Free Filthy Wicked Games by Lili Valente

was water, food, and other supplies stored inside, but then she saw the dock—and the fishing boat rocking gently in one of the five slips—and kept running.
    Freedom was so close she could taste it. She couldn’t bear the thought of going back inside that miserable place and surely she wouldn’t die of thirst in the time it took her to get to safety. Clay had transported her here in a day or two. The south Thai islands weren’t that far apart and the boat no doubt had GPS.
    She trotted out onto the dock, the sun-warmed boards hot on her bare feet, and jumped over the boat’s railing onto the deck. The small craft was spic and span, and in the cabin, beneath a storage bench, she discovered a flat of bottled water, packages of almonds, tinned meat, a locked shotgun case, and a box of shells.
    Hope and gratitude flooded through her, making her hands shake as she twisted the cap off of a water bottle and tipped it up to her lips. She sat down hard on the floor beside the bench, guzzling the water as she pulled the shotgun case out onto the floor beside her. It was a simple lock, the kind likely to pop on its own if you dropped it on the ground enough times. But there were faster ways to get basic mechanisms like this to give.
    She looked up, swiping water from her mouth as she scanned the rest of the tidy cabin. All she would need was a paperclip or a straw or—
    A pen!
    She stood, hurrying to the control console, snatching a ballpoint pen from its place beside a leather bound notebook she guessed was the captain’s log. With any luck, it would list the location and time of departure from the port Clay had left when he’d brought her here. She would look, as soon as she got the gun open and the boat started and the craft headed out into open water.
    Dropping back down to the floor, she twisted the pen apart and pulled out the pressure screw, forcing it straight with slick fingers. She was still dripping sweat, her body struggling to cool her down after the long run. Salty drops streamed down her forehead and into her eyes, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. She focused on the lock, jiggling the straightened spring back and forth until the box popped open with a soft snick .
    A moment later, she had the shotgun cocked open and slid a shell into each of the barrels. She had just snapped it closed and turned to see about opening the boat’s ignition panel when she heard footsteps on the dock.
    Fast, heavy footsteps, making no effort to be silent as they pounded across the wood.
    There was only one person it could be. One other person on this godforsaken island.
    Clay.

Chapter Eleven

Harley
    H eart leaping into her throat , Harley spun around, cursing herself for not getting the boat started first. She might have already been pulling away from the dock right now if she’d hotwired the ignition first.
    But she hadn’t. She had armed herself and she meant to use the weapon to make sure she got the hell off this island.
    Clenching her jaw, she brought the gun to her shoulder, preparing for Clay to burst through the cabin door. She didn’t have to wait long. Seconds after she steadied her grip on the rifle, the door swung open, revealing a sweat-soaked Clay wearing nothing but his shorts and boots.
    His bare torso glistened and water beaded on his face and neck, smearing the blood that streamed from the wound at the back of his head down over his thickly muscled shoulder. His eyes glinted with rage, but he wasn’t out of his mind with it. He still had the sense to freeze when he saw the gun, his gaze darting from Harley to the open storage bench beside her and back again.
    “That loaded?” he asked, his breath coming fast.
    He must have sprinted the entire way here, too, every bit as eager to recapture her as she was to escape.
    “It is. And I’m an excellent shot.” She stepped her right foot back, firming up her stance, not wanting to get knocked off her feet by the recoil if she were forced to shoot him.