Frustration mixed with a tiny trickle of fear sat heavily across Knox’s shoulders. Avery stood at the edge of the beach, staring out across the open water. The sun was beginning its descent to the far horizon. He’d really hoped they’d be rescued by now. As much as he tried to focus on other things—which had been easy when they’d needed water, food and shelter—now that the basics were covered, his mind kept circling back to one indisputable fact. Their predicament was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t rushed after that box like a reckless cowboy, Avery wouldn’t be in this mess. They could be stuck out here for weeks. Months. He knew Jackson, Asher, Kennedy and Loralei wouldn’t stop looking for them, but eventually the beacon would die and their one link to the outside world would disappear. He’d been in worse scrapes...he just hadn’t dragged a civilian into them with him—although, he had to admit, Avery was handling things much better than he’d expected.
