by Ruby Vincent
Huge eyes darted between the three of us. “I— I can’t give out that information,” he cried. “The police taped it off.”
Carter pulled out a stack of bills. He slapped the entire wad on his inspirational desk calendar. “The number. Now.”
I thought his eyes might fall out of his head. He stopped pawing through after the fifth hundred and quickly stuffed it in his pocket. “Third floor. 367.”
Carter took the key. He and Nathan ran up the staircase next to reception.
I hung back.
“All the guests staying here on Rosalie Desai’s dime,” I said. “Round them up in the living room. I don’t care what you tell them. Just get them down here.”
“Okay.”
Leaving him to it, I went upstairs, ducked under the police tape, and walked in on the guys tearing Ruben’s room apart.
It was a modest space. Full bed, desk, breakfast nook, and a television mounted over the dresser.
Nathan ripped out a drawer and dumped its contents on the floor.
“The cops would have checked the usual places,” Carter said. “If he left something they missed, he hid it well.”
Nodding, I scanned the room. “He took the risk of me seeing his face. After handing over Belle, he had to get out quick. When he rushed back here, he’d want a hiding place he could get to easily. He wasn’t expecting to get shot in the head, so if there is something, it’s still here. We need to find it.”
Nathan overturned another drawer. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” Drawer number three joined the rest. “The colonel searches my room almost weekly. I got good at this. Forget the air vents and loose floorboards. Everyone knows about those.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Carter, check the toilet paper bar. It’s great for hiding money or notes. Preston, the vacuum cleaner compartment. I’ve hidden bottles in there since I was fifteen.
“You can tape things behind these drawers,” he said. “Most people stop at looking inside of them. They don’t take them all the way out. If those turn up nothing, take down the clocks and pull out the electrical outlets.”
“Damn, Nathan,” Carter said as he rushed into the bathroom. “Never thought I’d be thankful you’re an addict.”
“Recovered addict. Our girl saved my life. Now let’s save her.”
He didn’t have to say it twice.
I took the vacuum out of the closet. The cover was ripped off and sent sailing over my shoulder.
“Found something,” Carter called. “A couple hundred stuffed in the bar. Proves Ortiz didn’t search as well as he thought.”
A crash sounded behind me.
“Nothing behind these drawers,” said Nathan. “Got anything, Preston?”
“I think so,” I murmured.
A single white notecard stuck to the back of the vacuum bag.
“Look at this.”
I removed it—turning it over to find writing scribbled on the underside. The guys crowded over my shoulder to read.
022514965
Friday. Noon.
US-3634-AA
“The top line looks like a routing number,” Carter said. “But what’s that at the bottom?”
“Boat registration number,” Nathan announced.
We threw him questioning looks.
“It’s a boat, no question. I’ve been sailing longer than I’ve chewed solid food. Trust me, that is the number for a boat, and the first line is the number for his money. This is his getaway.”
“But what’s Friday at noon?” Carter spoke up. “If you’ve got the money and the boat, you’re not hanging around for three days.”
“Unless he doesn’t have the boat yet and Friday is when he was supposed to get it.”
My brows drew together. “Anyone else thinking that it’s a lot easier to sneak off an island in a boat than it is a private plane?”
“I am now,” Carter said slowly. “You think this is Byrne’s way off the island too?”
“If we’re Byrne, what would we do?” Nathan asked. “We’ve chased Belle for years and she’s gotten away from us three times. We’re not taking chances on number four.”
“He didn’t,” I replied. “He killed his only loose end. Whatever plan he came up with to get off the island, he made sure it was foolproof.”
“A plane still works pretty well,” Carter said. “Especially if he got her on and took off while Ortiz and Hanson had us in the sunroom.”
“True,” I admitted. “We don’t know if this has anything to do with Byrne or if it’s just Fuller’s escape plan. We’ll turn it over to Ortiz. They’ll find the boat quicker than we can.”
“He won’t be happy we broke in here,” Carter said as we kicked aside our mess and left.
“Then his ass should have found it first,” said Nathan.
“You guys track Ortiz down and give him the note. I’ve got one more thing to take care of.”
They strode ahead, both already pulling out their phones and dialing.
I went downstairs to my new, nervous friend.
“They’re waiting for you in the living room,” said the clerk. “Is there a problem?”
“Not yet.”
The inn’s living room was packed. Twelve guards sat on every available floral couch, armchair, and ottoman. They fell quiet as I stepped inside.
“I’m going to keep this simple,” I began. “If Malcolm Byrne threatened or bribed you to help him kidnap Belle Adler, or if you have information on your friend, Ruben Fuller, tell me and you can name your price. I don’t fucking care if you send me an anonymous text with his address and a bank account number.
“All I want is Belle back. One of you makes that happen, you’ll be extremely rich. If you decide to take your chances with Byrne instead, then... you saw what he did to his last partner.”
“Sir,” Dean said. “None of us—”
“None of you what?” I cut in. “Would attack me and hand my girlfriend over to a monster? Did I imagine the last twenty-four hours?”
A few of them had the decency to lower their eyes.
“Fuller was working alone,” said another guard, Carlos Rojas. Carlos, a sturdy tree-trunk of a man who served my mom since she was pregnant, rose to his full height. “He was having problems at home. Worse than we realized. But none of us were in on it with him. We’ve served your family for years, Preston. It may be hard to trust us right now, but you can.”
A smile spread across my bruised face, stopping short of my eyes. “In that case, my phone will be silent for the next three hours,” I replied. “That’s all you have. Three hours to trade what you know for more money than you can spend in your lifetime.”
I swept out of the room, meeting Carter and Nathan on the front steps.
“Think anyone will go for it?” Carter asked.
My phone beeped before we passed the inn sign.
Unknown number.
“Being handsome, rich, and calculating gets you a lot in this world,” I said simply. “The three of us know that better than anyone.”
BELLE
The pan sizzled—splattering bubbling butter down my favorite belted red dress with teal polka dots. Mal stocked our hideaway with a change of clothes for me. But I refused to take off a stitch in his presence. I’d been wearing it since he took me the day before.
My grip tightened on the spatula.
I remembered the day the dame gave me the fabric. She told me to make us both something gorgeous to wear to the community’s mother-daughter dance.
Cecilia Lewis-Adler. My mother.
Circumstance had brought me two wonderful women to love and care for me, and Mal terrorized them both.
I knew as surely as I did my name that my parents were on the island. The link forged the day Cecilia held my hand and said she’d protect me, tugged on me now. Saying she was close and searching for me.
I placed my hand over my belt. But will she find me in time?
“Bring me a beer.”
I jumped.
“How much longer?”
“Five more minutes.” I trudged to the fridge and pulled out two beers. “It’s steak and eggs hash. Your favorite.”
Humming, Mal’s hand slipped up my thigh as I bent over with his drinks. A shiver of disgust stood my hairs on end.
“No one can compete with your steak hash, a chroí.”
A chroí.
Heart.
But you don’t have one of those.
I penned the retort in. I did not doubt for a second that Mal was willing to have my boys killed. Knowing him and the bottomless depths of his jealousy, he was dying for me to give him a reason.
I would play house and remain quiet until my family and loves found me. I had to believe they would.
Mal polished off half the bottle before I turned around. It would soon join the growing collection in front of him.
“Where were you today?” I asked as I picked up the spatula. “You left me for so long, I thought I’d be forced to have an accident outside the bathroom.”
He grunted. “Lost track of time. Won’t happen again. My business is finished. We’re set to leave on Friday.”
Friday at noon, I assume. I formed four wells in my hash, and cracked the eggs in them as I thought. I have to be careful.
“Are we taking that boat outside?” I asked.
His tone sharpened. “Why?”
“If we’re going by boat, I need seasick pills. Or else I’ll spend the entire trip locked in the toilet.”
“The boat’s stocked. I’m sure there are pills in there somewhere.”
Confirming that we are leaving by boat.
My gaze drifted out the window to the vessel rocking lazily on the water. If our means of escape was sitting right outside, why were we still here?
I voiced the question aloud.
“I know you’re eager to get home, Arabella.”
Hands slipped around my waist. I went rigid under the kiss on my cheek. He had been touching, rubbing, and calling me sweet names since he came back from wherever he went. What was this man thinking after being separated from his wife for fourteen years?
“That little thing can’t make the trip to our new home in one leg, and stopping to refuel isn’t an option. Don’t worry, a chroí. I’ve taken care of everything.”
It was everything in me not to pull away as he trailed kisses down my throat and across my shoulder. “Where is our new home?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “Don’t burn my food.”
Obediently, I stirred the steak strips into the hash and turned off the stove. I served his lunch with a smile and another beer.
“Can I have a hint at least?” I sat across from him, sitting down with a meal I’d have to force down. I never liked steak and eggs hash. “Maybe I’ll guess.”
“I’ll give you a hint.” Mal caught my gaze and held it fast over the beer bottles. “It’s somewhere no one will ever find us.”
CARTER
“You did what?!”
“We searched his room and found a few things you missed,” I said. “You’re welcome.”
Hanson flushed a dangerous shade of purple.
I had called the detectives to tell them our find, only to hear they were on their way to see us. Rosalie called the Adlers back and asked the other guys to enjoy the day while we met with the police. From the still and silent group of Zion, Hazel, Kelli, Owen, and the rest of our friends keeping watch through the window, no one was enjoying anything.
“We found this.” I gestured to Preston who slid the note across the table. “It’s a routing number, day, time, and a boat registration number.”
Frowning, the detectives glanced at it but made no move to pick it up.
Rosalie did that for them. “You truly searched this man’s room? Does that mean— Preston, was Carlos telling the truth? You went to the inn and offered a blank check to Byrne’s possible co-conspirators?”
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking?” his father shouted.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Ortiz chimed in. “What would possess you to do something like that?”
“I was thinking we have to get Belle back! Byrne could’ve approached other people on our team. If they’re helping him for the money, we’ve got more.”
Cecilia rose from her seat. “Has anyone contacted you?”
“Yes, but—” Preston looked away. “Seven messages to go there or check that place with a seven-figure price tag attached. When I reply they won’t see a cent unless the information leads us to Belle, the replies dry up.”
“Of course they do,” Hanson said. “This is murder and abduction. Anyone involved is wise enough not to let money draw them out. The rest are leaping on an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.”
“At least we’re doing something,” I hissed.
Ortiz gave me a level look. “As are we. It’s why we’re here. We subpoenaed the airfield’s security tapes. A small plane did take off thirty minutes after Miss Adler was taken. We believe she and Mr. Byrne were on it.”
“What?”
The three of us shot to our feet.
“Are you certain?” Mr. Adler asked.
“The picture is grainy, but we can clearly make out a tall, dark-haired man and slight blonde woman entering the plane. They had no luggage.”
“Belle,” Cecilia whispered.
“Are you trying to tell us Belle’s been gone the whole time?” Nathan stalked around the table with a look in his eye that forced Hanson’s hand up. “How did you miss that? They could be anywhere by now.”
“He clearly had this planned. The pilot was ready and standing by. The workers scheduled that day were late for one reason or other.”
“What do we do now?” Cecilia asked. “He’s right. They could be anywhere.”
“Not anywhere,” Ortiz said. “The type of plane they’re flying is small and has the tiny tank to match. An hour and a half and they need to refuel. They’re three places along the coast where they can do that. We’ve already informed authorities on the mainland.”
“They won’t be there,” she sobbed. “It’s been over a day. They’ll have refueled and left.”
Hanson knelt beside her. “We’re on the trail now. As long as we’re moving in the right direction, that direction will lead to your daughter.”
I glanced at the note in Rosalie’s hand. “What about what we found in his room?” I asked. “Fuller went through the trouble of hiding it. The boat is important.”
“I’m certain it was,” Ortiz said. “As his getaway off the island. Unfortunately for Mr. Fuller, he didn’t get the chance to use it.” He nodded at his partner. “We’ll look into it, but our first priority is tracking down that plane and its passengers.”
“We know what we’re doing, gentlemen,” Hanson said. “This better be the last we hear of you playing detective.”
“Bring our girlfriend back and it will be.”
BELLE
I washed the last dish and set it on the rack.
The television blared through the tiny space, playing the news on repeat. If Mal, or I, was hoping for news of the search, we didn’t get it. Apparently all there was to report on this damp island was the end of summer citrine festival.
Quietly, I folded the kitchen towel, set it down, and padded to the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
The slurred question stopped me in my tracks.
“Bed,” I said lightly.
“Wait.”
No.
I picked up my feet, hurrying into the room, and shutting me in. The door didn’t lock. The only one in the house that didn’t.
Fully clothed, I found the bed in the dark and pulled the covers over my head.
His advancing footfalls sounded outside the room, each one slicking my palms and echoing in my pounding heart.
The door banged open.
The urge to flee—to knock his drunk ass over, bolt out the door, and never stop runnin
g—overwhelmed my instincts. My body screamed down to the cells for me to get away from him.
I lay still. Breathing even. Eyes closed.
“Arabella?”
He shuffled in the darkness. My forehead creased slightly, confused at what he was doing. Then the unmistakable sound of his zipper filled the room.
“Arabella?” The mattress dipped. “Wake up.”
Cold air hit my underside as he lifted the blankets.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over—so fast I nearly cried out.
“Wake up,” he ordered, shaking me.
I flopped limp on the sheets, face smooth and serene as if truly sleeping. It was a testament to how many beers I fed him that he didn’t note how unlikely it was I’d fall asleep this fast.
“It’s been too long, a chroí.” Disgusting, alcohol-tainted kisses peppered my face. “I’ve missed you.”
I held my breath as his fetid air washed over me. Don’t move. He’ll stop. He’ll stop. He has to stop.
Mal slipped under my dress, tugging my underwear down, and the scream rose in my throat.
I didn’t care if he killed me. My mother’s murderer would not have me—or her. If this had to end in one of our deaths, morning light would not shine on both of us.
My right hand curled into a fist.
“Wake up, Arabella.” The fingers disappeared from my thigh and a sudden smack snapped my head to the side. The shock fluttered my eyes open and I made out a bare chest and obvious bulge before they closed just as quickly.
Mal swore under his breath. Hooking his arm under me, he pulled me close and collapsed on top, resting his head in the crook of my neck. Within minutes, his soft snores poured into my ears.
Relief so strong I could cry flooded me—and I did.
Soundless, choking sobs soaked my cheeks, dripping onto my pillow.
This would not work every night. I didn’t doubt Mal chose our new home well. If he got me there, I’d have no escape, and he’d make me his in every way.
I can’t let that happen. Whatever I do, Mal must not get me on that boat.
My eyes drifted to his pants discarded in front of the door. I knew his phone was in the pocket.
Mal had effectively kept it out of my reach since he took me, and plainly, it still was. Any attempt to move could wake him and I trembled at the consequence of him discovering I wasn’t asleep after all.