Jill Sorenson: Stranded With Her Ex

Taryn watched them depart with undisguised interest.

Daniela walked about a dozen steps from the house and stopped, hugging her arms around her body. Because the island was covered by sharp rocks, kamikaze seagulls and 5,000-pound elephant seals, it was no place to take a leisurely stroll.

At least the wind would make their conversation impossible to overhear. It blew her hair in every direction, whipping the shoulder-length strands against her cheeks.

She stared out at the horizon, collecting her thoughts. Although she disliked being at Sean’s mercy, she’d have to suck it up and make nice. There was so much riding on this project. Her career, the cause…her peace of mind, even. In a way, she’d come here to find herself.

She’d been lost for so long.

Spending time on a deserted island with her ex-husband wasn’t going to be easy, but she was a survivor. She’d lived through worse than this. Compared to some of the other challenges she’d faced in her life, his presence was a minor roadblock.

They’d been married for more than five years; surely they could put up with each other for a few short weeks.

“You look good,” he said, after a long moment.

Surprised by the compliment, she turned to face him.

“Your hair is longer,” he added unnecessarily. “And you seem…” His gaze dropped to her breasts, which were impossible to hide, even in a boxy windbreaker. “Healthier,” he muttered, a flush creeping up his neck.

If he meant to flatter her, he was off base. After the accident, she’d cropped her hair short, and in the following year she’d lost a lot of weight. She’d overheard him telling his best friend that she resembled a scrawny boy.

One careless remark, never discussed, never repeated, but it had damaged their already strained relationship. The last thing she needed was a reminder that he liked long, luscious hair and generous curves.

Sexist pig.

He was looking a bit rawboned himself, but she didn’t say that. Lean or not, he was the picture of health. Shedding a few pounds only made his shoulders appear broader and his face more angular. Underneath his clothes, she knew he would be perfectly cut, all lovely muscles etched into sun-bronzed flesh.

Beautiful bastard.

His hair was longer, too, curling at the edge of his collar, as if he’d been too busy to have it trimmed. He hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days, either. His whiskers appeared thicker than ever, but she knew from experience that they would feel soft to the touch. Her fingertips tingled at the memory of exploring his stubbly jaw and hard mouth. Both were deceptively rough-looking.

She resisted the absurd longing to lift her hand to his face. “I need this,” she said in a low voice.

Sean shook his head. “You don’t belong here, Dani. It’s too harsh, too volatile. You’re…not equipped.”

“That isn’t fair,” she said. “You haven’t even seen me since—”

“When’s the last time you had an anxiety attack?” he interrupted.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she studied the horizon instead of him. Breathe, she reminded herself. Just breathe.

“A month ago? A week?”

“I can handle it.” He’d witnessed her worst breakdowns, so she couldn’t blame him for being concerned. She could, however, resent him for treating her like an invalid, and for thinking she was weak. “I’m stronger now.”

His eyes wandered over her face. “Are you?”

“Yes! You really think that teenybopper you were playing full-contact with is tougher than I am? After all I’ve been through?”

“She’s twenty-four.”

Jealousy burned within her, hot and bright. “Did you interrogate her this way, too? Make sure she was mentally fit?”

“I didn’t have to. She’s very…easygoing.”

Daniela choked out a laugh. Nothing he could have said would hurt more. Compared to her, everyone seemed easy. “How perfect for you.”

He didn’t disagree.

She pushed the pain of his betrayal aside, searching for the right words to convince him. “I’ve been on the waiting list for over a year, Sean. Don’t take this opportunity away from me because you came out here on a whim. Please.”

He shifted from one foot to the other, his face taut. “There’s been an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“Someone skinned a seal pup.”

The breath rushed from her lungs. “When?”

“A few days ago. We found it on the north side.”

Daniela blinked a few times, struggling to understand. “The body washed up?”

“No. It was fresh.”

“That’s impossible! The island is virtually inaccessible.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “Virtually.”

“Who would do that?”

“Maybe a disgruntled fisherman, or a member of the cage-diving crew. Either way, it’s been damned odd around here lately. We’re all on edge. The last thing I want is for you to come across some crazy…anti-environmentalist.” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

A lump rose to her throat. She swallowed hard, thinking she’d much rather deal with his criticism than his tenderness. “I won’t,” she promised, her voice huskier than usual. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t run away at the first sign of trouble. I need to face my fears, Sean. I came here to move on.”

His eyes darkened with a sharp, indefinable emotion. She knew the situation was difficult for him, too. Much of what had gone wrong between them had been her fault; she’d given up on their marriage long before he had.

And when she realized her mistake, it had been too late.

The radio under his jacket crackled with disturbance. “Shark attack, southwest side. Near Skull Rock. Looks like a big one.”

It was a man’s voice, one she didn’t recognize. Sean unclipped his radio and responded with an affirmative, glancing up toward the lighthouse. Beside it, there was a lone figure, waving his arms in the direction of the attack.

Jason flew out of the house, a digital video camera in his hands, his open jacket flapping behind him. There was no more time for negotiation. “Who’s with me?” he said, heading toward the landing.

It went without saying that Sean was. He lived for this.

He started after Jason, following him away from the house. Daniela had to jog to keep up with his long strides. The man at the lighthouse tower also hurried down the path, eager to accompany them.

“Sure you want to see this?” Sean asked over his shoulder. “It’s a bloody mess.”

As soon as he spoke those words, she was assaulted by images from another disturbing scene. Shrieking metal and shattered glass. The warm, wet rush of blood and the agonizing pain spreading through her belly.

“Yes,” she said anyway, fighting to clear her mind of memories. This was a test, like jumping from boat to boat, and failure was not an option. Heart racing, she scrambled along behind him, her feet seeking purchase on the rocky soil.

He should have checked the roster before signing on.

It had never occurred to Sean that his ex-wife would be on the list of researchers. Southeast Farallon was the last place on earth she should be.

He was glad she’d decided to return to the world of the living, but this wasn’t it. In fact, native Californians had called the Farallones “The Islands of the Dead.” The conditions were too extreme for someone who’d gone through what she had.

It was like tossing a soldier with PTSD into a battle demonstration. Only, this was no demonstration.

Maybe after witnessing a twenty-foot shark decapitate an elephant seal, she’d go back to the mainland on the next charter. He hoped so. It wasn’t as if he didn’t wish her the best. It was just that the best thing for her was to be somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful.