Damn, he'd missed this. The fight, the race to survive. The power running through his body like rocket fuel. As if he'd been dead all these years and having a mission had suddenly brought him back to life.

Eric led the way up the rocky beach, pausing occasionally to listen for anyone approaching. Nothing but the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore and Zoe's careful steps as she walked beside him.

He glanced her way, taking in the tired curve of her back, the drag of her feet, the quick rise and fall of her chest.

"Not much cover on the island," he said. "Let's get over that first rise before we change into dry clothes."

They could rest for a bit, too. Catch their breath, check their bodies for issues the adrenaline had allowed them to ignore, and then make their way up to the top of the island, where they'd have shelter and a good view of Polaris.

The ground changed under his feet from the pebbled beach to a dry, uneven grassy terrain. A few yards farther, they came to the big, flat rock where he and Ford used to wait for their dad at the end of his long fishing days. Though he'd left them on their own for hours— sometimes days—playing survival games out here with his little brother had been some of the best times of Eric's life.

Funny that he'd never wanted to return to the island.

He might have brought his boat out that first time because he missed his brother, Ford. That was when he'd met Zoe. And though he hadn't planned it, he found himself drawn to this place every Thursday. Which just happened to be her day to check on the rig. He glanced at her.

She collapsed on the stone and worked to catch her breath, blinking at the clear night sky.

"Come on," he said, turning toward her. "Need to get you dressed. Get you warm."

"Just a... Just..."

"Wet suit off. Let's go. Up."

"You're a machine," she grumbled and stood unsteadily, looking like she could barely keep herself up.

When she didn't immediately unzip, he hesitated, then reached for her wet suit.

"Wait. Eric. Just..." She stopped him with a hand over his fingers, which made a strange fist in the air for a few seconds before parting. "Who are you?"

"I'm an ex-roughneck."

"Oh? So just another day at the office, then?" Even shaking hard, she managed to inject some snark into those words. And damn, but he liked that hard little edge.

"I'm a Navy SEAL." He opened a bag and went through it, leaving her to shed her wet suit on her own.

"Also ex?"

"Retired. If that's what you mean. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL." He eyed the water, turned, and checked the high slope above them. They needed to hurry and warm up, or they'd risk hypothermia. And a fire would attract attention. He unfolded a camp towel—small but efficient— and gave it to her. "Once you're out of the wet suit, wipe down with that."

She nodded, a little slow from the cold, he'd guess. He turned away to strip off his shorts. Fuck, it was freezing. His balls had probably shriveled up and died by now. He grabbed a second towel, dried off fast, and opened the clothing bag. Good. A couple changes, although it'd all be too big for her. He pulled on a base layer top and bottom. No underwear, but it wasn't like he'd had any on to begin with, so...whatever.

"Why'd...you come...for me?" Her voice was stuttering from the cold.

He glanced her way to see that she hadn't made much progress. "Turn around. I'll help." He paused, hating the hesitation in her stance. Not that he could blame her. It would be one hell of a leap of faith to trust anyone after the day she'd had. He almost laughed. As if she needed to take any more leaps. Eric made his voice as soft as he could. "I won't hurt you, Zoe. I don't know how to prove that to you, but I won't. I promise."

"I know that, Eric." She took in a breath as if to say something else, and then released it before reaching for her wet-suit cord. "Could you... I can't get it."

He unzipped her and yanked the thick layer of neoprene from her shoulders, waited for her to roll it the rest

of the way off, and sponged her back off with the towel. He kept his movements quick and efficient. Get dry, get warm, hydrate, eat. Those were the priorities. Getting the hell out of here was next on the list, but without outside help, they weren't going anywhere.

He kept up his constant surveillance of the dark landscape around them, only occasionally letting his gaze touch back on Zoe's skin. Even then, as she quickly shed her bathing suit, he resolutely ignored everything but the pale curve of her slender nape.

"You're...not...gonna...answer?" She looked at him over one freckled shoulder.

His eyes skipped over to her face. "Answer what?" "Why...you...ca-came..." She shuddered so hard that

her teeth clacked audibly. "To get—"

"I'll answer when you're warm enough to talk normally again." He bent down for another long-sleeved undershirt. "Arms up."

She complied like a kid, which made that protective part of him swell in his chest, soft and warm and so huge he could hardly contain it. Once the shirt was on, he handed her a pair of pants and thick wool socks and turned away while she clothed herself.

Finally dressed, but still shivering, she turned to him. "C-c-cold."

"Do you nee—"

Before he finished formulating his question, she tucked herself against him, her face to his chest, body plastered to his. He had no choice but to put his arms around her. After a few seconds, his brain kicked back in, reminding him of the basics, like the benefits of friction. He rubbed her arms and back, alternating between them until her shuddering slowed and the tightness in her shoulders eased.

"Now what?" Her words puffed hot air between them.

"Can you walk?"

Her nod was a single stroke of her cheek to his solar plexus.

He cleared his throat. "Now, we get to a defendable spot on this island, crawl under a couple of blankets to get warm, and have dinner while we figure out what the hell's going on."

He'd just stepped back when she spoke again. "Am I talking normally enough for you now?"

He puffed out an almost-laugh and let his hands drop. "It'll do."

"Why'd you come after me?"

"I was worried. When you didn't come back the way you always did, I figured something might have happened, so..." He shrugged.

She opened her mouth—as if to press further, maybe— and then closed it with a smile. "Thank you."

He nodded once, bent to stuff their wet clothes into one of the plastic bags, sealed it, and shoved the other in his pack. "We need to get going."

"Okay. Let's go."

He set off up the rocky slope, with Zoe lagging behind him. She'd slid her wet dive boots over her socks, which couldn't be easy to walk in, but given how small her feet were, there was no way she'd make it in his size 13 shoes. Like the other Channel Islands, this place was as dry and devoid of tall vegetation as they came, so hopefully there'd be nothing too sharp in their path.

He held out his hand. "Full moon's helpful, but it's pretty uneven terrain."

Unhesitatingly, she slid her cold palm into his. They set off up the gently climbing slope, side by side.

After a few minutes spent winding through an area thick with shrubs, they arrived at the base of the island's long central peak. As a kid, he'd always thought of San Elias as a sleeping dinosaur, head and tail beneath the water, its spine a series of stegosaurus spikes rising into the air. The climb would get more difficult the higher they went.

"You got a destination in mind?" Zoe asked after a few more minutes.

"I do. You ever been on this island before?"

"No."

"Used to come here as a kid."

"Okay. Where are we headed?"

He tilted his head back, not wanting to release her hand. "See that cliff face?"

"Please tell me we're not scaling that."

"No climbing. We walk along the bottom edge to about the middle of the island. Then there's a path between the peaks."

"Why head all the way up there?"

"It's the highest point on the island. And there's a cave. Half mile or so up that way. You okay to walk?"

"I can do a half mile."

They picked their way slowly over dry ground, let- ting loose the occasional stone as they went. After a few minutes, the Polaris blazed ahead of them. Zoe mumbled something. It sounded like asshole.

He stumbled to a full stop and looked at her. "You insulting me?"

"What? Oh, no. Thinking about those assholes." She lifted her chin to where the platform's lights polluted the night sky. "They shot at us, Eric. Put a hole in your boat. Leaked fuel all over the place. I know it's not a ton, but this area's a thriving habitat for marine wildlife, especially since the platform shut down. And San Elias is an important seabird rookery. Now it'll need a cleanup."

"That fuel is long gone." His jaw hardened as he scanned the water for any signs of approach.

She sighed. "I know."

He squeezed her hand and sucked in a breath when she squeezed back, fighting the urge to put her fingers to his cheek. That hand was the only truly warm part of his body.

"You see my boat out there?" she asked. "No. They must've cut it loose hours ago."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"That boat belongs to the nonprofit. Without it, we might as well shut down."

Another hand squeeze answered. He could get used to this.

"We'll get you a boat. Come on. It's not far. Right through here." He guided them up, across a flat meadow, then into a tight grouping of short trees and around a sharp crag. "This is the only climb. Watch where I put my hands and feet." Exaggerating every move, he stuck his foot into a natural dip in the rock, reached above, and pulled up. After the initial leg up, the half-dozen stairs were easier to negotiate. He glanced back to see she'd made it, then threw his leg over before jumping down.

"Whoa. I can't see you. How far down is it?" Did she sound breathier than usual?

"Eight-foot drop. Here, sit on the edge." He put a hand on her calf. "I'm right here. Push off and I'll catch you."

"Oh hell," she whispered. "Another jump. I can do this."

"I've got you."

"Promise?"

"Give me your hands." He put both hands out, she took them, and then she was there—in his arms.

He set her down, led her to the top of the island's tallest rise, and pointed at the gaping darkness beyond it. "Shelter. Sheer drop all around."

"Okay." She turned in a full circle and gasped. "Oh wow."

"That's the only way in." With a hand, he indicated the ledge they'd just jumped from.

"And you'd never know it was here, would you?"

"Exactly." After setting down the pack, he headed toward the mouth of the cave. "I'll check it out first. It's been a while since I spent any time here."

He shone his light inside what was more a crack in the rock than anything. Left, right, down, up. Nothing he could see, but he'd be shocked if there weren't a creature or two slumbering inside.

"Hey!" he yelled. Sure enough, something scuttled noisily for a few seconds before stilling. Another yell, and a few winged creatures shot out above his head, taking to the skies. Then silence.

"Come on." He hefted the bag, crouched, and preceded her inside.

"Spooky," she whispered as they ventured deeper into darkness.

He half laughed. "Not nearly as spooky as whatever the hell they're doing on that rig."

"True."

"You hang out here while I get us settled."

"I'll help."

"All right." He rooted in his pack for his sleeping gear. "Here. Set up the sleeping stuff, and pull out whatever you find for dinner. I need to take a quick look around. Make sure we weren't followed."

"You think—"

"No. We'd have heard them or seen something. Doubt they'd come after us in a safety boat, so I'm guessing we're good." For now. He didn't mention the possibility of backup arriving by air or sea. No point scaring her. Besides, there'd be noise if they brought people in.

He took a quick turn around the area, disturbing only a couple nesting western gulls, which took off with angrily flapping wings before landing in one of the bushes below. Their feathers were almost blue in the light of the full moon. Taking his time, Eric performed a quick 360 degree search of the water. Nothing.

Hoping that they'd be alone until the morning, at least, he returned to find Zoe wrapped tightly in his bag, settled in the doorway to the cave, which faced west, directly toward Polaris.

"Your dinner, sir." Smiling, she handed him a protein bar and the bag of water, along with a bright-silver Mylar safety blanket.

Between them, he lit a glow stick and threw her a glance. "Ambiance."

She huffed out what might have been a laugh, then sighed with pleasure as she began to eat. They'd taken a few silent bites when he noticed her shivering.

"Still cold?"

Her teeth chattered. "Fr-freezing." He eyed her dark hair, dripping wetly over her shoulders. Soaking the shirt that should be keeping her warm. In the weird greenish glow, her skin looked sickly pale.

He shifted toward her and hesitated. "You mind sharing body heat?"

"N-no."

"No you mind or no you don't—"

"G-get over here."

He shoved his bar into his mouth and scooted over beside her, suddenly unsure how to go about this. She solved the issue by unzipping, shuffling as far to the side as she could, and urging him into the other side. He slid in, sort of behind and beside her, and threw the blanket over them as she zipped up. After a second's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her.

In the few seconds of silence that followed, her shivering slowed, and Eric was left with a flooding awareness of the growing warmth of her, the steady weight. He fought to ignore the way his pulse picked up speed. "Never had to survive with a woman before."

"But you've had to survive?"

He shrugged. "Time or two." His mouth was so close to her ear that he barely had to speak above a whisper.

"So...two changes of clothes, but only one sleeping bag?"

"Didn't figure I'd have company. Clothes are for an extended stay."

She nodded, her hair tickling his nose.

"Still hungry?" he asked, in need of a distraction. "No. I'm too keyed up to be hungry."

He knew the feeling. Only the keyed-up part was worse now that he had her against him, right here between his legs.

She swallowed audibly. "Got any booze in that bag?"

"Here." He leaned over and rummaged through the pack, doing his best to ignore the way she had to shift against him. "I've got painkillers. Booze is too dehydrating."

"So, you're one of those survivalist types?" She swallowed the couple ibuprofens he'd handed her, then followed them with a deep pull on the water bag.

"I like to be prepared."

She nodded, sniffed, seemed to hesitate, and then sank into him a little deeper, turning so their eyes met when she spoke. "Not a drinker, I suppose?"

"I'll drink the occasional beer." He paused and gave her smirk. "Or three."

That brought a little laugh to her mouth, which he liked. There wasn't much about this woman he didn't like.

Two years he'd been taking his boat out here, in hopes of seeing her. Now here they were, pressed as close together as two people could get, and he couldn't even enjoy it. Not with what she'd gone through to get here or the possibility of those assholes coming after them.

"Gotta say, Eric. Whatever brought you out here today"—Zoe raised her chin toward him, and though the moonlight and the glow stick washed everything to a pale blue-green, he could see the emotion in her eyes, focused hard on his—"I've never been happier to see anyone in my entire life." She paused and flicked her gaze down to his lips, then back up. "But whatever it is, I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"Yeah?" He bent slightly toward her, his forehead almost touching hers. "Well, I'm not."