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Now I sat on the back deck, staring out at the tropical foliage, wondering how long he’d been gone. It seemed like more than a half a day, although even the bright sunlight shifting in the sky didn’t offer any real estimate of time.
Growing bored, I returned to the house, moving toward the bookshelf. Maybe I could become engrossed in a book. After a few seconds of staring yet not being able to recall what I’d looked at, I hoped a glass of wine would help. I made my way to the cellar, marveling at the collection he’d amassed. Selecting was more difficult than I thought it would be.
I finally grabbed a bottle of merlot, ready to head back into the main house when my curiosity got the better of me. The man had practically challenged me with his rule against entering his private room. I wanted to see his collection of weapons. I’d only gotten a brief glimpse of what was behind the door, so naturally, the bad girl inside of me was determined to find out what he was hiding.
He’d hurriedly given me the keys for the cellar, and I assumed one of the four on the ring fit the lock on the solid wood door. Of all the beautiful creations he’d crafted inside the house, the door leading to his secret world was crude in design, but I had no doubt thick and impenetrable. I moved in front of it, realizing that without a key, it would be virtually impossible to pick the lock. On the fourth try, I twisted my hand, able to open the door.
It was pitch black inside, but I found a light switch near the door. Once the small space was flooded with a warm hue, I took a deep breath. There were dozens of weapons inside from handguns to rifles, several that were automatic. As I studied the space, a strange sense of the man settled in. With the story he’d told me, it was easy to understand why he wanted an entire arsenal at his disposal. What I couldn’t figure out is whether he believed he was still in danger. Had he only told me a part of the story?
I walked inside, immediately feeling as if I’d violated his trust. Invading his space would be my little secret to keep. Once I stood in the center of the room, I turned in a full circle, half admiring and half terrified of the power hidden behind the thick walls leading to the room. I had no business being here. Whatever I’d hoped to find wasn’t inside this room. A slight chill shifted down my spine as I thought about all the demons remaining in his mind.
As I headed for the door, I noticed something on the floor. A box of some kind. After glancing over my shoulder, I moved toward it, chewing on my inner lip. Rules were meant to be broken. Right? Somehow, I doubted he’d see it that way. Kneeling, I took a few seconds before pulling the box into my hands, realizing they were shaking. It was a simple steel box with a latch, the exterior showing its age. As I opened it, I was forced to take a deep breath. Inside were various medals, dog tags, and several photographs.
A lump formed in my throat as I pulled out one of the small boxes, gingerly opening the lid. He’d been awarded a Medal of Honor. The fact he’d hidden it away confirmed he wanted nothing to do with being considered a hero. I returned it in the exact position, almost becoming emotional. He’d left a part of himself in on the battlefield, trying to put the pieces together when he continued to believe he was to blame.
Survivor’s guilt.
As a single tear slipped down my cheek, I started to close the box, but the photograph in view drew my attention. Picking it up, I couldn’t help but smile even as a second salty bead trickled past my lashes. I’d recognize his chiseled face and strong jaw anywhere. His smile was huge, the five men lined up next to him also laughing or smiling. There was no doubt the men were close, relying on each other. I ran my finger across his face, still struggling with my emotions. How had the brutal yet caring soldier managed to dig his way into my heart so quickly?
I closed my eyes, envisioning his face once again until I heard a noise. Shit. Santiago had returned. If he found me in his private room, my ass would be on fire for days to come. I returned the photograph, quickly shutting the box and pushing it back into what I hoped was the correct position. I scampered from the room, wincing when the door made a thud as I closed it. After locking and shoving the keys into my shorts’ pocket, I grabbed the wine and tried to act as if I hadn’t been snooping.
My tummy fluttered from a rush of excitement. I couldn’t wait to see him again. It was silly, acting as if he was returning from a day at the office or a business trip, but it allowed the uncertainty to maintain a backseat.
Still in my bare feet, I was able to reach the kitchen silently, placing the wine on the table as I scanned the living room. I could swear I’d heard footsteps. Where had he gone? I moved toward the window overlooking the back, the stream of sun making it difficult to see almost anything. I headed for the back door and once I pulled it open, I noticed it appeared he was heading deeper into the trees. Shit. He’d thought I’d gone to the beach, ignoring his rules.
I walked outside, ready to rush off the porch, teasing him as he’d done with me a couple of days before.
Then I heard a voice and the fragile hold I’d had on my sanity came crashing down.
“Hello, my sweet Willow. Did you really think you could get away from me that easily?”
CHAPTER13
Fifteen minutes earlier
Santiago
As I touched down on the helipad, bringing Kalani’s father back with me, I noticed Jameson waiting nearby. I’d communicated my return to let him know the flight had been without incident and he’d mentioned he had some news to share with me.
Fortunately, dealing with the hospital had been less time consuming that I’d anticipated. No one had bothered asking me too many questions. Jameson had paved the way with phone calls, an entire team of doctors standing by to help the young girl. At least two of them spoke Hawaiian, which made everything that much easier.
I’d picked up a couple of quick items then left as fast as possible, my head aching from the constant barrage of questions running through my mind. After helping Makoa from the chopper, I headed in Jameson’s direction, wishing I’d insisted that Willow remain at the farm until my return.
It was Jameson who’d insisted that he’d know if anyone was approaching the island.
“How’s Kalani?” he asked.
“I didn’t stay around long enough to learn the prognosis, but she handled the ride well.”
“Good.”
“What did you learn?”
“Your instincts were correct. I had to pull in a few favors, but a buddy of mine found paperwork indicating that both Cavanaugh Pharmaceuticals and a Cartagena Industries are planning on merging, which will make them the largest pharmaceutical corporation in the world. I took that information and did some old-fashioned snooping. Cartagena has never been challenged, other than in a Brazilian newspaper about a year ago. It would seem they developed what some scientists have called is the next Oxycodone, supposedly without the side effects. Now, I don’t think I need to tell you that once that news hits the streets, their stock would go through the roof.”
“Why supposedly?”
“I thought you’d pick up on that. The reporter I mentioned somehow got his hands on a sample product, reporting that it was highly addictive even after a single dose.”
