Page 27 of Hunted (Desert Island Duet #2)

Chapter seventeen

Darla

W eston brings the rental van to a stop at the side of the road, the warehouse looming in the distance about a mile ahead. We all climb out and stare at it. It looks normal enough from the outside, but then again, I have no idea what we’re looking for.

Weston turns to me, a stern expression on his face. “You need to stay here with one of the others.”

“What? No!” I argue, wanting to see what was going on.

“We have no idea what’s in there. There is no way I’m going to let you go in there without knowing what we’re walking into.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I argue angrily, crossing my arms over my chest as he glares down at me.

“Oh yes, I do.”

“Excuse me?”

“West, you suck at this,” Bower says in exasperation, making me turn my glare at him.

“Are you in on this, too?”

“In on what? ”

“This whole, leave Darla in the car nonsense?” I say, waving my arms around in aggravation.

I expect him to make a joke, so it startles me when he replies, “Actually, yes.”

Kingsley speaks next, making my glare turn to him. “Darla, we’re not trying to tell you what to do, but we don’t want to see you hurt. You’ve only just started walking again today after being shot . We’re all scared of something like that, or worse, happening again.”

He drags his hand through his brown hair as he takes a deep breath. “Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide if you trust us or not.”

My glare turns into confusion, instantly replying, “Of course, I trust you.”

“Then you need to trust that we know what’s best for you. Especially when all four of us agree on something.”

I glance around, seeing all four of them are watching me carefully. It’s clear they all agree, that they want me to stay here. But I’ve been through tough situations and I’m tired of being left behind.

“Baby,” Weston whispers, drawing my gaze to him. “Please… I can’t see you get hurt again. Especially when we can prevent it.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt either,” I mumble, dropping my eyes so I don't have to look at his pleading ones.

“We’re not going in unarmed,” Reece states, and when I look over at him, he pulls up his shirt and shows a gun peeking out of the waistband of his pants. I look around and Weston and Bower show me the same things.

I glance at King, and he shrugs. “There’s a gun in the glove box if we need it. I’m staying with you this time. ”

I press my lips together firmly, then sigh. “Fine,” I grumble. “But I’ll be very angry if you get hurt.”

“Thanks, Tink,” Bower says, giving me a quick kiss and a hug. Reece and Weston hug me, then the three of them head towards the building.

Kingsley grabs my hand and tugs me back towards the van. “Let’s wait inside, we can put the AC on if it gets too hot.” I nod and let him maneuver me back into the vehicle. We sit in the second row of seats, and Kingsley pulls me to his side, his arm around my shoulders.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

I don’t respond because I don’t know what to say. A sinking feeling settles in my gut, and I already know that whatever’s inside that warehouse isn’t some charity working to feed and support the surrounding communities. There’s no signage or anything to indicate this is a friendly, welcome place.

Maybe they are right to not let me go in there. On the island, Weston had said I’m reckless, and I put myself at risk too much. Is this an example of one of those times? Is that why Kingsley said I needed to trust them? Because I had a hard time telling recklessness from bravery?

“Kingsley?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the guy's backs as they walk towards the warehouse.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Am I reckless?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, so I turn to look up to him. There’s a slight pinch between his brows like he’s considering the answer carefully. I wait patiently and finally he looks at me.

“You can be, yes. We know you don’t do it on purpose, though.”

“I don’t know how to be any other way. ”

“That’s why I said you have to trust us. So we can keep you safe, even from yourself.”

“But how do I know when I’m being reckless and when Weston or Reece are just being overbearing?”

“How about we have a codeword? And when I say it, you’ll know it means you’re being reckless.”

“A code word?” I ask, liking the sound of that. “Okay, what should it be?”

“Hmm… how about…” He taps his chin in thought, drawing my attention to his beard. He’s trimmed it down, but it’s not completely gone, and I love it this length. It makes me want to sink my fingers into it. “Seagull.”

“Seagull?” I repeat, wondering why he chose it.

“Yeah. It’s perfect. Bob was already getting you to do reckless stuff, like climb the cliff to get to his nest or chase him down the beach as if you could actually catch him.” I narrow my eyes in mock anger, then drop the pretense and nod my head.

“Seagull it is.”

A loud knock on the window beside me has a small scream escape my throat as I jump into Kingsley's lap.

He immediately wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his other side, away from the noise and the unfamiliar man frowning through the window at us.

Behind him are two more men, all with angry expressions on their faces.

My heart starts hammering in my chest when he lifts the tip of his rifle and taps in against the glass again. “Get out here,” he says loudly.

“Crap shells!” I hiss quietly, my fingers digging into Kingsley’s arm. We’re in trouble. There’s no way a strange man knocking on the van door with a rifle was a good thing .

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Just stay calm and we’ll do as they say for now. They’re probably just warehouse security. We’ll sort this all out.”

He grabs my hand with his left one and reaches for the door handle with his right.

Slowly, he steps out and as soon as he starts to stand up, he’s yanked from my grasp.

I scream his name as he’s thrown to the ground and two men stand over him, aiming their rifles at his head.

He lifts his hands in surrender, then someone pulls me out of the van by my arm with a grip firm enough that it’ll probably leave a bruise.

I subtly glance towards the warehouse, but there’s no sign of the others now. Hopefully, they are safely inside.

“Don’t hurt her!” Kingsley yells angrily.

“Don’t shoot him!” I yell as I worry about why they’re pointing guns at him.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” the man who knocked on our window asks. They all wear green camouflage, like a military unit, and I start to wonder who’s side they’re on.

“We own that warehouse,” Kingsley says, pointing to the building behind them. They frown at him in obvious disbelief. “Danver’s Charity Group, right? She’s Darla Danvers,” he says, gesturing to me. “We were coming to check how everything was running. Make sure it was all moving smoothly.”

They all frown down at him, then the leader starts speaking in what I have to guess is Swahili. The man gestures to both of us, then to the van and the warehouse. The others seem to argue back, and my worried eyes move to Kingsley.

We stare at each other in fear, unsure what we can do against three men with rifles when we’re unarmed.

There’s a gun in the glove box and McStabby is under one of the seats.

I should have kept him on me. I thought I’d be safer off the island.

I guess I was wrong. After all, man is far worse than any island could ever be.

I see the other man pull a photo from his pocket and when he passes it to the leader, I get a glimpse of a photo of Bower and Kingsley.

My eyes widen in fear as I look at Kingsley. Were they warned about us coming? Or were they hired by the mercenaries? Maybe they’re the ones who hired the mercenaries.

I glance over my shoulder towards the warehouse. What the hell is in there?

One thing was for sure; we were in trouble. The men seem to come to a conclusion as the leader turns to the man holding me and says something, pointing to the warehouse. The grip on my arm tightens as he starts to drag me towards the building.

“No! King!” I yell, trying to pry the fingers off of me.

“Where are you taking her?!” he yells as he tries to get up, but the leader pushes him back down with a foot to the chest and raises his gun as if to shoot.

Suddenly, I’m not looking at Kingsley anymore, I’m looking at my dad being held by knifepoint in the middle of the jungle. I blink and the image is gone, replaced with my current reality.

Last time, I crumbled and did as they said, hoping they’d spare my dad, and they took everything from me. I won’t let that happen again. This time… This time I’m not a defenseless thirteen-year-old girl. I’m not helpless, and I’m not weak.

My eyes scan the ground and I see a small rock that will have to do. Quickly spinning towards my captor, I scream as I raise my leg and kick him squarely between his as hard as I can. He lets go, immediately dropping to his knees as he cups his junk.

Without pausing, I grab the rock and swing it at the side of his head, making him fall sideways as I run the few steps towards the leader, who has turned his head to look at the commotion I’m making.

When he sees me running towards him, he starts to turn his gun towards me, but I reach him first, crashing into him and making him stumble backwards.

I swing the rock at his head, but he uses the gun to push me back and swings it at me. I drop my rock and grip the gun and am able to prevent it from hitting me at full force when it connects with my temple.

Kingsley must be fighting another one of the men because I can hear yelling and scuffling happening close by.

The leader and I play tug of war with his gun, and I start to realize how bad this plan is. This guy is taller, bigger, and obviously stronger than me. Any second now, he will pull his gun free from my grasp and shoot me. Then Kingsley.