EDITING AND COMPLETING! || Three sexy hunks on the run in the South Pacific islands. Kidnapped scientists, pirates, cannibals, an island lost in time, and the wrath of ancient gods are only a few of the obstacles plaguing their every move. But thes...
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PHOTO - the Dragon
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Brad Cooper had driven the motorboat all night on the waters of the Solomon Sea, guided by the moonlight and the ever-present shadow of the island of New Britain. He was filled with the exuberance of being free and the thrill of getting closer to Rabaul where the final plans would be made in the search to find his dad.
It was now early morning, and the light of the low-riding moon still drenched everything in silver. Brad could see dawn's early bright far to the east on the starboard side, a peachy-pink glow slivered along the horizon. The compass on the dash now pointed due north. The island coast had changed direction from east-west to north-south as it curved up toward its northeastern tip and the city of Rabaul.
Clint and Jimmy were sprawled out on the floor behind Brad, fast asleep. After their escape, when they knew the Mirandu was far behind them, they stopped to refuel from the supply in the storage locker. Then Brad's buds sacked out to rest as he piloted the craft for hours with the hot tropical wind ruffling his hair and the coconut palms swaying on the dark shore. Caught in the spell of the South Seas night, fueled by the urgency of his quest, Brad felt like he wouldn't need sleep for the entire week to come.
The sea was calm now. The swells were gone, replaced by flat waters with barely a ripple. But Brad still kept an eye out for broken water. It wasn't likely there'd be reefs this far out but he knew it was best to be safe so they'd get to the Meena Islands without any more problems.
"Just follow the coast," Jimmy had told him before falling asleep, "and you'll run right into them."
In Meena Town there'd be a government official to inform about the pirate attack. And there might be a better connection to Rabaul, still a few hundred miles on, like a faster boat or even an airplane.
Brad grinned, thinking how great an airplane ride would be after this all-night escapade in the motorboat.
He turned around to look at Clint and Jimmy and what he saw startled him, then instantly angered him, then a moment later made him burst out laughing. They were sprawled out on the floor, Jimmy on his stomach with his arms folded under his face. Clint was right next to him, his arm flung around Jimmy's back, hand fastened on his shoulder. Clint's right leg was flung over Jimmy's legs and his face was buried firmly in Jimmy's neck.
Brad shook his head. "The creep! Try and get him to do that to me."
But then he remembered how lovable Clint had been after the shooting and he shrugged his shoulders, figuring the two boys didn't even know they were in a clinch. Darn, but he wished he could stop the boat and join them, cuddle right up in there between them.
And he wondered what Jimmy would have to say if he woke up in that position with Clint sprawled all over him.
Then, suddenly, Brad realized it was lighter. The peachy eastern horizon was streaming upward into a lemon-yellow glaze where wispy clouds were lazily drifting. The moonlight was gone and the few remaining stars could barely be seen. With a catch of his breath, Brad slowed the boat as it unexpectedly came upon the Meena Islands, as if they had suddenly jumped out of the sea in front of him.
