Page 46 of Heist in Paradise

Callum wrapped his burly arms around our hostage, who flailed in confusion as we moved our party into the bathroom. It was still steamy and damp, faintly floral from expensive shampoos. Our boots squelched against wet tiles as we maneuvered into the space. There was a teak artisanal-style bathtub in the corner, raised on a step like a stage. For our next act, Callum dumped our hostage into the tub, his naked body smacking and sliding wetly along the sides. He whimpered and cupped his nose, his eyes wild and horse-like.

We stood around him, masked pillars to his humiliation. The steam dampened my hair, and when I swiped it back, I knew I smeared blood on my forehead. It didn’t bother me, since we were about to get a whole lot messier.

“Last chance,” I said. He jerked and stared up at me fearfully. “Tell me the truth. What is really going on here?”

“N-nothing, man. I swear.”

“Boss.” Nate motioned over at me, then thrust the phone in front of my face. My stomach dropped like a stone. A couple was posed on a sagging couch, both of them grinning and saluting the camera with red cups. Without all the blood and sweat, our man Kane was effortlessly handsome, with his douchey hair and thousand-watt smile, but it was the girl who stole my attention. The long blonde hair, the achingly familiar gray-blue eyes.

My vision went hazy, and the drip-drip of water from the leaking showerheads suddenly deafened my ears. A dull ache in my knuckles tugged me back to earth, where I was clenching my fists at my sides, the gun strangled in my grip.

It wasn’t Olivia. I had to repeat it to myself three times before I could unclench. It wasn’t her.

It was Molly.

Snatching the phone from Nate, I stepped up to the bath edge and snarled. “Who is this?” I shoved the phone in his face. He squinted at it blearily, uncomprehending.

“Wha—I don’t know, man. Just s-some chick I met at a party.”

“When?”

“Couple years ago. What the fuck is the big deal?” He scrambled up, as if prepared to fight his way out of the tub. My fist knocked him back, hitting his temple and causing him to slide back into the tub.

The sight didn’t alleviate my fury. It was beyond me, consuming me. My body felt too tight, my muscles bunched up with tension, like I could snap at any moment.

“Sparrow,” I heard myself grunt hoarsely. It sounded like a plea—it was—but it was also a threat. Madoc, who’d been a silent observer until now, snapped his gaze toward me. Green eyes were bright and lucid, unblinking, waiting. “Make him talk.”

Like a snake uncoiling, Madoc moved with deadly precision, stepping up to the tub and looking down at his prey with hungry curiosity. I could stomach a lot of things, but Madoc had a particular talent for brutality. Kane looked up at him with the same blank panic, and it wasn’t until I stepped back and gave Madoc center stage that it dawned on him: Madoc was the real predator. Kane blanched, turning white, and went very still.

“Hi,” Madoc purred softly. “This is going to hurt very much.”

“Wait.” Kane looked over at me desperately. “Alright, it’s—it’s not my thing, okay? I’m just the scout. I wanted out a long time ago, I swear to God.”

Madoc didn’t move, but there was a distinct click sound, and I saw Olivia’s switchblade appear in his hand by his thigh. Kane clocked it and paled even more.

“Who are you scouting?” Madoc asked in the same soft, silky voice. I purposely ignored the shiver that went up my spine at the sound of it. It should be terrifying, and it was, but it was also fucking mesmerizing. Like pillow talk.

I wondered if Madoc sounded like that during a good fuc—

Stop. I wrenched my mind to a halt, refusing to let my demons win. I needed to stay in the moment. Keep a tight lid on my control so I didn’t snap and kill him.

Kane choked for a moment, fear clogging up his windpipe. He couldn’t see Madoc’s smile behind his rose bandana, but I could. I knew it intimately, the slow, deadly shape of it, the promise.

“It was just—they wanted—I never.”

“You sound like you are missing your tongue.” Madoc raised the knife, his grip loose, almost playful. “Try to find it before I remove it.”

Kane trembled, his knuckles bleached on the edges of the tub. “Girls!” he exploded in a desperate burst. “I find girls.”

“Why?”

“I—it’s just—we pay them. L-Like an escort service. It’s all legit, I swear.”

“Legit, he says. Why don’t I believe you?” Madoc pressed the tip of the blade to his thumb, testing the sharpness. “Ah, well.”

Quick as a viper strike, he gripped Kane’s hair in one hand, gave it a sharp yank so Kane’s face was tilted up toward him, then pressed the knife into the mangled cartilage of his broken nose. Kane went still as death, then seized up in terror. The acidic stench of piss permeated the air.

“P-Please.”