Ian demanded, balancing on the balls of his feet. He stood watching as the soldiers advanced, still firing. “Sweet Jesus, what in hell is going on there?” “I don’t know. On Belamar itself, it’s been quiet as a cemetery. Ian, Julian, take the sail; we’ll let her out all the way. We can be on the islet in a matter of minutes,” Jerome said. Ian and his brother took control of the sail while Jerome sat back against the aft of the boat, his full weight on the tiller to bring them into the wind. They seemed to skim above the water. The scream echoed in Ian’s head. Dread filled him, along with a desperate anxiety to reach Belamar. He shouldn’t have left her here! He had to reach the isle, had to reach it now, this second, had to stop whatever was going on. An inner voice mocked him. Oh, he had to reach it now? He’d been away for months! His heart seemed to be in his throat. “There’s surely some explanation; the military can’t be shooting at Teddy,” Jerome said. “Right,”
