Chapter Twenty-Three
I rummaged through the bag of clothes that smelled like him and fought not to completely break down.
No tampons or anything else in the bathroom except towels that looked like they’d never been used, I’d cleaned myself off as best as I could, but I still had the remnants of my period and oh my God, he’d seen me naked. Everyone had seen me naked.
But I couldn’t think about that right now. Or the dead body lying on the floor out there.
I couldn’t think about any of it.
He said we were out of time.
He said I had ten minutes.
Ten minutes….
I sucked in a sharp breath. I would not cry. I would not cry .
Sifting through the neatly folded clothes that seemed in direct contrast to the man who’d put them in here, I pulled out two pairs of stretchy knit boxers and the only long-sleeved shirt, a black Henley.
I quickly used the bathroom one more time, then washed my hands again and held my mouth under the faucet. When I couldn’t stall anymore, I put on both pairs of his boxers, one on top of the other just in case any more of my period decided to leak, then I pulled the T-shirt over my dress and folded up the cuffs two turns.
The whole ritual had taken maybe two minutes.
Probably less than that.
A horrible thought occurred and fear sank to my stomach.
Oh God.
What if he didn’t come back?
No. I forced the thought away. I hadn’t heard any more gunshots or any kind of commotion at all. He was coming back.
But what if he didn’t?
Panic started to spread like wildfire. I needed a backup plan, and I needed it now. Okay, I could do this. Deep breath, look for a way out. My hands were free now, I could swim… somewhere. But I needed to get out of here first.
I looked at the bathroom door, and every threat that was beyond suddenly became insurmountable.
But I didn’t have a choice.
Not if I wanted to live.
So I shoved everything down like I’d done when my mother had had her stroke, and I opened the bathroom door.
The wardrobe had been moved and the bedroom door was hanging off the hinges, but the body was still there, and panic flooded me.
I was glad he was dead. I’d wanted him dead, but my body and my mind were on a total disconnect, and my breath started to come quicker and quicker, until I heard it.
His voice.
The deep, very much alive voice of a bodyguard.
It was the kick I needed.
Studiously not looking at the man he’d killed without so much as a blink, I tiptoed to the open door.
A spray of bullet holes and chipped sheetrock across the hall greeted me, but I ignored it. I moved toward the sound of his voice like it was my only lifeline, because it was.
He was my best way out of here.
I’d thought he was one of them when I first saw him, but then he’d come through the window and slit that vile man’s throat. I still didn’t trust him, not completely, and I didn’t trust my own father anymore, but I needed to get out of here, and I could worry about all the small details like trust and how the bodyguard had wound up here and why my father had done business with someone like Dante later.
Much later.
Creeping down the hall, my heart in my throat, I risked a quick glance around the corner into the living room.
No one.
Exhaling the breath I’d been holding, I looked toward the open slider door I’d been dragged through a few hours earlier, but seemed like a lifetime ago—a life where I hadn’t almost been raped or witnessed a cold-blooded murder.
My hand on my chest, I stood concealed in the darkened hall and listened as Ty spoke to someone on the deck I hadn’t seen before.
Ty nodded at the other man’s gun. “Give me that.”
“What, why?” The man who looked barely legal asked as he handed over the large rifle.
“Because you’re holding it wrong.” Ty repositioned the gun in the other man’s hands.
“You broke through the window,” the younger man blurted. “Dante’s going to be pissed.”
“Santos was strangling her. No choice. I’m here to protect the asset, not fucking cater to that sick fuck’s sexual deviance.”
Asset? I shivered, wondering if I could trust Ty after all.
The younger man let out a slow whistle. “Don’t let Dante hear you say that. I mean, Santos is known for being rough, but he usually never hurts them. Well, you know, not permanently.”
Ty frowned. “How many men are guarding the dock?”
The younger man watched what Ty was doing with rapt attention. “During a regular shift?”
“Yeah.” Ty shifted the younger man’s hand on the gun.
“Three.” The younger man answered. “And usually the captain is down there too, but he took Boss—er—the other boss and Addis for a run.” He held the gun up and looked down the barrel.
“Better,” Ty encouraged. “They took the yacht?”
“Yep.” The younger man smiled at Ty’s compliment.
“The other two boats have the keys in them?” Ty asked casually.
The younger man lowered the rifle as his voice took on a pound of worry. “Yeah, why? Are they coming?”
Ty palmed the rifle that had been hanging on his shoulder by a strap. “Is who coming?”
“A team, or men, or a private security outfit, whatever you want to call it,” the younger man rattled off. “Dante thinks the cavalry is coming for the girl. He warned us to be on guard, especially at night.”
It was only a slight tensing, but I saw the muscles in Ty’s shoulders stiffen. “Any extra security or anything I need to be aware of at night?”
“No, same number of men. Eight on, eight off waiting for shift change.”
Ty frowned. “Dante said sixteen men were on.”
The younger man shook his head. “That was only for today, for you know…” He leaned toward Ty and lowered his voice. “For when they brought her in. You know, in case there was trouble.”
Ty tipped his chin toward the ocean. “You got more trouble in-house than out there.”
“Yeah, Santos is… yeah.” The younger man exhaled. “But the guys say he’s untouchable because he’s Dante’s cousin.” He shrugged. “I just try to stay away from him.”
“Good plan.” Ty clapped him on the shoulder. “So there’re eight men on right now?”
“Yeah.” The younger man nodded. “Three by the dock, four on patrol around the island and me.”
“Do me a favor?” Ty asked.
“Sure.”
“Stand your post, and don’t let anyone in or out of the house. I’m going to introduce myself to the other men.”
My stomach dropped.
“What about Santos?” the younger man asked with worry in his voice.
“I’ve got him contained,” Ty evaded.
Even in the dim cast from the porch light, I could see the younger man’s eyes widen. “How?”
“Gave him a taste of his own medicine,” Ty clipped.
The younger man smiled. “No shit? You roofied him?”
“Something like that,” Ty muttered, heading for the stairs before he paused. “You want some advice, kid?”
“Sure.”
Ty didn’t hesitate. “Join the military. Get out of this line of work.”
The younger man’s shoulders straightened, and he stared straight ahead. “I was in the military, sir.”
“Bullshit,” Ty swore. “You don’t even know how to hold your weapon.”
“It’s true,” the younger man snapped. “I was in the Marines.”
“For how long? A day?” Ty asked incredulously.
The younger man shifted his feet and averted his gaze. “Longer than a day,” he said like it was a grave admission.
“What the fuck happened?” Ty demanded.
Inhaling, the younger man’s chest rose, and then it fell along with his shoulders. “I was medically discharged during recruit training.”
“What the hell for?”
He didn’t answer at first. Then his voice went even quieter. “It’s personal.”
“Nothing’s personal in the military,” Ty clipped.
“Yeah?” The younger man’s voice rose. “Well, this is, and I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“You do if it’s gonna affect your ability to stand guard.”
“It’s an autoimmune disease, okay?” he blurted.
“What the fuck is that? You contagious?”
“No, I’m not contagious,” the younger man practically yelled. “It’s genetic, okay? There, now you know. It’s not a big deal, except apparently to the Marines. So screw them. I can stand my post and do my job here just fine.”
“Christ,” Ty muttered.
He straightened his shoulders. “No one will get past me.”
“Great. Be back in a few.” Shaking his head, Ty went down the stairs.
My nerves shot, I quietly tiptoed back to the bedroom. Careful not to look in the direction of the body on the floor, I went straight to the bathroom and locked myself inside.