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Not really.
The helo would be back to Marakata tomorrow. If all hell broke loose, it could pick me up and return me on short notice.
Before I could change my mind, I lifted the corners of my mouth and chose dare.
“Give me an hour.”
* * * *
I scurried around my suite, shoving a few necessities into a bag. Okay, the sexiest PJs, underwear, and swimsuits I owned may not have been necessities, exactly. But the closest thing to luggage I owned was a yoga bag. Skimpy clothes were all that would fit.
Knowing we’d be skydiving, I jammed my legs into a pair of fuchsia capri leggings and pulled on a matching formfitting sports tank.
I took a deep breath, making yet another quick mental catalog of the preparations I’d made. Forgetting even the smallest detail could be disastrous.
I still couldn’t believe I’d shuffled the schedule around enough to clear a few days. Three full days to feel somewhat normal. For as long as I’d lived on Marakata, freedom had only been glimpsed a few hours at a time on a horse’s back. Even less when scuba diving. Scant minutes while falling through the air on a skydive.
I’d been good at convincing myself that living on an amazing island with every luxury at my fingertips wasn’t a cage. I’d even gone so far as to tell myself this life had been my choice. In some ways it had been. But eventually the day had come when I couldn’t pretend any longer. The day I’d wanted to leave and couldn’t. The day I had met Michael Cooper.
I sucked on my lower lip to taste him again. Replaying our kisses made the corners of my mouth stretch wide. Imagining three whole days with him had me flopping onto my bed dizzy with laughter like a teenage girl. A normal one, not the one I’d been.
I closed my eyes and visualized a montage of fun and flirty dating antics like I’d seen in the many romantic movies and series I’d watched over the year—playing in the surf, kissing, riding horses, sharing meals, more kissing, torrid sex in every position and every corner of the island. I screamed happily into my pillow.
I didn’t have time to bask in my folly. I had ten minutes to get to the airfield.
I took one last look around my suite before turning off all of my monitors. Was this what being taken off life support felt like? Because it took me a minute to find my breath. Even my heart jostled erratically before settling into a rhythm again. This was good though. My aunts would be proud.
Jogging, I hurried out the door. Just as I made it to my Bronco, a call from A&I came in.
I slung my yoga bag into the backseat as I answered. “Gray, what’s up?”
“Zee, oh my gosh. We just got your message about heading off the island for a couple of days. I’m so glad I caught you,” Gray rushed to say.
I balanced my cell phone between my shoulder and ear as I swung up into the driver’s seat. “Everything okay?”
I reached for the keys, which were always left in the ignition, and with a quick twist, I turned the engine over.
“I’ve got a lot— Oh gosh, Zee, I’m feeling as lost as last year’s Easter egg. I don’t even know how or where to begin.”
“Maybe with not so many sweet teas?” I said, glancing over my shoulder as I backed out. “What’s up? Something with the reality show production company?”
“Well, yes, I did find out whose umbrella it’s under. Checked out as a pet project for the Austin heiresses.”
I shifted into drive. “The Winkie twins?”
Olivia and Ophelia Austin had been born into a family fortune built largely on their grandfather’s famous popcorn. But the heiresses had broken into stardom on their own via a kid’s show called The Winkies. Each of the show’s characters was a human version of an emoticon—smiley, frownie, sleepy, etc… The twins played the leads, which were the only two duplicate emoticons in the show’s world. Both were winkies, but Olivia always winked with her left eye, while Ophelia winked with her right.
When the Austin twins had hit puberty, they’d outgrown their stagnant roles and tried to move on to tween TV shows and movies. But the young twins had struggled to keep fans happy when all they ever wanted was for the twins to make their respective winking facial expression for social media photos. Instead of rebelling, as kid stars tended to, they’d parlayed their fame into a multimillion-dollar line of eye makeup.
“Doesn’t sound like their norm,” I mused.
“Yes, yes. Exactly.” Gray pushed out a breath then started right back full throttle, which wasn’t easy with a southern drawl. “Well, something didn’t smell right to me. I mean, the Austin twins are diversifying, but a reality show just doesn’t fit into their trajectory. They’ve clearly wanted to be seen as grown-up, to be taken seriously, so a show about sexuality makes sense, but the pansexual focus, while certainly relevant, comes off as…”
“Reaching?”
“Yes! And I mean, it’s not the first time a young actor or actress was heavy-handed when asserting their adulthood, but this show didn’t seem to be run with their usual attention to detail, so I thought I’d check it against any other recent projects, and I fell down the proverbial rabbit hole. I traced the entire corporate maze of shell companies and get this… Not only are there no other projects of this nature, but there are two entities under the Austin heiresses’ umbrella that have common touchpoints to the trafficking ring trying to get a foothold in the Amazon.”
“Ring? You mean human trafficking?”
