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  She was a little disappointed when he put his swimsuit on, but she followed his lead and slipped back into her bikini.

  “Are we not going for round two?” she asked.

  “We are.” He inhaled deeply. “But before things go any further, we need to talk. I figured we could go for a little walk.”

  She could sense his reticence and tried to assuage some of his anxiety.

  “Certainly we can, Moj. And more re-con isn’t a bad idea, either.” She took his hand and they moved slowly up the beach, going north, until the sand ended in a tumble of boulders. They turned and started back to their campsite.

  She didn’t push him to talk. She walked in silence, waiting patiently, a little nibble of fear chewing on her. What did he want to discuss?

  Finally, she asked, “What do you need to say, Moj?”

  A long sigh escaped him.

  “Long story short, what I’m feeling runs deep, so I have to be honest. I’ve been through a lot this year, and meeting you wasn’t in the plan, but here we are.”

  “What was your plan?” Rania asked, not certain she wanted to hear the answer.

  “You want the truth?” Moj walked with eyes straight forward, his face thoughtful in the moonlight.

  Rania kept her gaze on him. “Of course I want the truth.”

  “Plan was, I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. When I married Fiona, it was for keeps and for always. Damn cancer took her, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do to stop it.”

  “Tommy told me what happened,” Rania said.

  “Not the gossip blogs?” Moj asked.

  “No, I don’t care about any of that.” Rania knew it must be hard for him to talk about the wife he lost, but she also knew the discussion was inevitable. If they were going to have any kind of relationship, it would have to start here and now with some honest talk about their past.

  “I grew up in England,” Moj said, “just a normal kid, you know. In Britain, my skin color wasn’t a big deal, not for my dad, and not for any of his friends. Oxford was great. But when my parents got divorced, it all changed. Me and Mom moved back to Florida, and normal was a setting on the dryer. My mom lost it, started drinking, and I took care of her.”

  They walked in silence until they were back at their camp.

  Moj stopped, head down.

  Rania took both his hands and let him have all the time he needed until he found the strength to continue.

  “In Tampa,” Moj said, “I went from a kid with no plans to an adult who had to plan everything. You ever have your life broken?”

  Rania nodded.

  “In Cairo. I was like you. I went from a girl who wanted to follow all the rules to a woman who was going to rebel even if it killed her. My dad saw it. No one else did. It was hard. Like waking up in a different world.”

  “It’s just like that,” Moj agreed. He raised his head to look into her eyes. “I think that’s when I became such a control freak. I never wanted life to sucker-punch me again like it had after the divorce. If I could control everything, nothing would ever change unless I wanted it to.”

  “That must’ve helped in the studio,” Tania said.

  “It did.” Moj chuckled. “But outside of the studio, it’s a fucked-up way to live.”

  He let go of her left hand and they walked south along the beach.

  Moj continued in a quiet voice. “I met Fiona, and she was sick even back then. She needed a lot of help, and I was there for her. I liked it, I have to admit. I thought I could control her disease like I could manipulate tracks and beats, but once again, life hit me where it hurt the most.”

  They lapsed into silence. Five hundred meters south of their camp, the jungle overtook the sand, and they were forced to turn back.

  “Sorry to lay this on you,” Moj said. “But you have to know everything. You mind being my therapist?”

  “Not a therapist.” Rania inhaled deeply. “You’re letting me know where you are. Our lives are very different. However, I can understand, I think. When I wasn’t going to grow up to be the perfect Muslim woman, my grandparents disowned me. They said I was going to burn in Jahannam, the pit of blazing fire, forever. My grandmother told me that no man would ever want me because I was too strong-willed. I lost my family. Unlike you, it wasn’t life that did it to me. I chose it. I think sometimes, that’s worse. Yet I couldn’t deny who I was. Although my grandparents shunned me, my father stood by me.”

  “Your dad sounds cool,” Moj said. “A lot of fathers wouldn’t have been able to do what he did. He supported you every step of the way.”

  Rania laughed.

  “Not just supported. After my mother died, he became my everything. I sometimes think he wanted a boy, but instead got me. In the end, he was such a good father, that didn’t matter. He made sure I played basketball at the American embassy, he hired a private instructor to teach me martial arts, and he made certain I’d go to university away from Egypt. He’s amazing.”

  Once again, they stood in front of the lean-to. Rania glanced at the divot in the sand where they’d lain earlier, and heat filled her at the memory of their first encounter. “So, Moj, where does that leave us?”

  “Not sure,” Moj said. “But you have to know what you’re getting.”

  She hugged him. He didn’t pull away. “You want to know what I think?”

  “Always,” he murmured.

  “I don’t want to plan. I don’t want to control what’s happening to us. We’re on a deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. I want to make love to you tonight under the stars. We’ll find our way back to the Bonnie Blue, I promise you. Tonight, this night, let’s just be a man and woman exploring each other. Let the universe take care of tomorrow and the day after.”

  One of Moj’s huge hands caressed her back. The other grasped her hair.

  He bent her lightly backward and looked into her face.

  “I want you, Rania, more than I’ve wanted a woman in a long time. Planning is in my blood, but tonight, you’re right. No plans. No tomorrow. Are you sure you want this?”

  Rania nearly died from the energy coiling in her belly. “Yes, I want you, now.” She slipped her fingers beneath his swimsuit and pushed him playfully down onto the sand.

  He was stiff, waiting for her.

  Above him, she unclipped her top and slid off her bottoms.

  * * *

  Moj, on his back, watched her. Her beauty stole his breath and made his heart slam wild beats in his chest.

  She straddled him, rubbing her groin against his. She kissed him, savagely.

  He grabbed her hips and smelled her sweet scent. Her hair swept down into his face, creating a curtain around him.

  “I’m clean,” Moj said. “I’ve not been with anyone since Fiona, and we were together a long time. But we should talk birth control.”

  “I’m on the pill,” Rania whispered. “And I was tested six months ago. My only love since then has been the engine on the Bonnie Blue.”

  “I’m warmer than those engines,” Moj said. “And I work better. I don’t need any maintenance.”

  “I can feel that,” Rania said, smiling.

  She shifted and engulfed his cock into her silken sex.

  All instincts told him to raise his hips to pound her, but he controlled himself. He let her relax as he slowly filled her completely.

  All thoughts of Fiona and his past were blasted away in the heat of the moment. The moon had risen higher into the sky.

  He wasn’t moving, neither was she, and God, how he enjoyed feeling her wet inferno around him.

  He moved the hair from her face, and her eyes sparkled. Both kept their eyes open, searching each other’s souls.

  “I’m in you,” he murmured.

  “You are,” she breathed. “And it feels so perfect. You’re stretching me, but I love it.”

  “So tight.” he slid out of her a bit, and then back in, just an inch, just a little.

  Her eyes clos
ed. She moaned.

  “I’m gonna have to fuck you hard,” Moj said in a choked voice. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t wait.

  He swiveled her around until she was lying with her back in the sand.

  “Fuck me,” she said in a loud voice. “I want you to fuck me hard, Moj. I need it hard.”

  “Soft first,” he said, focusing on the sweet bow of her lips. He moved in and out of her, slowly, kissing her, until she grabbed his head.

  “Hard, Moj, hard now.”

  “I love you saying my name.” He thrust into her.

  She gasped. “Moj.”

  “Oh fuck.” He withdrew and slammed back into her.

  She yelped. Her breath came in gulps. “Moj.”

  “Tell me,” he said. Again, he drew back, keeping just the tip in her.

  “Moj, harder, fast and hard. Fuck it into me.”

  He unleashed his libido and pounded her, going as fast, as deep as he could, as she shrieked under him.

  A wave crashed on the shore. A night bird whistled a call.

  And then all sound was eclipsed by her screams.

  Faster, deeper, he was on the very edge.

  “Say my name,” Rania urged.

  “Rania!”

  She came on him, contracting around him, raising her hips and gripping his ass.

  That was all it took. He drove himself as deep into her as he could and came, came with such an intensity he called out her name, over and over.

  “Rania. Rania. Rania.”

  When his orgasm was over, he stayed in her, his face buried in her shoulder, cradled in her neck.

  He listened as her breath returned to normal, and he never, ever wanted to leave their island paradise.

  * * *

  Rania held him tight, loving how full she felt. She rarely came during intercourse, but with Moj, everything was perfect, and she was amazed at how brazen she’d been. She wanted him again and again.

  He shrank out of her and then slumped down beside her in the sand. She kept her legs open, enjoying the open air.

  “Remind me never to plan anything ever again,” Moj said.

  “I will,” Rania said. She laid her head on his sweaty chest, rubbing his stomach.

  “I don’t want to be found now,” Moj said. “I want to stay here forever with you. Just me and you. I’ll give up my whole crazy life.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Rania shut her mouth. She shouldn’t have said that, not after what they’d shared.

  “I’ve done everything I’ve wanted in the studio,” Moj said. “I guess you’re right. I can’t quit now. Cloude would never forgive me. I have a lot of people depending on me, and my managers have me scheduled. Damn plans.”

  She kissed one of his nipples. “No planning. We’ll love each other, we’ll get found, and then we’ll figure things out.”

  A little kernel of fear nestled in her belly. She’d seen the circus around him in Goa, and she knew his first love would always be the music and limelight. Worse, those cameras, all of those cameras, all the time, and she needed to stay anonymous. She hadn’t told him about Nassef Youssef Fayed.

  She shook the thoughts and fear out of her mind. “You thirsty?”

  “Yeah,” Moj said. “And hungry as fuck.”

  Rania faked a pout. “You give that term a new meaning after what you did to me.”

  “Me?” he smiled. “This was your idea. I got all deep, and you were like, ‘Fuck all that. Let’s have sex and not care.’”

  “Now that’s a plan.” She rose and grabbed a coconut. Using her knife, she chopped off the outer covering and slammed the blade into the skin. She drank some of the sweet milk inside and then offered it to Moj.

  He drank it greedily, but didn’t drain the coconut. He gave it back to her, always considerate. She drank the rest of the milk, then started the arduous task of peeling off the thick brown skin. She cut off some of the flesh for him.

  “I can fish tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll need the protein.”

  He lay on his side, gazing at her. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Follow rules,” Rania said. She slipped a hunk of coconut into her mouth and chewed the sweet meat. “I’m not good at doing what’s expected of me.”

  He sang a song she didn’t recognize, something about a rebel.

  “You don’t know that song?” he asked.

  “Sorry, but no.”

  “Damn, girl, it’s Bowie. Cloude could tell you the name of the album and the release date. She’s a real encyclopedia.”

  They ate the rest of the coconut and then returned to the lean-to.

  Once again, Rania found herself lying on Moj, listening to his heartbeat. It wasn’t long until his breathing became slow and steady.

  She had a harder time finding sleep.

  The island, or at least their part of it, seemed devoid of people, but the gas cans told a different story.

  Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow we can really explore the island.

  As she drifted off, she thought the gas tanks promised a boat or a plane they could use to make their escape. She had to get Moj back to the Bonnie Blue. Lindsay would be crazy with worry.

  But that was tomorrow.

  Tonight, she had Moj all to herself, and she would enjoy every second.

  * * *

  Vikram cracked open his seventh beer. He lounged on the forward deck, the stars above taunting him with light.

  Failure, the whole thing had been failure. Maybe he needed to rethink his entire life, starting with his desire to be a crime lord in South Africa again. Maybe all the trouble wasn’t worth it.

  After their second disastrous attempt at kidnapping, they’d headed the Fukawe out of the Maldives toward their next cigarette drop in the Seychelles. Bert had plotted the course and set them on autopilot.

  Wally and Bert found him, sweeping their flashlights across the stains and dirt of the big catamaran. Housekeeping was not in their skill set. Vikram finally had to clean the toilets because he couldn’t stand the stench.

  “Vik! You still mad at us?” Wally asked. He took off his hat. “Wanna wear my hat for a little bit?”

  Vikram glared at the two men. “You have no idea who I really am, do you?”

  Bert shrugged. “Your dad and my dad hung out. You’re like my cousin.”

  “No!” Vikram shouted. “I’m not your cousin. And our fathers didn’t ‘hang out.’ Your father had gambling debts.”

  Bert winced. “Yeah, when Dad couldn’t play rugby anymore, he started betting on it. I’m amazed we didn’t lose the boat.”

  “You would have if my father hadn’t had a soft spot for washed-up rugby players.”

  Bert colored with anger, balling his hands into fists. Wally pulled him back.

  “You both have heard of Mustafa Kala, right?” Vikram asked. He stood up and tossed his beer bottle out into the ocean.

  Wally took off his hat to itch his head.

  “Yeah, we know of Kala. We never met him, though. We’re new to crime.”

  “New and terrible at it,” Vikram spat. “My father was a lieutenant in Kala’s army, and I took his place. I’ve had dinner with Kala on many, many occasions.”

  “I don’t care,” Bert barked. “You can’t talk smack about my dad. Yeah, his last days were pretty sad, but he was still one of the best rugby players South Africa has ever seen.”

  “Easy, Bert.” Wally took off his hat and put it on Bert, who seemed to calm down. “So, Vik, if you are so tight with Kala, what are you doing with us?”

  “Fucking politics,” Vikram said, swaying. “I had an enemy who drove me out of town. I had nowhere else to go. Once I get some money, though, I’ll have access to drugs, women, and guns. Then I’ll take all I’ve learned from Kala and start my own operation. I thought you two might join me, but now I see I can’t trust you idiots.”

  “Dude, this is so ‘Sopranos,’” Bert said, a grin back on his face.

  “Who was your enemy?” Wally a
sked.

  Vikram frowned. “Shabana Iyer.”

  Wally chuckled. “Oh, I’ve met her. Totally badass. You’re lucky she didn’t cut you up into chum, brother.”

  “You got ousted by a girl?” Bert asked. “That is so righteous. This is why gender stereotypes don’t work.”

  Vikram sighed. “It wasn’t just Shabana Iyer. She was backed by a wealthy Egyptian businessman with deep pockets and dark secrets. Nassef Youssef Fayed, that was my real enemy. And in the end, he won.”

  Despair dripped through him. Ransoming Moj, Cloude, even the chef would’ve been a way back into the crime syndicates in southern Africa. Now, all was lost.

  Bert and Wally patted him on the shoulder.

  “Look, Vik,” Bert said. “We messed up. But if we get another chance to kidnap a celebrity, we’ll do better. Not sure I’m cut out for crime, but I want to help you.”

  “And look on the bright side,” Wally said. “We still have a crap ton of smokes to deliver to the Somalis near the Seychelles. We’ll make the drop and then figure out how we can help you. How does that sound?”

  “You mean it?” Vikram asked.

  “Yeah, we’re mates,” Wally said.

  Vikram felt better for a few moments. He leaned into the hugs, but then had to race to the railing to barf into the dark water of the Indian Ocean. He’d had way too many beers.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Uninhabited Eastern Maldivian Island

  April 17

  Rania thrashed back and forth, muttering meaningless sounds until Moj nudged her awake. She’d been in the middle of a feverish dream where she and Moj were bound and the stupid pirates were wading ashore, holding torches and wielding broken beer bottles like daggers.

  “Cara Mia, wake up. You’re having a bad dream. No one’s got us. Nobody here but you, me, and the coconuts.”

  She sat up, suddenly alert, and pushed away from his arms.

  “We have to get moving and check out the other side of the island before the sun rises any higher.”

  “Not before breakfast,” Moj said. “My stomach is complaining.”

  “We still have coconuts left,” she said, “and…”

  “And ol’ Moj caught us a fish.” He proudly held up a shimmering silver fish. “Told you I liked to fish in Tampa, and it is a lot easier with a pole, but I had a line and hook I brought along. Thank God they were still in the zip pocket in my swim trunks.”