Navajo Echoes. Cassie Miles

She was thankful to be on dry land, to still be alive. The crusty sand crunched beneath her feet as she staggered toward a thick log that had washed ashore, and she sat on it. Holding her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath. Apart from an ache in her left shoulder and a ringing in her ears, she was physically okay. Her mental state was a whole different matter.

      Behind her eyelids, she replayed the terror of sinking into the ocean, helpless to react, trapped in death’s cold embrace. Never before had she felt so close to her own mortality. Shake it off.

      She couldn’t appear devastated. And definitely couldn’t whine. Being chosen to accompany John to Cuerva represented a major upgrade in her work at PPS. She’d been given a chance to prove herself and didn’t want to mess it up.

      Opening her eyes, she saw him striding toward her with a bottled water in each hand. His black knit shirt outlined his muscular chest and broad shoulders. His wet khaki trousers clung to his thighs. He usually wore a suit in the office. This water-logged outfit was a whole lot better…sexier. Without even trying, John Pinto was hot. When he’d kissed her on the mouth at the Kingston airport? Wow! Her fingers reached up to touch her lips. Not even a plane crash could erase the memory of that kiss.

      He squatted in front of her and held out the bottled water. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

      “I almost drowned.” But she knew what he meant, and the water tasted good going down. “Where did you get this?”

      “I always have a couple bottles in my carry-on. Just in case.”

      “Always thinking ahead.”

      “Let’s check you out.” Holding her face in his large hands, he peered into her eyes. “Look to the right. Then the left.”

      She glanced both ways. “Like this?”

      “Very good. Now look directly at me.”

      She focused on his deep-set dark brown eyes above high cheekbones and a strong, straight nose. God, he was handsome. Gratitude welled up inside her. This man—this incredibly brave, good-looking man—had saved her life. If he hadn’t pulled her out of the water when she was sinking, Lily wouldn’t have made it.

      As she was about to thank him, his fingers probed the sore spot behind her temple and she reacted. “Ow. Am I bleeding? Will I need stitches?”

      “The skin isn’t broken, but you’re going to have a hell of a lump.”

      His low baritone struck exactly the right note of gentle concern. He had a bedside manner that her parents—both doctors—would have applauded. “You know, John, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate—”

      “Have you ever had a concussion before?”

      “I’ve knocked my head a couple of times but never completely lost consciousness. I must have a thick skull.”

      “Must have.” He sat back on his heels and grinned. “You’re tough for such a little thing.”

      A little thing? She swallowed the “thank you” that poised on the tip of her tongue. Her size had always been an issue for her. When she was a cop, half the guys in her precinct had called her Tinkerbell behind her back.

      He touched the tender spot again, and she pushed his hands away. “Stop it.”

      “I know something about head injuries.”

      “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait for a real doctor.”

      She should have been kissing his feet and showering him with praise for rescuing her. Instead, she was irritated. Though he was great to look at, there was something about him that brought out the worst in her.

      Masculine arrogance, she thought. In any given situation, he had to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. And she had never been a docile follower; she hated being told what to do.

      However, if she was going to survive this assignment, she needed to start acting like a professional. Wrapping herself in poise, she said, “Thank you for saving my life.”

      “Anytime, rookie.”

      She glanced toward the tropical forest. “Shouldn’t we be hearing an ambulance siren?”

      “It’s possible. Cuerva has a hospital and a few neighborhood clinics.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “I studied up on the island. Memorized the topography and the major landmarks.”

      That was so like him. John was, by nature, a planner who prepared for every contingency. He’d probably made mental notes on what to do in case of a plane crash. “What’s our current location?”

      “We’re on the far side of the island. Away from the hotels and the town. Cuerva is only about four miles wide, but there’s a high bluff running down the center like a backbone. I doubt anybody saw our plane go down.”

      “So there probably won’t be an ambulance?”

      He frowned. “Do you need a doctor?”

      The clanging inside her head had already subsided to a small tinkling bell. The worst part of the crash had been the panic, the shattering certainty that she was going to die. But here she was, alive and kicking. “I’ll be all right.”

      “Then let’s get moving.” He stood up straight and glanced over his shoulder toward Edgar. “We should assess the damage.”

      Following him, she marched clumsily across the beach. The wet soles of her sandals slapped with each step. Even with the ankle straps, it was amazing that they’d stayed on her feet.

      He pointed to two soggy pieces of luggage. “I could only save our carry-on bags.”

      Swell. Things just kept getting worse. “Most of my clothes were in the bigger bag.”

      “They’re gone.”

      She was going to miss that yellow sundress she’d bought especially for this trip. And her favorite running shoes. “It’s a good thing that you grabbed the carry-on. My wallet and passport are in there.”

      “And the Glock.”

      She remembered tucking the weapon into her bag before the crash. “Do you still have your gun?”

      He tapped his ankle holster. “It got in the way when I was swimming, but I’m glad to be armed.”

      As soon as they got to the hotel, she needed to check and clean their weapons. A dip in salt water couldn’t be good for the firing mechanism. “We can always buy new clothes. It doesn’t seem like anything important was lost.”

      He shot her a dark, disbelieving glare. “We’ve lost the computer, the satellite phone and all the other electronics I brought along.”

      Lily shrugged. She had little use for gadgetry. “I guess we’ll have to rely on our natural instincts.”

      “Instinct won’t provide a secure phone line for contacting Evangeline.”

      And, of course, the computer would have been handy for researching the island and doing background checks on potential suspects. “Maybe Edgar can help us out.”

      She looked toward the surf where Edgar stood watching as the tail section disappeared under the waves. All that was left of Martina the Cessna was the chunk of wing they used to get to shore.

      He straightened his shoulders, made a sharp pivot and walked back toward them. “Rather an inauspicious start to your assignment. Have you reconsidered your plans?”

      “For now,” John said, “we’ll proceed to the hotel and act as if nothing unusual happened. We won’t report the plane crash.”

      “What?” she questioned. Not tell anybody? “That isn’t even legal.”

      “I don’t want to attract undue attention. We’ll