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“I don’t see anything funny about this.”
“It’s not funny. It’s just… That’s Emily. No one tells her anything.”
“If she’s an adult, that’s normal.”
“You’re right. I couldn’t have stopped her. And she managed to get away from the guy. That’s how strong she is. He found her. He found her in the place where I took her to be safe. So I screwed up. I couldn’t protect her.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s…”
“Yeah?”
“She’s fine. She’s still on the island. Has a new guy. Has a job.”
“Then why are you going after this guy?”
“Because he’s a fucking menace to society and I want him to pay.”
“Maybe he is paying.”
“If he were paying, he’d be in fucking prison. But there’s no record. I can’t get any information out of anyone.”
“Maybe he’s dead.”
“Then there’d be a death certificate. There isn’t one. He just vanished into thin air. He was at a hospital, with the wound to his shoulder—”
“His shoulder?”
“Yeah. His shoulder. It’s where I shot the fucker, remember?”
Luke had a scar on his shoulder. Where he got shot.
Luke. Where is Luke? Why hasn’t he contacted me?
My phone is gone. I can’t contact him now.
“I’m hungry.”
“How long have you been here?”
“You tell me. You were apparently here when I woke up.”
“They just put me in here with you. Just a little while before you woke up.”
“What day is it?”
“I don’t know. Friday, I think.”
I open my mouth to speak but he talks over me.
“Maybe Thursday.”
Monday was my first day on the job with the Wolfes. Then I left the next morning, which was Tuesday.
The explosion was Wednesday.
Okay, so Thursday makes sense.
“Why did they put you in here with me?”
“I don’t know. But I promise you I won’t harm you.”
“Oh my God. They want you to hurt me?”
“They’re probably thinking something will happen between us. Or they may try to force me to hurt you. I promise you that I won’t.”
My blood runs cold once more. Who are these people? And what do they want with me? I don’t know anyone.
Except the Wolfes.
And apparently Buck works for the Wolfes as well.
“This must have something to do with the Wolfes,” I say.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because that’s the only thing you and I have in common.”
He doesn’t respond at first.
“I suppose you’re right,” he says finally, “but I’m not working for the Wolfes right now. And I don’t know why this drug organization would have any ties to the Wolfes at all.”
“But that’s the only tie you and I have.”
“So it would seem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he says, “that there must be some other reason you’re here.”
I drop my jaw. Why would some drug cartel have any interest in me?
My vision is clearing a bit. Finally.
I can see Buck. He’s tall and muscular, wearing jeans, army boots, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. His hair is long and dark, covering his ears, and his eyes are brown.
A good-looking man, definitely Navy SEAL material.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “But there’s some reason you’re here. These guys don’t take people for no reason.”
“Maybe they do. Maybe they saw me and—”
“No. They don’t. You’re here for a reason, but I don’t know what it could be.”
“You really don’t think it’s the Wolfes.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t know why this organization would have any interest in the Wolfe family.”
“Then why?” I asked. “Why me?”
“Tell me. Tell me everything you’ve done in the last week or two. There’s got to be some connection.”
“I just came to LA because my father had a liver biopsy.”
“What’s your name?” he asks. “Your real name.”
I swallow. “Katelyn. Katelyn Mary Brooks.”
“Your parents’ names?”
“James and Farrah Brooks.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I told you. There’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
“What else have you done the last couple weeks?”
“I just returned from the island—the retreat center—to Manhattan. And I was working for the Wolfes. Well, starting. I didn’t get very far.”
“The island. Billionaire Island.
“Billionaire Island?”
“It’s kind of the new name for Wolfe Island. What people are calling it.”
“Well, it was Wolfe Island, yeah. That’s where they built the retreat center. For the other women like me.”
“So you just came to Manhattan, and you were starting work for the Wolfes. What else?”
“Well…I did meet a man.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. His name is Luke. Luke Johnson.”
“Tell me about Luke Johnson.”
“He’s a waiter. At a restaurant called The Glass House. Except he left. He’s here in LA now. He said he had to take care of some things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“I see.”
“What do you mean you see? You can’t possibly think Luke has something to do with this.”
“I don’t know for sure, but the vagueness of your statement has me concerned.”
“Vagueness?”
“Yes. When was the last time he contacted you?”
“He… He came to my hotel room. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone.”
Buck meets my gaze. “Houston, I think we have a problem.”
