Betty sucked in a shaky breath. She straightened and walked to the front of the store. She looked closely at the badge and unlocked the door.
“What can I do for you, Agent Nelson?” she asked.
“May I come in?”
“I’ll come out.”
“Okay. There’s a coffee shop at the corner. How about I buy you a cup, and we talk?”
“About what?”
“Rodrigo Santos.”
Betty reeled as shock reverberated through her, so strong she felt her bones quake. “I’m not sure I can help you.”
“I know what happened to your sister. And I want to make sure that conniving bastard never hurts another woman again.”
Santos entered the downtown hotel room, and nearly gagged. The seedy rattrap rented rooms by the hour and was run by scumbags who forgot your name for the right price. “How do you stand this appalling place?”
“Stayed in worse.” Mr. Riley, a tall, lanky man in a rumpled suit, pointed to the wrapped subway sandwich on the table scarred by cigarette burns and graffiti. “Lunch.”
Santos knew better than to insult his host. The ex-CIA operative was one of the best spooks in the world, and his mercenary skills were legendary. In other words, Mr. Riley was a special kind of psychopath. One you didn’t piss off if you enjoyed breathing.
Santos sat down at the table and knew he’d probably burn his tailored suit as soon as he returned home. He unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Oh, God. It tasted like wet dirt smeared on cardboard.
“The trial is a month away. I need Hayley Nelson found, and I need her to disappear.”
Mr. Riley nodded. “The usual fee then.”
“How do you feel about a package deal? Ellie remains catatonic, but I’d like you to take care of her. And I want Betty Lewis to disappear, too.”
“Have to be an accident with those two. Otherwise, it looks strange, people connected to you dying and disappearing.”
“Ellie and Betty are easy to find. Start with them.” Santos hated to part with his money almost as much as he hated his world being out of order. Almost. With his freedom at stake, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Half my fee now, half when it’s done.” Mr. Riley smiled. “Something wrong with your sandwich?”
“No,” said Santos, picking up the sub and eating it. “It’s delicious.”
Four
“I can’t do this.” Hayley paced the floor, the white lace robe fluttering as she walked back and forth across the room. Panic fluttered in her chest. “You can’t be here, Logan.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head emphatically. “How did you find me? Oh, God. If you found me then so can he.” This slice of paradise no longer felt like a safe haven. Instead, she suddenly felt trapped. There wasn’t another boat coming for six days. Ben said he’d be back to check on her then. She had to call him and let him know the location had been compromised. “I have to go.”
She tried to push past Logan, but he grasped her shoulders. “Stop, Hayley.”
“No. It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” She stared into his gray-green eyes, stunned and frightened. “How could Ben send me here? Send me to you?”
“He knows I’ll protect you.”
How did Logan get to her brother? And what the hell was Ben thinking?
“This is a private island. Only the district attorney and your brother know you’re here. No one else knows about this place. On maps, it’s listed as an unoccupied island.” Logan’s explanation was given in a tone meant to soothe a cornered animal. He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, Hayley allowed herself to be warmed by his embrace. He stroked the back of her neck and dipped his mouth to her ear. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
As her fear ebbed, Hayley’s old anger returned. The reason for their break-up hadn’t miraculously disappeared. She pulled away from him. “You lied to me.”
He flinched at her words. “Yes. And I’m sorry. I loved you, Hayley.” His expression softened. “I still love you.”
“How can that be? You hid your true self from me. You led me on. Toyed with me.”
“No! Everything we shared was real.” His shoulders slumped, his expression reflecting pure misery. “I wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” She shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
How could he say such a thing? He’d introduced himself as Logan Hunter—just another volunteer at the Greyson Homeless Shelter. They’d spent the day together, doing intakes, serving hot meals, laundering clothes, and inventorying food supplies. Then he’d invited her for coffee. They went to an all-night café and talked into the wee hours of the night. For nearly half a year they spent every single day together, the happiest she’d ever been in her life.