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“Juan, I—”
He stilled her with a finger on her lips. “Shh. I’m enjoying this.”
Jeanne stood deadly still next to her husband while he watched the recording. When he finally pressed the pause button, it was so quiet in the room Asia heard nothing but her own breathing.
The man who’d practically masturbated during the whole ordeal got to his feet. “Juan, buddy, we’ll just give you some privacy and go.”
“Everybody stays,” Juan said. “It won’t be much of a party without people, will it?”
The man shifted his weight, but he stayed put.
Jeanne gave a high-pitched laugh. “I was only joking about the killing. You know that, right? I was playing a part.”
He cupped her nape in a tender gesture, his stare piercing. “I always had this nasty suspicion, but all the evidence pointed at revenge. You were the best friend who stepped in to soothe the mourning widower. It seemed so right, so innocent. You’re good. I’ll give you that. Blaming it on the Gordon family was clever. I took out every single person in that family.”
“Yes,” Jeanne whispered. “I know. You did the right thing. You avenged Marina’s death.”
“I never loved you, Jeanne,” he said, “not as much as her.”
Jeanne’s eyes widened, her expression frozen between shock and disbelief. With his fingers tightening around her neck, he held her at arm’s length, lifted the gun, and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through her forehead. A spray of blood painted the white sofa red. Jeanne’s body went slack. He loosened his grip, and her lifeless form hit the floor.
Asia gripped the edge of the table behind her with one hand and slammed the other over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Shivers racked her body. Her skin turned clammy and cold.
“Clean up the mess,” Juan said to his guard in a business-like tone. “Dump the body in the sea by the shark rehabilitation pool.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now the party is over.” Juan walked to Sean and peered around his shoulder at Asia. “Would you like me to kill them?”
She crossed her arms to cover her breasts. “Kill them?”
“You only have to say the word.” He turned the gun on Eric. “Maybe him? Or Sam?” He pointed the barrel at the man who’d tried to run off. “I think Sam got off on watching you. Would it be a just punishment?”
“No,” Asia exclaimed. “You don’t have to kill them.”
Juan looked around the room. “That’s settled then. I won’t shoot anybody else today. I think you can all do with a strong drink. Cocktails at the beach bar for everyone.”
The guests didn’t wait to be invited twice. They all but trampled each other in a stampede from the room until only Asia, Sean, the guard, and Juan were left. The guard carried Jeanne’s body to the balcony and threw it over the rail. It hit the sand with a thump. Picking up Asia’s clothes, Juan handed them to her. She took the pile of garments with a shaking hand and turned her back on the men to pull them on. The guard left the room, and by the time she was dressed, he returned with a bucket and a bottle of bleach. She tried not to look as he kneeled in front of the sofa.
Her brain had gone into shut-down mode, refusing to function, but something nagged at the back of her mind, something important. With it came a feeling of dread.
“Ready?” Juan asked, though he could see for himself she was dressed.
Sean had pulled on his clothes, too.
“I’m glad the fishing trip sucked, Marina,” Juan said with a tight smile. “I should thank the ocean that I didn’t have one, single bite today.”
Marina—that was it. That was what had stuck in her brain. He’d said that morning he wanted to call her Marina. Jeanne had called his late wife Marina.
She swallowed. “I’m not Marina.”
Still holding the gun in his free hand, Juan cupped her cheek. “You look just like her.” Pain filtered into his eyes. “The resemblance is so uncanny, if I was religious, I would’ve thought you’d returned from the dead.” He spoke wistfully, as if to himself. “Or maybe you have.”
This was an even bigger mess than what she’d imagined. This wasn’t about a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was a dangerous criminal who saw a crazy similarity between her and a dead woman.
She stepped away from Juan to escape his touch and glanced at Sean. His jaw was clenched so hard it looked like it might snap. Every muscle in his body was pulled tight.
“I’m Asia,” she said carefully, not wanting to provoke the killer facing them. “I’m just a massage therapist.”
“You’ll be so much more,” Juan said.
Wetting her dry lips, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“Marina was very young when I met her. We didn’t have sex before we were married. She was very Catholic, and I respected her too much.”
