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“There are judges who award points based on the competitions. The team with the least points gets cut,” Gwen said. “I’ve never seen the judges on camera in previous seasons, but my guess is there are people behind the scenes making these decisions. And what if—”
“One of the mystery judges is our bad guy,” Oliver finished for her.
Yup, shit just got even creepier. Human trafficking? Fuck that. And serial stalker-murdery types? Fucking fuck them, too.
I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but what if Harley’s ex was already dead? The book Kiss the Girls had given me damn nightmares back in the day about a similar subject. And spoiler: they were serial-collector-type guys who should’ve had their dicks cut off and used to choke them to death. I remembered watching the movie adaptation with Morgan Freeman, and I was certain it was around then I’d made the decision to do everything in my power to serve and protect the innocent.
I shook free my memories and focused on Gwen as she shared, “I hacked their system and did a little rearranging to ensure we’re all on the same team this week. I picked two other women I thought were—”
“What?” I blurted, and Gwen’s smile said it all. “My type?” Please tell me you’re not still trying to match me up.
“I honestly don’t know your type at this point because you . . .” Gwen cleared her throat.
Thank you for not finishing that sentence. No one there needed to know there was zero consistency when I’d attempted to do all the swiping on that dating app. Not that I’d gone on any dates.
“Five contestants received special invites to the event—two males, a brunette female, and two sisters—so I didn’t attempt to bribe them to quit,” Gwen explained. “One of those sisters is blonde, unsure about the other, so that’s why I chose them to be placed in our group. I didn’t want to split them up.”
“Were you able to see if the six missing women from the other seasons had applied or were an invitee?” Oliver asked her.
“Harley confirmed his ex was invited,” Gwen said. “But only two of the six missing women were invited. Almost all the invitees have a social media presence, though. So, it’s possible most of the invitees are extended the invitations because of their follower count. You know, to help boost the show’s views when it airs. One of the invitees I placed in our group has a big following on TikTok, so that’s probably why she was invited.”
“Wait.” That doesn’t add up. “I thought the missing women didn’t have strong ties to the world to decrease the chances anyone notices when they disappear? Why in the hell would our suspect pick someone with a high following count on her Insta or whatever? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yeah, but the two women who went missing with an online presence didn’t have any family and moved around a lot. The person, or people, who took them clearly did their homework,” Mya explained. “And sounds like our suspect is rigging the game to ensure their favorites wind up in the top three, which may narrow our list to one of the show’s judges.”
“And what’s the background for the two women you placed in our group?” Mason asked. “You said one is a TikToker?”
“Yeah, Lucy and Charlotte Braxton. Lucy is the TikToker. I couldn’t find anything on her sister,” Mya said. “I also couldn’t find any address for them. No known information at all, other than what Lucy shares on TikTok.”
“You run their faces and names through our program to learn more?” Since it was all last minute, I wasn’t sure if they’d had time to do that yet, but knowing Gwen and Mya, it’d be on their to-do list.
“I forwarded what we had about every contestant to Sydney before we boarded. No photo for Charlotte. And her TikToker sister, Lucy, must use face altering filters for her posts, because our software couldn’t get a read. And that might push her up higher on the targeted list, especially since she’s blonde.”
“Guess it’s good you placed them in our group, then,” I said with a nod. “We can keep a closer eye on ’em.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure we’ll learn more about the sisters when we meet them,” Gwen added with a touch of hesitancy. “Since we’ll be, um, snuggled pretty close together.”
“Say what?” Oliver frowned.
“The details aren’t listed on the main server I hacked, but I think we’ll wind up sharing a suite together. Possibly beds, too,” Gwen said. And now I knew why she hadn’t shared these details back at the hangar in the presence of her father. “Looks like they have three suites prepped. Three beds in each suite.”
“Yeah, those numbers aren’t numbering,” I spoke my thoughts out loud. “Nine beds for twenty-four of us?”
“My guess is that each team gets a suite. Each couple gets a bed. And one unlucky, or maybe so-called lucky, couple winds up getting their own room from each team,” Gwen noted.
Carter focused on Gwen, and there was no mistaking the grit to his tone when he snapped out, “I’m sure as hell not sharing a bed with you.”
Gwen peered at him, a comical look crossing her face. “I’m struggling to believe a man like you is afraid of my dad.”
“I could be your dad,” Carter bit back.
“Aw . . .” Gwen ran her nail down the buttons of Carter’s dress shirt. “Daddy.”
“You walked right into that one, man.” Oliver slapped Carter’s back, and Carter tossed him an if-looks-could-kill glare that even had a shiver flying up my spine.
“Anyway,” Mya said, rolling her eyes at Oliver, “all that matters is we find out what happened to the missing women.”
“I should also mention we’re going light on this op.” Carter’s shoulders dropped a touch.
