Code Name: Blondie. Christina Skye

face and nose. Max brushed it away, frowning. The noise discipline rules applied to him as much as her. Cruz could be on the other island waiting and watching right now.

      One mistake could get them all killed.

      Cruz didn’t believe in giving second chances.

      MIKI STILL COULDN’T FIGURE out if he was a recluse or some kind of white-collar criminal. He might even have been a mercenary, she thought. He had the cold eyes to be all of those things. His story about oil field exploration made sense, but she still didn’t buy it. She had been a photographer too long not to have a sharp eye for details and faces, and Max Massey was no pencil-pushing engineer. She was equally certain that his big, intelligent dog wasn’t along as a passive companion. The lab had the same intense focus she’d seen in her friend Kit’s animals. Frankly, both of them gave her the creeps, and the sooner she got away from them, the better.

      She looked around, committing the terrain to memory. Since she might be stuck here, she needed to stockpile as much information as possible. Meanwhile the clock was ticking and she had no doubt that Mr. Hard-as-nails would enforce his four-minute warning.

      The hibiscus bushes were right where he had said, providing a nice wall of privacy. When she’d finished the more pressing necessities, she grabbed his canteen and a handful of sand and went to work on her face and hands. The sand stung her arms, but she managed to remove most of the stickiness left over from the seawater. Closing her eyes and scrubbing her neck and chest, she fantasized about a bar of French milled soap and a loofah sponge. As she tilted her head, a cool wind brushed her face and she almost forgot that she was stranded and she had blisters on her feet. There was no point trying to do anything about her hair. There was no way for a decent shampoo with only a little water and a handful of sand.

      Her time was up, so she tugged her shirt back in place, picking up the canteen from the ground. But a flash of color caught her eye and she leaned down to study a small pink flower. Miki felt a wave of excitement as she recognized a rare orchid, its bright petals soft and fragile. The scene would have made an award-winning photo, if only she had her camera. Maybe if she groveled, the Jerk would return her camera bag and equipment for a few minutes.

      A hand gripped her arm and closed, pulling her to her feet. How did the man manage to be so quiet? “What’s wrong?” she hissed.

      He didn’t speak, pointing at his watch.

      “That’s a very rare orchid,” she whispered excitedly. “I could win a prize with this. You have to let me—”

      He cut her off with a gloved hand to her mouth. Miki felt the soft leather against her mouth as he turned her slowly, looking down the beach. He seemed to be scanning the water, and she realized there was a larger island glinting in the sunlight, its central mountain ridge wreathed in clouds. Though Max’s breathing was low and steady, she felt his tension clearly.

      When she tried to talk, his gloved fingers cut off the sound. His body was absolutely still.

      Why was he looking at the beautiful coves? Did he expect trouble from there? She didn’t struggle when he tugged her back toward the hidden door and the big dog waiting beside it. She took a last deep breath of clean air and then went back down the steps she was already beginning to hate. As soon as the door was in place, she rounded on him.

      “That was a very rare flower back there. I could have gotten a thousand dollars for one shot. You want to tell me again why I can’t have my camera bag and why I can’t make any noise?”

      “I already explained. You should have listened then.” He pushed her back toward the one spare cot. “Sit down.”

      “You think I’ll do whatever you ask? Forget that. I’m tired of taking your orders.”

      “I said to sit down.”

      “Go eat sand.” Miki crossed her arms, furious.

      When she didn’t move, he caught her shoulders, and she tried to push him away, but the man wouldn’t budge. For someone lean, he was incredibly strong.

      Furious, she watched his fingers open, then brush her hair. If he thought this would be some kind of kinky prelude to sex, he had a major surprise coming.

      His thumb combed through her hair, and Miki was amazed at how gentle the movement was. Her confusion grew as he leaned closer, sliding his arm around her shoulder.

      She felt his muscles tighten and his breath play over her cheek.

      “Don’t move.”

      Like hell, she wouldn’t move. He’d saved her life, but that didn’t entitle him to grope her. Enough was enough. When she tried to move, his hand twisted in a blur of motion.

      “Stand still,” he whispered. “Completely still.”

      Her breath caught as something appeared in his hand. Miki saw that it was long and small and frantically alive, wriggling against his glove.

      “Centipede.” He frowned, holding up the restless mass of legs. “Poisonous variety.”

      She gulped air, feeling faint. She hated bugs. Really, really hated bugs. “On me? In my hair?” She swallowed. “How poisonous?”

      “Let’s just say that you wouldn’t have felt your fingers in a few seconds.”

      She fought a shudder as he carried the centipede up the stairs. “Aren’t you going to kill it…or something?”

      “Why? This is its home. We’re the intruders here. I’ll put it where it won’t bother us.”

      Miki stared at him. It was poisonous and he wasn’t going to kill it? That was either religious or downright weird. Just when she thought she had a handle on the guy, he threw her a curve ball. On the other hand, he could be faking. She’d noticed that men did that a lot.

      He turned around, disappearing up the steps, the centipede in his gloved hand. Suddenly escape was all she could think about. She couldn’t stand the thought of the dark, cramped space or the poisonous bugs hidden in the dirt or waiting on the walls. She began to sweat, panicking. She needed open sky and fresh air around her. She needed time to think, away from constant observation.

      Even though she was surrounded by water and there had been no sign of passing boats anywhere, she had to try. The sooner she got away, the sooner she could find help for Dutch.

      She waited until there was no sound from the open door, then crept up the steps. Sunlight spilled over the long curve of the beach, and she saw the glint of the open sea. The Jerk was standing about twenty feet away, giving something to the dog.

      Miki ran for the line of boulders at the top of the beach.