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Dean taps a button on his watch and a flat-screen appears out of thin air. He turns on the TV and the weather channel comes into focus. Hurricane Isla. She’s already hammered her way through the Virgin Islands and has made a major turn to the right and is now heading our way.
“How long until it hits?” Dean asks.
We watch the reporter give details and updates.
“Tomorrow, but we have no way to fly back to New York because we’ll have to fly right over the storm.”
Dean scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw and it’s seriously becoming an action I enjoy watching him repeat. I think I could sit here and watch him all day, but I turn my attention to the TV instead.
Months of planning down the drain, because there’s no getting off this island. They’ve grounded all flights. I’m stuck here. I can’t be stuck here. I need to get to New York before I lose my chance to kill Bishop for good.
I’m so upset at myself for failing. How was I to know Dean and his men would come to spoil my plan?
No, I’ve been searching for Bishop for far too long to let this minor setback slow me down. I need off this island.
And I need off it tonight.
Chapter 3
Dean
* * *
The wrong woman. A massive storm. What else could go wrong? Oh, and the most important thing, I have no fucking idea where Mia DeWinter is. For all I know, she could already be dead at the hands of Bishop Blackstone.
No, I have to trust that wherever Mia went she has a good enough head on her shoulders to stay out of trouble. At least that’s what I’m hoping for.
I make a call to Jett Hendricks, my right-hand man, tasked with taking one of the four daughters, Gianna DeLaurio, to hide her away.
My eyes meet the alluring eyes of Sophia from across the room. I haven’t had time to actually look at her until now, and she’s beautiful for sure. Her lithe body looks carved by many hours in a gym, or yoga. I’m sure she’s bendable. I push away the direction of my thoughts as Jett answers the phone.
“Jett, status update.”
“I’ve got Gianna, and we’re heading to our secure location.”
“Good news. I’ve had some trouble on my end.”
“Trouble?”
I explain what happened and tell him I need to find Mia to make sure she’s ok before this storm hits. Jett says he’ll make a few calls when my other line beeps through. “Hey, it’s Nico. I have to call you later.” I connect to the other line.
“Dean, everything’s fine here in LA.”
Nico is my man protecting the famous Ava Fairfax in Hollywood. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me all is well on their end. It’s great because shit is blowing up on mine. I need to find Mia, and now. The line goes dead before I can call Stefan to check on Bianca down in Miami.
Two daughters are where they’re supposed to be.
And two are unaccounted for.
Fuck.
Now for riding out the storm and handling this little wildcat standing on the other side of the room.
“Sophia,” I say, directing her to come closer. “I have to ask you what you really had planned for Bishop. Did you really think you could slit his throat and get away with it?”
Sophia raises her chin, a look of determination crossing her features. “I wouldn’t care about getting away, as long as Bishop Blackstone was dead.”
“Who are you? Why the vendetta against Bishop?”
She shuts her mouth, like she was about to tell me and thought better of it before speaking. She stares at me with danger in her eyes, but something hides behind that bravado. Her eyes are full of fire, but sorrow fills her soul.
“That’s my business,” she says.
“Tell me.” If I’m to understand why this woman would risk the life of Mia to kill a man who would have her murdered without a care in the world, then I need her to spill it. “I’m not asking here.”
She mumbles something in Italian and marches back down the hallway. I follow her.
“Don’t think you’re going to leave this island without telling me what you know about him.”
She spins around to face me, a hint of an attitude dwelling beneath her olive skin. “I won’t tell you anything. And I will leave this island, I don’t care if I have to kill you in the process.”
I step closer, getting right up in her face. “You’ll do as I say while you’re a guest in my house.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Also, first rule of security is know what your target looks like so you don’t try to kill the wrong guy.”
“First rule of kidnapping, make sure you’ve taken the right girl.” She brings up her hand, slamming my nose, and I shout out in pain. Fuck. This girl’s a handful. “I’m not your guest, and I’m nobody’s prisoner,” she spits out.
