Jungle Princess Page 3

  Bronson glanced from the wood to Holt with a dumbfounded look. “Where did you find the wood?”

  “Ironically, in the woods,” Holt scoffed.

  Holt tossed wood onto the fire while Alex shivered, holding her knees against her chest. Holt removed his jacket and placed it over Alex’s shoulders without taking his eyes off Bronson.

  “Make no mistake, Bronson,” Holt boldly announced while straightening. “Until we’re rescued, you will pull your weight around here.”

  Bronson stared at him with surprise. “Hey, I watched for rescue ships and planes.” He then turned defensive. “I can’t be in the woods and on the beach at the same time.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “And who put you in charge?”

  “As the only person here who’s been camping, I put myself in charge,” Holt casually informed him.

  Bronson glared at him and sneered. “Well, Alex and I don’t take orders from you.”

  Alex clung to Holt’s jacket over her shoulders and didn’t look away from the fire. “Holt’s in charge,” she muttered.

  Bronson glared at her with disapproval. “You’re a minor, and I’m responsible for you.”

  “It’s settled then,” Holt announced while straightening proudly as he flopped onto the sand alongside Alex. “I’m in charge.” He cast a look at Alex. “And as my first official act, I declare fifteen the age of majority. Alex is responsible for herself.”

  Alex cast a look at Holt and grinned.

  §

  Day five. It had been five days since they’d been stranded on the island without so much as seeing another soul from the sunken ship. There hadn’t been any planes passing overhead or any ships conveniently sailing past. If there had been a rescue, they weren’t looking anywhere near the small island. Alex, Holt, and Bronson walked through the woods while following a small animal trail. There seemed to be trails everywhere. Although the trails were worn, they hadn’t run into anything larger than a snake. Holt had pointed it out. Alex was grateful she hadn’t seen it. She didn’t have much experience with snakes, but she was almost certain they’d be pretty big in the jungle terrain. Bronson lagged behind as usual and appeared bored. Holt walked alongside Alex and pointed at the different types of plant life, telling Alex about each one in great detail.

  Alex stared at him with a strange look. “Oh, God,” she gasped. “You are a science teacher!”

  “Not quite,” he announced and held back his laugh. “I’m an archeologist.”

  “Like Indiana Jones?”

  “Yeah, but without the bullwhip and fedora,” Holt teased.

  Despite their night of horror and their desperate situation, Holt rose to the occasion as if he’d spent his entire life training for life as a castaway. Alex would have been concerned, considering it had been five days and they hadn’t seen any sign of a rescue, but Holt held it together for her. If she had to be stranded on a deserted island, Holt was her ideal travel companion. Bronson, on the other hand, had gone from annoying to impossible in the last five days.

  Bronson groaned, breaking the peacefulness of the jungle, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Does anyone actually know where we are?”

  “Yes, Bronson, we’re in the woods,” Holt casually replied.

  “How big is the island?” Alex asked while looking around.

  “By my calculations, pretty damned big,” Holt informed her then stopped. “Oh, look, mangoes.”

  All three looked up the tree and admired its height.

  Bronson’s mouth fell open as he stared up the tree. “A little high up there, Holt.”

  “I can climb,” Alex announced with enthusiasm.

  Holt eyed Alex’s short, black dress then raised a skeptical brow. “In that?”

  “I’ll take it off,” she replied with little care.

  Bronson and Holt stared at her dumbfounded.

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Holt remarked. “And you’re looking at some nasty tree burns in some pretty sensitive areas.”

  “I’m the youngest, and I’m guessing the most flexible,” she remarked. “You let me worry about my sensitive areas.” Alex indicated the tear in the hem of her dress to Holt. “Rip me.”

  Holt frowned and ripped the tear on the side of her dress to the top of her thigh. He took a step back and watched as Alex easily scaled the tree. Holt and Bronson stared as Alex moved along the branch containing the mangoes.

  “My God,” Holt muttered. “She’s part monkey.”

  Alex knocked the mangoes from the branch and smiled at the men on the ground. “Eight years of gymnastics,” she proudly announced then started her descent. “I could show you an amazing backward dismount, but I’ve never done it in a dress.”

  “I suggest we don’t try it either,” Holt informed her.

  Alex was almost to the bottom when she saw a snake near her. It was quite possibly a boa constrictor, but she didn’t actually take time to look at it. She was too busy screaming then tumbled from the tree. Holt and Bronson hurried toward her where she landed. She groaned softly then suddenly screamed and leaped to her feet while looking around.

  “Snake! Snake!”

  Holt chuckled and pointed up the tree. “Apparently, you scare more easily than the snake.”

  Alex was momentarily relieved then suddenly gasped and clutched her leg. There was a large cut on her outer thigh, which bled freely. Both men jumped with surprise at the sight of the blood. Holt removed his handkerchief and held it to her injured thigh.

  “Is she okay?” Bronson gasped.

  Holt peeked at the wound then reapplied pressure to it. “It’s not too deep, but we’re going to need to clean it and keep it covered. We’ll take her back to that stream and soak it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alex sat on a rock within the stream and cleaned the two-inch cut with Holt’s expensive handkerchief, which was now stained pink from the blood. Her injury wasn’t too deep, but the sight of the gaping wound turned her stomach. Bronson pulled Holt away from Alex and toward the bank.

  “That cut looks pretty bad,” Bronson remarked in a hushed tone. “Are you sure she’s going to be okay? What are we going to do?”

  “We just need to keep it from getting infected,” Holt informed him.

  “What if it gets infected?”

  “Stop worrying. I’ll take care of her injury,” Holt informed him. “Why don’t you go back and collect our lunch before something else does.”

  Bronson nodded then turned and suddenly stopped. He had a strange look on his face as he stared obviously distracted by what he saw.

  “Holt--?”

  “What now?” Holt snarled and turned.

  They saw a surprisingly clean-shaven man in his late twenties wearing well-preserved clothing with a backpack over his shoulder and a machete in his hand. His dark, nearly black hair was cut businessman short and gave the impression of someone who’d just recently been stranded on the island. His moderately dark tan indicated he’d spent much time outdoors, and his lean build revealed just enough muscle mass to be considered a force in which to be reckoned. The stranger stood on the path near them, staring at them with little expression.

  “Who are you?” Damon asked in a low, firm tone meant to intimidate them, which it did.

  “We were shipwrecked five days ago,” Holt informed him and offered a polite smile. “We’re glad to see you. Is there a way off the island?”

  “None that I’ve found,” Damon remarked and tilted his head with a curious look. “How many survivors?”

  “Just the three of us,” Holt replied. “I’m Holt, this is Bronson, and that’s Alex over there.”

  Damon looked past them at Alex in the stream where she sat on the rock in her slightly torn, black dress. He stared at her longer than he should have then looked back at Holt.

  “I’ve been tracking blood,” Damon announced and nodded to Alex. “Has she been injured?”

  “She cut her leg,” Holt replied without taking his eyes off Damon. “No
thing serious.”

  “Injuries can easily become infected out here,” Damon informed him and again eyed Alex.

  Alex limped toward them while clutching the handkerchief to her injured thigh. She smiled with embarrassment at possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  “In my defense,” she announced teasingly, “it was a really big snake.”

  Damon continued to stare at her although his expression didn’t change. “Yeah, I saw it,” he casually replied. “It was a two-footer at best. I assure you, they get a lot bigger than that.”

  Holt noted the look on Damon’s face while he stared at Alex. He stared at her almost as if he had never seen a woman before. Holt immediately tensed, obviously concerned.

  Damon looked back at Holt. “Forgive me for being blunt, but my people are very territorial and don’t welcome outsiders,” he announced. “I can take care of her injury for you, but you’ll need to return to the north side of the island.”

  “Excuse me?” Holt blurted out and stared back at the strange man.

  “Not blunt enough? Okay,” Damon announced and raised a dark, cocky brow. “My people would assume kill you than share this island with outsiders. Consider that a warning shot across your bow.”

  All three stared at Damon with surprise.

  “Blunt enough for you?” Damon snapped.

  “I hear you, but I don’t understand the hostility,” Holt announced.

  “Yeah, well, life sucks,” Damon replied while shrugging. “Welcome to my world.” He shifted his attention to Alex. “Let’s have a look.”

  Alex took a step toward him. Holt held his hand up, stopping her, but didn’t take his eyes off Damon.

  “Actually, I’d rather you stayed away from her,” Holt announced with little expression.

  Damon stared at Holt. Neither man flinched. It was a tense moment. Alex wasn’t sure what Holt was doing, but it wasn’t wise to piss off the larger, younger man with a machete.

  “I don’t make house calls,” Damon informed him. “If the wound gets infected, she dies.”

  Alex felt fear flooding her body. She wasn’t sure what had Holt suddenly bent out of shape, but she needed to break up the pissing match before it started. Her attention shifted to Holt.

  “Holt, please,” she announced gently. “It’s okay.”

  Holt maintained his distrusting glare then reluctantly stood aside. Alex sat on a nearby rock and removed the handkerchief from her leg. Damon stared at her a moment then crouched in front of her. He jammed his machete into the ground, startling her. He then removed a first aid kit from his pack and cleaned the wound as if he’d been doing it all his life. Alex cringed, feeling the wound burn from the cleanser.

  He eyed her sharply then returned his attention to her injury. “If you think that hurts, you’re in for a shock,” he remarked.

  “Why?” Alex asked with concern.

  Damon lifted his eyes and met her gaze for the first time. “I need to stitch it.” He then removed a syringe and a bottle from the kit.

  Holt saw the syringe and practically bolted for them. Bronson sheepishly stepped into his path while holding up a hand to calm him. The machete had been enough to unnerve Bronson.

  “What’s that?” Alex asked while staring at the needle with wide, horror-filled eyes. She’d never been a fan of needles, and she could sense something bad was about to happen.

  “Sedation and a mild painkiller,” he replied simply. He placed his hand on her thigh and applied pressure to keep her leg still. “Okay, say ouch.”

  “What--?”

  Damon stuck the needle in her thigh. Alex yelped with surprise. While the painkiller and sedation cocktail took effect, Holt paced and kept close watch on the strange man. Damon removed a curved needle specifically made for suturing injuries and stitched Alex’s leg wound. Whatever he had given her made her feel a little too good. She rested her head against the tree with her eyes closed and giggled as he stitched her wound.

  “That tickles.”

  Damon briefly cast a glance at her between stitches. “Someone’s feeling good.”

  Once he was finished applying six stitches, Damon taped a bandage over the closed wound. Alex watched him as he worked with an unusual seriousness. She admired the handsome man and smiled.

  “You’re cute.”

  Holt stopped pacing and stared at the giddy teenager now flirting with the strange and possibly demented man. Damon met her gaze and showed no reaction to the comment, although there was a strange look in his eyes. He packed up his bag, straightened, and handed Holt fresh pads and tape.

  “Keep the wound clean and dry,” Damon informed him in a gruff tone. “Change the dressing every two days. She should stay off her leg for a few days.”

  Damon tossed his bag over his shoulder, reclaimed his machete, and headed back for the path. Holt appeared annoyed and hurried after him. Bronson watched with concern. Holt spoke to Damon, although their conversation couldn’t be heard. Damon appeared serious and made a motion to Alex while talking. Holt seemed unusually tense. Damon smirked, said something, and walked away. Holt stared after him then finally approached Bronson and Alex. Alex still appeared doped and cheerful.

  “What did he say?” Bronson practically gasped.

  “What he said isn’t important,” Holt replied, although he was clearly upset by what he’d heard. “We need to leave them alone at all costs. We’re never to go beyond this stream again. We’ll stay on the north side of the island.”

  “He said something that got to you, didn’t he?” Bronson announced with alarm in his eyes. “What did he say?”

  “It’s not important. He and his people are hostile, and that’s all we need to know,” Holt informed him then gestured wildly with his hands. “Let’s get Alex back to our beach. The sooner we’re away from here, the better I’ll feel.”

  “What about the mangoes?”

  “Forget the mangoes!”

  Holt helped Alex to her feet with a little, added vigor, surprising her with his strength. She leaned on his shoulder and smiled with giddy delight.

  “Dr. Jones, I presume,” she giggled.

  Holt forced a smile at her mildly giddy state. “Yes.”

  Chapter Ten

  Day seven. It was another beautiful morning in paradise despite that Alex wasn’t particularly in the mood to enjoy it. Alex sat on the beach, grateful for the warm sun warding off her chill from the previous night. She gingerly rubbed her injured leg while staring out at the horizon over the ocean at the vast nothingness. She saw Bronson approach from the surf while carrying a soaked, orange life preserver. He tossed it to the sand and collapsed alongside her. She briefly glanced at him but didn’t want to pay too much attention to him.

  “I guess the tide is starting to wash up debris from the wreckage,” Bronson informed her.

  She finally cast a look at him and appeared concerned. “No chance anyone else survived?” she asked. “Maybe Aunt Trish--?”

  Bronson shook his head while frowning. Alex felt a surge of pain sweep through her thigh. She cringed and rubbed her leg.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, just sore from sitting around for two days,” she replied and again cringed as her leg ached. “My thigh is cramping.”

  “Let me help.” Bronson placed his hand beneath Alex’s thigh and massaged it with some force.

  Alex gasped from the fierceness of his gripping hand and cringed. Despite the pain he seemed to cause, it actually made it feel a little better.

  “Yeah, that’s where it hurts.”

  As Bronson worked out the cramp on the back of her thigh, his hand slid further up her leg in a more caressing manner. Alex tensed and stopped him while simultaneously pulling back her leg.

  “It’s better, thanks.”

  Bronson smiled and straightened. Alex cast a look at him and remained tense. She looked around the beach, wishing Holt would return soon. She didn’t like being alone with Bronson longer than necessary
.

  “Holt’s been gone a while,” she remarked. “Maybe we should look for him.”

  “He’s fine,” Bronson assured her. “One week and he can already find his way around the woods with his eyes closed.”

  “I wish I could be out there exploring the island too,” she pouted.

  “Considering your last outing, you’re probably better off remaining here on the beach,” Bronson informed her while indicating her injury.

  Alex frowned and sank into her own world. Anything was better than talking with Bronson. She didn’t care for him as her aunt’s boyfriend, and she liked him less now that she was stranded on an island with him. Holt bolted from the woods, startling them. He hurried toward them and pulled Alex to her feet. She would have been concerned, but his boyish smile told them he found something of interest.

  “You won’t believe what I’ve found,” he announced excitedly. “It’s about a twenty-minute walk from here, but it’s worth it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex was having a difficult time keeping up with Holt, who clung to her hand while practically dragging her along the path. He wouldn’t allow her to walk any further than their makeshift bathroom for two days, and now he was dragging her through the jungle at a brisk jog. She couldn’t deny the muscles in her legs were protesting. The three finally appeared in the clearing and stared at a lighthouse set along the cliff towering majestically above the world. A small caretaker’s cabin of sorts was attached to the lighthouse.

  The lighthouse soared three stories above the cabin. Although its paint job was faded, there was still some remanence of the red and white candy cane swirl design. The glass panels surrounding the light on top remained intact despite decades of neglect. Apart from needing a good cleaning, the glass was surprisingly free of breaks and cracks. Bronson and Alex were stunned at the discovery, which seemed almost unbelievable. Holt approached the small cabin attached to the lighthouse and looked back at them while grinning.