by Eve Langlais
He didn’t want it to end.
But it couldn’t last.
The calm before the storm had arrived. Everyone could feel it. It crackled in the air, the ozone in the very atmosphere building and amassing over them all.
A real storm darkened the sky overhead, but, surely, they had nothing to worry about. The island sat high, and even if the waves crashed close to the cabanas, they could flee to the security of higher ground at the mansion.
As for fearing another shooting, Stefanov proved determined to assure them that the incident wouldn’t repeat itself. After firing his staff, Stefanov had supposedly searched the island, turned it upside down. Nothing had been found.
Apparently.
Kacy didn’t believe it for one second. Marcus agreed with her. It was too neat. Too tidy.
Not to mention, if Francesca was to be believed, the true culprit behind the money for the hit was one of the guests.
A snake still moved among them, hiding his or her true nature. Was it any wonder they all eyed each other with suspicion?
Crack.
The sharp retort of thunder had Marcus’s gaze straying from the room at large to peek outside. Dark clouds covered every inch of the sky and brought early shadows to the grounds. With no staff left to do storm preparations, the lighter furniture on the terrace rocked in the wind, a few chairs sliding across the stone but not yet flying. The strong winds gusting did find some loose items.
With his spot by the window, Marcus caught glimpses of the occasional item as it went flying by—loose leaves, flipping and twisting, a plastic bag that hadn’t gotten secured in a trash bin, even a scrap of fabric, the dangling strings of a bikini top, couldn’t resist the strength of the gust that had caught it wherever it had hung to dry.
The rain hadn’t yet started, but the humidity in the air kept climbing. Even inside with the air conditioning, the dampness in the air made his skin slick with sweat.
Seeing nothing but debris moving outside, Marcus turned his gaze back inward. An angry Kacy stalked toward him.
Alone.
“What happened to Darren?” A glance around didn’t show his boss anywhere in the vicinity. Perhaps he’d visited the men’s room, but if that was the case, why didn’t Kacy linger close to him?
“Our boss decided he wanted a private word with his ex.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?” As far as Marcus was concerned, Darren should stay far away from her. Picking up the pieces for a second time didn’t appeal.
“I don’t know why he did it, and I don’t like it. He’s blowing our cover.”
“Or he’s acting right in character. He and Francesca have history.”
“That most people don’t know about. So what they’re seeing is him ditching his current girlfriend for another guy’s girl.”
“I think it’s fairly clear that Stefanov and Francesca don’t have much of a relationship.”
“Doesn’t matter if they do or not. Darren is being disrespectful.”
“Jealous?”
“If this relationship were real, he’d lose his balls.”
“Does that mean I shouldn’t let my gaze wander?”
“The moment you disrespect me is the instant you end up dead and decomposing somewhere no one will ever find you.”
“You say the hottest things.” Marcus couldn’t help but grin at her snarl of annoyance. But he’d come to know that her growl was part of who she was. Part of the toughness he liked about her.
Hands on her hips, she surveyed the scene unfolding in front of them. “This party, this island, this whole thing is a recipe for disaster.”
“Worried about the storm?”
“More like worried that we are all in one place with no means of escape.”
“You think there’s still an assassin among us.”
“I’d wager on it. I think whoever is behind the attacks is just waiting for their chance to strike.”
“So soon after the last incident?” he said, not hiding his skepticism. “People are more on guard now than ever.”
“Exactly, which makes the situation ripe for an accident.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m surprised you let Darren go off on his own.”
“It wasn’t my intention. But he pulled rank.” Her lips turned down.
“Where did they go?”
She shrugged. “Off in the direction of that tower she’s staying in with Stefanov.”
“I wonder what her Russian boyfriend will think of that.”
“Good question. Especially since he’s now looking around for someone. Wanna guess who?”
Indeed, the host of the island craned to peek around, and a frown knit his brow when he didn’t find what he wanted. With long strides, Stefanov took off in the direction of the tower.
Not good.
“I think we should follow,” Kacy murmured, moving in the direction the man had gone.
Marcus began to follow at a discreet distance, keeping to the outer edges of the room instead of directly behind her.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The rapid-fire thunder and lightning strikes shook the very house, and the bright flashes illuminated the space with high-intensity light.
So high that a shadowy corner lost its protective, dark cloak, and Marcus did a double take as he saw a figure clad in head-to-toe black, and masked.
He blinked, and when he looked again, he couldn’t see the person, but he knew he hadn’t imagined it.
Taking long strides through the room, Marcus headed toward the spot where he’d seen the concealed intruder when suddenly something came smashing through the windows, drawing everyone’s attention.
Only a branch, but the nervous titters turned to a few screams when the music stopped and the lights went out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Clinging to the edges of the room, Kacy followed the big Russian. Amidst the crashes of lightning, she vaguely noted that Marcus didn’t follow, but it didn’t concern her.
She could handle one guy, a guy who never once looked over his shoulder. Did he have no sense of self-preservation? Then again, what did their host have to fear on his island?
Stefanov had orchestrated everything from their transportation to clothes and accommodations. The staff who’d shot at them? His staff. Just like he claimed the island was clean.
Darren didn’t seem bothered that they were at Stefanov’s mercy. She thought that had to do with that Y chromosome boys were cursed with, the one that made them sometimes stupid.
Anyone could see that something about the big Russian was off. How could they all be fooled into thinking he was some big-shot mastermind? But if Stefanov wasn’t really the boss, then who gave him his orders?
Francesca? Or someone else…
Kacy thought it past time they found out.
Shadowing the Russian discreetly, she could have cursed at the loud crash of breaking glass from behind her, followed by screams. The commotion halted Stefanov and drew his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he saw Kacy.
“Why do you follow me?” he barked a moment before the music cut out and everything went dark.
Power failure, also known as a disturbing turn of events. Now some might think losing power during a storm was normal. Nothing to worry about.
On the mainland, perhaps it was normal, where electricity relied on poles and wires, easily taken down by storms. But here on the island, generators controlled all the power fed to the house. Generators and backup generators. There were even some solar panels feeding batteries to ensure a seamless operation of the most crucial items. As to how she knew? Kacy had discovered this during one of her excursions because she liked to know how things ticked.
So when a place powered by several levels of electricity safeguards suddenly went dark, it could mean only one thing. Sabotage, or as she was sure Marcus would elegantly put it, shit was about to hit the fan.
Sweet. Kacy hated the waiting. She preferred to act.
Forgetting any pr
etense of being a lady—about fucking time—Kacy hiked up her skirt and reached for her gun as she ran down the now dark hall. She could only hope her training in the box—a lightless space where the academy students were expected to call upon senses other than sight—would keep her from crashing into anything.
Feeling her way through a dark space worked a lot better when she was walking slowly, not running full tilt. The table Kacy slammed into dug into her hip and spun her around, leaving her disoriented for a moment. The point of impact on her side throbbed and was sure to be a nice color in the morning.
If she survived until then.
If we all live through the night, then Marcus can kiss it better.
Lightning flashed, enough to show she’d veered in the direction of the main living area. The excited chatter and flares as the smokers in the group clicked their lighters helped orient her.
A jagged streak of light outside illuminated a window enough for her to see Stefanov fumbling at the door, the keypad dark, meaning he had to resort to using a key, which hung from the long chain he wore around his neck.
The door opened.
She ran toward him but didn’t make it in time. The door slammed shut, and she heard a click.
Locked out. Good thing Kacy knew another way in.
Slipping off her shoes, the heels impractical for climbing, Kacy shimmied through the same window she’d used the last time she went looking for a way into the tower. Her bare toes clutched at the thin rock ledge. She kept a hold of her gun and relied on her free hand to grip the coral wall, wincing as it bit into her flesh as she sidled around to the balcony.
The wind whipped at her, tugging at her loose skirt, and she was glad she’d chosen to tie back her hair because the stray strands that escaped tickled her face.
The heavy feel of the storm pressed on her, the humidity thick, the ozone electrifying her skin. She realized just how precarious her perch was as she sidestepped around the curved tower and could have cursed when the rain chose that moment to come down.
It immediately soaked her to the skin, plastering her gown against her and giving it a leaden weight. The cool raindrops, their temperature a direct contrast to the hot air, slanted into her face, blinding her. But at the midway point, she didn’t have a choice but to go on.
Shuffle. Slide. The trip took too long. She tried to quicken her pace and gasped as her foot lost purchase on the slippery rock. She slammed herself against the rough surface, hard enough that she lost her grip on her gun. It fell from her hand, clattering against the rocks before disappearing from sight.
Shit. For a moment, Kacy stood there clutching the coral wall, panting.
That was close. Too close. Falling wasn’t an option.
She kept moving, not allowing herself to think past putting one foot down over and over.
When she saw the balcony appear out of the gloom, she could have cheered. Instead, she clambered over the railing and hit the solid stone floor of it with an inaudible sigh of relief.
The double doors held a flickering light within. Someone had lit a candle. Given the weight of her dress and the inability to smoothly move, Kacy pulled free her knife and hacked at the skirt, dropping the sodden mess of it to the ground, leaving her in something thigh high and thankful she’d worn her boy shorts. Her holsters were revealed, but at this point, she didn’t care.
Blowing her cover no longer mattered. Only the safety of her client did.
Holding a knife in one hand, hoping she didn’t have to face a gun, she dropped into a crouch and made her way to the edge of the door.
Slowly, she peeked inside and saw Stefanov holding Darren by the shirt and shaking him. Her client didn’t appear bothered, and neither did the woman they fought over. Francesca stood off to the side, arms folded over her chest, looking as cool and composed as ever.
Let’s see how long that lasts when I throw my knife at her head.
Time to step in before something happened to Darren.
Kacy gripped the door handle and pulled it open, only to lose her grip on it as a strong gust of wind ripped it from her grasp. The door slammed against the wall, the glass pane in it shattering, the combination of noise drawing attention.
All eyes turned on Kacy, only for a moment before, once more, the lights went out, the candle extinguished by the sudden air swirling in the room.
Despite the howling of the storm, Kacy could hear a struggle, the grunts of men engaged in battle, the thud of fists meeting flesh.
Her knife did her no good without a visible target, and so she tucked it back into its holster.
Since she assumed Darren had the Russian, she decided to make her way over to the woman. Too often in a guy-on-guy battle, the girlfriends were ignored, and yet they were the ones who usually did something like grab a vase or a lamp and bash someone over the head. Not everyone had to be a trained killer to be effective.
Inching her way into the dark room, Kacy kept straining to see in the thick darkness, but in the absence of light, even the differentiation of shadows within shadows proved impossible.
As for listening, between the whistle of the wind, the crashing of waves on the rock, and now the pounding at the door, it proved impossible to distinguish anything.
Except for one thing. A voice.
“Open this fucking door!”
Marcus. He’d come to help her.
I don’t need help.
However, there was a time and place for pride, and that time wasn’t when a client’s life might be at stake.
Kacy heeded the rat-tat-tat of a big fist pounding wood. She could hear the thuds of the fight as her hands skimmed over the wooden portal looking for the lock. She cursed the fact that she’d not put a flashlight under her skirt. She should mention that to the developers who made her other gadgets. Maybe they could do something with her next pair of shoes.
The thumb bolt yielded with a click, and she yanked open the door, only to blink as a beam of light blinded her.
“Are you all right?” snapped Marcus.
How cute. Concerned about her. But misplaced. They both had a job to do.
“Help Darren,” she yelled, grabbing the slim penlight from Marcus. She dabbed it around the room until she found the struggling pair.
It was hard to tell who was winning. Both Stefanov and Darren bore bloody lips and fierce scowls.
Their wrestling match had taken them out to the balcony. Marcus headed after them, and Kacy meant to follow, only she heard the thump of feet on stairs. She looked over in time to see Francesca disappearing upstairs.
To do what?
Would she grab a gun and maybe shoot from above to save her lover?
Which lover would she choose?
Kacy couldn’t take the chance. Marcus would have to handle the things on the balcony on his own. She dashed up the stairs after the woman, her bare feet hitting each tread hard and reminding her of each cut and bruise she’d acquired.
Kacy hit the last step and burst into a massive bedroom, the king-sized, four-poster bed huge. Surely big enough for two people, so who was the rollaway cot by the window for?
It didn’t matter because she noted trim ankles disappearing up a second set of stairs as Francesca headed for the rooftop deck.
Kacy sprinted across the room, the tiny penlight bobbing. As she hit the bottom steps, she switched it off and tucked it between her teeth before climbing. No point in making herself a target.
Emerging onto the rooftop deck, Kacy came face to face with the barrel of a gun.
“Keep away.” Francesca snarled the warning as she aimed the gun.
Kacy grabbed the penlight from between her teeth. “I’m not here to kill you,” Kacy remarked. “Just making sure you aren’t planning to shoot Darren.”
“I should. It would make things easier,” Francesca snapped. “He wasn’t supposed to be here. He ruined everything.”
“What’s wrong? Did your new boyfriend not like the one you dumped showing up?” The wind snatched
the words from Kacy’s mouth, but they stood close enough for Francesca to hear them.
“You don’t understand. No one does. There’s more at stake than you know.”
“Then perhaps you should explain.”
“I was trying, but then Stefanov arrived. He didn’t take kindly to Darren’s treatment of me.”
“So was that the plan all along? To have Stefanov lure Darren to this island so he could kill him?”
“What? Of course not.” The other woman sounded genuinely puzzled. “You shouldn’t speculate on things you know nothing about.”
“I know that someone is trying to kill Darren, and right about now, you and Stefanov seem like the most likely suspects.”
“I’m not trying to kill him.”
“Weren’t you the one claiming the killer was on this island? How else would you know unless it’s you or your new boyfriend?” Kacy kept Francesca talking, waiting for an opening, but the woman held the gun steady, steadier than a bimbo girlfriend should have been capable of.
“Francesca isn’t the one behind the murder attempts.” Darren’s voice cut through the storm, and Francesca angled the gun away from Kacy and pointed it at Darren.
Bad choice.
Lunging forward, Kacy felt no compunction about punching Francesca in the tit. And when the woman gasped, Kacy knocked the gun from her hand.
Before she could do further damage, Darren stood between them. “I’ll take over from here.”
“Go ahead. Toss her over the side.” Kacy stood back, but Darren shook his head.
“I’m not killing her yet. I need to speak with Fran. Alone, please.”
“The girl just had a gun pointed at you. You can’t seriously expect me to go.”
“I do.”
“What about her boyfriend?”
“Marcus took care of him. So you can leave us alone. I assure you I can handle Fran by myself.”
He couldn’t seriously be falling for the frightened look on her face? The fake shaking and hunched shoulders?
Kacy didn’t believe it for a second. “She’s fucking with you.”
“Leave, Kacy. That’s an order.”
Insubordination wouldn’t achieve anything, but her muttered, “If she kills you, expect me to say I told you so,” made Kacy feel somewhat better as she clambered down the stairs into the massive bedroom and ran into Marcus.