by Rachel Woods
“What’s the matter?” Sione demanded when Ben stood. “What’s going on?”
“Relax.”
“Tell me what’s happening,” Sione said, angered by Ben’s dismissive tone. “Is it the plane?
“Never knew you to be a nervous flyer, old friend.” Ben smiled but it seemed forced. “Stay calm. I just need to speak with the pilot.”
Ben made his way to the cockpit door, opened it, entered the cockpit, and slammed the door shut.
Sione gripped the armrest. Despite his efforts to stay calm, he couldn't stop himself from dwelling on the dozen or so disastrous scenarios in his head. The plane was going down. What the hell else could it be? Some kind of mechanical issue? Or maybe they were out of fuel? Desperate, he fought to stay calm, rational. There was nothing wrong with the plane. It was not about to crash. The aircraft seemed stable, steady. They weren’t rapidly losing altitude, in some steep, nosediving descent. The plane could not crash. He had to see Spencer again. They had to get married. More than anything, he had to welcome his son into the world. Tears pricked his eyes. He couldn’t die without seeing his son, without holding him.
The cockpit door opened. Ben walked out. Sione’s heart shot into his throat as he focused on Ben's right hand. The son of a bitch was holding a gun, pointing it at him.
“What’s the gun for?” Sione asked, struggling to deal with his confusion and anger, trying to plan his next move and think his way out of a situation he didn’t quite understand.
“Insurance,” said Ben.
“Insurance?”
“It seems the devil has been busy,” Ben said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Sione asked, heart pounding, eyes trained on the barrel as his mind raced, trying to come up with a plan to get the gun away from Ben.
“Apparently, your father has come to the rescue of that deceitful bitch you plan to marry,” Ben said. “As we speak, your father and Spencer are on a private plane headed to A’arotanga. They’re following us. And when Richard gets to the island, I have no doubt he plans to kill me.”
“Richard rescued Spencer? How? When?” Sione asked, his emotions conflicted. How had Richard known Spencer had been kidnapped? Had his mother called Richard? Why the hell would she do that? Sione had made it clear he didn’t want Richard involved. Carmen’s interference could ruin the deal Sione had made with Ben.
“What a hypocrite you are,” Ben said. “You make all these grand pronouncements about how you don’t want anything to do with Richard because he’s the gentleman assassin, but who do you call for help when—”
“I didn’t call my father,” Sione said. “I don’t know how he found out that you kidnapped Spencer. And if I knew where you were keeping her, I would have gone there to get her myself!”
“Why take that risk when you could have the gentleman assassin and his merry band of mercenaries do the extraction for you?” Ben asked. “Your plan worked. Richard sent his team of wet workers to the island where Moana was keeping Spencer. There was a bloody battle. Moana was killed. For real, this time.”
Shaken by Ben’s casual admission of Moana’s death, Sione suppressed his conflicting emotions. “Ben, listen to me—”
“Shut up,” Ben said, tapping the barrel against his jaw.
“If you kill me,” Sione said, itching to lunge at the son of a bitch, “then you’ll never get the envelope.” He entertained ideas of wrestling the gun away and beating him unconscious with it, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy and he didn’t want to get shot.
“Don’t worry, old friend,” said Ben, his smile grim. “I will get my envelope back. You’re going to help me.”
“You don’t need my help,” Sione said. “You need me to go to the bank and get the envelope from my safe deposit box and give it to you.”
Ben laughed, and then said, “You really think I’m stupid enough to believe that you’ll uphold your end of that fool’s bargain I made with you?”
“I gave you my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me!” Ben roared, aiming the gun at him again. “Richard rescued Spencer. So you know what that means? I have no leverage over you anymore. You have no reason to give me my envelope now.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sione said. “The reason I’m going to give you that damn envelope is because I want you to leave me and Spencer alone. I want you out of our lives for good.”
“You think I believe that?”
Trying to fight frustration, Sione rubbed his jaw. “So what are you going to do? You said it yourself, you have no leverage.”
“Now, that’s where you are wrong, old friend,” Ben said, aiming the gun at him. “You are my leverage.”
“What the hell—”
Sione jerked, and then slumped forward, realizing too late, as blackness closed around him, that Ben had shot him.
48
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Royal A’arotangan Inn
“Welcome to paradise,” said Richard, as the private jet taxied along the runway.
After almost twenty hours in the air, they were finally in A’arotanga. The trip had taken them from Belize to Houston to Hawaii and then on to the Pacific island where John had spent the last of his teenage years. Anxious, and yet apprehensive, Spencer unbuckled her seatbelt. Moments later, they disembarked and headed across the tarmac. Vaguely, Spencer was aware of sunshine, palm trees, vibrant hibiscus, and a salty ocean breeze, but she experienced paradise in her periphery.
The lush surroundings were a cruel reminder that she wasn’t on her honeymoon with John, as she should have been, as she would have been if she and John had been married, if she hadn’t been kidnapped. Cruelest of all ironies was that she and John were both on the island, but for reasons she still didn’t fully understand. For reasons Richard seemed hesitant to reveal or explain, John had traveled to A’arotanga without her. She hated being on the island without John and refused herself the luxury of basking in the gorgeous scenery. John was supposed to have introduced her to the beauty and the splendor of the island.
Following a quick, uneventful trip through the small, thatched-roof airport, they cleared customs. Richard led them out of the building to a car waiting at the curb. Once settled in the back seat, they were driven to a sprawling, luxurious beachfront resort where Richard booked separate bungalows for the two of them.
“Is Sione at this hotel?” Spencer asked as she and Richard took a winding palm-lined path from the front desk to the bungalows. “Are we going to see him now?”
“Soon,” promised Richard, but his tone was distracted and a bit too pacifying. Spencer had the feeling he was keeping something from her, and she tried not to jump to the worst conclusions, but it was hard to keep the hysteria under control. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if coming to this island with her future father-in-law had been a mistake. Or some sort of trap. Maybe Richard wasn’t as altruistic and sympathetic to her plight as he claimed to be. Several people had referred to him as a devil, and she couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t forget he’d murdered John’s ex-fiancée, Moana. For all Spencer knew, Richard might have given Moana the orders to kidnap her before the wedding. He’d had her kidnapped before. What the hell was to stop him from doing it again?
Spencer and Richard reached her bungalow. He opened the door for her, escorted her inside, and then asked her if she needed anything.
“It was a long flight,” Richard said. “You must be hungry.”
“I really don’t have much of an appetite,” Spencer said, wringing her hands. “I just want to see Sione. Where is he?”
“I really think you should rest for a while,” Richard suggested condescendingly. “In an hour or so, I’ll have room service bring you something to eat.”
Spencer nodded though she was reluctant to let him leave, desperate for answers about John’s whereabouts. After Richard left, Spencer wandered through the suite and out onto the terrace. Surrounded by beauty she couldn’t enjoy or apprec
iate, Spencer tried not to think the worst, but she had a bad feeling that something terrible had happened to John.
Returning to the living area of the suite, Spencer paced around for a while, cradling her abdomen for comfort. On pins and needles, she decided to sit for a moment and soon found herself drowsy. Most of her time on the plane, she’d spent dozing, her thoughts consumed by daydreams about the baby and nightmares of never seeing John again. Despite being tense and nervous, she gave in to residual exhaustion and stretched out on the couch, closing her eyes.
An insistent knocking startled her awake. Disoriented, she opened her eyes and sat up. The room was awash in a cozy, coppery glow. She stood, still fuzzy, trying to focus, walked to the door, and opened it.
“Richard would like to see you,” said the mercenary minion standing in front of her.
“What?” Spencer’s heart thudded. “Why? Is Sione with him?”
“Come with me, please,” the minion said and then grabbed her arm, gently but firmly guiding her away from the bungalow.
49
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Royal A’arotangan Inn
“Where is Sione?” Spencer demanded, jumping up from the couch where she’d been instructed to wait for Richard after she’d been escorted to his bungalow, a bigger and grander model than the glorified hut she’d been given. As John’s father walked down the cantilevered staircase connecting the upper and lower levels of the bungalow, Spencer was jarred by the uncanny resemblance between father and son.
“Where he is, at the moment, doesn’t matter,” Richard said, stopping in front of her and taking her hand.
“The hell it doesn’t.” Spencer snatched her hand from his possessive grasp. “You don’t know where he is, do you? Or…oh my God, did something bad happen?”
“Calm yourself,” Richard admonished, guiding her back to the sofa. “You must think of the health and well-being of my unborn grandson.”
“Please just tell me if something bad happened to John,” Spencer pleaded. “I promise I won’t get upset.”
“John?” A smiled played at Richard’s mouth.
Frustrated, she shook her head. “I meant Sione, I—”
“You meant John,” Richard said. “His mother did mention that you refer to him by the English translation of his name.”
“You don't know where John is, do you?”
Richard exhaled. “No, but I—”
“Then why did you bring me here?” Spencer snapped, standing and glaring at Richard.
“Please, don’t—”
“Is John dead?” She stared at him, shocked she had even been able to ask the question.
Richard shook his head. Relief made her knees buckle, and she wobbled, unsteady. In an instant, Richard was at her side, snaking an arm around her and helping her back to the couch.
“Tell me what happened to John.”
“You and my son suffered the same fate,” said Richard. “And at the hands of the same ungrateful son of a bitch.”
“The same fate?”
“Sione was taken against his will,” Richard said. “He is on the island. His specific location is unknown, at the moment, but my men are searching for him, and they have orders to find him. What you and I have to do is make sure that you and my son are reunited.”
“How do we make sure that happens?”
“I’m glad you asked, sweet girl.”
Spencer went hot, then cold, and then blazing, burning with rage. She jumped up from the couch and turned. Ben walked toward her, coming from a room behind the staircase, his sly smile igniting her fury.
“You evil hateful sonofabitch!” Screaming her fury and anguish, Spencer lunged at Ben. “You told me you would let me have a chance with John! You said you wouldn’t stand in the way! You lying asshole!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ben asked. “Who the hell is John?”
“You lied to me!” she screamed, slamming her fists against his chest. “You don’t want me to be happy!”
Ben grabbed her, but Spencer jerked away from him, stumbling back.
“Get your hands off of her! Don’t you hurt her!” Richard thundered, glaring at Ben before he turned to the group of four minions, rushing toward him from their designated corners, where they’d been stationed, like sentries waiting for orders. “One of you take my son’s fiancée back to her room and stay with her until I call you.”
Spencer charged at Ben again, intent on clawing at his face in a frenzy, letting all the animosity and anguish have its way, but two of the minions took her by the arm.
“Where is John? Where are you keeping him? Why did you take him from me when you said that if I wanted to be with him, then you wouldn’t stand in my way!” she shouted at Ben, shaking with rage as Richard’s lackeys guided her toward the door. “You evil bastard! I hate you! I hate you!”
50
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Royal A’arotangan Inn
“Here, drink this.”
Spencer looked up at Richard, walking toward her and holding a mug of steaming liquid. Sitting up on the couch, where she’d been reclining for the past hour, she asked, “What is it?”
“Warm milk,” Richard said, extending the mug toward her.
Wary, she took the mug from him, glancing down into the frothy white brew.
Richard sat on the couch next to her. “How are you?”
She blew away a wisp of steam and then took a sip. “I would like to say that I’m fine, but I can’t. I won’t be fine until John is okay, until we’re back together and moving on with our lives.”
“Well, fortunately, we may be one step closer to that reality,” Richard said. “After your episode, Ben and I came to a rapprochement, if you will, and we agreed on the details of our dénouement. Though, détente is probably a better word.”
“What does that mean?” Spencer asked.
“Détente?”
“What you said about agreeing on the details,” she clarified. “What does that mean? What are the details you agreed on?”
After a resigned sigh, Richard outlined the results of his negotiations with Ben.
Spencer said nothing as she took a few more sips, wary of what Richard and Ben had decided, what had to happen in order for John’s safe return. A man she loathed and a man she didn’t trust had come to resolutions she didn’t really agree with. Normally, a settlement required promises from the negotiating parties, but neither Richard nor Ben would be expected to do anything except, of course, force her to do their bidding.
Once again, she was in the position of being compelled to perform tasks or else. This time, she wasn’t taking risks for her own freedom, but for her future with John and their little one. She’d done favors for Ben selfishly, to save her own ass and stay out of jail. But Richard’s and Ben’s dénouement was for the sake of John’s life, and no matter the risks, she would take them.
“So, if I agree to do what you and Ben want me to do, then—”
“There is no if you agree, dear,” Richard said. “The terms of the deal have been negotiated.”
“Funny how I wasn’t allowed to participate in the negotiations, but I’m the one who has to fulfill the obligations of these terms you and Ben agreed to,” she said, standing, walking to the glass pocket doors which opened to the lanai.
“The negotiations were to save my son’s life,” Richard said. “I made a deal to secure his safe release, which I assumed was what you wanted as well.”
“You know that’s what I want,” she said, pissed at his insinuation, as though she didn’t have John’s interests at heart. “I just wish…”
“You just wish what?” he asked, a sinister edge to his voice. “That there was some other way to save my son’s life that didn’t involve you having to be selfless or thinking of the well-being of someone other than yourself?”
“I don’t have a problem with what you want me to do,” Spencer insisted, facing him.
“I don�
��t care if you have a problem with it or not,” Richard said. “Your wishes don’t mean shit. You will do what is necessary to make sure that Ben releases my son, do you understand me?”
“I never said I wouldn’t,” Spencer said, wary of his brusque tone. “I will do anything to make sure John is returned to me safe and sound. But I just wish we didn’t have to trust Ben to keep his word because I don’t think he will.”
Richard exhaled and then said, “I don’t trust Ben either. I love him like a son, but he may try to betray me.”
“And if he does, then what?” Spencer asked, though she had a feeling she knew the answer. “Will you kill him?”
“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that,” Richard said. “I hope Ben wants that envelope more than he wants to stab me in the back.”
“What’s so damn important about that envelope, anyway?” Spencer returned to the couch and sat. “Is it really worth Ben having me kidnapped and then taking John hostage?”
“Have you ever looked inside the envelope?” Richard asked, eyes shrewd.
“Once,” Spencer admitted. “But I didn’t understand what it was. All I saw was a small piece of paper with drawings of animals all lined on a row. A dog and a rooster and a pig, I think. There was a snake, a tiger, a rat.”
“Those animals represent signs of the Chinese zodiac,” Richard explained. “The year you were born determines whether you are a snake or a rat or a goat. Each animal has certain traits that give insight to personality. For example, the dragon is said to be confident and charismatic and yet also jealous, vindictive, and deceitful. The tiger seeks true love and is loyal and protective but can also be impulsive and stubborn.”
“So the envelope is some horoscope or something?”
“Those animals on that piece of paper have nothing to do with horoscopes,” Richard said. “It’s a code. Each animal, for Ben’s business purposes, represents a number. You look at the paper and see a row of animals. Ben looks at it and sees a row of numbers.”