by Ruby Vincent
My jaw sank with every word.
“Lilah wasn’t a big fan of you publicly doing with her girlfriend all the things she wanted to do.”
“Why did she single me out? Mila has lots of friends who were doing the same.”
“It’s the curse of our kind, babe, which I tried to explain to her. A siren smiles in your direction and you think they’re trying to light your loins on fire. She didn’t trust you with her girlfriend after you stole her fiancé.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I mumbled.
Preston shrugged, smiling down at me. “It all worked out, didn’t it? They have each other. And I have you.”
“Did it?” I asked. “What if she can’t stop him, Preston? Her father promised to cut her off and rip your legacy from you. What is she going to do to save you now that she couldn’t do before?”
“That is something me, my mom, and our army of lawyers will figure out tomorrow,” he said. Preston nipped my nose right back. “Today, I have nothing standing in the way of being with you. An apartment in the middle of our schools. You and me coming back to the cove for Christmas. Going on a backpacking trip to the fashion and art capitals of the world. Today we get to do what we couldn’t. Plan our future together.”
I closed my eyes, seeing that future play out in sharp, clear focus, and I wanted it so badly it made my knees weak.
“But we can’t,” I whispered. “Why do you guys keep doing this to me? Teasing me with a life I can’t have.”
“Because we will have it, Belle. I know you’ve been given every reason to despair and none to hope. But that’s why you fell for the three of us. We’ve got more than enough for you. It’s okay that you can’t see our future, love. Because I can, and I won’t stop until I make it yours.”
My cheeks were wet. Preston kissed them, taking my tears onto himself. It seemed like I fell for them so they could crack my tough girl exterior. “I can see it, Preston. That’s why it hurts so much.”
“Mal won’t have you, Belle.”
Leaning back, I hung off his shoulder. “You will?”
“No, you will. Your life, choices, and decisions will be your own and I’ll give anything to see that happen.” He winked. “You’re hopelessly in love with me, so I feel safe about being a part of that future.”
I hummed. “I confirm your chances are good. As long as you don’t lose your looks.”
“It’s cracks like those that get you spanked, baby. You know it’s coming but go for it anyway.”
Happiness burst and popped inside me as I was dipped—my squeal swallowed by hungry lips.
Preston lifted and set me on my seat. The chef’s assistant popped her head out just in time.
“Morning, Preston. Belle. What can we get you today?”
“Just scrambled eggs and toast for me, please,” I said. “With a side of fruit.”
“Make it four,” Preston added. “Nathan and Carter will be down soon.”
Slipping out of my shoes, I popped my feet on his lap and received a foot massage for my trouble. I melted in my chair, soaking in the sun.
“If you can see our future too,” Preston began, “what do our kids look like?”
“Dangerously adorable. We keep them inside for their own protection. They’ll be too stealable.”
Amusement laced his voice. “What about our home? Where do we live?”
“Carter moved from Hawk’s Bay near you guys in Ashford. Bracknell isn’t too far from there. I think we stay close by.”
“Even if your parents move to England?”
“We can split our time after all this forced marriage nonsense is over and the real Cecilia and Tobias return.” Just like that, Preston had me talking about our future. “Both our careers will take us to Europe and around the world. We’ll stay with them when we travel.”
“I’m taking you to a ridiculous amount of art galleries.” He dug into a spot on my foot that left me boneless. “I’m building up a thick skin to weather the trashing of my favorite artists.”
“We have far more in common than you think,” I said, chuckling. “I appreciate the time and passion all artists put into their work. Doesn’t mean I’m a fan of the message.”
“I—”
“Sir?”
A guard came down the garden path. I felt sorry for them dressed in three-piece suits in this heat. It certainly made it easier to pick them out as villa guests ran around the property.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Desai asked to speak with me and Boone,” he said as he stepped onto the terrace. “Do you know where she is?”
“She didn’t tell you where she was when she asked to see you?”
“No, as a matter of fact.”
His hand flashed. Ripping the baton from its holder, he struck Preston across the temple, snapping him around.
My scream ripped through the calm morning.
Blood splattered my face and open mouth. Feet on his lap, we crashed together, Preston limp and bleeding beside me.
“Shut up!”
Rough hands hauled me up. The horrid, brute of a man dwarfed me in height and doubled my size. I kicked and punched, screaming my head off.
“Help! Help!”
He tried to cover my mouth and I lunged, sinking my nails in and raking them across his face.
“Argh!”
Shoving me off, he backhanded me, and sent me flying over the toppled chairs.
My skull bounced off the stone. Dazed, my vision blurred in pain as I struggled to get up.
“P-Preston,” I croaked.
“Let’s go.”
He tangled in my hair, covering my mouth in time for the next scream. I was pinned to his chest, arms held down, and cries held in.
He swung me around, turning to go.
“Belle?!”
Through the glass, Nathan appeared. My love shoved open the door, racing to me, and relief dripped tears over his hand.
“Let her go!”
Nathan ran at us and the man released my mouth. Gripping our table, he overturned it on Nathan, narrowly missing him as he flung himself back.
My captor made a run for it.
Leaping off the terrace, he bolted down the garden path. A force slammed into us.
“Nathan,” I screamed as we fell face-first into the fountain. The murky, greenish water surged into my nose and mouth, and I kicked out, throwing the man off me.
I tipped out of the fountain, gasping and coughing up water.
“Belle!”
Nathan struggled with the would-be guard. Water drenched him from head to toe, plastering his hair over his eyes and covering the wound weeping blood down his chin. Ruthlessly, Nathan wrenched his arm back, holding the man’s head underwater as he thrashed.
“Run!” he bellowed. “It’s him! You know it’s him! R—”
The guard burst out of the water with a roar. Flinging himself back, he threw Nathan off and landed on top of him.
Nathan didn’t get up.
“Nathan! Na—”
The guard snatched me as I ran to him. “You keep struggling, bitch, and it’ll be you found drowned in that fountain.” His voice was a terrible, scraped rasp injected with fury that fueled a desire to carry out his threat.
But I fought.
I screamed into his hand. Kicked. Clawed at the bind around my chest.
He picked up the pace, hurrying down the hill to where the property ended on a private road. A lone car idled at the bottom.
As we came into view, the car door open and a man emerged—more beautiful than I remembered. The wind played with his blue-black hair, sweeping it over eyes that shone iridescent in the sunlight. He looked up at me, and smiled like a lover gazing at his sweetheart home from war.
I wrenched the guard’s fingers back. “Don’t do this,” I cried. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll give you more. I—”
“Shut up,” he said, shaking me. “I want double,” he barked at Mal. “She put up more of a fig
ht than you said, and her fucking boyfriend almost drowned me. Half a mil and you get away clean.”
I trembled as we stopped in front of him—face-to-face as we came full circle. Four years since another traitorous guard delivered me on a platter.
His gaze scoured every inch of me, drinking me in, tracing my features in a way that made my skin tighten with revulsion.
“Arabella.”
Mal touched my bruised cheek with a hand wearing his favorite spiked ring. “Did you do this?”
“I told you she fought me,” he hissed. “Wire the money now, or you’re not getting out of here.”
“Relax.” Mal was as he always was. Calm. Controlled. Unhurried. “You’ll get your money. Help me restrain her.”
The man held me immobile as Mal went to the trunk.
“It’s not too late,” I said to him. “Take me back. My parents will give you all the money you ask for.”
“Be quiet.”
Rage flared hot, bursting through my terror. “What the fuck do you think is going to happen? He just lets you walk away? At least save yourself!”
“Hold her still,” Mal ordered. He emerged carrying restraints. “We have to hurry. I’ve been here too long.”
Quickly, he bound my wrists and ankles. At our last encounter, I realized what was going on when we turned a wrong corner and found Mal standing at the end of it. I threw open the car door and rolled out, making a run for a crowded street where he was forced to give up on me. Mal would not let that happen again.
“Please, don’t do this. I d-don’t want to go.” Rivulets soaked my face. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Shh,” Mal crooned like I truly was a child afraid of the dentist. “It’ll be okay. I’m taking you home.”
He opened the door and let the guard toss me bound in the back seat. Mal towered through the window, staring down at me with what could only be described as triumph.
“My money,” the guard demanded. “Now.”
“Did you do what else we discussed?”
“He’ll be there Friday at noon. If you’re a minute late, he’s gone.”
“Then our business is done.” Mal bent over me and reached under the driver’s seat. “Let me get my tablet.”
My eyes widened. “No.” My voice trembled to reach above a whisper. “Please.”
Mal lurched back, leveling the gun between his eyes.
“Whoa, wait—”
“No,” I shrieked. “Daddy, no!”
Bang! Bang!
The bullets ripped through my screams. The man dropped out of sight—dead. Malcolm stepped over him like so much trash.
He climbed in, started the car, and met my swollen, red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.
“We’re finally together,” he said, “and I promise, this time nothing will keep us apart.”
Chapter Twelve
Nathan
“I don’t understand, sir. Who is Malcolm Byrne?”
“He’s who took her!” I burst out. “Am I fucking speaking to myself? Can anyone actually hear me?”
“Nathan, please.” Rosalie rubbed her temples, wincing like my very voice would break her. Tears still clung to her eyelashes, and her skin was pale and drawn. “Just tell the detectives what they need to know. Preston is waiting for us.”
That forced me to take a breath. Paramedics were speeding my best friend to a hospital, and Belle was...
“Malcolm Byrne has been stalking Belle for years,” I said in a controlled tone. “He’s obsessed with her. Two years ago, he manipulated us into breaking up, and five years before that, he attacked Belle and Carter in the woods—wounding him.
“By the time I came to and raced down the hill, all I saw was a black car speeding off in a cloud of dust, but you can be sure Byrne is responsible for our dead friend in the dirt.”
Ortiz was a stocky, balding man with leathery skin and heavy-lidded eyes. His partner, Hanson, was tall with a hawk nose and long, fine red hair. What they had in common was the matching notepads they were standing there scribbling in, instead of taking action.
“But you didn’t actually see this Malcolm?” Detective Ortiz asked.
Balling my fists, I seriously considered going down for assaulting an officer. Didn’t I just say I only saw the car? How much time are we going to waste on stupid questions!?
I was bursting out of my skin to go after Belle. After getting to her too late, I ran inside—dialing 911—to get help and car keys. Hendrix spilled his tea on his lap when I busted on him and Rosalie having breakfast in the solarium.
Rosalie fell over herself rushing to Preston and wouldn’t let me go anywhere until I told her everything, and then repeated the story to the cops. Any chance I had of chasing the car down was gone, and if fucking Ortiz and Hanson were on the case, Belle needed me more than ever.
“No, I didn’t see him,” I gritted out. “Belle described him as dark-haired, tall, and unnaturally handsome. Someone like that blows onto a small island, people have to notice.”
Hanson shook her head. “Tall, dark, and handsome isn’t as rare as you think. You could be described the same,” she said. “Do you have anything else for us to go on? Age? Identifying marks? Tattoos? Proof he’s even on the island?”
“Your proof is on the way to the morgue,” I snapped. “Belle made it sound like he was pretty distinctive. He would’ve had to feel out the security team to find the bastard who would flip. Ask them if a guy like that approached him.”
A commotion sounded in the hallway. On the other side of the glass-paneled solarium doors, Carter struggled with officers.
“Let me in! Nathan? Nathan, what’s going on?” he shouted. “They said Preston was attacked and Belle’s gone.”
“Let him in,” I said.
Ortiz gestured for them to let him pass.
Carter blew in, bearing down on me. “Is it true?”
I nodded.
“Fuck!” He shoved away, stalking back and forth like a caged animal. “Is it him?”
“Has to be.”
“We have to find her.” Carter spun on the detectives. “You have to get out there and find her now!”
“Calm down, sir,” said Ortiz. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Carter Knight and the scar you eyed twice since I got in the room was a gift from Malcolm Byrne. He cannot get away with her!”
“We understand the seriousness of the—”
“You don’t understand! You don’t know who he is.”
Hanson stepped in their path. “Enlighten us.”
“He— He’s— Hold on.”
Carter ran out the door.
The detectives watched him go and then turned back to me.
“Can you think of any other possible suspects or motives?” Hanson asked. “Does Belle or her family have enemies that you know of? Could there be a financial motive?”
“No. I’m telling you it’s Malcolm.”
We went back and forth—them insisting they had to be thorough while Belle got farther and farther away.
“Mrs. Desai, could your son have been the target and Miss Adler taken because she got in the way?”
Rosalie clutched her chest. “Of course not. No one would wish to harm my son. He doesn’t have an enemy in the world.” She got to her feet. “If that’s quite enough, there’s been a murder on my property, one of my guests was kidnapped, and my son is alone in the hospital. He needs me, and I quite agree with Nathan, you should be out there looking for the man responsible for this.”
“Yes, ma’am, we understand. If you’d bear with us for a little—”
Carter blew in on another cloud of agitation. In his hand, he held something I couldn’t make out.
“Okay, listen, and don’t interrupt,” he began. “We’ve wasted enough fucking time.”
Ortiz opened his mouth. “We’re not wasting—”
“Listen,” he sliced in. “The first thing you need to know is Belle is adopted.”
I rocked
back. “What?”
“It’s true. Technically, it’s true. Tobias and Cecilia Lewis-Adler are her biological great-aunt and great-uncle. Belle’s grandmother was Cecilia’s sister.
“Belle’s mom lost her parents shortly after she graduated college. They left her money and a home, so Cecilia and Tobias didn’t think she needed their support. They were wrong,” he said. “She fell in with Belle’s father, Patrick Quinn. Patrick was a decent guy who treated her well, but he worked for the Byrne family. They were the Irish mob that controlled their town.
“Her mom was five months’ pregnant with Belle when Patrick was killed in a job gone wrong, and she was left alone and vulnerable. Malcolm fucking Byrne was on her before his body was cold—going on about the family being there for Patrick’s girl, and she and Belle would always be taken care of. She married him a year later.”
Hanson frowned. “You’re saying Malcolm Byrne is Miss Adler’s stepfather.”
“Yes. An abusive, controlling, jealous prick of a stepfather who beat Belle’s mom whenever he was drunk. The guy was paranoid and delusional. If she was two minutes late coming home from the supermarket, he accused her of cheating. When Belle was five, she finally had enough. One night, she put Belle in the car and made a run for it. She didn’t know he had his men tailing her at that point.
“They woke Malcolm up and chased her across town. The guy went crazy, ramming the back of her car until she spun out and crashed into the guardrail. She died on impact.”
Horror leaded my bones. I sank onto a chair, breaths shortening as the rest of Belle’s story unfolded.
“Belle survived the crash, but the collisions messed up Malcolm’s brakes. He crashed too and bashed his head on the steering wheel. His men pulled him unconscious from the car and fled with him. Belle sat there alone for hours until someone drove past the accident and called the police. The ironic part is those shits probably saved her life.
“Malcolm was furious when he woke up. A mess over killing his wife and raging that the only part left of her was safely in the hands of child services and out of his reach. He got himself off the murder charge by making his men swear he was with them all night. Then he set to work.
“He wanted Belle back, and damn, did he try. Lawyers, corrupt cops, bought judges. Malcolm did everything to get custody of her, but he couldn’t get around his wife’s will specifically naming Tobias and Cecilia as the ones to take guardianship if anything happened to her. As the case dragged out, it also became clear something wasn’t right with Malcolm.”