Page 9 of Emi's Hero

The women didn’t respond.

“Emi?” he touched her shoulder.

Her eyes remained closed.

For a long moment, George studied the woman, not quite sure what to do.

He’d promised not to take her to a hospital or let anyone know she was alive. In order to do that, he had to sneak her out of the boat, into the SUV he’d rented and find somewhere to hide her until she recovered enough to tell him what the hell was going on and where he could take her.

He stared at the island not far off his bow.

The marina was out of the question. It would be teeming with boat crews and tourists by now.

His small cabin was close to a fairly secluded beach. He could take the boat to the beach, carry her ashore and hide her at the cabin until she came to. Then, he could try to convince her to go to a hospital or home to her family.

He'd take her where she needed to go and then get back to his quiet, peaceful vacation before he’d lost too much of the week.

With that plan in mind, he resumed his position at the helm and steered the boat away from the marina and toward the little stretch of beach where his cabin stood.

He didn’t know this woman and could just take her to the local medical facility. He told himself that she wasn’t his responsibility.

Except he’d pulled her out of the water, saved her life and then foolishly promised to let her stay dead.

He cursed softly.

That made her his responsibility.

CHAPTER 3

Light piercedthe seams of Emi’s eyelids. She moaned and struggled to shield her face. The effort to raise her arm was too much, and she relented and raised her equally weighty eyelids.

Even when her eyelids were half-cocked, Emi had to push through the gray haze of semi-consciousness.

It would be easier to sink back into the darkness. But the tug of something bigger, more important than the sunrise, lay in wait for her attention. Something so important she didn’t dare sleep into the morning.

Her eyes focused on the small room with wood-paneled walls and prints of beach scenes strategically placed.

The swaying motion of the sea lingered even though she lay on a real bed with sheets. The room stood motionless, too solid and steady to be on any kind of watercraft.

But where was she?

A stab of fear punched her in the gut.

Had Fallon found her and brought her to a different compound?

The gray fog clouding her mind cleared a little more.

If she wasn’t in Fallon’s compound, where was she? How had she gotten here?

Where was Sara?

Her heart seized in her chest. Any residual brain fog dissipated.

She tried to sit up, only managing to raise her head slightly before letting it fall back to the pillow.

A door stood open on one wall. Through it, the sound of footsteps grew louder. Whoever was in the building with her was headed toward her.

Fallon?

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