Sacrifice Island by Kristin Dearborn Page B

main street of El Nido. Tourists and locals swirled with trikes, scooters, and a rare pickup. Dogs, chickens, and cats threaded through them, weaving a tapestry of sound, motion, and color.
    He thought about Jemma. About her affliction. He’d been the one to introduce her, at a college party, to the man who would become her husband. The man who would spend years mentally and physically beating her down as he descended into madness. Until finally he snapped. Alex hadn’t seen the signs. Yeah, he knew his friends were withdrawing, but Jemma’d had a miscarriage. He didn’t want to be pushy and intrude. He wished he had. God, he wished he had.
    “Alex?” Karen stood in front of him. The setting sun kissed her tanned skin. Hunger for her swelled in him. No—not hunger for her. Hunger for a human. For anyone he could touch. Her short cropped hair, the neat bob, made him yearn to tangle his fingers in Jemma’s thick black hair. What would it be like?
    “Hey.” He gestured for her to sit down.
    “How’s it going?” she asked.
    “I’ve had a pretty god-awful day,” he said.
    “The island?”
    “I wish,” he said. “We still can’t get out there. On top of that, Jemma ate something that disagreed with her. She’s down for the count.”
    Should he not mention another woman? He told himself not to feel bad—Jemma had no interest in him (or in anyone, and probably never would ever again) and he was certainly free to have himself a grand old time. He checked his phone to be sure she hadn’t called or texted.
    “So I’m completely free for the night.”
    Alex watched her response, how she angled herself in the chair toward him, pointed her feet at him, touched her face. All good signs. “Care to show me a good time? Show me around?”
    “I can show you a good time.” She smiled and showed off those fantastic white teeth.
    Perfect.
    She showed him a deserted beach on the far side of town, and he kissed her there as the sun went down. He brought her back to his room (she offered her place, but he wanted to be close to Jemma in case she needed anything). She told him she never did things like this, and he believed her. He told her the same thing, and didn’t care if she believed him. He fucked her under the drone of the air conditioner, with the sound of a beetle hitting the overhead light, tink, tink, tink . She smelled like sunscreen, baby powder deodorant, and sweat. Alex imagined the smell of Jemma’s shampoo. Imagined Jemma’s breasts under his hands, imagined her calling him an amazing lover.
    He silently thanked his lucky stars when Karen said she should go, she had to work early.
    “I’ll call you,” he said. “Tomorrow, day after? We can grab a drink, dinner.”
    “I’d like that.” Her good-bye kiss tasted like the mango they’d eaten, and made him smile as she left. He’d call her. He liked her.
    Alex went to take a shower. He needed to cool off in the hot night. He soaped himself up and heard a knock on the door.
    Jemma?
    He barely rinsed, wrapped himself in a towel, ran to the door. Was she okay?
    Terry stood before him when he threw open the wooden door. Dammit.
    “I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself.”
    Back in the shower, Alex finished rinsing, shrugged on a blue polo and a pair of khaki shorts. He opened the door and stepped out with Terry on the front porch. They each took a molave chair.
    “What did she do to me?”
    Alex knew better than to play dumb.
    “She took your pain. It’ll come back, your memories are all intact, but she’s given you a breather.”
    “Can she…see things?”
    “She can see your pain. She’ll know everything.”
    “Then I need both of you to come to the island with me tonight. I have to show you.”
    “Show me what?”
    “She hasn’t told you?”
    Terry’s sweat made a sour contrast to the perspiration Karen worked up earlier. He kept glancing around, unable to meet Alex’s eyes.
    “She’s been under the weather all