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 - dangerous coral reef
Clint awakes from a sweet sexy dream to a roaring Captain Redd ...
"By fuckin' crickey, Rondin! You stinkin' jackarook! What the blimey hell have you done now?"
The loud shout burst through Clint Donaldson's sweet dream of playing naked football with Brad and Jimmy and awakened him with a sudden frightening start. He'd only heard some of the words and even less of its message had registered in his brain, but he knew it was the captain and that he was as pissed off as the god Zeus gets when he starts slinging his thunderbolts.
He sat straight up and looked wildly around. Jimmy was next to him on the hatch cover, still fast asleep. But Brad was gone. It was light, probably a little after dawn, and that knowledge immediately set his heart to thumping.
"Shit! Fuck! Goddamn!" he grumbled as he jumped down to the deck in his stocking feet. "I had the watch after Rondin. He should'a woke me up hours ago!"
"I oughta punch your jib three inches further inboard!" Clint heard the captain holler. "And clap a freakin' stoner on your jaw! You just hadda tie on a slam-bang howler, did'ja? If anything happens to that boy I'll shove the whole damn main mast up that smelly arse o' yours, you ..."
Clint didn't even hear the rest of it as his heart started banging in overdrive. That boy? What boy? There was only one boy it could be. Brad! Because he and Jimmy were right here, safe and sound. Like a maniac he raced down the side deck around the wheel house and saloon to the stern where the loud racket was coming from. He'd never been so scared in his life. Not even when the Japanese had been dropping bombs all around him and his troop in the war.
Brad! Brad! Brad!
Where was he and what the hell was going on?
"Redd! Hey man, take it easy. You'll hurt the fucker and then he'll be no good to us at all," Yank Fulton was shouting as Clint rounded the superstructure and saw him approaching the captain and Rondin, who were by one of the hatches.
The kanaka man was shirtless and disheveled and looked like he was passed out or still asleep, and Captain Redd was struggling to pull him up from the floor and drag him over to the starboard rail.
"He's as drunk as a skunk in a pile of junk, the gahooney!" The captain was shouting, his face as red as his name. "And Brad took his gun and ammo belt and the damn lifeboat and went to the island! Probably hours ago by now!"
The words hit Clint right in the face like a ton of bricks and stopped him dead as if he'd run into an invisible wall. His entire body went numb and he turned slowly to look at the lifeboat davits, which were dangling there aside him empty. Beyond he could see the island, the lagoon, and the beach – and the empty lifeboat that had been pulled up onto the sand.
