Page 75 of Heist in Paradise

“Meine Schwester.” She tugged on Callum insistently. At our blank looks, she exhaled in frustration and carefully formed her words. “My…sister…is…boat.”

“She was in the boat?” Callum translated slowly.

But the girl shook her head again. She pointed down the far end of the tunnel, toward the east entrance. “Still. Still.”

“Still in the boat?”

The girl nodded.

Footsteps pounded around the corner, revealing Zola, her face stricken as she rushed to Nate’s side. Nate batted her away half-heartedly, but he was starting to sag.

I locked eyes with Callum, a terrible fizzling understanding between us. I pressed a bloody finger to my ear.

“Sparrow. Come in.”

No response.

My tongue lashed over my dry lips, doom tart in my mouth. “Princess? Talk to me.”

Radio silence.

Zola turned to me with glistening eyes. “They’re out of range.”

And we were out of time.

OLIVIA

As much as I loathed to admit it, Madoc was good at what he did. Even if what he did was commit cold-blooded murder and taunt pretty girls like me for kicks.

I watched him from my new post in the tree as he stood behind the dunes, his gun silenced and steady. He shot the first man when he stepped too close to Madoc’s hiding spot. The man went down silently, blood splattering, then oozing between his eyes. The sight was somehow less disturbing in night vision, as if I were far removed from its reality.

Madoc zipped forward and dragged the body by its feet behind the dune, out of sight. Then he searched the body, quickly and efficiently.

“Stealing his candy?” My mouth spoke before my brain, my voice weaker than it should be.

Madoc didn’t look up at me, but I felt his glare all the same.

Movement caught my eye, another man beelining directly toward Madoc. “Incoming,” I said, twisting my lens. “He’s seen the tracks, Sparrow—what are you doing?”

Instead of hiding, as I expected, Madoc popped up like a whack-a-mole, giving the man a half-second of shock before he raised his gun. Madoc used that split second to shoot him between the eyes. His accuracy was impressive, even if it made my stomach roll uncomfortably.

Two down, six to go.

“That was risky,” I said, my body running hot, my thighs sweating where they straddled the branch.

“Shut up.”

I did.

Watching Madoc drag the second body was oddly calming, which I knew was my brain’s weird way of coping. Protecting itself. I’d never seen someone die before, and now I’d seen two in the last few minutes. They were piling up in my subconscious, tucked in the corner like skeletons in the attic.

My gaze snapped to the boat, where voices began to shout and gesture. “Sparrow.”

“I know.” There was no fear in his voice, just flat determination. I understood why Jax relied on him so much—the world could end, and Madoc would still be as solid, as immovable, reliable.

Safe.

I shook my head at the thought. Ridiculous. Madoc was clearly an unfeeling killer, remorseless and cold.