Samantha Davies', 19 years old, life is flipped over after she accidentally flirted with one of the world's most notorious criminals. He is infatuated with her. Thinking she escaped him after moving to the US for college, she tries to start her life...
I'm starting a few extra chapters, vacation-style because yeah it's summer. Hang on tight for this beachy thriller, where Sam and Sam will have to overcome some issues to solve a mystery that has haunting the beautiful Mo'Orea for some time now...
Please enjoy!
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Everything about French Polynesia was sandy.
As soon as Sam and I set foot on Mo'Orea, a thousand little grains were blown against my skin, in my hair, in my clothes.
I let out a laugh and wobbled on my feet from the long flight, holding my hand above my eyes to shield them from the burning sun. Sam hopped off the helicopter behind me, slipped his free hand behind my back and guided me away from the exit to let an old lady pass.
"Wow," he let out, as our gazes traveled over the endless blue. The skies baby, the waves from royal to electric blue. Everything screamed 'tropical island' at us, from the white beaches to the try-hard wooden cabins and small jetties.
Everywhere you looked people were surfing or fishing. Not that there were that many; the only people here were mostly inhabitants, with only a few tourists like ourselves.
"I thought you hated sand," I remarked, squinting up at him as he grinned.
His eyes were hooded with tanned sunglasses, there was enough stubble on his jaw to be called the shy beginnings of a beard, and his loose white shirt didn't hide his prominent muscles.
"I do, but I'm willing to make an exception."
"What a merciful man you are." I peeled his hand off me to strangle his fingers, and dragged him towards the reception of the cabin we rented.
Well, rented- had been granted. By the last person I'd expected it from.
"Did you have the passports, by the way?" I asked, only now realizing I had no idea where I put them a few hours ago, before boarding the flight.
He stared back at me, as we halted in our step.
"Ohno, Sam, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned. Letting go of my hands, they quickly checked all his pockets as I checked mine in my sundress. I couldn't help but wear a stupid grin, as his face got more sour with the second.
"You checked out, right?"
"No, I'm pretty sure you did."
"Do you even need passports to check out? I don't remember having them in my hands just now..." I pondered, grabbing my backpack to roam through the insides.
"Good God." He rubbed over his forehead, taking off his sunglasses to help me look. "Sam, Sam, Sam. We're doing so great already."
"Why did you entrust me with them anyway?" I giggled, when someone suddenly called out for us in French. Snapping our heads to the sound, a chubby, native man made his way for us, panting, waving with two small red books.
