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“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh. I think so. They came out of… nowhere. I was just swimming, and I heard a noise and…”
I turned her over, cupping the side of her face. “We need to get back to the house. We’re getting off this island.” I glanced back over my shoulder, the boat no longer easy to spot. The fuckers would be back. Of that I was certain. I helped Zoe to her feet, keeping behind her as we trudged toward the house. As soon as we were at the steps, I threw one last look at the cove. The boat had disappeared.
What in God’s name was going on and how had we found?
“What’s happening?” she asked as I started to guide her up the stairs.
“Get your stuff together. We’re leaving as soon as you do.”
As soon as we were on the landing, she turned to me, her eyes searching mine. She rose onto her tiptoes, kissing my cheek, her heated breath scintillating but her harsh whisper a reminder of my position and how seriously I needed to take it.
“Thank you, Maddox. I’m terrified but you make it easier.” When she pulled away, she noticed the watch still attached to my wrist. “You ruined your watch.”
“Oh, honey. I’d lose every fucking possession I had to keep you safe. You need to know that.”
The way she cupped my face was different, so gentle yet her face was so forlorn. “I know you would. That’s why I love you. Maybe one day you can love me back.”
Goddamn the woman. Couldn’t she tell how hard I’d fallen for her, how much I wanted to wrap myself around her, making passionate love to her for weeks on end?
She disappeared into the shadows, and I turned around to face the water once more, finally sliding my weapon back into my jeans. “I’m coming for you fuckers. And when I find you, I promise you that you will suffer.”
The wind had picked up in intensity during the thirty minutes we remained at the house. I alternated looking out the window at the swaying trees and in the rearview mirror. While I couldn’t detect we’d been followed, it was obvious the perpetrator knew exactly where we were. I kept my foot on the pedal as I roared through town heading toward the mostly private airstrip, the location used by the rich and famous when they arrived or departed. I’d been lucky to get one of the few storage facilities, bartering with a watch that had cost almost as much as the one she’d bought me.
I would find someone to repair it. The gift, like the woman, was far too precious to be ignored. I glanced in her direction as I rounded the last corner. Now her expression was blank, her hands folded in her lap as she stared out the windshield.
“We’re almost there,” I told her.
“What if they shoot us down? Did you think about that?”
“They won’t.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Cause I’ll hold you to them.” She tipped her head, offering a slight smile.
“Trust me, little lamb. I’m a damn good pilot.”
“I haven’t figured out anything you aren’t good at, including saving damsels in distress.”
I shook my head and accelerated through the open gate as I headed for the hangar where the plane was kept. It was a secure facility, manned by someone twenty-four hours a day. I paid a pretty penny for it, but in my mind, the money spent was worth every penny.
That’s why when I noticed the regular door standing open, flopping back and forth in the wind, every muscle in my body tensed.
“Are you sure we’re going to get off the island with this level of wind?” she asked, fortunately not honing in on my sudden stiffness.
“We’ll get off this blasted island. Do me a favor and stay right here,” I told her as I parked the Jeep, throwing it into park but leaving it running.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just want to check with the guy inside. He handles the flight schedules. I might need to pay him a little extra to bump us in line. I’ll be right back.” I didn’t give her time to offer any kind of rebuttal or argue with me, slipping onto the concrete and scanning the area. There was activity at one of the other hangars, a vehicle heading toward it. While I’d refused to listento the radio on the way for fear of scaring her even more, the bad feeling refused to leave.
We were smack in the middle of hurricane season, the irregular weather patterns offering up storms at a moment’s notice. I waited until I was close to the swinging door before yanking out my weapon, keeping it in both hands. As I moved toward the door, I listened for any sounds. The only damn thing I heard sounded like a leaky roof. Given it hadn’t rained yet, I knew better than to think I was identifying the sound correctly.
I stepped backward, ensuring Zoe remained in the Jeep where I told her to stay. She was there but I sensed her nervousness. After taking a deep breath, I moved closer to the door, darting my head in. There was no one in sight, which wasn’t necessarily unusual, but my sixth sense was overactive.
Keeping against the building, I entered, twisting my body one direction then the other, both hands firmly wrapped around the Glock. Even though I took cautious steps, the sound of my boots against the floor echoed. The closer I came to my Cirrus, the louder the dripping sound. I constantly scanned the area, refusing to call out to the attendant.
Something was wrong. I was certain of it. I bent down, noticing something that appeared to be either oil or gasoline dripped on the floor to the left of my plane. That wasn’t good. If the plane had been sabotaged, then we were shit out of luck.
