took a hard left, veering away from the dirt trail leading to the right. The trees were closer together and it was harder going with sticks and rocks digging into the bottoms of her bare feet, but it would be harder for Clay to follow her this way. If she stayed on open ground, he would catch her sooner or later. She was barefoot, weak, and had much shorter legs.