Hayley awoke in the big bed with Logan’s arm draping her waist, his soft snore tickling her ear. They had drifted into a long afternoon nap, holding each other. She’d managed a peaceful, dreamless sleep and had not awakened with a pounding heart or sweaty fists clenching the sheets. Logan made her feel safe. She easily drifted back to sleep.
Later, she awoke to find that Logan wasn’t in bed. Her gaze traveled around the room until it reached the open balcony doors. She glimpsed him at the railing, staring at the ocean. The salty air blew through the curtains of open windows, and she inhaled it.
She slipped on the robe that had been tossed to the floor and padded outside.
“What happened?” she asked as she leaned on the rail next to him, her gaze tracing the waves as they rolled onto the beach.
“You passed out from sexual joy,” he said, a smile in his voice.
Her gaze flicked to his profile. “So did you.”
“Yes, I did.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “I still can’t believe you bought an entire island for me.”
“They wouldn’t sell me France.”
“That’s too bad. We could’ve lived on bread and sex in the Eiffel Tower.”
He laughed and tightened his embrace. “I’m glad you love the island. Will you stay?”
Hayley relaxed and snuggled closer. “Yes. But only if you do, too.”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to Superglue our hips together.”
They returned to the vigil of the ocean. She leaned against the rail with him, watching twilight mesh with the churning sea. The sun dipped toward the endless water and left the sky ablaze in orange, purple, and deep blues.
“There’s a storm headed in our direction,” he said. Hayley followed his gaze and saw the black clouds on the horizon, rolling toward them. “We better batten down the hatches.”
Her stomach growled, and she remembered they hadn’t eaten most of the day. “Is having dinner part of battening down hatches?”
“Absolutely.”
Rodrigo threw the crystal bowl so hard it dented the kitchen wall and fell to the tile floor shattering on impact. “Goddamn it!” he roared.
Mr. Riley was dead at the hands of the FBI. The only person that spook bastard had managed to kill was the one who couldn’t actually testify.
With the trial date moved up, Rodrigo had no choice but to take care of the situation himself. He got his smartphone and stabbed in a number. “Captain Frank? It’s Rodrigo. I need a fast boat. No, I don’t need a crew. Get me something small that handles easily. I don’t care how much it costs.” He paused to listen. “I don’t care about the fucking storm. Just get the boat. I’ll be at the marina in half an hour.”
“What do you mean we can’t get to the island tonight?” asked Ben. He’d tried going through channels, but the Coast Guard refused to go out in the storm without concrete evidence that Hayley was in danger. And he sure has hell couldn’t get the FBI to authorize a helicopter. They wouldn’t risk equipment and men by sending them through a squall.
Fuck them. His sister’s life was more important than protocols. His last chance to get to Hayley stood a foot away, unmoved by Ben’s pleas. “It’s an emergency!”
The grizzled old captain shook his head. “Can’t go out into the storm. Winds are too high.”
Desperation nearly suffocated him. He’d found the text on the hitman’s cell phone. The words had shot his adrenaline into overdrive. He’d sent Santos the location of Hayley’s island. Ben could only hope that Santos wouldn’t find out about his hired gun’s death right away. But the asshole had powerful contacts and Ben couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t pass along the information tonight. It had already been a couple of hours since he’d taken down the man who’d attempted kill Betty. He’d walked away from the scene, his boss, and the paperwork, and ignored the direct order to return to the office and turn in his gun. Until it was officially determined that he’d made a good shoot, he would automatically be put on leave.
And he was leaving. Or at least, he was trying to.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Even if he had to empty out his own savings account.
“Can’t spend money if I’m dead.” The captain tromped across the small wheelhouse to the window and pointed a gnarled finger at the huge gray clouds crowding the skyline. “Gonna be a big one.”
“Fine. I’ll just find another boat,” said Ben glancing around the disheveled cabin. He was bluffing. Captain Solomon Wise was his only shot at getting to the island before Rodrigo Santos did. He felt in his gut that Santos would try to finish the job himself, and as quickly as possible.
“My sister is in danger. Please.” He pulled out Hayley’s picture. “She’s all the family I have left. If I don’t get to her tonight, she’ll die.”
The captain stared at Hayley’s smiling face for what seemed like an eternity, and then nodded. He headed to the door, gesturing for Ben to follow. “If we’re going to do this, we best go now.”