CHAPTER 48
“C ould we run into any of your sociopathic friends – I mean acquaintances – here?” she asked after the boat slammed onto the shore and Dmitri turned the engine off.
“We won't run into anyone. This is a private island, no one comes here. No one knows about it. I don't normally invite guests. It's a place to come and think.”
“You own the whole island? Wait, you think? You mean think about something besides guns and strippers?”
“Yes. It's not big, just a few acres of land, but it's all ours,” Dmitri replied, ignoring the other questions.
He motioned for Sonya to stand, which she did haltingly, even though the boat barely rocked as it sat halfway in shallow water and halfway dug into the sand. He offered his hand, but she slapped it away, then stumbled as she stepped out, though she avoided falling down.
Dmitri smirked.
“I don't see any gators on the shore today. Too bad. Maybe they're in the woods,” he said.
“Alligators don't swim in saltwater. Do they?”
“Only if there is a delicious girl to eat.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
Dmitri tied the boat to a mangrove branch and led Sonya up the beach. Set just far enough inside of the woods to be hidden, was a little cabin.
“It's not the Don Cesar… or the Cinq Etoiles. But I like it.”
Sonya liked it, too, but she was silent.
“Help me with my English,” Dmitri said. “Would you call this a bungalow or a villa?”
“I'd call it a shack.”
“Ah, that's the word I was looking for.”
There was a pump for well water connected to an outdoor shower beside the cabin. Inside, there were stocks of canned and dried food in the cabinet, a small kitchen with a wood stove, and a single bed. Nearby, a hammock hung from between two palm trees, fluttering in the sea breeze.
“Rest,” Dmitri said, gesturing toward the hammock.
Sonya was not going to argue with that command. She climbed in the hammock and sunk down.
Dmitri pulled an armful of wood out of a small shed, tossed it into a pit, and started a fire. Once the flames were roaring, he laid a steel grill over the pit.
Sonya watched him. She buried herself in the hammock, pretending to be asleep, but she could see through the slits of the woven fabric.
He never complains about his shoulder, even though he must still be in great pain. And even with one arm, he's so capable, so strong. He really does take care of me, she thought, with a tinge of guilt.
I guess I should stop accusing him of working with Halim. I can't imagine we'd be on some romantic little island living like the Swiss Family Robinson if Dmitri were a human trafficker. He risked everything to save me, and those letters confirmed his story about our crazy past.
Sonya felt the tremendous stress and fear of the previous days flowing out of her, as if the salty air were cleansing her of the evil that had poisoned her flesh.
But that wasn't quite enough. She realized she hadn't showered for a while. So she crawled out of the hammock, peeled her clothes off, and ran into the waves.
Dmitri stopped what he was doing for a moment to watch Sonya running naked and splashing into the water. He wanted to go after her, like she went after him the last time they were on a desolate beach together.
He wanted everything to be as though that day had continued onward forever and all the confusion and violence since then had never happened. But he knew wishing doesn't get you anywhere, not in this harsh world.
“I would join you, but I don't want to ruin this nice sling you made for me,” he shouted, his words drowning in the wind.