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Settled in the helicopter, she allowed herself to relax, to stop looking over her proverbial shoulder. Really, she just ignored the tight ball of anxiousness settled in her stomach.
She was off the island. She’d taken control.
Right on time, and as silent as Arlo had promised, the three were whisked away, flying over never-ending ocean until they set down on another island explained as a part of Samoa. The pilot shooed her away and took off before she thought to ask more about what her next step should be.
Arlo promised he’d get her off his island. All the rest would be up to her. She hadn’t been clear on what that meant until now. It was entirely on her to get home. Roughly, seven-thousand miles. No problem.
She planned to get a hold of Mike, have him arrange, somehow, to get thr
