by Rachel Woods
Spencer, at the time, had assumed her mother wasn’t taking the medication her therapist had prescribed. Now, she wondered if maybe her mother was right. Was she suffering because she was beautiful? No, not because of her beauty, but because she’d tried to use it to deceive. She was pretty enough to trick men she’d assumed were stupid enough to believe her lies.
But she hadn’t fooled Ben. He wasn’t stupid. He was a psychotic criminal obsessed with revenge. She’d made the mistake of underestimating Ben, not realizing how dangerous he was, and now, she might not live to—
“Hey.”
The whispered voice to her left sent confusion and relief surging through her.
“Spencer.”
She felt a hand close over hers, fingers slipping between her fingers, and everything within her started to lift.
“John,” she whispered, afraid it might not really be him, but then he put his arm around her, helping her up, and when he pulled her close to him, all the doubts and hesitation vanished.
Crying, she pressed her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed a hand up and down her back, kissing the top of her head, soothing her. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now.”
Trembling and dizzy with relief and happiness, Spencer tilted her head back to look up at him. “How did you find me?”
“I kept thinking I was catching glimpses of you, but when I thought I was close, I would lose sight,” he said. “When I saw the old speedboat, I decided to stop and get my bearings, figuring it would be a good reference point, if nothing else.”
“I’m so glad you did.” She hugged him, holding on to him, never wanting him to let her go.
“Where is Ben?” John asked. “Did he get away? Did he leave you?”
“I got away from him,” she said. “He wanted to take me so he could get off the island. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going. We were headed down this path, and then two guys started shooting at us. We hid behind some trees. I found a branch, and I hit Ben with it and ran off. I think the guys worked for your father.”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone grim. “They did.”
“They did?”
“They’re dead,” he said. “Shot twice between the eyes.”
“Ben killed them?”
Nodding, John took a small cell phone from the front pocket of his pants. “We need to call my cousin Roy and let him know that—”
A thud against the other side of the boat sent Spencer’s pulse racing as she clutched his arms. “Was that a—”
Another thud and then one more.
“Bullets,” John said, cursing as he grabbed her. Pulling her with him, he crouched low, using the boat for cover.
“Ben’s shooting at us,” Spencer whispered, her hands trembling as she held on to his shoulders.
Two more thuds.
Flinching, Spencer clutched him tighter. “He’s going to kill us.”
“Listen to me.” John held her face in his hands, stared at her. “I want you to run behind those trees and over to that path. It leads back to the road. Once you get to the street—”
“And what are you going to do?” Spencer asked. “Stay here and get shot?”
“Spencer—”
“Why can’t we run back to the road together?” she asked, her voice tremulous. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“You can’t stay here, not with Ben shooting at us,” John said. “Nothing bad can happen to you or the baby.”
Nodding, Spencer blinked back tears. “Okay.”
“Get back to the road,” John said, handing her the cell phone. “Call Roy. His number is in the contacts. Tell him you left me by Nonu’s old boat.”
“Nonu’s old boat?”
“He’ll know what I’m talking about,” he said.
“Okay, John.” She kissed him and then said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, his gaze an expression of his feelings and emotions. “I always will.”
“Promise that nothing bad will happen to you,” she said, desperate and terrified. “Promise you’ll be okay.”
“I promise,” he said and then kissed her forehead, her eyes, and her lips. “Now go. Hurry.”
61
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Spencer ran off down the path, crouched low.
Sione kept his eyes on her until she blended in with the trees, and he could no longer see her moving. He didn’t like sending her off alone, but he needed to keep her and the baby away from Ben.
Sione rose a bit, just enough to peer over the bottom of the overturned speedboat, looking toward the muddy path, trees obstructing his view.
The wind had picked up, carrying the scent of rain, and in the distance, thunder rumbled.
Staying low, he made his way toward the stern, stopping near the outboard motor. From there, he dashed across a small clearing to a line of trees, scanning the dirt path through gaps in the leaves and bushes, looking for Ben.
Moving to the opposite side of the boat, Sione stared at the hull, counting the bullet holes. Why had the shooting ceased? Was Ben reloading? Sione didn’t think so. Ben was clever, a good hunter with the ability to quickly analyze his prey. He used to tell Sione you have to get into people’s heads, understand their motives, find out what their fears were, what was important to them, and then you had them. You could bring them down, quick and easy.
Worried, Sione walked toward the path, hurrying through grass and weeds.
Something snapped, a branch to his left, but when he looked that way, he saw nothing, only trees clustered together.
“Old friend.” Ben’s voice came from behind him. “We meet again.”
Sione spun around and lunged at Ben before he could say another word, slamming his right fist into Ben’s jaw.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” Ben staggered back into a banana tree, clutching his jaw and smiling.
“Why did you drug me and lock me up?” Sione hit him again, catching him in the chin. Sione hit him in the chest and then in the gut, sending Ben to the ground, gasping and coughing. “We had a deal. The envelope for Spencer.”
On his knees, looking up, eyes furious, Ben said, “You think I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain?”
“If you had kept your word, then—”
Ben grabbed Sione’s forearm, yanked and twisted it, and then hit Sione in the side. Doubled over, Sione felt a sharp pain in his knee before his legs were swept from under him, and he ended up on his ass in the dirt. Ben sprawled over him, panting and bleeding.
“You want to know why I didn’t keep my word?” Ben growled the words through gritted teeth stained with blood from Sione’s first blow. “Because I couldn’t. Because you called your father. You didn’t keep your word!”
“I didn’t bring Richard into this!” Sione shoved Ben off him, getting to his feet. “You think I want him involved? You think I want him thinking he can come back into my life?”
“Well, he’s here now.” Ben grunted as he half-crawled, half-dragged himself up from the dirt and staggered to his feet. “And he’s not going to let me leave this island alive. Unless…”
Furious, Sione pressed him. “Unless what? That’s what you meant by insurance, right?”
“I have to get off this island, old friend,” Ben said. “And you’re coming with me.”
“Oh, am I?” Scoffing, Sione shook his head. “One of your guards told me about your ridiculous plan to run away with me and Spencer. Somehow, you thought you would be able to force us to fly to Australia with you. You thought, if you had us, as a shield, that you could get away without my father putting a bullet in your back.”
Sighing, Ben said, “You just can’t get good help these days.”
“They didn’t even tie me up,” Sione said.
Ben shrugged. “Well, it was not my intent to treat you like an animal.”
“Bu
t it is your intent to use me to cover your ass.”
“Once we’re in Sydney,” Ben said, “You and I can go our separate ways.”
Sione shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You owe me,” Ben said.
“What the hell do I owe you?” Sione said, wary, his pulse racing.
“You owe me a life,” Ben said. “Don’t forget, I have killed for you. The least you could do is help me stay alive.”
“I never asked you to take a life for me,” Sione said, wary of Ben’s cold, appraising scrutiny, feeling he was falling short and somehow didn’t measure up.
“You didn’t stop me. You didn’t tell me not to,” Ben reminded him. “You cried and said you couldn’t do it. You were so scared of what Richard would do to you when he found out, so I promised you that he wouldn’t find out. When we lied to Richard, you didn’t expose me.”
Sione looked away and tried to think over the pounding in his head.
“You were exposed as a coward and a fraud that night, old friend,” Ben said. “I was your protector, your saving grace. Because of me, your father never knew that you didn’t have the guts to be what he expected you to be. And then you ran away to this Godforsaken island. You weren’t trying to escape to some better life your uncle offered you. That night, you realized that you weren’t good enough.”
Sione turned his head, staring at Nonu’s old boat. Ben was trying to take him back in time, back to that horrible night when everything had gone to hell, but Sione wasn’t going to the past.
He refused to let Ben trick him into reliving old nightmares.
“Looks like we got company,” Ben said.
Sione turned. Across the path, about fifteen feet away, leaves rustled, twigs cracked, and then a man in a custom-tailored suit, impeccable despite the heat and humidity, came out of the dense thicket of trees and bushes. Two more men followed forming a trio of well-dressed thugs. And then Richard pushed his way out.
Sione stared and stepped back. Spooked, as though he’d seen a ghost, he fought the urge to run, fought to forget all those lessons Richard had taught him.
Always be prepared for the enemy to strike.
Anxious, Sione felt his muscles clench. His body anticipated a fight even though Richard appeared to pose no immediate threat.
Prepare…stay ready…don’t underestimate your opponent, don't get caught off guard…the war is won when the enemy is defeated. Never take prisoners, they’ll find a way to overcome you because they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Always be prepared for the enemy to strike.
Sione would be a fool not to, knowing his father. Richard would attack him. Not with bullets or a blade. With the chance for restoration. And revenge. His father wanted to repair their fractured relationship. What better way to heal the rift between them than to offer Sione an opportunity to finally get back at Ben for all the hell he'd unleashed in Sione’s life.
Richard’s attack would be emotional, not physical, and Sione knew he might be tempted to accept Richard's offer, but he wouldn't take the bait. He couldn't take it. His father might appear to be extending an olive branch, but it would actually be a clinging vine, winding around him, trapping him in an unbreakable bond.
“Richard Tuiali’i, as I live and breathe,” Ben called out, a hearty greeting devoid of any goodwill, full of fake cheer.
“Ben Chang, always testing the limits of my patience and compassion,” Richard said. “How did we get to this point?”
“Ask your son,” Ben said.
Sione glared at Ben and then at his father, a quick glance before looking away.
“Sione,” Richard addressed him, his booming voice dripping with possessive pride. “It’s very good to see you. How are you?”
“Why are you here?” Sione asked. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to, hopefully, facilitate a truce between you and Ben,” Richard said.
Frowning, Sione said, “A truce?”
Ben scoffed and leaned against the hull of the boat, arms crossed, regarding Richard with amusement.
Richard said, “It is my sincere wish that the two of you treat each other with loyalty and respect, like the brothers you were raised to be.”
“Only problem with that is, we’re not brothers,” Ben said.
“And we never will be,” Sione agreed. “And you shouldn’t be here, Dad.”
“Your mother thought you needed my help,” Richard said.
“She was wrong.” Sione stepped toward his father. “I don’t need your help. I don’t want you here.”
“I think your uncle Siosi would be very disappointed by how ungrateful you’re being,” Richard said. “If not for me, Spencer might have been killed.”
“Spencer was never in any danger,” Ben disputed. “You know how I feel about her. You know I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“You left her with Moana,” Richard said. “You might as well have put her in the care of some wild, rabid animal. Do you really think you could have controlled that deceitful whore?”
“That’s why you killed her?” Sione asked.
“He killed her because you couldn’t,” Ben mocked.
“Shut up,” Richard told him and then focused on Sione again. “Son, why do you seem upset? Moana was a sinful, deplorable bitch. She got what she deserved. She’s the reason for the animosity and strife between you and Ben. It was time for her to pay for her sins.”
Sione asked, “And when are you going to pay for your sins? When are you going to stop hiding behind your supposedly legitimate businesses? These men you travel with are not your bodyguards. They kill people for you.”
“Son, you are going off on tangents,” Richard said. “What you must understand is that Moana would have killed Spencer. And my grandson.”
Sione sucked in a breath, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched. “You know about the baby?”
“Your mother told me,” Richard said, aggressive pride in his voice. “It’s a blessing. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Shaking his head, Sione said, “You’re not going to have anything to do with my son.”
“The child is my grandson,” Richard said, frowning. “You have to let me be in his life.”
“Speaking of going off on tangents,” Ben interjected. “You two can argue about diaper duty later. We have more important matters to deal with.”
“There’s nothing more important than my grandson,” Richard snapped.
“There’s nothing more important to me than getting the hell off this island,” Ben countered.
“You think you’re getting off this island alive? You kidnapped my son. You think I'm going to let your shameful behavior go unpunished? There are consequences for bad decisions.”
“You getting involved in matters that don’t concern you was a bad decision, Richard,” Ben said. “That's why I kidnapped your son.”
“You should have stayed out of it, Dad,” Sione said. “Ben and I had a deal.”
“But we wouldn’t have had to negotiate if your son hadn’t stolen my envelope,” Ben said and then shook his head. “But I don’t blame Sione. I blame you, Richard. You set all this in motion when you told Moana to steal my envelope. You started it.”
Richard smiled. “And I will end it.”
62
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Terrified, but determined, Spencer hurried through a thick throng of trees, following the path John had told her to take, which would lead her back to the road.
No longer able to run, she walked faster, clutching John’s cell phone. A thousand questions and worries swirled in her mind. One thought prevailed, demanding her attention.
What if something bad did happen to John?
Panting, gulping air, but unwilling to stop, Spencer kept going, propelled by fear and desperation as the question haunted her. John had promised he would be okay, but there was no guarantee he would make it out of the forest alive. Ben had a gun. He was probably going to kill
John. Or worse, force John to leave the island with him to make sure Richard didn’t kill him.
The path snaked right. Ahead, Spencer saw a slight space between the trees. Quickening her pace, she continued until she pushed through leaves. Out of the forest, she walked down into the shallow ditch and up onto the shoulder. Crossing the road, she headed back to the car, abandoned in the ditch where it had crashed. Leaning against the trunk, Spencer used John’s cell phone to call his cousin Roy Collins, whose number she was finally able to find in the contacts. Shaking hands and trembling fingers thwarted her attempts more than once, but eventually, she had him on the line.
With surprisingly cool detachment, she introduced herself and then explained the situation, in chilling detail.
Roy Collins arrived on the scene almost immediately, backed up by nine other police officers, half his force, he told her.
John’s cousin was aware of Nonu’s old boat. Roy told her the location of the boat was well known to the locals, particularly the youth, who used it as a place to congregate for wild parties featuring drugs and sex.
“I’m coming with you,” Spencer told Roy Collins, moments after he’d given his officers the command to head into the forest. As the cops crossed the road, Spencer wiped her damp forehead and fought the dizzying panic.
“No, you’re not.” The stocky islander, who vaguely resembled John, shook his head. “Something happens to you, my cousin will kill me.”
63
A’arotanga, South Pacific
Richard spoke to his men in Tongan, issuing a shockingly vicious command.
Disturbed by the words, Sione tried to force the English translation from his mind, but it played over and over, an ominous broken record. Kill him. Make sure he’s dead. Cut him up and burn him alive. Richard had to know his men weren’t capable of obeying his demands. Why would he ask them to attempt a feat they couldn’t accomplish? Did he want Ben to get away?