Savage Beauty (The Arrow Tactical Series Book 5)

Chapter 30

The police will come for me. Maybe I should go to the police station and turn myself in. But where is it?

My phone is back at the villa. I’ll go back, get it, and look up the location of the nearest police station. I’ll explain everything. Someone has to believe me. I’ll call Max. He’ll believe me.

Behind me, a vehicle approaches. My bike is as close to the edge of the asphalt as possible, but the vehicle won’t pass.

The front wheel dips off the edge of the asphalt onto the shoulder. The tire grips the packed sand, leaving deep treads behind. The sandy ground requires more effort to pedal. I wave, signaling to the vehicle to pass so I can get back on the road and traverse the smooth asphalt.

But the vehicle sidles beside me, matching my pace. The passenger window lowers.

“Sloane.” My wheel wobbles. That voice. It can’t be. “Are you okay? Get in the car.”

“William? What’re you doing here?” He should be in Switzerland.

“Thank god I found you. I know what’s happened. Get in.”

He can’t possibly know what’s happened. He’s been away for nearly half a year. I push harder on the pedal.

“Sloane. Please. Where’re you going?”

“You can’t know what happened.”

“I know everything. Let me protect you.”

I slow, and the bike grinds to a halt. My foot hits the ground to keep the bike upright.

“What do you know?”

“That you’re not safe. Are you bleeding? Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Here. Get in the car. Let me help you.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Switzerland.”

“And you just saw me riding on my bike?”

“No. I came for you. I found Dr. Kallio. Please. Get in.”

I push forward on the pedal. I can’t process what he’s doing here. I don’t want to process. All I see is Dr. Kallio.

“Sloane. Where’re you going?”

“To my villa. I need my phone.”

“Get in. I’ll take you.”

“I don’t own this bike.” I can’t leave a rented bike on the side of the road.

“We’ll put it in the trunk.”

Sweat droplets drip from my temple. My thigh muscles burn, as do my shoulders. I slow the push of my feet, and the bike lurches. My feet hit the ground, and I straddle the bike frame once again.

The vehicle stops, and as William gets out of the car, a hotel transport van comes up behind and William waves it on, motioning for the van to pass.

I’m not sure my bike will fit in his trunk. He comes up to my side and places his hand on my shoulder. “Sloane.” He pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to my hair. My muscles tense, and I pull back.

“I’m going to get sand in your trunk. If it even fits.” The black leather on his pointed business shoes shines in the daylight.

His hands press down on my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

“I already told you no.”

“That’s not your blood?”

“No.”

“Good. Good. I’ve been so worried about you.”

He opens the passenger door for me, and after I sit, he tugs the seatbelt across me, buckling me in. He presses his lips to my temple, then backs up and slams the door closed.

I jump at the harsh sound. My fingers are freezing.

The trunk pops open, and in the sideview mirror I see I was right. My bike doesn’t really fit. The handlebars are a tight fit, and the back wheel hangs out the side.

“Why have you been worried about me?”

“You know I care about you, right?”

No, I don’t. Or I guess I do. We worked well together.

“The bike doesn’t even fit.” There’s no way it’s not getting sand in his trunk.

“It’ll do,” William says as he puts the car in drive. “We don’t have far to go.”

“I’m not going back to my apartment,” I tell him. “I need to get onto Church Street. Then it’s just a little way.”

“We’ll do whatever you want.”

“I need something at the villa.” I bend my head back against the headrest. This isn’t William’s car. He had a convertible. This looks like an island rental. “What’re you doing back?”

“Business.”

“Ah.” Business. That makes sense. “After we stop by the villa, can we go to the police station?”

“If that’s what you want.” He adjusts the rearview mirror. “I’m so relieved to see you.”

He’s dressed in dark tight-fitting jeans and a pressed button-down short-sleeve shirt. The shoes are work shoes, but he never wore jeans when he worked with us. He’s not dressed for time on the beach either. There’s a nervous air around him that reminds me of the way he was around me after we first had sex. If he thinks that’s what we’re going to do back at the villa, I need to set him straight. I’m no longer interested. “I met someone.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Is he back at the villa?”

“No, he’s headed home.”

“And you stayed behind?”

“Work.” Out the window, the palm trees and cinderblock homes pass at a rapid clip.

His fingers tap the steering wheel. If he hears music, I do not. I roll down my window with a flick of my finger. The messenger bag sits on my lap, and I toy with the flap.

“And how is work going?”

“Awful,” I tell him honestly. Dr. Kallio’s words float back to me. It wasn’t her choice. She was working for other people. People. And he said he knew what happened. He said he found her. “Did you know? Am I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Clinical trial companies are doing early-stage in vivo product testing on captive subjects. Humans.” I rub my forehead, then my temple, where a dull pain throbs. “Lumina. Our primary investor. Maybe others.” His gaze remains on the road. Both his hands are on the wheel in the ten and two position. “Did you know?”

“Take me through what you know.” He ducks slightly and adjusts the rearview mirror again.

“Companies are doing illegal testing to speed products to market.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Lumina. Your employer. They get products to market faster than anyone else. They’re the ones who are doing it.”

“What evidence do you have?”

I place my right hand on the door handle and keep my left hand inside my messenger bag.

“Sloane?”

“The evidence is in a paper I was preparing for peer review. The paper explores the long-term viability of organ transplants done in black markets versus transplants done in the United States. What I uncovered, using statistical analysis, is that a high number of organs coming from specific markets had a significantly higher rate of cancer occurrence within three years post-surgery.”

“That doesn’t sound like evidence.”

“It’s not evidence, per se.” I understand William searching for evidence. He’s a man of science. But given all that’s happened, I was clearly on to something. Something someone out there will kill over. Dr. Kallio was willing to kill for that person. Those people.

Is William one of those people?

“They’re doing the research on unwilling subjects.” I remember those people I tested. The fear in their eyes and the reluctant compliance.

“That would be problematic.”

He flicks the turn signal as we approach the villa where Max and I have been staying.

Click. Click. Click.

I never gave him directions.

“How did you know where I’m staying?”

The gravel churns beneath the wheels as he slows the car to a stop and presses a button to turn the ignition off.

I unsnap the seat belt and open the door. I should’ve never gotten in the car with him. Sam’s words come to me as my feet touch the ground.

If someone tries to abduct you, never get in the car. Fight like hell.

Twice, now, I’ve gotten in the car. But I am not defenseless.

The beach is nearby. I can run.

William leans across the seat. His movement is slow, and his dark hair lends him the appearance of a shadow moving within the vehicle.

I can run into the house. Lock the door.

Inside the messenger bag, my fingers grope for steel.

William exits the car. The sunlight flickers against the grays mixed in with his dark strands. His elbow bends. The gun gleams.

He’s holding a gun. My William. The man I regularly had sex with.

“So, you never left Origins? That was a lie?”

“Everything I told you was the truth. I was never supposed to be based here for long. My wife wouldn’t move, so I agreed to come out and get things going, but the plan was always for me to transition back home.”

“You’re married?”

He gestures with the end of his gun, waving it between me and the house. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

“You never told me you were married.”

“Technically, we were separated. You never seemed to care if I was married or not.”

“I would have cared about that. I don’t cheat.”

“And neither did I. Sloane, I promise you, I care about you. If I didn’t…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head while his lips move like he’s having a conversation with himself.

“You’re married.” I trusted him.

“We worked things out when I returned home.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. His eyes are closed like he’s in pain. I’m the one who should be in pain. He never mentioned a wife to me.

He opens his eyes and uses the gun like it’s a pointer in a presentation. “Get inside, Sloane.”

There’s no advantage to being indoors.

Keep him talking. Sam’s voice comes to me.

“You once told me you don’t like guns. Was that a lie?”

“No. I can’t stand them.”

Which means he probably hasn’t practiced often. Most people who own guns have horrible aim.

I take a step back, closer to the path along the side of the villa. I can run along the beach. Dive into the water.

“Sloane, I did everything I could to save you.” I take a step back. “There’s no point in trying to run away. There’s no escaping.”

“What do you mean, you tried to save me?” Another step back.

“When they told me to handle the situation, I instructed them to keep you alive.”

“Was I the situation?”

“Unfortunately. But I never agreed to kill anyone. We were bending some rules. That’s all I agreed to.”

“But this has been going on for years. It’s…how long have you been working for them?”

“I didn’t get involved until I moved. I swear. I took over for someone else. It was a good opportunity. That’s all.”

“You saw the report I was working on, didn’t you? You saw my notations that I wanted to submit it for peer review.”

“Sloane. You made notations of your plans to submit your findings to peer review on six different communal databases.”

“And someone saw that?”

“I told them I could sell you on it. But they saw you as a risk. I should have just walked away. Let it happen. But I couldn’t live with myself.”

“You mean, if they killed me?”

“I’m not a killer. No one was ever supposed to get hurt. I volunteered to step up and take care of the situation, only so I could keep you safe. My plan had been to move you to Thailand. But I underestimated your connections. You never mentioned anyone other than your sister.”

“They sent me to Cambodia.”

“That was a temporary location. Didn’t they mention that you’d be moved?”

He says this like that makes everything okay. “That place was disgusting.”

“I wouldn’t have let them keep you there indefinitely. It was… I had to sell the idea, and that worked.”

“How did Sage fit into your idea?” Another step back.

“She’s your only living relative. I thought she was the only one who would come looking for you. And I knew you loved her. If everything had gone according to plan, you would both have a good life together and you could continue doing your research.”

“A good life?”

“Alive.”

He’s pointing a gun at me. The irony might go over his head, but I am aware.

“How do you know Anton Solonov?”

“Who?” He appears genuinely perplexed.

“The man you hired to drug me and put me on a boat.”

“I never knew his name. I was given a number to call. I arranged it by phone and paid through… I just… If I did what they said, you wouldn’t be alive. I offered up half of my payout as a bonus if they kept you alive.” His words trail and the butt of the gun dips. “Sloane. You have to trust me. I am not a murderer. I didn’t want you hurt.”

“And you’ve worked for these people for how long? Since you moved?”

“Sloane. You work for them, too.”

“No. I don’t. I would never.” He’s wrong. My chest is too tight.

“Your work isn’t close to coming to market. You haven’t yet endured the rigors of clinical testing. Lumina is one of the leaders in clinical testing. We help pharmaceutical companies around the world bring products to market. And there are rewards if we can beat everyone else.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t know what was going on?” Yes, I kept myself away from others, but it can’t be everyone.

“Few know.”

“Dr. Kallio?”

“She was recruited because one of the drugs she’s overseeing will be going through the expedited process.”

“These pharmaceutical companies, do they know what’s going on? How Lumina is getting the products to market faster than others?” I take a step back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He takes a step forward. “Even if you get away from me, they’ll send someone else. At this point, they know you’ve involved outside groups. They’re not going to let this drop. You’ve already been discredited. They’ll find you and make your death look like a suicide. Your best bet is to come with me. Let me hide you.”

They’ll send Solonov. Or someone else. That’s what he means. “What if I agree to work for these people? I understand why you’re sidestepping regulatory testing. I get it. And you’re right. It’s the fastest way to bring products to market.”

“It’s the best way forward.” He reaches for me, and I step back.

I do not want him to touch me.

I step back. He steps forward.

“Now that you understand, would you be willing to join us? Work with us?”

“Yes.” My lie is automatic.

“Well, let’s go upstairs. Into the villa. Let’s talk about it.”

“Are you going to put the gun away?” He’s still holding it.

He wavers, uncertain.

Run. It’s Sam’s voice. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest.

“I risked my life to save you. And now you’re playing me, aren’t you?” Another step back. “You don’t plan on working with us. You may think you’re safer outside, but that’s not the case. Yes, outside someone will hear the gun go off. But we’re on a vacation island. Chances are anyone who hears will assume it’s a car backfiring.”

“Then just shoot me.” One more step, and I’ll be close enough to the corner of the villa I can take off running. It’s a risk. But the farther away I am, the more likely he’ll miss. I’ve never known William to practice target shooting. He can’t be a good marksman.

But then again, I didn’t know he was married.

The hum of a combustion engine steals William’s attention.

And I’m off. Running.

My feet slip on the sandy path.

My gaze locks on the dunes.

Run.

Faster.

Run.

“Sloane!”

Max.

I spin, searching for him.

My chest heaves.

What’s Max doing here?

Max’s hands are up in the air in a defensive posture, but he’s moving forward at a quick pace. And William’s gun points at his chest.

“He’ll shoot,” I warn Max.

Slow down.

As if hearing my thoughts, Max slows his steps.

“Are you okay?” He directs his question to me. But Max is trained like Sam. And Sam would attack. That’s what Sam would do. If he lunges for William, he’ll be shot. William won’t miss from so close to his target. At that distance, the bullet will kill him.

“I’m okay,” I answer, edging around the corner of the villa, getting closer to Max. “Please be careful.”

“Interesting request. Pretty sure you were supposed to stay put.”

William’s legs spread into a wide stance.

“William, please don’t shoot him.”

“This is your guy, huh?”

Max’s hands are out at his side. He’s not going to back down. Sam wouldn’t.

“Put the gun down. Please.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

He trains his gun on Max. All he has to do is squeeze his finger. He’ll hit Max straight in the chest. In his heart.

William turns his head to me while his gun remains trained on Max.

With a flick of my wrist, the blade spins through the air.

Bullseye.

Literally.

William’s body shifts. And then tumbles to the ground.

“Christ!” Max shouts.

My fingers wrap around another blade. It’s automatic. Throw one. Grab the next. No time to spare in case of a miss. Sam trained me.

Max is before me, holding my shoulders. His hand goes to my cheek then lifts my chin. “Sloane, are you okay?”

His bright blue eyes question. His pupils are so tiny in the bright sunlight.

“He would’ve hurt you.” My lips curl, and I instinctively inhale to hold back the tidal wave of peptide hormones. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”