by Rachel Woods
Unzipping the Louis Vuitton luggage, she opened it. Spencer shook her head. The clothes she’d painstakingly packed were slightly jumbled. Things shifted during flight, she supposed. Digging through her clothes, Spencer searched for a pair of shorts and a tank top, wondering if—
Something came toward her, a blur of movement from nowhere. Just as she realized what it was, the opened hand crashed against her face.
chapter 7
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort
Heading away from the honeymoon casita, Sione felt off-kilter, disjointed.
But he didn’t understand why. Couldn’t be because of Ms. Edwards, could it? No, that didn’t make sense. Usually, he wasn’t rattled by a good-looking woman.
Continuing down the path, Sione forced himself to shake off the uneasiness. Probably had nothing to do with Ms. Edwards anyway. The strange feeling was most likely anxiousness about the land deal for the resort expansion. The negotiations hadn’t stalled, but things weren’t moving as quickly as he’d hoped.
His cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.
“Sione Tuiali’i,” he answered, distracted.
“It’s about time you answered the phone and stopped ignoring my calls!”
Sione stopped dead in his tracks, confused, his heart slamming. Arrested by the voice, a silky, velvet purr he’d once found sexy and alluring, he stepped off the path and made his way toward a large hibiscus bush.
Cursing under his breath, he kicked himself for not checking the damn caller ID. He would have recognized the number—a woman’s correctional facility in Guatemala—and then he could have ignored it and blocked it.
The last person he wanted to talk to was his damn ex-fiancée. Or, as he often thought of her, the biggest mistake he’d ever made. She had a name, but Sione didn’t like to speak it aloud or even think it.
His cousins, Truman Camareno, his lawyer, and Micah Jones, Truman’s bookkeeper, thought his unwillingness to say his ex-fiancée’s name was some sort of indication of unresolved, undefined feelings for his ex. And his cousins were right. Somewhat.
Sione still had feelings, but they weren’t unresolved or ambiguous.
There was bitterness, because her selfish choices and actions had destroyed their relationship. And regret, because he’d fallen for a lying, devious bitch. Anger, because he hadn’t realized how sociopathic she was until it was too damn late. And, of course, there was guilt, because she had come to him for help, and all he’d done was make things worse for her.
“Why the hell are you calling me?” he asked.
“You have to help me get out of prison,” she said. “I’m in trouble.”
The demanding spite in her tone pissed him off, conjuring up all the resentment he still held toward her. Taking a deep breath, Sione focused on tempering the anger she immediately inspired.
“How did you get this number?” he asked.
A strange, muffled shriek seemed to whisper through the breeze, behind him, and he turned.
Staring at the honeymoon casita, Sione stood still, listening. What the hell had he heard? Sounded like a scream, but he wasn’t sure.
And it didn’t make sense.
Why would screams be coming from the honeymoon casita?
“Sione, listen to me!” she said, forcing his attention back to her. “You have to help me! I am not safe here!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “You’re not safe? What does that mean?”
“It means Richard wants me dead.”
chapter 8
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita
Stunned, lights popping behind her eyes, Spencer stumbled. Confused and gasping, struggling to stay on her feet, she stared at the man standing in front of her, a few feet away.
Dressed in black, he was a small, wiry Asian man with sallow, pitted skin, dark eyes, and a vivid tattoo that dominated the left side of his face. Starting at his temple, the green snake coiled down the side of his cheek, under his jaw, and ended on his chin.
He sparked a memory within her, something she’d been told but hadn’t believed at the time, something she refused to believe.
I wasn’t aiming at you, sweet girl, I was aiming at the man behind you.
The man with the green snake tattoo.
What the hell was happening? The man with the green snake tattoo was real? No. That couldn’t be true. Ben had made up that crazy story about some man who’d broken into the townhouse, hadn’t he?
“Who the hell are you?” Spencer asked. “What the hell are you doing in my casita?”
The Asian man snarled.
“What do you want? Money? Jewelry?” she stammered, stalling, trying to think, to figure out what the hell was going on. “I don’t have any money, but my purse is very expensive and—”
He slapped her again.
Panic exploded within her as she stumbled toward the bed. Holding a trembling hand against her stinging cheek, she fought to keep her balance.
No, a voice screamed within her. Please, no. Not again. But somehow she knew it wouldn’t matter that she was sorry. It didn’t matter how hard she cried. She had done something bad, and now she was in trouble. Mama was mad. She was screaming and saying bad words.
He clamped his hand around her arm and yanked her toward him, shaking her back to the present, far from the fear and torment that had plagued her as a child.
“Let me go!” She tried to wrestle away from him, still disturbed by the intrusive memories. “Get away from me!”
He hit her once more and then gave her a vicious shove toward the dresser.
Spencer cried out as she lost her footing and fell on the ceramic tile. Pulse pounding, she rolled over and looked up.
The Asian man stalked toward her, holding what looked like a coil of rope.
Screaming, Spencer scrambled to her feet and ran to the dresser. She grabbed the glass bowl filled with river stones, then turned, and threw it at the man. Reflexes quick, the Asian man held up a forearm, blocking the bowl, sending it in a direction away from him. Stones rained to the floor, splattering across the tile as the bowl sailed through the air. Seconds later, glass shattered against the tile.
Panicked, but refusing to give up, Spencer grabbed the bamboo vase from the dresser.
Strong fingers dug into her forearm.
“Get away from me!” She swung her free arm toward the Asian man, slamming the vase against the side of his head, leaving a bloody scratch across his cheek.
“Bitch!” The man pressed fingers against the wound and then slapped her with the rope clutched in his other hand, sending her stumbling. Crying out, realizing she was free from his grip, she used haphazard momentum to stagger to the phone on the night table beside the bed. Hands trembling, she yanked the receiver from the base.
The Asian man grabbed her wrist and forced her to face him. Grunting and cursing, he tried to wrestle the receiver away from her. Spencer fought to maintain possession but felt her fingers slipping. With only one hand, the man yanked her wrist back and forth, and her body followed, as though she was a rag doll, but she prayed for strength. And courage. And the wisdom to figure out how to get away from this crazy son of a bitch. The rope terrified her. She couldn’t let him tie her up and take her somewhere to do God only knew what the hell kind of torture he had planned for her.
He pushed her to the floor. Struggling to her knees, Spencer grabbed the phone receiver she’d dropped and hurled it at him.
“Bitch!” He ducked and then kicked her, his foot connecting with her shoulder.
Screaming, Spencer went down on her hip. The Asian man reached an arm toward her.
“No! Get away from me!” She scooted back against the tile. “Stay away from me!” She thrust the heel of her foot into his groin.
As he cried out, grabbing himself, Spencer scurried to her hands and knees and then staggered to her feet. Eyes on the row of French door
s on the opposite side of the room, she jumped onto the bed, crawled across the duvet, and scrambled off the other side. Feet slapping the cool tile, she ran to the doors leading out to the terrace.
Grabbing the doorknobs, she twisted and yanked, desperate to escape. The doors didn’t budge. Panic exploded within her. Abandoning the knobs, she beat her fists against the glass panes. “Help me! Please somebody help me!” She banged harder but knew it was no use. No one was going to hear her scream. No one was going to come running to her rescue.
No one had ever come when she was a little girl. She’d had to endure the pain and horror. She always had to suffer being slapped, shoved into walls, being kicked, and cursed at, because she’d done something wrong.
This time would be no different. Swallowing her tears, Spencer turned.
The Asian man leaped at her.
chapter 9
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort
“Richard wants you dead?” Sione asked, wondering why the hell he didn’t just hang up on the crazy bitch. “Really? Well, if that’s true, and I don’t think it is, then you are in trouble. So, good luck.”
He didn’t have time to deal with her today—or tomorrow either. Or, even the next day. Never was when he would have time for her. He was more interested in the strange noise he’d heard. Had it been a scream? Maybe the cry of a wounded animal?
“Good luck?” She seethed. “I tell you that your psychotic, sadistic father wants to kill me, and you wish me good luck.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Give a damn that Richard wants you dead?”
“You should give a damn about that promise you made to me,” she said. “That promise you broke. You said you would help me, but you didn’t. And now I’m going to die in this damn hellhole because of your stupid mistakes.”
The rabid accusation in her voice should have enraged him, but he sensed his anger dissipating as the guilt flared again. He couldn’t understand why the hell he felt so responsible for the mess she’d gotten herself into? His ex-fiancée was in prison because of her choices, not decisions Sione had tricked her into making. The prison sentence was her punishment for trusting the wrong man.
Sione had been brutally honest with her. He’d warned her about Ben Chang, and had told her how Ben treated women he supposedly gave a damn about. Ben would find out all her secrets and the weaknesses and flaws she tried to hide. Then he would use those flaws against her, for his benefit and to her detriment. Once she was no longer useful to him, Ben would destroy her life.
His ex-fiancée hadn’t listened to him. She was in that damn Guatemalan hellhole because of her mistakes, not because of the mistakes Sione had made when he’d tried to help her two years ago. Sometimes, he felt compelled to make up for those past mistakes, but not today. Not when she was obviously grasping at straws, trying to use his animosity toward his father to goad him into paying attention to her plight.
“Why does Richard want you dead?” Sione asked.
“Six months ago, your father came to visit me in prison. He wanted me to steal something from Ben Chang. I told him no. Your father doesn’t like it when people tell him no,” she said. “Now, he wants me dead because—”
“How is this my problem?”
“You have to tell Richard not to hurt me!”
“My father and I don’t speak.”
“Your father will listen to you!” she said. “You know Richard will do anything for you! Please! You have to help me! You can’t let your father have me killed!”
Sione grabbed the back of his neck and tried to massage away the tension in his muscles. He wanted to be pissed, but the desperation creeping into her tone bothered him. And the trace of fear he heard beneath the desperation made him pity her. “Let me think about it,” he said. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Sione, wait!” she said. “Don’t hang—”
A shrill shout split the thick, tropical air. Startled, he dropped his phone, staring toward the honeymoon casita. A scream, no doubt about it. But why?
Another ear-splitting wail burst forth, followed by the screech of spooked birds.
Sione took off, forgetting his phone and the call from his ex-fiancée.
chapter 10
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita
Screaming, Spencer tried to dodge the Asian man’s grasp, but he was too quick. Grabbing her arm, he manhandled her toward the bed.
“Let me go!” She struggled, slapping at him with her free hand, scratching at his face.
Despite her efforts, he wrestled her onto the bed. Terrified of being raped, she fought harder, hitting and kneeing and clawing, wild and chaotic in her attack. Survival instincts took over, removing all precision or organization from her assault.
He slapped her and then forced her over onto her stomach. Her face pressed against the thick, plush bed linens, Spencer struggled to breathe as she felt the Asian man’s knees on either side of her hips. He yanked her right arm behind her back, his rough movements causing her torso to lift, and she was able to turn her head, exposing her face to the air she desperately needed. Taking several deep breaths, she felt her left arm join her right.
Fighting dread and tears, Spencer winced as the man wound thin straw rope around her wrists. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, grimacing from the fine bristles, like needles against her skin. “What are you going to do to me?”
The Asian man pulled the rope tighter.
“You’re the man who broke into Ben’s townhouse, aren’t you?” she asked, trying to distract him with questions, hoping to buy herself some time to think of how to get away.
“No more talking, bitch,” the Asian man said.
“Ben told me about you,” Spencer said, twisting her neck to look over her shoulder at him. “Why did you break into his house?”
Scowling, the Asian man said, “Shut up bitch, before I—”
The Asian man cried out, a hint of surprise in the high-pitched screech. Less than a second later, Spencer watched, utterly confused, as the Asian man seemed to fly back away from her.
chapter 11
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita
Sione squeezed the back of the man’s neck as he pulled the asshole away from Ms. Edwards. Dragging him to the foot of the bed, Sione stepped back when the man rolled over the suitcase on the settee and hit the floor. Struggling to manage his rage and confusion, Sione stared at the man.
A small, thin Asian guy with tight, lean muscles and a bizarre green snake tattooed on his face. Who the hell was this son of a bitch? What the hell was happening? Why had he been straddling Ms. Edwards and tying her hands behind her back? How the hell had he gotten into the honeymoon casita?
The Asian man tried to scramble to his feet, but Sione kicked him in the side. Yelping in pain, the man rolled over onto his stomach. Sione bent down and yanked the Asian man to his feet. Moaning, the man held a shaking hand in front of his face as his knees buckled. Still holding him by the throat, Sione forced the man to stay on his feet.
He wanted to crack the son of a bitch in the jaw and then listen for the sound of bone breaking, the way Richard had taught him. Don’t stop until you hear that crunch.
His father’s vicious, chilling instructions. Lessons Sione had tried to forget, but never really could. Right now, he didn’t want to forget. The man’s rough assault of Ms. Edwards was a direct threat to everything he valued and worked hard to maintain, everything he tried so damn hard to convince people he deserved. The son of a bitch couldn’t get away with attacking one of the resort’s guests.
Letting the rage have its way was something he couldn’t do, though. He had to control the anger. But, it was difficult, and all he received for his efforts to stay calm and collected was frustration, multiplying within him, taking over his senses, the rational part of him.
A sensible response was too much to ask
at the moment.
Quickly and without much reluctance, Sione reverted to the way he’d been taught to deal with cowardly assholes and crashed his fist into the center of the man’s face. There was no crunch of bone, but it was still a knockout punch. Sione pushed the man away, disgusted with himself for following his father’s example instead of handling things the way his uncle had taught him.
Groaning, the Asian guy stumbled as he sidestepped into the wardrobe and then collapsed in a heap. Sione glared at the man, sprawled on the floor, his face already swollen and purple.
“Oh my God! Is he dead?”
Sione turned to look at Ms. Edwards. Sitting in the middle of the bed, she looked beautiful and tempting despite her disheveled appearance. Wisps of hair had escaped the severe bun at the back of her head, and her breasts rose and fell at a tantalizing pace beneath a slight tear in the neckline of her clingy dress. With her mouth slightly parted and the sultry scowl enhancing her delicate features, he felt the rage dissipating, turning to lust.
chapter 12
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita
“Are you deaf?” Spencer asked, rolling over onto her hip and then rising to her knees. “Did you kill him?”
The resort owner faced her and took a step toward the bed. Gasping softly, Spencer stared at him, trying to summon up a bit of shock. Maybe some outrage. She needed something to combat the disturbing, inappropriate feelings snaking through her, feelings of lust, which had started several moments ago, when she’d turned over onto her back and sat up just in time to see Sione Tuiali’i smash his fist into the Asian man’s face.