I reached the house and stepped through the front door. The place was in silence, and I frowned and checked my watch. It was six p.m., and Loretta should have been preparing dinner, yet I could already tell the kitchen was empty. After so long living in the same house with a person, their telltale habits often made their presence noticeable without them even meaning to, and Loretta was a noisy cook, either banging pans around or humming to herself, or cursing at the food because something had overcooked or stuck to the pan. Plus, there were no scents in the house that made me think a meal was cooking.
“Loretta?” I called out to her, but already knew I wasn’t going to get an answer. The property was big enough to lose someone in.
I tried to call her on my cell, but the phone just rang out. That wasn’t like her. She knew to answer when I needed her.
Was she down in the cellar with Jolie? If so, what was she doing down there? Had there been a problem I hadn’t been made aware of? An unfamiliar jolt of panic spurted through my veins. What if Loretta had gone down there for some reason and the two of them had gotten into some kind of scuffle? I was obviously aware of how Loretta felt about Jolie—that had been part of my reason for approaching her to come and work for me—but it never occurred to me that Loretta might actually do something to harm Jolie.
I had the surveillance cameras linked to the screens in my office, but I hadn’t been watching them, worried I’d become obsessed with watching her every move. I could go to them now, but if something had happened, I’d only be adding extra time to how quickly I could reach her. Instead, I went straight to the elevator and caught it down to Jolie’s room.
Jolie was lying on her side on the bed, and she sat up slightly as I entered.
I was relieved to see she was unharmed, but I frowned, looking around. “Have you seen Loretta?”
She shook her head. “No, not since earlier.”
I had a quick look around, making sure Jolie wasn’t lying to me, but there was no sign Loretta had been down here.
“Okay, thanks.”
She sat up fully. “Is everything okay, Hayden?”
“Yes, fine.”
I left her to it, taking the elevator back up. Moving more quickly now, suddenly certain something had befallen my housekeeper, I left the ground floor and took the stairs two at a time to the top floor. Her living quarters were on the opposite side of the house from mine.
“Loretta!” I called out.
I’d sent my plane away. If there had been a serious accident, I had no way of reaching the mainland except by the boat I kept docked on the other side of the island, and that would take several hours over unpredictable seas. Plus, there was a storm coming, and the small boat wouldn’t fare well in a storm. My mind turned over all these situations before I even knew what I was dealing with. I wanted to be prepared and have a plan in place, so I knew what to do the moment I figured out what had happened to my housekeeper.
“Loretta?” I called again as I approached the door to her rooms.
A faint groan came back to me, and I picked up my pace. Without bothering to knock, I burst into the room. Loretta had a bedroom, with a small living room adjoining, and a separate bathroom and dressing room. She cooked and ate in the kitchen downstairs, but otherwise, just like Henry, she lived up here and stayed out of my way.
I didn’t see her immediately, but a second groan signaled to me that she was in her bathroom. I allowed myself to relax a fraction. She obviously wasn’t dead.
I hesitated outside of the bathroom door and then lifted my hand and knocked. “Loretta? Is everything okay in there?”
Another groan was the only response I got, so I tried the handle.
The older woman was hanging over the toilet bowl, her hair hiding her face. The place stank of vomit, and I reared back, my hand to my nose.
“I’m sick,” she managed. “Ate something bad...” She retched into the toilet, and I couldn’t help but lean away, grimacing.
A part of me was a little relieved, though. She’d just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with her. Nothing terrible had happened.
“What did you eat?” I asked. I didn’t want to seem unsympathetic, but I didn’t want anyone else eating whatever had caused her sickness.
“I reheated leftover salmon. Stupid of me. Should have known better.”
Quickly, I thought back, wondering if there was a chance either I or Jolie had been fed the same thing, but we’d both had sandwiches for lunch.
“Is there anything I can get you? Water? Rehydration salts?”
I was relieved when she shook her head. “No, I’ll be okay. Just need to get it out of my system.”
I looked around but couldn’t see her cell anywhere. “Where’s your phone? I was trying to call you.”
“On the bed.”
I left the bathroom to go and find the phone for her. I brought it back, and she said, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to work right now.”
I wouldn’t have wanted her anywhere near food prep. “That’s okay. I brought you the phone, so you can call me if you need anything.” I placed it on the floor beside her. “It’s right here.”
“Thank you, Hayden.”
I noticed how she hadn’t called me ‘sir’ but didn’t say anything to correct her.
“No problem. Hope you feel better soon.”
Not wanting to risk catching whatever she was suffering from, just in case it hadn’t been the salmon, I left her rooms and went straight to mine. I stripped myself of my clothes and threw them straight in the hamper then stepped into the shower. I wasn’t a total germaphobe, but the last thing we needed was for us all to get sick. And by ‘us,’ I was really thinking about Jolie. With Henry and Javier off the island, that only left me and Loretta. If I got sick as well, what would happen to Jolie? Neither of us would be able to take her meals down, especially if I was as badly incapacitated as Loretta. Jolie had access to water in her bathroom, so she wouldn’t go thirsty, but she could well be without meals for a couple of days. Even worse would be that she’d have no idea what was happening. She might even think she’d been abandoned, or that she’d done something wrong and I was punishing her for it. I didn’t want to feel bad for her, but the thought caused a chasm to open in the center of my chest. What if we got sick and died and left her down there? Would Henry think to release her? Or would he think it was too dangerous and leave her to die as well?
My thoughts were a torrent, rushing through my head.
I used the soap like it was a Brillo pad, scrubbing at my skin, hoping to rid myself of anything that might make me ill, too. What about the refrigerator? The salmon must have been inside it overnight. Had it contaminated anything else? What about the plates or work surfaces? What else had the food touched?
I rinsed, switched off the shower, and stepped out. I wanted to go back to Loretta and demand to be taken through every detail about the bad food, but I knew she was sick, and the last thing she needed was me demanding information from her. Besides, I didn’t want to go back in that room, especially now I was clean. As soon as she got well again, I’d make sure she bleached every surface of her living quarters.
I dried and dressed and made my way back downstairs. It was well past dinner time, but of course there was nothing prepared. I caught a glimpse out of the window. The storm was distinctly closer, the thick, low clouds almost over the island. As I stared out, a fork of lightning jagged down from the sky and hit the watery horizon. It would be upon us soon. I didn’t have any fear that the house wouldn’t hold up against the storm. The glass in all the windows was reinforced, and the entire place was built from metal and concrete—none of that wooden construction some people favored. We were safe in here. I wished I’d thought to bring the boat into the boathouse. I hoped it wouldn’t end up smashed to kindling on the dock.
Not that it mattered. It was only a boat. I could buy a new one, if needed.
In the kitchen, I could see no sign of the spoiled salmon. I even checked the
trash to see if it had been thrown in there, but, if it had been, Loretta had already taken it out. Even the dishes were clean, and I couldn’t find anything that might be suspect.
My stomach gurgled. It was past dinnertime now. Jolie would be hungry, too, and it looked as though this meal was going to be down to me.
I glanced out at the approaching storm, and once more the idea of bringing her up here to watch it with me went through my head. Could I risk it? I could cook us both a meal, pour a glass of wine, and we could sit together. I didn’t even need for us to talk—just being in her company would be enough.
“Stop it, Hayden,” I growled at myself, shaking the thought from my head. “She’s not here as your goddamned date.”
I didn’t know why my mind kept heading that way. Actually, fuck that. Yes, I did. Her beauty captivated me. And not only that, so did the fire in her soul. Many women would have turned into a wreck in this situation, and yet she’d stood up to me, and glared at me, and challenged me. Sure, she’d cried, but those few tears meant even more now that I knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who cried at a whim.
But she played her part, a little voice whispered in my head. That’s partly why she’s here. She could have stopped him.
And I could never forgive her for that.
Chapter Eighteen
In the days since I’d been brought here, I thought I’d gotten pretty good at predicting my schedule. And tonight, Loretta was late.
I’d already worked myself up into an anxiety-ridden knot because of the possession of the pencil, and now this change had made me antsy. Remembering my plan, I’d washed and changed into jeans and a close-fitted tank top. It wasn’t the usual outfit I’d choose to seduce someone in, but I didn’t have a huge amount of choice. I needed to be ready if the opportunity arose.
I paced the floor of the room that had become my cell, chewing at my nails. I was also hungry, but I didn’t care about that so much. It was more my concern about what was holding up Loretta that was bugging me. Had I done something to upset Hayden? The thought of the pencil tucked into the waistband of my jeans was at the front of my mind. Had he seen me picking it up? Maybe Hayden had realized he’d left it behind, and then gone to check on the cameras and seen what I’d done. My apprehension wound tighter and tighter inside me, my heart racing, my palms clammy. I just wanted him or Loretta to make an appearance, so I could get this over and done with. If they demanded the pencil back, I’d have no choice but to give it to them. If they had me on camera, it wasn’t as though I could deny what I’d done, and they could quickly overpower me and search me. I shuddered at the thought of Loretta using her Taser on me again. Would I be punished after I gave back the pencil? What sort of punishment would they give me? The Taser was my biggest fear, but that was because I hadn’t really thought about what Hayden would do to me. He’d already drugged and kidnapped me and locked me down here for days. What else was he capable of? Would he beat me, or worse?
But the minutes passed, and still I was left alone.
My fear left me nauseated.
Finally, the whirr of the elevator dragged my attention toward it, and my heart crawled up into my throat. Blood whooshed through my ears, and my breathing grew shallow. I was ready for an attack.
But the door of the elevator opened, and Hayden stepped out carrying a tray. From the delicious scent wafting over to me, I could tell he’d brought me something hot, spicy, and delicious. My traitorous stomach growled in appreciation, and my equally traitorous breath caught at the sight of him. His dark hair was swept back from his face, and there was a hint of stubble highlighting his square jaw. He wore a shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing strong forearms lined with muscles taut from balancing the tray. There were two plates, I noted, each covered with individual silver cloches.
One for me. One for him.
What was he doing? Was this a trick? Was he trying to get me to relax and then throw his knowledge of the stolen pencil at me?
If that was his plan, it wasn’t working. I was more tense than ever.
“Where’s Loretta?” I said, standing my ground despite my fear.
He set the tray down on the coffee table. “She got sick. It’s just the two of us.”
“Just the two of us?” I parroted back. “What about the others—the driver and the pilot?” I hadn’t seen either man since that first night, but the idea of it being purely me and Hayden alone on the island sent strange shivers running through me.
“They’ve taken the plane and gone back to the mainland.” He set the tray down. “Under my instruction, of course.”
The penny dropped. “They’re mailing my letter.”
“That’s correct.”
My stomach gurgled. Had he cooked? I wondered how sick Loretta was. Was it wrong that a small part of me rejoiced at the news? I’d been wondering how I was going to get her out of the picture, and somehow fate had smiled in my direction and gotten rid of her for me.
My gaze was drawn back to the food. Hayden removed the cloches to reveal a fragrant yellow chicken curry and rounded mounds of sticky rice. I still had plastic cutlery, but the plate was china for the first time.
“Sit, please.” He settled into one of the chairs around the coffee table.
Cautiously, I sank into the seat opposite. He pushed one of the plates in my direction and handed me the fork. I took a tentative taste. It was good—the chicken moist and the sauce sweet and coconutty, with a zing of lime and just the right amount of heat.
“You made this?” I couldn’t help sounding impressed and perhaps a little doubtful.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. Why, did you assume I wouldn’t be able to cook?”
I shrugged. “You pay someone to cook for you. It wasn’t such a leap.”
“I don’t have time to cook often, but I enjoy doing it when I get that chance.” He lifted a forkful to his mouth, chewing and swallowing the food. “What about you?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Does toast count?”
His lips quirked as he shook his head, and something in my chest tightened. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Oh, well, I guess that means I don’t cook, then.”
“Your cheek has healed,” he pointed out, gesturing to where I’d grazed it.
I lifted my hand to my face and stroked the spot where the graze had been to feel smooth skin. “Yes, it has. Have I really been here so long?”
His lips thinned, and he glanced away. We both knew I’d be here a lot longer if he had his way.
The pencil dug into my hip as though the inanimate object had a way of reminding me what I was supposed to be using it for. I glanced down at the keycard attached to his belt. His shirt was tucked in, leaving the item exposed. I was going to need to get my hands on that as well. There was no point in stabbing him if I couldn’t even get out of this room. It added an extra opportunity for something to go wrong, and my stomach churned with nerves. It had been easy to think of stabbing him in the eye when I hadn’t been staring into those same eyes.
Quickly, I dragged my gaze away, focusing on the food. I wanted to eat more, and it smelled amazing, but my stomach was in knots.
Hayden frowned at me. “Don’t you like it?” Was it insane that I thought I detected hurt in his voice? The guy really was a psychopath. He could abduct me and hold me prisoner, but got his feelings hurt at the possibility that I didn’t like his cooking.
“No, it’s good. I’m just not hungry.”
His frown deepened, lines appearing between his eyebrows. He ducked his head slightly to look directly into my face. “Are you sick, too? Did Loretta give you any of the salmon?”
“Salmon?” With a stab of pleasurable bitterness, I realized Loretta must have food poisoning. Good. Served the bitch right. “No, I haven’t eaten any salmon.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled through his nose. “That’s good. I don’t want you to get sick as well.”
Why did he care if I got sick? Was it just that he didn�
�t want to have to clean up after me? I couldn’t say I blamed him if that was the case. I certainly wouldn’t want to have to look after two vomiting women. No, I wasn’t going to hang around here long enough to fall victim to food poisoning. This was my chance. Loretta was ill, and the other two men were off the island. It was just me and Hayden, and if I could get past him, I might be able to figure out a way off the island. If nothing else, I might get to a phone and at least call my aunt. But what I really wanted was my freedom. I wanted to get out of this goddamned room, even if it meant I might lose my life in the process.
“This is really good,” I said, taking another mouthful of the curry. I meant it, too. If I’d been presented the same meal in a top-notch restaurant I wouldn’t have known any difference in the quality.
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
Are you? Why? Why do you give a shit whether I’m enjoying it?
These thoughts yelled in my head, but I kept my lips clamped shut, holding the words back.
He cleared his throat. “I’d almost considered bringing down a glass of wine for us both. Do you drink red?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.” I had to be honest, after a week without a drop of alcohol, red wine sounded divine. If he brought me wine, would he bring the bottle, or put it in a glass? All I could think of was how well I could use either item as a weapon.
But Hayden’s eyes had lit up. “Yeah? Would it be weird if I poured us both a glass, then?” The light in his eyes darkened as he must have considered what he’d just said, and he nodded. “It definitely would be weird, but who gives a fuck?”
I stayed quiet as he got to his feet and used his card to vanish back inside the elevator. I didn’t move, watching the elevator for his return. When the doors opened again, my heart sank. He was carrying two clear plastic cups of red wine. I might be able to throw wine in his face, but that was about as much use as a weapon as they would be.
Shattered Hearts: A Dark Romance (Bad Blood Book 1) Page 11