Mr. Corporate (Mister #3) (24 page)

I expect him to yell. I expect him to scream, and tell me I’m a selfish, stubborn woman who thinks she’s always right. I expect all the things I’ve gotten from him in the past.

But he doesn’t do any of that. He doesn’t even frown.

He takes my hand and drags me through the trees, pulling me along with him, so hard I think my shoulder will come out of the socket.

“West,” I say, trying my best to keep up. “Slow down!” The branches and leaves are drenched with rain, which has stopped just as suddenly as it started. But they slap me in the face and water gets in my eyes so I have to close them and hope I don’t fall as West continues to freak out and drag me along.

He says nothing until we get to the boat house on the lagoon. Then he stops and looks me in the eye as he places both of his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “Victoria. I need you to listen to me. OK?”

I nod.

“You’re going to stay here. You’re going to hide in the trees until I come back. And if any of those men from that island come while I’m gone, you’re going to run in that direction as fast as you can.”

He points off to the left and my gaze follows.

“There’s no beach on that side of the island. OK? There’s no beach so it won’t be easy for them to find you. So you make your way through the brush, as fast as you safely can, and then wait until I call for you before coming out. Do you understand?”

“Where are you going?” I ask, suddenly very frightened.

“I’m going back to the house to close up the safe. Maybe they’ll think we’re in there and it will give us enough time to find a good hiding place.”

We both look up as we hear the sound of an approaching helicopter.

“Do what I say, Tori. I mean it. These people are not fucking around and they are here for us.”

“Why, though? Why are they after us?”

“We can think about that later. Right now, we just need to hide. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you. Now run. We don’t have much time and I’m not going until I see you run.”

“West—”

“Run, Tori. I’m dead fucking serious. And don’t stop until you can see the ocean.”

I want to kiss him or hug him. Or say I’m sorry I didn’t trust him and left that note and now he has to clean up my mistake.

But I don’t. I figure the best way to show him all that is to follow his directions.

So I take off into the trees. There is no path. Just underbrush and tree trunks and bugs. I have no shoes on, so my feet are bleeding almost immediately as I step on rocks, and sticks, and all the tiny disgusting things that live on this island.

It takes me minutes to be brave enough to look behind me. I didn’t get that far. I can still see the red roof of the boathouse through a break in the leaves.

The helicopter is louder. So loud I have to clamp my hands over my ears. It’s circling the island above. I stop when I get to a small clearing with a tall tower in the middle, afraid to move for fear of being seen from the air.

So I hide under the tree cover and watch it. Whatever cargo it’s carrying is hanging by ropes or chains. It’s nothing but a box.

What’s in that box?

I crawl on my hands and knees to the tower, then climb up as fast as I can. It’s only about thirty feet high, but that’s higher than the tallest trees, so I have a good view.

The men are being dropped down by a line, one after another. There must be no good place to land here. “Please, let West already be leaving the house. Please, please, please.” I chant it over, and over, and over.

Men are yelling on the other side of the island. Shouting, then shooting.

Holy fucking shit.

“Please, please, please,” I say, climbing back down the tower. It’s my mantra and I chant it as I run. There’s a small trail, but I don’t take it. What if they fan out and start looking down all the trails?

I keep to the brush, trying to put some distance between me and the shouting.

A branch catches my shirt and it rips as I keep going. Red lines appear on my arms and legs as the thin branches of young trees slap against my body.

The helicopter circles overhead again. Like they are searching for someone.

Me?

Or West?

I don’t know, I just cower in the brush and hide under long fern fronds. When it moves on to another spot, I continue my run. A few minutes later I can hear the ocean, then see it. And I’ve run out of room.

This is where I’ll have to stay.

This is where I’ll have to hide.

Chapter Thirty-Two - Weston

I lose precious seconds looking for the guns I don’t have on me. I didn’t expect Tori to walk off. I should’ve fucking put them somewhere close the moment I woke up.

But I didn’t.

I totally fucked up and now I need them and I don’t have them. And these fuckers are here to kill us. I just know it.

I don’t want to think of the how or the why. I don’t want to think of the number one suspect on my very short list who might’ve sold me out. I don’t want to think of Tori, out there in the trees, running for her life.

I just need to get those guns.

Last night I woke up and stared out the window, planning what we might need to do today. None of those plans included a Chinook helicopter filled with mercenaries.

That’s what they are. I know it. They’re not soldiers. This is most definitely a private operation.

The sound of the helicopter becomes deafening and I know they are hovering over the house. The guns are at the bottom of the dry bag, and the bag is… where is it? Where the fuck did I put it? I left it—

There. I grab it off the kitchen counter and run for the stairs. I practically leap down them, five at a time, and rush towards the safe, slamming it closed and arming the lock. I’m just about to leave when I see the silver envelope, slide on the smooth floor as I pick it up and stuff it into the bag, and then, just when I think I’ll get out of here in time…

They kick the front door open upstairs.

My body freezes but my mind is filled with thoughts.

There has to be a way out of the basement.
Think, Corporate
.

It’s not my voice in my head, it’s Paxton Vance’s. Mr. Mysterious would not have a basement with no exit. He’s far too paranoid for that. And I know—I just know—this is his house.

I have twenty, maybe thirty, seconds before they come down here.

Think!

Why the fuck didn’t we explore this whole house yesterday?

Oh, I know why. I was too busy trying to fuck Tori. Me and my goddamned cock are gonna get us killed over that mistake.

Think!

I don’t see any windows, so that means it has to be a door. I open the first one I see. Bathroom. Next is a closet, then a bedroom. The last one is the utility room that houses the generator. It’s humming along. Well, not humming, exactly—that fucker is loud. And we never heard it. Which means these walls are soundproof.

I close the door and flip on the lights. Another door, on the other side of the generator, has light leaking through the bottom. I glance at the machinery, find what I’m looking for, and flip the switch.

The power goes out and my whole world goes silent and dark.

Get out now, Corporate
.

I feel my way along the wall towards that sliver of saving grace light near the floor.

Are they out there? They have enough guys to surround the house. I press my ear against the cool metal and listen.

Nothing.

I place my hand on the door handle, push. Nothing. Pull. Nothing. Fucking locked. I feel along the door for the lock, flip it, then try again.

Just a crack.

The helicopter is suddenly there, right on top of me, that box of cargo swinging in the air as it circles the house. It lowers, hovers, and then I hear a man shouting instructions.

A man whose voice I recognize.

Chapter Thirty-Three - Victoria

The shooting. They are shooting. More and more and more shooting.

He’s dead, Tori. And you killed him. He’s dead and you’re stuck here without him. And you’re going to die too.

No.

I stand up in the brush.

No.

I start making my way back. Fuck that. They are not getting him. I will not live the rest of my life knowing that he died to save me and I did nothing to help. Even if I have to kill them with my bare hands for revenge only, I’m going back.

I get about fifty feet when there’s a loud
boom
!

Instantaneously I’m on the ground, my face pressed into the wet grass and dirt.

What the hell was that?

I get up and start running again, not stopping until I reach that little clearing on the hill. I climb the tower as fast as I can, praying that these people are too busy to be looking. Too busy with their mission to notice me.

And when I get halfway up, I cling to the metal rungs, unable to believe what I’m seeing.

A tall pillar of smoke a couple miles away.

They blew up the house on the other island.

That’s what was in that box.

Explosives.

Holy shit. What the fuck is happening?

I climb down and start running again. The shouting is loud and I can hear one voice in particular giving orders.

Why does it sound familiar?

Who cares, Victoria? Just do something!

I slow down when that commanding voice gets closer. “He’s dead,” he yells. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before the whole thing explodes!”

No. No, no, no.

I stand up and rush towards the voice, making so much noise in the underbrush, I cannot believe he can’t hear me when he comes into view.

Everyone else is running away, back towards the hovering helicopter. They are lifted up, one at a time, and still that one lone man waits, the back of his head swiveling from side to side, like he’s the lookout.

When he turns his body in my direction, I duck and pray that he didn’t see me.

“Vance!” someone yells. “Vance, we gotta go! We only have one minute!”

I don’t want to think of what will happen in one minute, but I know. They are blowing up this house too.

This guy’s name is Vance. Paxton Vance.

He set us up.

“I see you,” he says, the underbrush crunching under his boots as he draws closer. “And you’re going to do exactly as I say if you want to stay alive, Victoria Arias.”

I stand up and shake my head. “I’m going to kill you, Mr. Mysterious. I’m going to kill you and get you back for what you did.”

“Vance!” the guys yell again. “Vance!”

“No,” he says calmly as he extends his hand. “You’re going to come with me and do as you’re told. Because in thirty seconds, that house is gonna explode.”

“Vance!” His friends are frantic now.

“Stop, Tori!” Weston yells.

There’s shooting in response. Not from Vance, who is standing still when Weston’s bullet hits him in the center of his chest. But from the other guys.