Page 74 of Rio
This woman is determined.She’s pigheaded and stubborn.She’s likely chasing more evidence because she’s worried.Is it because of me?Panic courses through my veins.“Raquel!”I yell, scanning the coastline.I scan for any sign of movement.For Raquel.
Still nothing.
An angry gust of wind almost knocks me sideways.I still, bracing myself, under the deluge of the downpour, under the weight of the wind, planting my feet as wide as I can.The wind tears through the trees, screaming like a wraith.
Where the hell is she?I look out at the sea again, my eyes sweeping the coastline, then the tree line.That’s when I see it.A small hut, tucked to the side of some trees, barely visible through the downpour.
With newfound strength, I rush toward it, reaching the door and pushing it open.“Raquel?”
There she is.Cold and shivering, huddled on the floor, arms around her knees.She looks up.She’s wearing nothing but a soaked skimpy little strappy top and denim shorts.
And she’s cold.
But she’s alive.
“What the hell?”I bark.“Are you out of your mind going out alone like this?”But it’s relief, masked with anger.
Fuck.I’m so happy that she’s alive.
***
RAQUEL
The door blows open, and I see him.
The flickering flame from the hurricane lamp I managed to light illuminates him.It’s just as well, otherwise I would have been terrified in the dark, not knowing who it was.
Rio Knight, stands there, hulking at the door, face twisted, looking mad as hell, glaring down at me where I’m huddled up on the floor, trying to block out the noise of the storm.
He yells something at me, while the wind whistles and billows around him and the rain lashes down in sheets.I got soaked, but this man is getting drenched.His shirt clings to him in a way that sets my heart aflutter.Open at the collar, it’s plastered to his chest, and his longish hair flops forward, falling in wet curtains over his eyes.He swipes his hands through it, slicking it back, and briefly resembling some storm-drenched, furious Jesus figure.
I stand up slowly.“I was working,” I reply, defensively.He walks inside, shuts the door behind him, and the sound dims.
“Your phone doesn’t work and your boat,” he snarls, “I assume that’s your boat, looks like it’s going to let loose any second.Have you seen the sea?”
“I have.”
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
“It was nice and peaceful when I set out.”
He shakes his head, causing water droplets to fall off.He’s soaked through.“You could have drowned.”
“But I didn’t.I lived to have the pleasure of your company again.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”he growls.“Couldn’t you just have a cocktail by the beach?”
“I’m a working woman, besides, I could ask you the same.What areyoudoing here?”
“I came for you.”He pulls his T-shirt away from his chest.
“Why?I didn’t ask you to.”I fold my arms, because if he thinks I’m going to be grateful and thank him forever for this, he’s sorely mistaken.
The silence between us turns thick and heavy, just like my shorts.His face twists, and I guess I do sound ungrateful.He smooths his hair back again, jaw clenched.The storm still rages outside, and the amber glow from the lamp still throws long shadows against the run-down walls.The wind sneaks in through the gaps, and the light flickers, barely, because the oil is low and it’s not going to last long enough.Not all night, which is what I’ve prepared myself for.
Water droplets dribble down his face and he flaps his arms, trying to shake the water off.This is my worst nightmare.Being trapped in here, just the two of us.
No, your worst nightmare would be to be here alone.
