I thanked her and ended the call.
Now, not only could I not reach Lila, but she was also by herself, on an island we weren’t even staying on, without a phone.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I started to pace. This was all my fault. I should have insisted that Lila and I get our own taxi. I should have remembered that she didn’t have a phone. I had been too hung up on thoughts of last night, and I hadn’t even thought about it. I should never have been that careless with her.
We didn’t even know these people, not really. Even if I turned around now, I’d still be over an hour late meeting her. Would she wait around? Would she wander off without a phone? The thought terrified me.
A high pitched scream came from behind me, and I spun around. Nigel was on the ground, clutching his nose, while blood spurted from underneath his hand.
“What the hell?” I demanded, stalking over to them.
“He tripped,” Mark said.
“How bad is it?” Tears were in Nigel’s panicked eyes.
“Move your hand so I can see,” I ordered.
He took his shaky hand away from his face. His nose was swelling up and there was a large gash underneath it. I was no expert, but it looked like it needed stitches.
“Did you brace the fall with your face?” I asked.
“He didn’t brace it at all.” Will chuckled, but Nigel’s sobs made him snap his mouth closed.
“It’s bad. I know it is. Oh my God.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his dramatics. He was acting as if he’d lost a limb rather than just scraped his face on the pavement.
“What do we do?” Mark asked, looking to me with panic in his eyes.
“Shit.” I blew out a breath. These guys were a liability that, somehow, I had become in charge of.
“One sec.” I walked toward the entrance to the beach bar.
“Where are you going?” Nigel demanded. “We need you.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Keep applying pressure to that cut.”
Even though I had this mess to deal with, the only concern I had at the moment was for Lila. The sooner I dealt with this situation, the sooner I could find her. And I needed to find her as fast as possible.
Once inside, I tracked down one of the managers who turned out to be incredibly helpful. He called us a taxi and told me where the nearest clinic was. He also gave me a few towels to help with the bleeding.
“Here.” I threw one of the towels at Nigel once I was back outside. Instead of calming down, he had ramped up to hysterical.
“Will I need stitches?” he asked.
“Probably. Hold the towel on your face,” I instructed.
“Oh God, I hate needles.”
“It’s not so bad. I had to get my hand stitched up last year,” Will said.
“My face will never be the same.” Nigel moaned in agony.
“Good thing it wasn’t pretty in the first place.” Mark chuckled to himself.
After what felt like an agonizingly long time, the taxi finally pulled into the parking lot.
The driver took one look at us and shook his head.
