“I say we find the broad and get our jollies off while we still can,” one says in a thick accent I don’t recognize. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand they’re talking about me.

“Did you see the heels she came in on?” another adds. “A stripper. I bet she knows how to dance. We can tie her up and force her to dance for us before we fuck her.”

Anger fills me. No matter the situation, the first instinct of men is to use, to rape, and if not for the need to survive, I might have the instinct to fucking kill the pigs out of spite. I’d be doing womankind a favor.

I watch as they keep moving past, my eyes on them until they disappear completely, and I can no longer hear their vulgar comments. Only then do I whirl and hold up my hunting knife toward the man behind me.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I snarl, the knife pointed at his chest.

He’s a big motherfucker, attractive as all hell, but that doesn’t mean shit. His shoulders are broad and he’s at least a foot taller than me. Tattoos cover his arms and what I can see of his skin, even some on his neck. Call it a weakness, but I can’t ignore the absolute babe he is despite knowing he could easily overpower me if he wanted. This isn’t the time for it, but his eyes are the same fucking color as the ocean. It pisses me off.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says, and even his voice is sexy. There’s a clear southern twang in there that makes my lady bits perk up. “I’m not here to kill anyone.”

I narrow my eyes. “What about the money?”

He shrugs. “Darlin’, I’ve killed people for money before in the name of the government. I’ll admit, my soul ain’t so clean, but my morals, they’re still good. I’m not going to kill a bunch of strangers for cash, not when the real enemies are the ones who plan to hunt us.” He studies me. “I’m glad to see you found clothes. Some of these other ones, they ain’t right in the head.”

“The boots are too big,” I admit, the knife lowering just a little. He seems genuine, a real southern gentleman.

“Better than no boots at all,” he counters. “You stuff something in the toes?” When I nod, he smiles. “Good. You’ve got some survival instincts in you. If you’d like, we can team up until we find a way off this fucking island.”

I lower the knife completely. I can see the truth in his eyes. This man is as easy to read as an open book. “How can I trust you?”