Chapter 1


Jimmy knew that he and Abby should stay with the others, if not for safety then as proof that Abby didn't do the next bad thing that would probably happen. But so many bad things had happened over the last couple of days. Every time they turned around there was another killing. Now, it was Trish's stepmom. Plus, Shane had done a damn good job of trying to turn everyone against Abby. All that, coupled with the fact that she had been gone for seven years and he couldn't say for certain if any of them would make it off the island, nearly overwhelmed him.

"Come on," he said, pulling her by the arm.

"Where?"

Jimmy led her away from the others who had all congregated in the great room at the inn. He led her up the back staircase and into one of the luxurious master bedrooms and locked the door. No way he'd ever be able to afford such a nice place so he might as well take advantage of it now -- as creepy as that sounded.

"Jimmy, what are we doing here?"

"I love you, Abby, and I just want to be alone with you for a while."

"We had last night."

"And we have right here, right now," he said, pulling her to him. "Let's don't waste time by talking."

Abby wrapped her arms around his neck and as they kissed deeply, passionately, they stumbled towards the bed. Both kicked off their shoes and tore at each other's clothes with the ferocity of lovers who have concluded this might just be their last time together.

Abby let go of Jimmy long enough to pull back the covers. They both climbed in and were all over each other. Jimmy wasted no time as he plunged into her over and over, her moans and whimpers spurring him on.

At last, they were both sated . . . for the moment.

"Do you think I'm Wakefield's daughter?"

Jimmy didn't want to let on that the subject wasn't exactly an aphrodisiac. Instead, he said, "It doesn't matter to me."

"But it matters to me and to everyone else. I see how they look at me."

"They're scared. They're curious."

"And you?"

Jimmy smiled. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I was always so jealous of Trish when we were growing up. She was beautiful, rich. When my mom was killed, I was even more envious of her. Even though, like her, I had my dad – well, I guess he's my dad – I couldn't help but ask myself: why do bad things happen to me and not to her? Now, look what's happened to her."

An uneasy feeling swept over Jimmy as he listened to Abby. He brushed it aside and moved closer to her.

"I used to think you liked Trish. I mean, she's beautiful--"

"Abby, don't go there."

"Don't you think she's beautiful?"

"Yes, but so are you. I do like Trish. She's a nice person. But I love you. I always have."

"I don't know why I'm being so petty," Abby admitted. "I'm sorry."

Jimmy kissed her cheek. "No need to be."

Abby ran her index finger along his chest. "Perhaps we should get back."

"Do you really want to go back?" he asked as he raised himself above her again.

"No," she admitted, but her answer was muffled by his mouth bearing down on hers. Then, the mood was ruined by a blood-curdling scream.