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It seems he doesn’t yet know who I am in this Collective to speak with that level of contempt in his voice. “He has a long-standing history of molesting young girls. Perhaps he found her too tempting.”

“If you don’t mind, we’d just like to have a look for ourselves.” Dominic glances back toward the beefy guy and jerks his head.

As he passes me on the way inside, the asshole knocks me in the shoulder and my muscles burn with the urge to clock the bastard in the skull.

Louis stands off from Dominic, quiet as always, staring back at me, while my head spins with a few different scenarios on how this will all play out.

The beefy asshole shooting me in the back.

All three of them dragging me into the car.

Makaio jumping out from the shadows, killing them all, and me having to explain the shit to Friedrich.

Awkward silence hangs on the air between the three of us, while the stranger tromps through the cabin. When he appears again, his eyes are brimming with accusation. “There’s blood everywhere in there.”

“Yes. There is. It appears Boyd had a bit of a confrontation with an investigator who was after him. I suspect he might be the reason the two fled.” I nod my head toward the shallow grave just outside of the floodlight. “You’ll find what’s left of him over there.”

With jerky movements, the two older men twist around, and Louis hobbles over to the spot I pointed out, before he turns back to Dominic and nods.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but why do you have blood on your shoulder then?” If I don’t end up killing the bastard behind me tonight, it’ll be a miracle. “Come to think of it, why’s his car still here if he fled so quickly?”

I don’t bother to turn and face the asshole, and instead keep my eyes on Dominic. “Everyone on this island would recognize his car. Surely they’d take notice of a young girl after his many indiscretions, as well. Might’ve taken the investigator’s instead.”

“No.” He moves closer into my personal space and my fingers twitch with the compulsion to draw my gun and take my chances. “I think you’re lying. I think you know exactly where the girl is. Boyd, too.”

“Can’t say I give a fuck what you think.” Still keeping my back to him, I flex my fingers around the gun’s grip tucked inside my waistband. “And I’ll kindly ask that you back off before I teach you a lesson in boundaries.”

“I’d like to see you try—”

“Enough!” Tugging his cigar from his lips, Dominic glances over his shoulder toward Louis, and gives a silent nod that could mean any number of things, but I’m guessing it signals my death.

The moment I catch sight of Louis pulling his gun from its holster, I take hold of my own weapon, and feel the tight grip of my shoulders. In one sweeping move, I pivot just enough to aim the gun at the ribcage of the man beside me.

Before I can pull the trigger, the quiet pop of gunfire stops me short. The vacant, bewildered look on the beefy guy’s face seems a muted reaction for the hole in his skull that marks the bullet’s path. The grip of my shoulder falls away, followed by a hard thud, as he crumples to the ground beside me.

I blow out a breath and nod, my muscles releasing their tight grip of my chest, and I shift my attention back to the two remaining Blacksuits. “Well, that was an interesting turn of events.”

“To be frank, I don’t give a good goddamn why you were here or where the girl is. As far as I’m concerned, we never saw either of you.” Dominic’s eye squints as he shoves the cigar back between his lips and puffs it. “Isn’t that right, Louis?”

“Never liked that bastard.” The foreign sound of Louis’s grumbled voice only intensifies the pulses of shock still beating through me. “Boyd either, for that matter.”

The two older Blacksuits make their way back toward the car, and with one hand on the passenger door, Dominic twists to face me again. “I’ll send a cleaner to take care of the mess. Make sure you get that shoulder looked at, Lucian. Wounds fester when you ignore them.”

Chapter 63

Isadora

I open my eyes to the dimly lit room, staring up at the ceiling where a bright ornate painting of Greek gods in battle casts a glow overhead. Lifting my head from the pillow, I frown at the unfamiliar surroundings, and scan the room until I find a shadowy figure sitting off in the corner, staring at me. Double-blinking, I struggle to focus through the fog of exhaustion clouding my head.

“Where am I?”

“My bedroom.” The unmistakable sound of Lucian’s voice hits like a tuning fork, and the relief I feel brings tears to my eyes. “Dr. Powell removed the bullet from your ankle. He gave you something for the pain. You’ve been out for a whole day.”

Resistance keeps my arms from moving when I try to sit up, and I crane my neck to find black leather cuffs attached to my wrists.

A gasp of panic escapes me, and I wriggle against them.

“You kept trying to pull out your I.V. My bed was the only one equipped with restraints.”