Page 174 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“I fully expect them to make the drop on time,” she heard Rhys say from the other boat. “She’s quite precious to her father—to the other man, too. The gunrunner. They’ll make it.”

“And when they do?” one of Rhys’ men asked.

“When they do, I’ll have my guns. What else?”

“Them, boss. What about them?”

“They should not have played games with me,” Rhys said before taking a sip from his glass. “And so, I will make sure that they never play another game with anyone after the drop.”

Catherine wasn’t sure how long the boats had been on the water. An hour, but more likely two. It was only when the sight of an island loomed in the distance did she finally lift her head to see what awaited her.

She still had no idea where she was.

She knew better than to ask, now.

As the speedboats came to a stop, Catherine took in her surroundings as she was pulled onto a dock.

The island was a good quarter of a mile long, but she couldn’t be sure how wide. For such a secluded place, it was well manicured with tress, tresses, and shrubs. A large, three-level Victorian-style home rested very close to the middle of the island, with a wide cobblestone pathway leading to the front steps. A smaller home, although not by much, sat on the far left side of the island. Two small buildings sat beside both homes, and Catherine could hear rumblings coming from inside the closest one.

Generators, maybe?

The place had to be powered somehow.

It wasn’t so much the strange island, or the beautiful home set apart from the rest of the world that set Catherine on edge. No, she supposed anyone rich and introverted enough could have something like this.

What bothered her the most?

The men standing guard along the beach. Twenty, at least. Catherine tried to do a quick count, but it was hard when she was being moved along. All of the men were dressed in black, wearing full combat gear, and each carried an assault rifle with a chest band full of bullets. Knifes rested in sheaths on their right legs and left arms. None looked at her as she was shuffled past, nor did they give Rhys or his men any attention.

“Walk,” Rami barked from behind her.

Catherine stumbled over tired feet on the dock, and glowered at Rami when he yanked her up by the collar of her dress. “I’m fucking moving, asshole.”

“Be nice,” Rhys said as he strolled on past. “Rami is your new best friend for the next few days.”

Great.

Catherine considered bolting for the ocean.

Rhys chuckled as he eyed her over his shoulder, as though he could read her mind. “Pretty girl—you are a dumb thing, aren’t you?”

Catherine resented that comment, but chose to stay quiet. She had managed to piss him off enough, and was not in the mood to be choked unconscious again.

“Don’t be stupid, Catherine Marcello,” Rhys said with a wicked gleam in his eye. “You’re on a private island in the Gulf of Mexico. Where are you possibly going to go? Keep in mind, if you do run, my men have orders to drown you … just not enough to kill you.”

Catherine shivered.

Who was this man?

Rhys smiled coldly. “Be a good guest, darling. We don’t often have them when we’re out here, and if you tend to irritate me too much, I may let the men have a bit of fun with you.”

She didn’t like what he implied.

The defiant part of her brain stepped up to the plate again.

“Go fuck yourself,” Catherine muttered.

Maybe she was stupid, but goddamn, she was still going down swinging.