The men split up, jogging toward the areas directed. There were three main docking areas and one that could be used if necessary. Tucker set up the trip flares while Gator posted warning signs of sinkholes near the shore. He’d used the signs years earlier to keep the police from searching the island for his wayward brother. To make the intended landing spot more enticing, they drove a couple of old posts deep into the mud for a boat tie off and stamped vegetation into the ground to make the path appear used.
Dahlia stood on the roof and watched them work. The men shed their shirts and spent time dragging brush and placing objects in various locations. She could see a film of dirt rising in the air, but she couldn’t really tell what they were doing. All the while the music blasted a happy beat, and the smell of barbecued ribs provided a rich aroma.
Dahlia climbed off the roof to stand on the shoreline as Sam pulled apart the rickety dock. He carefully carried each plank out of sight. “What are you maniacs up to now?” she asked, her hands on her hips. If they were planning violence, she wasn’t catching a hint of fear or anticipation. They all seemed to be working readily with a happy smile. If anything she caught hints of hunger as the aroma spread across the small island.
“We’re just working up an appetite,” Sam assured. “Turn those ribs over, will you? If I burned them, the others would feed me to the alligators.”
“Speaking of which, one or two have joined us,” she pointed out.
Sam glared at the creature closest to him, sunning itself on the bank not more than a few feet from where he was waist-deep in the water. “Ugly things, aren’t they? Damn thing looks like it’s just waiting for me to turn my back on it.”
Dahlia sauntered over to the grill and frowned down at the ribs. “I’d offer to keep an eye on the alligators for you, but I’m thinking you’re holding something back from me. You and your little band of island boys busily working up an appetite just doesn’t work for me, you know?” She glanced past Sam deliberately. “Oh, look, a little friend for alligator to play with.”
Sam whirled around hastily, staring out over the water. “Where?” He twisted back in an attempt to keep an eye on the alligator sunning itself on the bank. “Where is it?” He yanked a plank loose and held it up as a weapon.
Dahlia carefully turned each rib over, secretly thrilled with the new experience. “I may have been mistaken.”
“That’s not nice. That’s just not nice at all,” Sam said, glaring at her.
“Well, it could have been an alligator, but more likely it was just bubbles or a floating stick or something like that. You aren’t nervous standing in the water like that, are you? I read a book on alligators, and I think they like to come up from the deep to strike, but maybe that’s sharks.”
Sam swore and hurried out of the water, dragging the plank with him and keeping it between him and the alligator on the shore. The creature didn’t move or give ground, but it did emit a low warning growl.
Dahlia burst out laughing. “You’re afraid of that little bitty alligator, aren’t you? It’s not even full grown.”
“That’s just wrong, girl,” Sam said. “I hope Nicolas knows what you’re really like. I’ll bet he’s never seen the mean side of your mouth.”
“Of course not.” Dahlia admitted blithely. “Are you going to tell me what your little merry band is up to?”
“Merry band?”
“I read Robin Hood, didn’t you?”
Sam wiped the sweat from his face as the others came back to camp. “Thank God, you’re back, don’t leave me with her again. She’s worse than the alligator.”
* * *
“I’M getting the feeling we should move,” Ian said. “I’ve got that itch crawling down my back.” He shoved the plate of rib bones away from him with evident satisfaction. “You sure know how to put on the grub, Gator.”
“Hey! I did the cooking.” Sam glared at Dahlia. “And it wasn’t easy.”