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by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  Is he serious? “How are you not angry with me?” He had to know I was responsible for this situation.

  “Because I know your heart, and I know you acted out of grief.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing,” he interrupted. “I’m not here to judge you.” He glided his thumb over my lower lip. “God, I missed you.”

  The intense look in his eyes sent a heated shiver spiking through me, and for the first time in days, my heart rate raced from something other than fear.

  My body leaned toward him—like gravity pulling our hearts together. Wait. I sat back. What the hell am I doing? I couldn’t still want him. And just because I was happy he’d come for me didn’t mean we were rescued or that I could ever forgive him.

  I sneered in Rook’s general direction, doing my best to ignore the sharp pain that came with moving my facial muscles. “I just want to know,” I whispered back, “were you ever going to tell me you helped kill my sister?”

  He dropped his hand from my face, drew a smooth breath, and turned his gaze straight ahead. “No. However, that does not mean I don’t love you or that I wouldn’t give my life to get her back.”

  No? Luckily for him, my hands were still bound above me. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.” Even worse, a part of me still did. What we’d had together was just that powerful. When I’d been devastated over losing Cici, he’d held me in his arms and washed the pain away. When I’d struggled to move on, he’d dragged me kicking and screaming to a saner place. And when my physical need for him had consumed me, he’d broken his vows and made love to me.

  “I know a sinner like me,” he added, “could never deserve your love. But understand, I believed I was saving the world.”

  “You murdered people to save wealthy old women—it’s unforgiveable.”

  “We needed the money to protect the island, but those given second chances at life were good. They dedicate themselves to helping others, raising loving families, or undoing the harm committed by those who deny the existence of something greater.”

  “Newsflash: Lots of people don’t believe in God, and it doesn’t make them bad.”

  “I was speaking of love. However, I agree. My actions are unforgiveable, even if at the time, I convinced myself I was doing God’s work and saving good people.”

  “Well, for the record,” I hissed, “my sister was one of the good ones. She dedicated her life to raising me and teaching children. She was kind.”

  “Which is why she was never meant to die.”

  “Then why did she?” I studied his handsome face, searching for signs of dishonesty. He gave me nothing but a direct stare filled with torment.

  “My negligence killed her. I should’ve made sure she didn’t get anywhere near the lagoon. But she wandered off, just as you did. In fact, had I known you were her sister from day one, I would have taken more precautions to keep you safe.”

  Liar. “You take cheek swabs from the guests the moment they arrive. You know exactly who you’re going to kill.”

  “Wrong. We do the DNA tests as a precaution so we know who to keep away. I implemented the policy ten years ago after a guest found the lagoon and went for a swim. She just happened to be a descendant of the men who started all this; however, she was a good woman, unlike the people who were carefully handpicked. They win a trip, they accidentally find out about us, they are—were lured there.”

  “Lured. Exactly like Cici.” Fucking asshole.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She won some sweepstakes thing. How else could an elementary school teacher afford a vacation at your place?” The minimum cost was fifty thousand dollars just for a week of fantasies. I had paid one hundred thousand for the privilege of getting bumped up on the waiting list. But for a cool million, they would let you take a swim and join their exclusive “red butterfly” club. I called them that because Rook gave them necklaces with red butterflies to tell the VIPs apart from the regular guests.

  Rook suddenly looked disturbed on a whole new level, but for all I knew, it was an act—one of many he’d put on since we met.

  “What now?” I asked skeptically.

  He frowned with those thick, dark eyebrows. “I did not invite her. She was not chosen.”

  What game was he playing? “But you tested her like everyone else when she arrived.”

  “The test told us she wasn’t a match,” he said, looking out the window, his voice filled with confusion. “Just like yours.”

  Not that I believed a word, but I still had to ask, “How is that possible?”

  He flashed a disturbed glance my way. “I’m unsure. With her, I thought the test results were a random mistake and the sample was mishandled. With your test, I blamed Mrs. Day for sloppy lab work, which was why I fired her. That and she failed to do a background check on you—another reason I attributed the test failures to her laziness.” He scratched his scruffy chin. “But if your sister was invited to the island, it means someone knew about her bloodline. They chose her.”

  “Try asking your aunt,” I spat. “She tried to grab me right after telling me the truth about Cici.”

  The troubled look in Rook’s eyes sucked me in, and for one moment, I found myself wanting to believe his reaction. Until I remembered that he was the master of lies—his business was painting pictures, making people believe that the fantasies were real.

  “I am sorry, Stephanie. I truly am. Your sister never should’ve come to my island. You never should’ve come. But regardless of how it came to be, I blame myself for her death, and I will do everything in my power to prevent yours.” He reached out his hand and cupped my cheek. “Whatever you think of me, however much you hate me, please trust that I love you.”

  “Don’t,” I hissed, jerking my face from his hand. “Don’t pretend you care.”

  He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “I won’t pretend. I never have. I never will.”

  I turned my head and stared out the window. How dare he. I gave him everything—my trust, my love, my commitment to stay by his side as he lived out his final days not as a monk, but as a regular man. I’d even agreed to marry him and let him try to get me pregnant because he wanted to leave a child behind. I loved him that fucking much.

  “Do you have any idea,” I seethed through clenched teeth, “what it took for me to commit to you and know I’d have to watch you die then raise a child on my own? Do you? So don’t fucking tell me you care when I gave you everything and you gave me lies.”

  “As I said, I could never deserve a woman like you. I am a flawed man, a greedy sinner, and I wanted you more than I wanted to be perfect or good.” He stared into my eyes with a sharp, unwavering gaze that stirred a hundred emotions deep in my heart. Because when he looked at me like that, the connection between us felt as real to me as the air in my lungs and the sunshine outside. I could feel myself getting lost in the fantasy of us—an unbreakable, epic love.

  What you feel isn’t real, I told myself. You have to let that dream go. I tore my gaze away, preferring to focus on my aches and cuts rather than allow myself to fall into his seductive trap. Maybe I was beginning to regret what I’d done, and maybe I still had feelings for him, but our romance was over.

  Rook

  Fucking hell, I thought to myself, staying close to Stephanie as my group of new “guests” crossed the tarmac to my waiting private jet. The news that Stephanie’s sister had won a trip disturbed me to no end. Why? Because I sure the hell hadn’t chosen her and it was my job to do the selection. I wanted to spare my aunt and the others from the burden. And though I used Father Rook’s scrolls and teachings to guide me, no amount of prayer or self-flagellation had ever bought me a clear conscience. At the end of the day, the only people I wanted to see dead were the ones I couldn’t kill. They were either long dead or imprisoned on our island. Ironically, after the pirates had done their evil deeds, a storm blew their ship into a r
eef. Some washed ashore, back to us, and decades later the other survivors had been tracked down. Unfortunately, they’d all died and never paid for their crimes, but we found their offspring.

  At first, it was easy for us to use them as we did—the torment and rage had still been fresh in our hearts. Why should these animals live on when our families had not? The world needed to be set right again. As time passed, it became more and more difficult to take just anyone related to these fiends, which was why I changed things. Those trying to live a good life would be left alone.

  Which brought me back to the question: If I did not invite Cici, then who did?

  My aunt was the only other person with access to the list of names we’d amassed over the centuries. A list we now kept up to date quite easily thanks to the internet. But my aunt would have known Cici wasn’t someone I’d approve to bring to the lagoon.

  She’s gone mad, once and for all. Just what I needed, one more person to worry about. My thoughts gravitated to more pressing matters. I had to stay focused and on my guard. We were prepared for what would come next as best as we could be, but this was one fantasy that had to go off without a hitch. Warner was about to experience everything ugly my island had to offer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stephanie

  With me toward the middle of the plane and Rook toward the front—across the aisle from Warner—we were separated during the three-and-a-half-hour flight to the island. But even from my vantage point, Rook’s body language told me that something was about to happen. With every passing minute, he seemed calmer, not that I could see his face. But still, no fidgeting in his seat or glances in my direction or at any of the men. He sat there reading a paper and then dosed off. No one in their right mind could nap at a time like this. Even Warner kept busy on his phone, trying to organize a boat or something for his merchandise, until he lost his signal.

  By the time the plane finally touched down, I was nervous as hell, expecting anything to happen—men with machine guns jumping out of the jungle or a team of hula girls waiting to greet these men with poisoned drinks. Something.

  The plane slowing on the runway, I looked out the window to my side, trying to gather my wits. Wait. What is…? I blinked. Like the time I first arrived to the island, I spotted a tall man standing under a tree, staring right at me. I leaned closer to the glass, unsure if my mind was playing tricks. Like a wisp of steam, he disappeared.

  Who was that? My stomach soured and my heart rate sped up. I’d forgotten all about seeing that man before because, at the time, I’d brushed it off as nerves and stress, just like I’d brushed off the strange things that had happened my first few days on the island—hearing my sister’s voice calling from the jungle; the monk in a tattered robe tapping on my window at night, beckoning me to follow him to the lagoon; and then, finally, the sharks. One moment, I was swimming with Rook and what were supposed to be gentle sharks. The next, I was alone in the middle of the ocean, fending off an enormous finned beast trying to eat me. Just when I thought I was about to die, Rook and his captain appeared out of nowhere and dragged me from the water. I’d been knocked unconscious. By what? I still didn’t know, but I was beginning to believe that none of those were just dreams. Maybe that lagoon didn’t want me swimming in the ocean. Maybe it didn’t want anything bad to happen to me. Because it wants me for itself.

  Now at a complete stop, the plane’s door popped open. Rook stood from his seat and straightened his tie as Gerry, one of Rook’s longtime employees, stepped inside to greet everyone. Gerry was a large Samoan-looking man with a bald head and tribal tattoos on his arms and neck. The ladies loved him.

  “Gerry,” Rook said, “this is Warner Price. He is the new owner of the island, so please be sure he is given anything he needs. Inform the staff to meet us in the dinner club in ten minutes so that Mr. Price can introduce himself.”

  Gerry didn’t so much as blink. “Yes, sir.”

  “Glad to see your people know how to follow orders,” Warner said, collecting his things. “Maybe I will keep some.”

  “They are not part of the deal,” Rook said unflappably. “We stay until you have what you need, and then we leave.”

  “You’re forgetting that you’re not in a position to negotiate,” Warner sneered and then flashed a glance over his shoulder in my direction.

  Rook looked at me with disinterest. “Sorry, but no woman, not even Stephanie, is worth an entire crew. I’m sure you’d agree.”

  Nice, I thought. Though, I guessed I’d say the same thing if I were in Rook’s shoes. From what he told me, at least one hundred staff members—those who’d all swum in the lagoon—had decided to stay on the island even though the resort had closed.

  “How do I know your people won’t go telling others about the island?” Warner asked.

  “What would they tell? Only the pilots and I know the exact location. And now, so will you, though I suggest you trust no one if you wish to keep it that way.”

  What a great liar. Rook’s aunt and Luke knew where the island was. I’d bet the remaining one hundred “family” members also knew.

  I kept my mouth shut and looked down as everyone exited the plane.

  When I got to the rollaway staircase, I spotted Mr. Classy waiting for me. My stomach clamped down on itself, forming a caustic knot.

  “Hurry it up,” he said, giving me the death stare.

  Up ahead, I caught Rook watching me, and for a moment, he hesitated, like he wanted to stay behind.

  “I said hurry it up.” Mr. Classy started reaching for the belt of his black jeans—a threat of another beating, I surmised.

  “Coming. Sorry.” I carefully descended the stairs with my wobbly knees. I still had a bad cut on my foot and only one eye to see out of.

  “Move faster, unless you want to disappoint Mr. Price.”

  “Why would Warner be disappointed?” I muttered.

  “You and I are not to leave his side.”

  In case he needed to put a gun to my head, no doubt.

  We walked along the pebbled path, the air hot and muggy. Unlike my first arrival, fallen leaves littered the grounds. A few trees had downed branches. It wasn’t chaos, but it wasn’t the vision of perfection I’d seen when the island was fully staffed.

  When we got to the thatched-roof restaurant, Rook turned on the lights and opened the storm shutters to let in the ocean air. The structure was really more of a giant hut sitting on piers overlooking the turquoise water of the small bay. It had about twenty tables, a long bar in the back, and a small stage for dinner shows.

  “You. Sit there.” Classy pushed me from behind, causing me to nearly crash into a chair.

  From the corner of his cool gray eyes, Rook watched. He reminded me of a fierce predator—intensely focused, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce and kill.

  My adrenaline shot through the roof. I had to be ready for anything.

  “The bar is fully stocked,” he said to Warner. “What can we get you?”

  Warner took a seat at the bar. “Joe, get me a whiskey.”

  One of Warner’s men, short with a shaved head, made his way behind the bar.

  “No offense, Rook,” said Warner, “but I’d rather not have you mixin’ my drinks.”

  “Understood. However, I’m sure you’ve already instructed your eleven men to shoot me, Stephanie, and my employees if we so much as look at you the wrong way, so rest assured, I won’t be taking any action toward you.”

  “Whatever.”

  Joe slid a tall glass of amber liquid across the bar and Warner threw it back.

  Rook looked calm and cool in his black linen suit, a vision of the perfect, gracious host. Then, one by one, people in shorts and blue-and-white Hawaiian-style shirts started streaming in. No one looked especially alarmed. Just another day in paradise. With mobsters.

  “They’re all here,” Rook said.

  Wait. There are only forty-five or fifty people in this room. That was about half of the employees w
ho’d stayed behind. And where were Rook’s aunt and Luke? Ohmygod, this is either going to go incredibly well or incredibly badly.

  Warner slid off the barstool like a cocky son of a bitch who wanted to show everyone his dick and make them bow to worship it.

  “Everyone,” Rook spoke up, “as I mentioned prior to my departure, I plan to retire from the island. Warner Price is assuming ownership, starting today. He and his men will need your assistance in familiarizing them with the island. Once that is done, you may pack—”

  “You’ll all be staying until I say you can leave,” Warner cut in. “And in case anyone doubts what kinda man I am, let me give you a demonstration.” He nodded at one of his men, who pulled out a gun and shot. Blood went everywhere, and a guy, who I think was one of the cooks, fell to the floor.

  Rook’s people gasped or yelled. But not Rook. He just stood there with an ice-cold stare as if to tell Warner “I’m not impressed.”

  I turned away, unable to witness the horrific scene.

  “We’ll be keeping ten of you along with Stephanie,” Warner said. “Anyone steps outta line or tries to leave without my approval, my men will kill someone.” Warner looked at Rook. “Why don’t you get someone to show us around, including where to keep our ten new friends.”

  “Might I suggest my private home.”

  “It nice?” Warner asked.

  “The best.”

  It was a beautiful, two-story house with a large porch and shutters, perched on a private beach. It was just across the narrow bridge that joined a separate part of the island.

  “Then I’ll be taking your house,” Warner said.

  “Very good. You may take your hostages to the presidential bungalow. Though it will be cramped, I’m sure my people will make do. My kitchen staff can bring food as needed.”

  Warner grabbed his cell, clearly expecting to see something that wasn’t there, like a signal.

  “Those do not work here,” Rook said.

  Warner looked disgusted. “Why the fuck not?”