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The ringtone of his phone cut into the conversation of the partygoers still gathered on the deck. He checked the caller ID.
“Dad,” he replied, unable to hide the strain in his voice. “It’s not a good time. I’ll call you back.”
“What’s wrong, Sean?”
“It’s complicated. I’ll have to explain later. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Wait. Armelle is on her way.”
“Now? How does she know where to find me?”
“I traced the call you made. You don’t mind, do you? I reckoned you were going to tell her anyway.”
“Thanks,” he said, disconnecting the call. Perhaps the timing was perfect after all.
Soon, he’d have a boat. Two boats, in fact, if Maya was already on her way. He had ninety minutes to get to the airport.
Guests milled around him, directionless now that Leona was no longer taking charge with her bossy herding. The noise of a helicopter became audible. Sean hurried to the edge of the water. It could only be Bono. The aircraft pressed the tops of the palm trees low and kicked up sand. There wasn’t enough space between the buildings to touch down on land. The helicopter circled the island once and hovered over the sea. A rope descended from the open hatch, and then the slim, toned figure of a woman dressed in black descended. Dreadlocks blew in the wind. Maya. She landed on top of the water. He watched, mesmerized, as she approached with easy strides, walking on the sea like Jesus, a path of water solidifying in front of her.
People screamed and ran. It looked like the end of the world, even to him who knew what Ms. Martin was. She wore cling pants and a tank top with combat boots. Guns and knives were strapped to her hips and thighs. When she reached the sand, the water behind her went back to its original state.
She tapped an earpiece. “All clear, Bono. Put her down on the deserted island and wait for my instruction.” Spotting Sean, she walked straight to him. “Where are they?” She scanned the surroundings with a practiced eye.
“Everyone is gone,” Sean said. “At least on Juan’s team.”
She regarded the skimpily clad people who hovered on the far side of the garden. “Who are they?”
“The party guests.”
“Fuck.” She pressed a finger to her ear again. “They’re gone, Cain.” She looked at Sean from under her lashes as she listened to a reply. After a second, she cut the link and crossed her arms. “Care to tell me why you fucked me over?”
“Fucked you over?”
“You should’ve told Cain Juan had left with his whole team.”
“What difference does it make? Cain has enough team members on the ground to go after them.” He raised his arms. “I needed a boat.”
She tilted her head. “You’ve got a helicopter. Come on.”
When she headed back in the direction from where she’d come, Sean called after her, “Wait! I can’t walk on the water like you.”
She threw a wicked grin over her shoulder. “Looks like you’re going to have to swim.”
She couldn’t be serious. “Asia’s life is at stake, and you’re making jokes?”
Her red lips pressed together in a smile. “It serves you right for withholding information from Cain.”
He ran to keep up with her. “What about Joss and Lann? And Clelia? Are they at the meeting point?”
“Heading over there as we speak.” She stopped at the edge of the water, her hands propped on her hips. “As much as I’d love making you swim, we’re running out of time. I’m going to call Bono back and split the water to create a path for you. When you get to the rope, climb up.”
As she touched her earpiece, the noise of an engine cut into the silence. A small speedboat became visible in the distance.
“Expecting visitors?” Maya asked with narrowed eyes.
“Maybe.” It could be Armelle. “If that’s who I think it is, it should be a friendly visit.”
The boat slowed and made a half-circle in front of the beach. After another turn, the skipper steered it expertly onto the wet sand. A tall woman with straight, blonde hair wearing a brown cat suit got out from behind the wheel. She jumped over the side, the heels of her brown leather boots sinking away in the sand. It didn’t seem to bother her as she made her way to them. Her eyes were a dark, solid brown, and her creamy skin flawless. She was drop-dead beautiful, the model type with long legs, narrow hips, and big breasts. Like Maya, she was armed with weapons—a semi-automatic pistol and knives.
Maya didn’t seem fazed. “A friend, you said?”
“That would be help,” Sean said.
The visitor stopped short of Sean and extended her hand. “Sean Rivers? I’m Armelle.”
Maya’s eyebrows snapped together. “The geomancist? Naughty of you not to tell us about your little rendezvous, Sean.”
“It’s a private matter,” Sean said.
