Read Online Island Promises by Joy Connell - Free Book Online Page A

she didn’t find anything, she settled for ripping the covers off the bed, slamming them on the floor and stomping on them until her anger was spent.
    Damn him . He’d pay for this. She’d get back her boat and her dignity if it were the last thing she did.

Chapter 5
    Two days later, Riley stood in the cockpit gazing up at the night moon, so close she felt she could run her fingers over the surface, tracing the craters. It was a clear night and the stars were out in force, more stars than she had ever seen in her life, filling the sky with dots of color. Her shoulders chaffed from the sunburn she’d gotten while they were out sailing that day. The ocean wind smelled of deep, rich, primal life, and streaks of fluorescent color—the bioluminescence unique to the ocean—could be seen even here in the harbor when the water was disturbed.
    For the first time in a long time she felt content and satisfied. Her muscles were sore from sailing. The plan had been for her to help with food preparation, but that had fallen through. They hadn’t been out more than two hours before Mitchell had kicked her out of the kitchen, or galley, as she kept reminding herself.
    “You are truly sweet to want to help,” he’d said. “But you’re a complete ignoramus when it comes to cooking, and I keep tripping over you. So, to put it as nicely as I can: ‘This galley ain’t big enough for the both of us.’”
    After that, she’d wandered onto the deck where a group of college fraternity boys were lulling in the sun, nursing the hangovers they’d brought with them this morning, and talking about the hangovers they’d acquire tonight. Except for when they were sleeping, they were loud, rude, and generally unbearable. Somehow, they’d gotten the idea that this was Spring Break Gone Crazy; one week of nonstop drinking, partying, and girls.
    Mitchell said it happened every year; that the trip was booked by one of the rich dads, for their hormonal college-frat-boy sons. The charters were something Joe and Anthony dreaded and had tried to avoid but in the end, it was money in their pockets. After three hours of negotiations over the phone with the booking agent, and apparent pleading and threatening, they had cast off, the college boys wanting to know which rockin’ island they were headed for next.
    Joe growled at them to keep their toes out of the rigging lines or have them snapped off when the sails went up, to heave over the side if they got sea sick, and to keep the noise down to bearable limits. Besides that, and a few instructions to Anthony about course, he hadn’t said much to her since two nights ago when he’d rescued her from the pirates. Much of his time had been spent ashore provisioning the boat with expensive rum and ingredients for exotic dinners, having expected to be serving executives and their wives. Instead, he had rowdy college kids who wanted keg beer, hot dogs, and pizza.
    Anthony said very little, steered the boat, followed orders, and seemed always right behind her when she was about to get into something way over her head. When the sun was beginning to set in the fast-moving, brilliant way only found in the tropics, they pulled into a crowded, noisy dock area. Giant powerboats tied up next to sailboats that seemed too small to take on the ocean. The water was murky from churned mud and discarded waste. The dock area had the grimy, seedy feel of a place that had once been beautiful but had been stripped down for money.
    Riley had been looking forward to a quiet anchorage, a rocking boat made better by a spicy rum drink and the promise of deep, uninterrupted sleep. Instead, they docked next to a power boat which was three times as long, with loud music blaring from the oversized stereo system and people partying on deck until the wee hours of the morning, including the frat boys after they’d returned from town.
    “This is a miserable place,” Riley complained to Mitchell as they sat in the cockpit earlier,