Paradise Island by Charmaine Ross

put them on me in the first place.”
    Gregory rested onto one leg and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s something I could look forward to.” He quirked a brow and waited to watch her amusing reaction.
    Her eyes widened, and her mouth pulled into an outraged ‘O’. She opened her mouth while he waited in anticipation, but before she castigated him, her attention slid over his shoulder and her eyes went cold. Her breath hitched, seized. “No, it can’t be,” she whispered.
    Gregory followed her gaze. And froze.
    He immediately saw them dotted along the line of the horizon like bruised blemishes on a smooth blue carpet. Their thin masts reached endlessly towards the sky. Between the tall masts were a range of billowing grey sails that made them fly across the water. The ships sailed fast, white frothy water laced their boughs.
    â€œCutlass,” Estelle said flatly.
    The black ships cut through the water in a definite path straight towards them and would be close in no time. He grabbed her elbow and tugged her. “Come on. We’re sitting ducks on this beach. We have to find a way off.”
    â€œHow could he know we’re here?” Estelle gasped.
    â€œI don’t know. But it seems that we are a definite target for some reason. And if we don’t get away, we most probably will be in a great deal of trouble.”
    He ran and held Estelle firmly at his side. For the first time he dammed the folly of the manacles. She would be able to run and be more agile with the full use of her arms, but there was no time to get them off her. The ships approached fast, cutting through the ocean on a straight path towards them, and they had little enough land to run before they were caught like rats in a sewer drain.
    Loose sand hampered their progress, their feet losing traction, muscles burning, lungs contracting, breath bursting from open mouths. He ran as fast as he could, and even then he felt the ships bearing down on them. Gregory glimpsed over his shoulder.
    â€œFaster,” he urged Estelle. They had to get away. There was no other option.
    â€œWe have to get off the beach.”
    The cliff rose high on their right, imprisoning them better than iron bars. They could climb, but the rock was too vertical, too slippery. They would never make it to the top in one piece.
    There was a thunderous boom then a high pitched whistle sounded, seemingly from all around. The sound was so strange, so unearthly then even the gulls had stopped their squawking. There was only the sound of the waves breaking, the gentle pull of ocean breeze and the high whistle that steadily grew louder.
    He threw Estelle to the sand, fell on top of her and covered his head with his hands, as if that could do any good. She fell with a winded sound and twisted beneath him to look behind them.
    â€œKeep down,” he snarled.
    An explosion shattered the cliff and showered them with shards of rock. There was a deep grumble and the earth shook as rock disintegrated with the force of the blast. Boulders tumbled, bounced against each other, falling to the sand below. Gregory glimpsed upwards. Where there once was an impregnable wall where the cliff rose vertically, now there was a gaping ravine, weeping rock and powdery dust falling over them. It gave them something to climb on. This was their way out.
    â€œEstelle, get up,” he said. He hauled her by the elbow and pointed at the destruction. “Can you climb?”
    She nodded, quickly comprehending his idea and strode towards the fall of boulders without hesitation. He caught up with her, held her back.
    â€œYou can’t get up with these on.” He unlocked the manacles and threw them away. Now neither of them would have to worry about them again. She sent him a level look and wordlessly started to climb the fall of rocks. They were out in the open and they climbed as fast as they could, stepping onto huge upturned rock, to jump to