Page 129 of Fierce Seas


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A shiver had pricked his skin.

The bodyguards moved toward him and jerked their heads, silently instructing him to follow Conchello.

The shiver turned into a chill, and rippled through his entire being.

The staircase to the mezzanine was roped off by a red velvet cord, and two burly men also dressed in black stood on either side. Conchello paid them no attention, but glancing at their eyes, Scott could see they were both drugged and barely holding it together.

“If you need to make any calls you should do it now,” Richard suggested. “There’s no service in the VIP room.”

“I was just about to mention that,” Brad said in Scott’s ear. “You won’t be able to set off the tracker. If there’s a jammer up there we might lose the feed from your glasses. I’m trying to find the source of the interference and disable it.”

“Thanks, Richard,” Scott said casually, pulling his phone from his pocket and placing a call to Elizabeth. “I have to check in with my girl and let her know I’ll be late.”

“Scott, I’m so glad to talk to you,” she exclaimed, answering on the first ring.

“Hey, hon, I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I want to sleep late in the morning. Can you set the alarm for me? Make it a few minutes after midday.”

“Are you asking me to try to set off the tracker just past midnight?”

“That’s right.”

“I doubt mine will work up there, but I’ll give it a shot. By the way, Danny’s set up.”

“Great, thanks. See you when I get home.”

“I love you.”

“Back at ya,” he said cheerily as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Scott, I need to tell—uh—if—and—”

But as he entered the VIP area, her voice broke up, then disappeared.

No cell phone, and the micro transmitter and receiver in his glasses were now dead.

Walking into his private quarters, Conchello was pleased many of his celebrity guests had already left. Most knew the drill. Midnight, and it’s over, but the sexy escorts and a few men still loitered.

Looking up at the large designer clock on the wall, though it was six minutes short of the witching hour, he strutted across to the huge, ancient gong, lifted the mallet, and swung it against the heavy bronze disc. The low-pitched tone hummed loudly through the room.

“Time to go, boys and girls,” he exclaimed. “Don’t forget your party favors.”

Giggling as they picked up the small white boxes sitting on the coffee table, the Barbie doll women sashayed from the room, the eager men they’d been entertaining at their sides. His banker and stockbroker followed, but Sonny quickly stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

“Not yet,” he said tersely. “Scott, meet my executive team. Miles Swanson is my personal banker, Steven Forsythe takes care of my stock portfolio, and Bryan Hayes on the couch over there is a property developer. He and I will be building a new resort.”

“Do you still need me, boss?” Ewen asked meekly as Bryan rose to his feet and walked across to join them. “I really am feeling—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sonny snapped, cutting him off and scowling at him.

The fear in Ewen’s eyes filled Sonny’s dark heart, but like a ravenous vampire, he always craved more. Bolting the door, he paused to close his eyes and savor the moment. Inside the Chamber of Conscience, Rosemary waited. Together they would watch the men squirm and plead and sob for mercy. Then the dummy representing David Clark and Dan Miller would be sent down the chute.

Ewen would follow.

Sonny no longer trusted him.

His eyes popped open.

Turning around, he focused on Scott Specter.

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