by M. S. Parker
Maybe I’d already done it.
Madness and a whole bottle of wine might explain why I slid outside into the twilight. Alone.
Logic told me I should get back to the bungalow, get the security personnel to go with me, but the fight with Liam had left me unsettled, and I felt like I was going to come out of my skin.
I knew the island better than almost anybody.
If I wasn’t safe here, was I safe anywhere?
Instead of finding that thought reassuring, it left me feeling uneasy, and I paused in the middle of the path, looking back in the direction of the bungalow – the guards.
Damn it, I’d left New York to get away from this sort of shit.
Was it really following me?
It was that thought that made up my mind, and I spun away from the bungalow, taking the first path that veered off to the right.
I was going down to the beach.
It would be quiet this time of day – a storm front had moved in, turning the air chilly and most of the resort guests would be spending time poolside or partaking in other amenities offered by the resort.
It was a perfect time for a walk to clear my head.
The sound of the water crashing on the beach was normally a sound I found soothing.
Tonight, the surf sounded angry, as frustrated as I was.
A wind whipped off the water, and I wrapped my arms around my midsection, wishing I’d brought a sweater. The cool air did help somewhat though. The fog brought on by wine and not enough food started to clear from my head.
Sand inside my shoes scraped against my feet, and the wind blew my hair into my eyes.
Shoving the loose strands back, I turned and faced the water. I could see the spot on the beach where Liam had placed me after he pulled me out of the ocean.
I found myself thinking about the glint in his eyes, the worry that had sharpened his voice as he yelled at me.
Shivering, I rubbed my hands down my arms, but it didn’t do much to help warm me. The chill sank deeper and deeper inside me, and I cast a look back toward the resort.
Normally, just looking at the place made me smile. The lights that came on at twilight always made it look even more welcoming than usual. At least, normally.
But the lights seemed hard and bright now and awfully far away.
I needed to get back to the bungalow.
Coming out here had been an attempt to clear my thoughts, but they kept returning to Liam.
To my father.
To the chaos that had been unleashed on my room while I was in session that afternoon.
It still didn’t make sense.
Maybe what I needed to do was call my father and push him for more details on why he thought I might be in danger. Maybe the two of us could figure this mess out.
With little else offering a solution, I sighed and started back toward the resort.
A low noise came to my ears as I moved forward.
I paused.
I didn’t hear it again.
But as soon as I started walking, I heard that faint noise again…pfft, pfft, pfft…the whispery soft sound of footsteps in the sand. It wasn’t just my feet moving along the beach just then.
I cast a look behind me but saw nothing. Uneasiness crept through me as I stared out into the deepening twilight. Heavy shadows lay across the beach, and I could make out the endless black of the ocean, but beyond that, I saw nothing.
Setting my jaw, I swung my head around and started to move along at a quicker pace.
Again, I heard the echo of a second set of footsteps.
Somebody was following me. I was out here alone on the beach, and I hadn’t told anybody where I was going.
Just a few hours ago, somebody had trashed my bungalow, and now I was out here alone on the beach, still more than a bit tipsy after drinking a bottle of wine.
And somebody was following me.
I started to walk faster. By the time I reached the path that opened up onto the beach, I was running.
Thirty-Five
Liam
The talk with Jake had given my temper a chance to cool down, although I was still frustrated and pissed off.
Mila’s stubbornness was one of the things I appreciated about her, but right now, it wasn’t doing anything but making things worse.
You’re not helping. Try to understand where she’s coming from.
I wanted to silence the voice, but I couldn’t.
I did get why Mila wasn’t happy, maybe even more than she did. Mila appreciated being in control, in being able to control the things around her. Now she was in a situation that was completely out of her control, and there was only so much she could do.
As somebody who appreciated control myself, I could understand how that was frustrating to her.
On top of that, the helplessness she probably felt was only going to make it worse.
I sure as hell had some of those feelings of helplessness surging inside me, along with a whole bunch of what ifs. What if I’d been a little faster getting to the bungalow? What if Mila had gone back there, unaware of the danger, and the guy who tossed her place was lying in wait?
What if we weren’t able to find who was responsible before he went after Mila again?
The answers to those scenarios did nothing to help calm my thoughts, and I made myself stop the what-if game.
There was no winning that game, and all it would do was complicate matters when I needed them to be terribly simple.
I needed to go back to the bungalow and talk to Mila – talk, not dictate.
And somewhere along the line, I needed to figure out how to tell her what I’d just figured out.
I’m in love with her.
I didn’t know when it had happened. I don’t know how it happened.
But it had happened, and now I needed to figure out how to handle what I felt for her and still be objective enough to take care of her. Personally, I’d be fine with locking her in a room and lying in wait for anybody who didn’t belong to dare come near her.
But Mila was pissed off enough just being asked to keep a couple of security guards with her and to be careful. She’d probably pelt me with whatever hard objects came to hand if I suggested she lock herself inside until we had this dealt with. That wasn’t the woman I knew.
It wasn’t the woman I’d fallen in love with either.
We’d find some way around this – something we could do to keep her safe without her feeling like she was stifling.
The two security guards outside Mila’s temporary bungalow nodded at me as I approached.
“It’s been quiet,” the older of the two told me. “I think she’s been watching some TV.”
Swiping my keycard, I slid inside.
The TV was on, but a quick look at the couch told me Mila wasn’t sitting there watching.
I spied an empty wine glass on the coffee table as I walked through the room.
Had she gone to bed?
It wasn’t really late, but she’d had a rough day. I knew I was worn out.
If she was asleep…
I brushed the thought aside. If she was asleep, I’d join her, and we’d finish this talk tomorrow.
But the door to the bedroom hung open, and as I approached, I saw light spilling out into the hallway.
And it was quiet – the whole bungalow was quiet.
My stomach went tight as I processed that. “Mila?” I called out.
There wasn’t an answer.
I shoved into the bedroom and found the bed empty. The bathroom door stood open, the lights off. I swore and spun around, hurriedly checking the rest of the bungalow. It was empty.
I yanked open the door to the terrace, but she wasn’t out there.
Turning on my heel, I ran through the bungalow and shoved the door open. “She’s gone,” I said, the words coming out in a growl. “I think she went out through the terrace, but she’s not there now.”
Immediately, the older security guard grabbed his radi
o from his belt.
I pointed at the younger one. “Call Millie. Let her know. See if there’s any place she thinks Mila might have gone.”
I turned on my heel and went right back through the bungalow, into the bedroom and out the terrace door. Following the stone path to the gate that led out of the terraced area, I moved to stand in one of the many pathways that connected one part of the resort to another. I stood there and listened.
I didn’t hear anything.
Turning my head, I spied one of the discreet signs etched into a post set along the pathway.
One arrow pointed toward the main lodge.
Another pointed toward the grotto and swimming pool.
Another still pointed away from the lodge itself…toward the beach.
I followed that path, my ears pricked, eyes searching everything.
I didn’t run into anybody on my way down to the beach.
That, in and of itself, was odd.
The entire island seemed to be a hotbed of activity no matter what the hour, and here it was, early Friday evening and nobody was heading back to the resort from the beach.
The cool wind whipping through the air probably had something to do with that, but I ignored it as I trudged along the path, my eyes scanning everything, everywhere.
I caught the first, faint sound when I was still too far away to make out much of anything beyond the circles of light cast down by the carefully spaced out street lights.
I paused, head cocked as I listened for it to come again.
Shouting.
I took off running, heading in the direction of the shout – toward the beach.
My heart lunged up into my throat as I rounded the final bend in the path.
The electric lights that lit most of the pathways stopped here. They didn’t extend down to the beach front, and I was light-blinded by them as I first moved off the path. I squinted my eyes to better see what I was looking at.
I heard nothing but my heart pounding in my ears.
A scream exploded into the night, and adrenaline surged through me as I ran toward the sound.
My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I could finally make out the deeper shadows of the water, the beach chairs placed side by side in the sand.
And out in the surf, there were two people.
My instincts sharpened. One of them was Mila.
I knew it in my gut.
I ran harder, faster, blood roaring in my ears, my heart racing.
Mila was fighting against the grip of a man who looked like he stood a good head taller than me. He was yanking her along, and when she jerked back against him, he turned and backhanded her.
I ran harder, harder than I’d ever run in my life as Mila sagged, dazed.
She went limp, and a shout burned its way up my throat. I silenced it, my focus locked on the man who was now pulling Mila’s limp body along behind him.
He heard me when I was still a few feet away and spun to face me, one hand dipping inside his coat.
I hurled myself at him, and the two of us went down into the surf.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mila stagger to her feet, then sway. She shook her head and somehow stayed on her feet.
Movement off to my left caught my attention, and I came out of the water just as the man I’d tackled stood up on unsteady legs and swung a gun toward Mila.
Grabbing his wrist, I shoved it upward.
The shot went wild.
I slammed a fist into the man’s face, feeling like I’d just decked a granite wall.
He swung a fist at me in retaliation, and as it connected with my jaw, pain exploded.
But I held onto his arm.
He roared and shifted his focus to me.
“Mila,” I called back over my shoulder. I didn’t so much as blink as I faced off with the big guy. “Run.”
Thirty-Six
Mila
I jerked against the grip cruelly shackled around my wrist, but it was like trying to budge concrete.
Panic welled up inside me, and I screamed, knowing it was useless but unable to stop myself.
He ignored me, like I hadn’t made a sound, like I wasn’t fighting for my very life. He yanked me into the water and dread gripped me.
No, no, no…
Why hadn’t I listened to Liam?
Liam…
I screamed again, panic giving me strength. Jerking against the tight grasp wrapped around my wrist, I tried again to twist away.
For a brief second, I thought it might work – the grip on my wrist seemed to loosen.
But then he stopped walking abruptly and spun around to me. I saw him lift his hand, but I couldn’t avoid it – he moved too fast.
My head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, and I tasted blood in my mouth. The taste of it added to my terror, and I jerked again, but my head was spinning. I couldn’t see straight.
I couldn’t–
Something slammed into us, knocking us both down into the surf.
It took me a few seconds to realize it, but I was free.
I crab-walked back away from the man who’d been holding me, my eyes searching the darkness for him.
Two bodies came crashing up out of the water next to me. I screamed again. A split second later, I saw Liam.
My heart lurched, and I shoved upright onto my feet, gasping for air and blinking sea water out of my eyes. The man turned to me, a gun pointing in my direction.
It made a popping sound, and I waited for the pain, but none came. The shot had gone wild.
“Mila, run!” The urgent command from Liam came flying out of the night.
I stared at them, unable to will my legs to do anything, much less run.
Liam broke away from the man who’d been holding him, and I watched as he slammed his fist into the throat of my would-be killer.
The blow barely seemed to faze the other man, who looked like he had six inches and about a hundred pounds on Liam.
I backed out of the water.
My movement caught the eye of the man struggling with Liam, and he turned, rushing for me.
I moved faster, and Liam came at the man from behind, wrapping his arms around the other guy and heaving, twisting. I gaped in shock as Liam threw the man into the water lapping at our feet, then pounced on him.
For a few seconds, Liam had him, shoving his head into the water and clobbering him with brutal jabs from his right hand.
But the guy was able to throw Liam off.
Once more, they rose, facing each other.
I should do something. Run? Get help? I’d already tried screaming, and that wasn’t working.
Helpless, I looked around for a weapon but save for the water and the sand, there wasn’t anything.
Liam feinted left, and the man twitched.
They came together again in a flurry of blows and kicks, their movements so fast, it was like they blurred together.
I saw the blow Liam took to the head – it staggered him and sent him to his knees. My heart leaped up into my throat as my assailant lifted the gun he’d managed to hold on to.
I barely had time to register what was happening as instinct took over. He pointed it at Liam, and I sprang forward, grabbing his arm and yanking.
There was a muffled pop, hardly loud enough for me to hear over the roaring in my ears and the crash of the water around us. I scrambled for control of the gun, although I had no idea what I’d do if I got it.
He threw me off, and the gun swung around my way.
Liam tackled him from behind, and the man went facedown into the water.
My eyes tracked the gun as it went flying, splashing into the wet sand a few feet away.
I rushed for it, closing my hand around the wet, sandy grip as I fell onto my ass and twisted, seeking them out in the darkness.
The gun in my hand was heavy, shockingly so. I lifted it, and it shook wildly in my hands.
But they were in the water still, wrestling and moving so fast, I couldn’
t separate one from the other.
What if I shot Liam?
Indecision tore at me, and I lowered the weapon. Water dripped from it. I didn’t even know if the thing would work now – it had gotten wet. Were guns waterproof?
Liam staggered under a blow from a huge right hand, and I cried out.
His head whipped toward me, and in that second, the big guy lunged for Liam, taking him down into the water, his hands wrapped around his neck.
“No!” I screamed. Clutching the gun, I thrashed through the water to where they lay, driven by instinct and fear.
The man didn’t so much as look at me.
I stared at the gun, again scared I’d shoot Liam.
Liam’s head was under the water now. The tide was coming in – the water was up to my knees now. It hadn’t been so deep only moments ago. I couldn’t see any part of Liam now, but I saw the thrashing water.
He was fighting – fighting for me. I could damn well do more than just stand there.
I don’t even remember lifting the gun or bringing it down on the man’s head.
He went stiff.
I hit him again, using all my strength as I swung out this time.
I caught him on the temple.
He swayed, then toppled over.
Liam came up out of the water, choking and gasping, but still fighting.
He saw me standing over them, and his eyes widened. Staggering to his feet, he slid an arm around my waist, urging me out of the water. With his other hand, he took the gun from me.
“It got wet,” I said, my teeth chattering. “Will it work if it’s wet?”
“It’ll work,” he responded, voice chilly. He turned as we walked, and I glanced back, terror lighting inside me once more.
It made me clumsy. Now I understood why heroines were always falling in horror movies. I tripped but righted myself before I went down. Finally, out of the water, I turned toward Liam.
He still had the weapon aimed at my attacker.
The big man was back on his feet and staring at Liam like I didn’t even exist. “You aren’t going to use that on me,” he said, his voice confident.