by Meghan March
The sun has almost completely set, and sure enough, I see orange flames.
Andreas swings around to look. “Shit!” He drops the glass in his hand and rushes to the exit.
I stand to follow, but she puts a hand on my arm. “Could it spread to here? Should we evacuate?”
“It’s just a couple flames, so they’ll probably get it put out.”
I head for the door, but Eduardo meets me at the threshold.
“Please stay inside, sir. We’ve got it under control.”
There’s no chance to ask for an explanation before he hurries away.
“Should we help? I feel terrible just standing here and watching.”
The same instinct pushes me, but from our position inside, we see four men bring buckets to douse the small fire with water. The larger of the flames are already gone.
“Apparently they really do have it under control.” I grab my beer and down a large gulp.
“Thank the Lord. That seems so crazy.”
Part of me agrees, and then the other part of me realizes that fires happen all the time in places like these, so it’s probably not that unusual.
Two more rounds of buckets later, and the fire and any potential coals are completely out. Andreas and Eduardo both return to the restaurant, out of breath and looking quite relieved.
“What happened?” Anya asks.
Eduardo shakes his head. “Don’t know. Maybe the electrical line sparked?”
“You sure you weren’t smoking over there?” Andreas asks.
With a sharp look, Eduardo responds, “No way. You know I quit. And I’d lose my job if I accidentally started a fire.”
“Let’s get you both some more drinks. Sorry about the commotion. Everything on this island is checked for safety on a regular basis, so it’s rare that we have any kind of excitement of that nature.” Andreas slides behind the bar, washes his hands, and finishes making the vodka tonic for Anya and retrieves another beer for me.
Anya holds her drink up to mine in a salute. “Cheers to no more excitement of that nature.”
I clink the rim of her glass, offering a polite smile at her random toast. All I want is to get our food so I can get back to Kat.
We both drink in silence for the next several minutes before Anya starts to make small talk. When Eduardo appears from the kitchen almost a half hour later with the food I ordered, I’m glad to escape her inane chatter.
It’s not until I’m walking out of the restaurant with the bag in hand that a heavy sluggishness seeps into my veins, and I miss a step on the walkway.
Something’s not right.
Chapter 25
Kat
My shriek cuts the air, and I cross my arms over my chest to shield my nakedness.
“What the hell are you doing? Get out!”
“But then I couldn’t give you this.” Vander takes a step toward me with the towel.
“Leave it and get the hell out of here!”
He tsk-tsks as he shakes his head. “You should be a whole lot nicer to me, Katerina. I’m the one who decides how much of a living hell your life is going to be from now on.” His statement, which makes no sense, drips with malice.
“Look, we said no. End of story. I don’t know what the Swing Code of Ethics says, but I’m pretty sure when someone politely declines being involved in some kind of orgy, you just have to accept it and move on. Who knows, maybe the new couples will be more into your brand of kink.”
Vander laughs. “No one told me you were funny too.”
“I’m not funny. Never have been. You can ask Dane.”
I edge further back in the bathroom, planning to slam the door and lock myself inside until Vander gives up and leaves.
Dane is going to kill him.
Vander doesn’t miss my subtle step back. “You can stop right there, Katerina. Whatever you’re planning is just going to piss me off, and things will go better for you if you cooperate. Don’t make me hurt you.” That last bit is delivered in such a venomous way that there’s no chance I’m going to comply.
I fling myself toward the bathroom door and slam it shut before he reaches me, scrambling to flip the flimsy lock on the handle. Turning around, I keep my back to the door and scan the room for something to brace it shut.
The first crash against the door comes within seconds, about the same time I realize there’s nothing I can use to hold the door.
My cover-up from earlier is on the bamboo stool, and I make a calculated decision. I’d prefer to have something on rather than face Vander naked. Charging for it, I grab my cover-up and the stool itself too. A second blow flexes the door against the tiny lock holding it shut. It won’t stand up to a third.
With one bamboo leg in each hand, I hold the stool like a baseball bat, ready to swing it at his head.
All I have to do is hold him off until Dane gets back.
The thought of my husband brings me strength. What would Dane do?
He’d probably tell me to raise my elbow or something like that so I have more velocity on the swing, but this is the best I can do.
The next crash comes against the door and I steady myself, ready to strike.
The lock gives up the fight and the wooden panel flies open, smashing against the wall as Vander’s face comes into view. Instead of calm and nonchalant, it’s now lined with exertion and anger.
“You want to play games, Kat? Well, guess what? You won’t like the games we’re going to play next. I can promise you that.” He notices the stool above my head as he crosses the threshold. “What good do you think that’s going to do you? If you hurt me, I promise it’ll come back to you tenfold.”
The malice in his tone is enough to give me second thoughts about my plan, but I refuse to go down without a fight.
“If you leave now, maybe my husband won’t kill you.”
Vander laughs as he takes another step toward me. “Your husband will wish he was dead soon enough.”
“Get the hell out.”
“You’re becoming repetitious, Katerina. I’m calling the shots here. You don’t understand yet.” Another step. “But you will soon.”
One more step, and he’s finally within range. I swing the stool at his head with everything I’ve got.
Vander throws up an arm and roars, ducking and charging at me.
I make contact with something and he grunts, but his lunge is far more powerful.
My feet slide out from under me, and together we go flying toward the floor. Pain shoots from my tailbone, back, and elbows, and I suck in a breath.
Vander recovers first, scrambling on top of me, pinning me to the tile. “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”
Fear claws at my lungs as he rises above me, bringing the back of his hand down on my cheekbone. Hot, blinding pain rocks my face, and tears form instantly, trickling down.
“Don’t try me again.”
The evil stamped in his every feature makes my skin crawl with terror. With a buck of my hips, I roll, desperate to get him off me, but Vander’s weight is too much.
“Feisty little bitch.”
On my belly on the bathroom floor, I reach for anything I can get my hands on to use as a weapon. I snag the rug and whip it behind me.
Vander releases a low grunt before burying his fingers in my hair and yanking my head back. His other forearm comes under my chin, and my air supply is moments from being cut off.
I use my last full breath to scream.
“Dane! Help!”
Chapter 26
Dane
Something isn’t right. I can hold my liquor. I only had two drinks. My steps are uneven, and my limbs are taking on weight that isn’t there.
I shove my hand into the pocket of my shorts, searching for my phone. But I don’t fucking have it.
With each moment that passes, whatever I’ve been drugged with affects another part of my body. I’ve only got a few minutes, at best, before I lose consciousness.
Have to get to the r
oom.
Have to get to Kat.
Can’t leave her unprotected.
Who would go through this much trouble to take me out? The list of possibilities is longer than I want to admit.
I take another step and my legs shake, threatening to collapse.
I’m not going to make it to the room.
Grabbing a palm tree, I steady myself and take a deep breath.
Have to get to Kat.
I force my brain to fight whatever I was dosed with.
Another step. Another stumble.
Who the fuck did this?
Anya or Andreas. They’re the only ones who were near my drink.
But why?
Sandals slap along the wooden walkway behind me as my lips begin to tingle.
“He should’ve already gone down. What the hell is wrong with this stuff?”
Anya.
Why? The question repeats in my head. I’ve never seen her or Vander before coming here, which doesn’t mean shit, but neither worried me enough to take steps to deal with them.
Losing your edge, Cross.
And it put Kat in danger.
A voice answers Anya. It’s Eduardo, the one who was outside when the fire started. A distraction, my sluggish brain recognizes. “You dosed him. Maybe you should’ve used more.”
I reach for the next palm tree and haul myself another step closer to the bungalow.
Have to get to Kat.
My thoughts are fuzzy now. The drug is overpowering me.
That’s when I hear her scream.
“Dane! Help!”
Launching myself off the tree, I charge toward her voice. My legs wobble like Jell-O, but I will—
Something connects with the base of my skull, and everything goes black.
Chapter 27
Kat
My throat burns as I blink against the darkness.
Why can’t I see? Am I blind?
The tangy scent of salt invades my nostrils. The floor vibrates beneath me. I curl my fingers, but they’re bound together. Tape and rope.
I blink again, and a dim light shines from above. Stars.
I’m not blind. It’s dark.
The vibrations and the loud droning stop, so all I can hear are the breaking waves.
I’m on a boat.
Vander’s voice cuts through the quiet. “What do you mean, you’re not ready? I’m heading toward the coordinates.”
I can’t hear the response, so he must be talking to someone on the phone.
“You had to fucking leave Belizean waters? Are you shitting me? I’ve got the package. When the fuck are you going to be ready?”
The cold spray of ocean water splatters me and I still, not wanting to attract attention. My brain may not be firing on all cylinders, but I’m with it enough to know that information is my only weapon right now.
“Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t have five hours to float in the middle of the goddamned ocean, you fucking asshole. I’m not going back to Sweet Water.”
Another pause, and then Vander slams his hand down on something. “Goddammit, don’t you fucking tell me to figure it out. Get the boat back up here. Call me when you’re in position.”
“What happened?” a second voice asks. This one I don’t recognize, but it could be any of the employees from the island because it carries the same lyrical inflections.
“Change of plans. We have to find somewhere to wait for a few hours. The Belizean Coast Guard was sniffing around, so they went south into Honduran waters.”
“The Coast Guard? Not surprising, man. They sniff around a lot of those yachts. Making sure they’re not running drugs and sending smaller boats in to deliver.”
“Thank you for the Belizean maritime lesson, but what I really need from you is somewhere to fucking stop.”
“Hold on. Hold on. Lemme think. I might have a place. My cousin is the caretaker at Genie Caye. Shouldn’t be anyone there. New researchers come every other week, but this is an off week. I’m supposed to meet him there tomorrow to fish.”
“Where the hell is it?” Vander demands.
“Head back to Sweet Water and bear north like you’re heading to Dangriga. You can’t miss it if you look for the red and green lights.”
Back to Sweet Water. Back to Dane.
I need a plan. My brain starts spinning.
“Fuck, this throws off our whole schedule. I have to tell Anya.”
I knew I didn’t trust that bitch for a reason.
“Let me call my cousin first and check. We gotta make sure he doesn’t try to shoot us when we pull up. They get too many thieves out this way for us to just tie up to someone’s dock in the middle of the night.”
“Make the call. Now.”
Waves lap against the hull as whoever else is on board makes a phone call and speaks in a language I don’t understand. I keep my eyes shut, playing possum because the last thing I want is Vander’s attention on me. The less he thinks about me, the better.
But when we get near Sweet Water . . . I have to get back to the island. Back to Dane.
The only plan I come up with is flawed on every level. Throwing myself while bound out of a moving boat into the pitch-black ocean is absolutely idiotic. But what other choice do I have?
Work on the ropes.
When the man ends his call, he says to Vander, “We’re all set. He’ll be waiting for us. Island is empty right now.”
“Good. Let’s move. Show me where to turn.”
The engine comes to life again, and I open my eyes to stare up into the sky. The Big Dipper is bright against the blackness, and I use it to find the North Star.
If only I could find my way back to Dane so easily.
Chapter 28
Dane
My head pounds and my limbs are heavy. It takes all the energy I have to open my eyes. The first thoughts that rip through my brain are about Kat. Where is she? Is she safe? How long have I been out?
Anya’s pissed-off voice slices through the haze in my head. “I thought we had a plan. What the hell happened? I did my part—we’re here and he’s ready to move.”
Since I don’t hear an answer, I assume it comes from the other end of her phone.
“Of course I cleaned out their rooms. We popped the safe and got the phones, IDs, and passports. No sign they were ever there. Oh, you know, except the fucking broken door handle in the bathroom. One of the guys is fixing it, but it cost me an extra thousand.”
Broken door handle? What the fuck? If anyone touched a goddamned hair on Kat’s head, I will fucking kill them.
“Yeah, yeah, I can hear your gratitude loud and clear. The boat is here and they’re going to load him up. He’ll be delivered on time, and I’ll meet up with you.”
They separated us? Fuck.
I shift and test the ropes knotted around my wrists. My first instinct is to rip that phone out of Anya’s hands and call in the cavalry to rain down hellfire on these assholes. I try to kick out and sweep Anya’s feet, but my legs are still numb.
Unaware of my consciousness, she keeps pacing and talking. “Where the hell are you going with the girl? I want to get off the island and back to Monte Carlo before I get another fucking bug bite.”
That bitch deserves every single thing coming to her, and it will not be pretty.
No one touches my wife without consequences.
“Hours? What the hell am I supposed to do while you’re on some genie-in-a-bottle island waiting for the boat for hours?”
Genie-in-a-bottle island? What the hell is she talking about? I rack my brain for any mention of a genie in a bottle, and I’ve got nothing. My synapses are firing slowly, but it has to mean something.
“Don’t you dare tell me to settle down. What if someone gets wind of this? Play idiot blonde. Great. Nice suggestion. How far away is that place, V?”
When she says V, it confirms my suspicions that she must be talking to Vander.
“You’re going right by here? I
’ll be ready as soon as he’s gone, and you can pick me up.”
Her growl of frustration tells me Vander was less than amenable to her suggestion.
“Fine. I’ll wait. But you better tell those Plan B assholes they need to come up with a damned Plan C. The money for her better be worth it; that’s all I’m saying. I want my damned bonus. I’ll be waiting in the room after we get him loaded up. No, of course they won’t miss the transfer. He knows he won’t get paid if there’s no delivery. Call me when the tender is on the way.”
The money they get for her better be worth it? Over my dead body.
Cold fury, the kind that you unleash only when you need to feed the killing machine, floods my system. My entire body vibrates with unharnessed rage.
Nobody touches my fucking wife.
Anya curses, and I assume she’s ended her call. I could snap her neck right now, but it wouldn’t get me the answers I need. I have to shut it down before I’m surrounded by sand soaked with her blood, and no way to get to Kat.
Be smart, Dane. Think. Plan. This is what you do.
But I haven’t been in the field in a year. I’ve sat behind a desk or at a conference-room table, punishing myself for my mistake, watching over my former team as they walk into situations that would make any normal person shit himself at the first sign of trouble.
All because I’m not worthy of having their backs anymore.
I replay Anya’s half of the conversation, committing the things to memory that seem significant. Genie-in-a-bottle island. Plan B needing a Plan C.
My synapses fire faster as the adrenaline dump helps my brain shake off whatever they drugged me with.
Fuck these sons of bitches. They don’t have a clue who they’re dealing with. Not one fucking clue.
Anya speaks again to someone else on the beach. “Did you get all that? Plans are off schedule, but we still need to load him. My ride is delayed, but that doesn’t impact his transport. When’s the boat coming?”
I can’t get a look at the man’s face without turning over, and I don’t want to give away my only other advantage at the moment—the fact that they don’t know I’m awake.