Second Chances (21 page)

Lucas returned and gave him a towel and a length of dark grey material, his hand brushing against Miles’ as he did so. A shudder ran through him, and he couldn’t prevent himself from flinching away. The furtive glance and quickly hidden smile told him that the touch had been deliberate.
Cheeky devil.

More unintelligible dialogue passed between the two, Miles wiped himself dry and wrapped the native skirt around his waist, island style. He’d love to know what the conversation was about. Him, presumably, by the way they both kept glancing in his direction every now and then.

A smothered laugh and pat on the backside was the only clue he got as Caroline sent Lucas from the room with more instructions. At the door he stopped and turned back for a second, giving Miles a mischievous grin and making another smart comment before laughing and running away at Caroline’s barked response of “Go.”

She caught sight of his raised brows and took pity on him. “He thinks your hairy chest is beautiful and should not be covered by clothes. Mind you, I’m not sure whether it’s the color or the quantity of hair that he finds impressive.”

Miles was sure his face was nearly the same shade of red. Compared to the smooth-skinned islanders, he must look like a bear. A big lumbering bear. Even the mocha-colored skin of his two large captors had been smooth, allowing their tattoos to be seen clearly.

To cover his confusion and get the images and memory of Lucas out of his brain, Miles removed the bandage on Caroline’s leg. The maggots had done their job, so he was able to extract them from the gaping wound.

In some ways, he regretted not being able to get her to a hospital; in other respects he didn’t mind. After ridding her body of one lot of infectious organisms, getting reinfected by golden staph would be too ironic for words.

By the time he finished wrapping the area again, Lucas had returned with a cup of tea and a sandwich. Miles helped Caroline into a sitting position so she could enjoy her breakfast then sat on the edge of her bed so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look at him.

Lucas sat on the floor cross-legged like a little kid, a grin from ear to ear. No way was he sixteen. “His parents…” Miles glanced at Caroline; she had mentioned he was her nephew.

She wiped the crumbs from her mouth and finished swallowing before she spoke. “While my brother may be a worthy man and a good chief, he still lives very much in the past. He controls everything that happens on Rapatoka, but ever since Mata Api Kisiwa was sold, he has wiped it from his mind. The island doesn’t even exist for him anymore.”

“Mata Api Kisiwa?”

She turned to him with an ironic smile. “You know it as Mystery Island.”

He studied her for a second. Maybe she could enlighten him about where they were. Fill in the gaps. “What can you tell me about the place? That’s if you’re up to it. I don’t want to tire you out.”

She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “No. I’m fine. That sleep did me the world of good, and from the way I feel, I gather you’ve been pumping me full of painkillers and other goodies.”

Miles just grinned. He had no idea how he’d replace the stock he’d used, but he’d learnt long ago to stop worrying about things like that.

“I told you how I left here.” She waited for his nod before she continued. “I was still living and working in Auckland when I first heard about this mysterious resort.” She sketched quotation marks in the air. “Escape from the hassles of the everyday world. Come to an island paradise where you can forget your cares and worries. So remote no-one even knows it exists.”

Miles noticed absently that Lucas seemed to be listening. Maybe his English was better than he let on.

The boy must have felt Miles look at him. He glanced up, noticed Caroline had finished eating and crossed to her side, taking the small plate from her grasp and handing over the tea.

She accepted it with an absent-minded nod then continued speaking. Lucas resumed his position on the floor. Or almost the same position. This time he angled himself, so his back brushed against Miles’ legs. No way was that accidental, judging by the smirk he gave him.

Miles tried to concentrate on what she saying: something about seeing a poster in a travel agent’s window, recognising it immediately and wrangling her way back as an employee. Apparently none of the other nurses appreciated being somewhere their iPhones didn’t work. Her story was hard to follow though as most of his attention was centred around trying to find a way to avoid touching Lucas, but every time he shifted, the boy squirmed around to regain contact, catching his eye every now and then with that cheeky: “Fuck me” smile on his face. Half dare, half promise.

Eventually Miles gave in, and Lucas relaxed back against him with a contented sigh.
Who needed a cat when you had Lucas around?
Miles dragged his attention back to Caroline, remembering her comment from the previous night. “What about your husband?”

She sniffed. “He took off in his boat again and I haven’t heard from him for eleven years. I was stuck in New Zealand with a job and other…” She glanced down at the boy for a second. “Commitments that prevented me from going too.”

“Your family must have been ecstatic to have you back again.”

“In a way.” She shrugged. “Apparently things hadn’t gone well on Rapatoka after I left. When the resort was proposed, they thought it would be the answer to all their problems: jobs, food, a future.” Her face darkened, her normally full lips thinning noticeably. “However, in reality it was more like slave labor. What good is money if there is nothing to spend it on? When I came back, I tried to tell them they were being exploited. Instead of eating the fish we caught or the few vegetables we grew, everything was snapped up by the resort. What did they give us in return? Nothing we could actually use. But would anyone listen to me? No way. I’d run away to the big smoke with a Pakeha; my advice was no longer welcome.” She huffed and straightened the sheet, pleating the material with her fingers.

Miles pictured the contents of the cupboard in the kitchen. He hadn’t checked the expiry dates, but he wouldn’t mind betting they were long gone. Payment had probably been in either goods the resort didn’t want or couldn’t use. “What happened? Why is the place empty now?”

“The owner, a guy called Aaron Lightfoot, spent a fortune making it all eco-friendly: solar and wind powered electricity, eco toilets, desalination plant. The lot. Must have cost him a bomb.”

Lucas had started at the mention of the previous owner’s name. Miles couldn’t see his expression, but his whole body tensed as he sat upright. Funny, how even after such a short time, Miles missed the closeness they’d shared. A flash of anger passed over Caroline’s face before it twisted into an ironic smirk.

“Rough justice, really. When the economy went belly up, so did he.” She glanced at Miles in surprise. “But you should have known all that if you bought the island off him.”

“Me?” He laughed. “No, I’m just an ignorant bystander who came along for the ride.” He rubbed his forehead. The heparinoid ointment he’d put on the bruises was helping, but it was still sore. “Then I was, er… given an invitation I couldn’t refuse and brought here.”

Caroline frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Were Jerri and Tommi at the resort again, filching things? I told those boys to stay away. If I didn’t have a broken leg, I’d kick them up the arse.”

Miles had no doubt that she would. She may be half their size, but from what he’d seen so far, she’d have no trouble keeping them in line. All he had to do now, was behave and make sure he didn’t exploit the gift the young man at his feet was so blatantly offering him, otherwise Caroline would have his guts for garters.

with mentions of Miles Sutherland and Lyle Tate

___________________________________________________

Midday, 26th January, Mystery Island

The damage really was extensive. Gil picked his way over the debris, passing the remains of a besser block building with half its roof gone. The corrugated iron sheet was buckled out of shape and lying jammed and useless between two trees about twenty yards away. He peered in through the tiny broken window, seeing the remains of a workbench and little else. One less place for Miles to be lying injured in.

@—}–—}——

That morning, Carter ‘Gil’ Gillespie had woken up alone in their makeshift bunkhouse. Aiden had gone. There was no sign of Miles or Lyle either.
Let’s face it,
Gil thought gloomily,
the storm prevented Aiden leaving last night, not you. Nothing you said did any good at all.
He felt suddenly helpless and bereft, trapped on this storm-wrecked island in the middle of nowhere, a long way from home. He tried to shove the wave of homesickness away, but it just wouldn’t go. He rolled over and pulled the blanket back over his head. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, and last night he’d been too hot and too upset by his failure to get through to Aiden to allow either his mind or his body to properly rest.

He felt defeated by everything.
Face it,
he repeated to himself,
Miles has hardly spoken to you after Lance kissed you, has he? He avoided you on the plane…
So why was he so worried about Miles’ whereabouts?
Because somebody has to be,
Gil considered. Who else would? Sutherland had been gone almost since they landed. He had tried speaking to Gideon but had been stonewalled. Thoughts chased through Gil’s head, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to rest, to forget it all for a while. Negative projection wouldn’t get him anywhere. He failed dismally.

Lyle was obviously not talking to him either—he’d been snippy with him on the plane, but Gil had put it down to nerves, tiredness or the long flight—but apparently he was still not communicating.
Did he see us kissing in his kitchen? How? Hidden cameras?
Gil wouldn’t have put it past Lyle, he was under witness protection after all. Yet, Gil hadn’t made Lyle any promises… As far as he knew, he’d been up front with him from the first. Where Miles was concerned, though, Gil had done the first and only thing that had come into his head to stop the doctor leaving. He had felt sick at the thought of Miles not being there… Gil sighed.
But he isn’t, is he?
For all the interaction they had shared since leaving Haven Falls, Gil might as well not have bothered trying to change Miles’ mind about the island…

Gil was at a complete loss. Helplessness washed over him again, and it was a hateful feeling. He felt out of control in this looking-glass world. Nothing seemed real. He screwed his eyes shut on it all.

He must have slept—more like a comatose exhaustion—because the sun was high by the time he next opened his eyes. He felt awful: tired and aching. He dragged himself up, showered and dressed and went in search of Gideon again. He had to do something, say something.

@—}–—}——

Gil tracked Gideon Sterling and his men down to the rear of the building, enjoying an impromptu cricket match after lunch on the scrubby ground outside the garage. Gil’s hackles rose immediately. They were enjoying a rest while God knew what might have happened to Miles…

“Clarky, you twat, what the fuck was that?” The speaker was a broad-shouldered young man in lurid green hawaiian shorts and a black baseball cap turned backwards over a dark crewcut. The ball had sailed over his head and landed on the garage roof.

“Wasn’t my fault… this bloody bat is warped. Like your mind, you fucker,” the one called Clarky shot back cheerfully.

Gil could see Gideon watching the exchange intently as his men played cricket—or attempted to. The ‘bat’ was a broken piece of wood, the ball a hacky sack.

“Well, you know what to do, Garvey,” Gideon said reasonably from his position as the umpire of the game, stationed as he was just behind the wicket–a pyramid of empty tin cans. “Go get it back.”

Garvey shot the man an exasperated look, then stalked over to the garage, muttering under his breath. He jumped up and caught the edge of the roof with his fingers and hauled himself up. Moments later, the brightly-coloured ball soared through the air to land with a thud in the dust and there was a scramble as three people all tried to get to it first. A big blond man–Scandinavian to go by his accent–won and rolled to his feet, lobbing it toward the wicket before Clarke could react. The cans exploded in a clatter which shattered the calm and raised an outcry from Garvey who was still on the roof.

“Oi! You bastards, wait for me…”

“Mr Sterling…” Gideon looked up on hearing Gil and frowned.

“Mr Gillespie, and what can I do for you?”

Gil took a deep breath and launched into his request. “We have to mount a search for Dr Sutherland, he’s been gone since we arrived, and nobody seems to give a shit. I still say that Miles might be lying injured somewhere. Don’t you care?” Around them, Gideon’s men stood idly, casually watching the exchange. One of them picked up the cans and rebuilt the wicket. Gil ignored them all, maintaining his focus on their leader.

“Mr Gillespie, right now, I don’t have the manpower to mount a piece of paper on the wall, much less a search of this whole island. It would take more than just me and my men here to complete a thorough search. Dr Sutherland is a grown man, he obviously needed some time to himself–,”