The Island (10 page)

His dad loved hiking and camping. Lee couldn’t remember the number of times they’d pitched a tent in the middle of nowhere and spent half the night staring up at the stars. He’d known the patterns of the constellations as a child, but he didn’t recognize them half a world away.

Lee pressed his hands on the tiled wall of the shower and looked up at the stars.

Shaw was asleep upstairs.

Now, now was a good time.

Lee closed his eyes.

Mom, Dad, if I don’t make it home I’m sorry it ended up like this.

His throat constricted with the tears he’d expected, and he fought them down.

I’m sorry you’ll always wonder what happened
.

Shaw had given him hope, but Lee didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t trust it, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted it. It was all very well to want to live, but after this? He couldn’t be the same person. He didn’t know if he could look himself in the eye, let alone his parents and his colleagues, so maybe it would be better if—

No. Hold on to hope. Count the sand dollars, pass the time, wait and see.

Because if Shaw gave him hope, he had to take it. He had to believe in something, didn’t he? Even though it would be easier not to. He wasn’t certain he could believe in himself anymore, so maybe he could believe in Shaw.

Lee ran his fingers down the tiles and frowned.

But who the hell was Shaw anyway? Not a good guy, not if he was friends with a man like Vornis. Shaw felt different, but that was probably just a matter of perspective, and Lee’s perspective had been skewed since Colombia. He couldn’t trust what he felt. Shaw had said it himself:
“I’m not a rapist, but I’m a lot of other things.”
Shit, what the hell had happened to him that “not a rapist” had become a glowing fucking character reference?

God, he wanted to believe Shaw. He wanted to
trust
Shaw, and that was stupid. Just because the guy hadn’t hurt him, and just because he’d said he’d make that call once he was off the island. And maybe just because Shaw was young and good-looking and had gazed at the ocean like it meant something to him.

And Shaw had trusted him first.

There were cameras in the bungalow. Why had Shaw warned him about that? Okay, so he wanted Lee to put on a good show at night and to keep his mouth shut. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to hurt him? That was how everyone else got him to comply. So, Shaw wasn’t a rapist, and he wasn’t a sadist either. That only meant he was a good guy in comparison to Vornis, but who the hell wasn’t? Lee couldn’t trust his perspective.

Here on the island, the man he had become wanted to fling himself blindly into faith. But he knew the man he had been before would have been more guarded.

Careful, Lee, careful.

Then again, the man he’d been before the island had a hell of a lot to lose. What was he risking now, except his hope? And how much was hope worth? That was a philosophical question, and Lee didn’t have the luxury of those anymore. Hope was worth nothing in practical terms. And in emotional terms, what did it matter if Shaw crushed his hope and his burgeoning trust? Lee had taken enough hits in the past eight weeks to know he could take more. They were always building him up just to break him again, with the drugs, the ill-treatment, and the unexpected kindnesses that it turned out hurt more than the torture. It was all about the juxtaposition, and Vornis was a fucking expert.

“There now, boy, you’re okay. There now. Have a little drink of water.”

Right before the next white flash of pain.

Shit, there’d been a time when he’d trusted Vornis as well.

“Come on, boy. Almost done. Not long now. Can you be a brave little soldier for me?”

Like they were on the same fucking side. And sometimes he still fell for it because he so desperately wanted it to be true. He wanted to be good, obedient, and compliant, and to believe Vornis would go easy on him for once. And he always ended up hating himself more than he hated Vornis. Vornis was clever like that.

Tears stung Lee’s eyes as he looked up at the stars again. He’d slipped down into the bathroom just to see them. The shower was safe. Safe from the cameras, safe from the guards, and safe from Vornis. It was lonely, though, without Shaw.

Careful, Lee, careful.

Lee frowned.

So what? So what if I like being near him? If it turns out to be a lie, what’s one more humiliation before they kill me? I have nothing to lose.

Just like he told himself when he wanted to believe the kindness in Vornis’s voice. But Shaw was different, wasn’t he?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He was going in fucking circles, and he knew he was. He just couldn’t find a way to break free.

His throat ached. He bent down and picked up a sand dollar he’d dropped there earlier. He held it up to the moonlight and traced the pattern with his thumb. Maybe it was just a new delusion, but he wanted to believe in it.

Hold on to hope. Count the sand dollars, pass the time, wait and see.

He dropped the sand dollar and left the shower. His bare feet creaked on the steps.

At first, he thought Shaw was awake. He turned his head on the pillow as Lee watched, but his eyes stayed closed. His fist was clenched around the sheet.

Lee looked at him for a moment.

He could kill him. He could, probably, even if he wasn’t as strong as he had been. How much strength did it take to hold a pillow over a man’s head until he suffocated? If it had been Vornis or Hanson or any of the guards, he would have done it. They’d kill him for it, but he had nothing to lose.

A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach.

That was what a captive should think, wasn’t it? Always plotting, always planning, always looking for a chance to tip the balance of power if only for a moment. He could kill Shaw, and they would kill him, and it would all be over.

Shaw muttered something in his sleep, and a frown crossed his face.

Lee watched him. Shaw was having a bad dream. His conscience was biting back while he slept, and that, Lee realized breathlessly, might just be something big enough to put his faith in.

He didn’t want to kill Shaw. Shaw had never hurt him. Shaw had promised to help him. And maybe there would come a time when he would regret trusting him, but at some point, he had to stop second-guessing himself and make a fucking decision.

His heart raced.

I have nothing left to lose. He is
not
Vornis.

He crossed the floor and lay down on the bed beside Shaw. He drew the sheet up, pulling it carefully from Shaw’s grip, and ran his hand underneath it. He caught Shaw’s hand in his own gently and held it until Shaw relaxed.

It was probably all bullshit, and he’d probably regret it, but right now, in the middle of the night, in the quiet, it felt like maybe they were in this together. Yeah, he was fucking crazy, but he wanted to believe it.

Careful, Lee, careful.

He closed his eyes.

Wait and see.

Chapter Seven

Shaw had the knack of always looking relaxed. It didn’t matter that he was bouncing between being bored and nervous. Bored because there were only so many times a day he could check his e-mail, and nervous because in a matter of days he’d be meeting Vornis’s other guests, and he’d wanted this for years.

He spent his days swimming, jogging, beachcombing, and watching. He knew now that there were at least sixteen armed security guards on the island. They lived in barracks in a building on the side of the island where the yacht was anchored. At first Shaw had thought the wooden building was a boathouse. It had been designed to look like one.

He knew that Hanson went swimming every morning at five, and running at dusk. He knew that Irina sometimes collected seashells off the beach, furtively, as though she was afraid she would be accused of stealing. And he knew that for all Vornis liked to be locked up in his air-conditioned glass house, every afternoon he strutted from the main house down the twisting paths that led to the bungalows and the beaches just to remind himself that he owned the place.

Shaw understood the rhythm of the island and its inhabitants now, just like he understood the rhythm of the ocean.

Shaw liked to listen to the dull roar of the ocean from underneath it. He liked the push and pull of the water, the whirlpool of the waves breaking on the sand and rushing back again, and the low, white noise that drowned out the breathing world. The water was deep and cool.

He surfaced when his lungs began to burn, wiping his hair back. He was only about ten meters from the beach. He could see the roof of the main house from out here, shining like a mirror. He could see the palms swaying. He could see a security patrol trudging through the sand. One of the men was Hanson. And he could see Lee sitting below the high-tide line, tracing patterns in the wet sand with his fingers.

Shaw could have spent hours in the water, but he couldn’t leave Lee waiting for him in the sun. The kid was used to a short leash, apparently. It hadn’t even occurred to him to move farther up the beach into the shade. He’d be burned to a crisp before much longer.

Shaw let the gentle waves carry him toward the beach.

Lee looked up as he splashed out of the water and reached down for his towel. He seemed more alert today.

“Come on.” Shaw nodded toward the closest shady palm. The sand burned the soles of his feet. He spread his towel under the palm and sat down. He rested his arms on his knees and looked out at the ocean. It was beautiful here.

He waited until Lee was settled beside him before he spoke in a low voice. “You seem better today.”

Lee nodded slightly, scratching a tiny scab on the inside of his elbow. He didn’t look at Shaw. “No needle today.”

“Is that normal?” Shaw asked him, watching the breaking waves chase up the beach.

Lee nodded again. “He lets me remember, then starts it all over again.”

Shaw heard the catch in Lee’s voice and resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his hair. “Maybe it’s better when you’re drugged.”

Lee bowed his head. “I don’t even know how many times it’s happened. I don’t even know how many men it’s been. There were men in Colombia, and then on the boat, and the guards here. I don’t know.”

This time Shaw couldn’t help himself. He put a hand up onto Lee’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Lee was shivering despite the heat.

“I’m not supposed to talk,” Lee said. “Sorry, sir.”

“You just have to remember who could be listening,” Shaw told him. He felt Lee stiffen. “But we’re okay here on the beach. It’s windy on the beach. Full of fucking distortion. The beach and the shower, they’re okay.”

Lee relaxed slightly.

“So if you want to talk,” Shaw said, “you talk.”

Jesus, what was he thinking? He didn’t need to open that floodgate. He already felt too sorry for the kid. He was too soft, that was the problem. It was why he’d let a Labrador puppy use a pair of Barker Black-Ostrich Cap Toe shoes as a chew toy, and it was why he’d told the kid he’d help him. It was his own fault the kid had latched on like a limpet.

“You said you’re not my friend,” Lee murmured.

Shaw sighed. “Yeah, and I’m not your friend. Not the sort of friend you need, anyway. But while I’m here, I won’t rape you, and I won’t hurt you for talking. That’s the best I can do.”

“Yeah,” Lee said in a small voice. He cleared his throat and stared fixedly at the ocean. “Thanks. Um, I spent last Christmas with my parents back home. They’re good people.”

Shaw had never seen a more ham-fisted attempt by a captive to humanize himself for his captor. It was straight out of
Hostage Situations for Dummies
. Jesus, was that what they taught the kids these days? Fucking pathetic. He shook his head and snorted with laughter. “Not subtle, are you?”

Lee’s voice wavered, and his whole body tensed. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t talk about your parents,” Shaw told him. “Not like that. You bring shit in casually. Like I ask if you’re hungry, or when I give you food, you say you could do with a plate of your mother’s home-cooked whatever right about now. Don’t even try it if you can’t make it sound natural.”

Lee swallowed.

“You look at the water for a while,” Shaw said. He stared at the ocean and let the Pacific work its gentle magic. “This reminds me of when I was a kid. My parents had a place on the beach. We used to go there on weekends. My sister Emma, she’s got kids of her own now, she used to build sandcastles.” He let his voice sound wistful for a moment before he shook his head to break the spell. “You see what I did there?”

Lee tensed again. “I wasn’t, um, I wasn’t—”

“Of course you were,” Shaw said. He rubbed his thumb against the top of Lee’s spine, feeling the skin slide gently over the bone. “But it won’t work on me, and it sure as hell won’t work on Vornis.”

“Sorry,” Lee murmured. “What are your sister’s kids’ names?”

“I don’t have a sister,” Shaw said.

Lee relaxed under Shaw’s gentle touch. “That feels nice.”

“You’re wound tighter than a spring,” Shaw said. He ran his hand lower and felt Lee hiss as he skirted over a small burn. The shape of it, like a fanged bite, made Shaw think of the cattle prod. “Sorry, mate.”

“You’re Australian,” Lee said.

“Guilty,” Shaw said.

Lee turned around to face him. “I thought so.” He bit his lip.

Shaw didn’t like it when Lee looked at him. So fucking trusting and hopeful, and so fucking broken. He reminded him of Molly in the early weeks. It made him feel guilty, even though he hadn’t been the one to hurt him.

Lee dropped his eyes, and they widened as they took in the scars on Shaw’s thigh. He raised his hand tentatively and traced them, hunching back as though he was afraid Shaw would push him away. “I saw them before.”

He flushed then, and Shaw knew they were both thinking back to the blowjob in the shower.

“Did someone hurt you too?” Lee asked warily.

“No,” Shaw said. “That’s an Irukandji jellyfish sting I got as a kid.”