Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
It’s not a big island, but it’s still an island. A long walk with the sun scorching and waves lapping is exactly what I need to clear my head.
The problem is my head has never been a safe place.
Marcus Wilder wants Jake. That much is obvious.
I try to shove the desire into the same room where I’ve shoved everything else, the one growing darker with every lie I pile on top. But the old trick doesn’t work anymore.
There isn’t a “real Marcus” to hide behind. There’s just me.
And I want him.
If that makes me bisexual, fine. I don’t care about the label; I’ve just never learned to tell the difference between what I want and what keeps me alive.
As the sun sinks lower, the breeze softens, and my feet sink into the cooling sand until the walk takes on a kind of meditative calm.
Since I can’t parse through my scrambled past, I try imagining a future—with him—and trip over the white picket fence I’m supposed to see. He wants a second chance? He doesn’t even know me. I don’t even know me. Then there’s Evie, and my story, and the rage I can’t help aiming at what he did.
The first bungalow comes into view, and my thoughts turn toward the possibility that someone could easily spot me strolling along the beach like I’ve got nothing to hide.
I beeline for the two-story cliff beneath the row of lavish buildings hanging off it and take cover in the shadow of their outcropped decks and plunge pools.
Sand becomes jagged rocks that are harder to walk on with bare feet than in sandals, and the wind stills.
I’ve spent the entire walk failing to discern the difference between Wilder’s sexuality and whoever’s underneath. The gaping lack of any plan for what to do now finally rips me back to what matters most.
I’m crouching beneath the third overhanging deck, rough stone of the cliff face pressing against my back. The air smells of damp earth and decaying leaves in the tangle of ferns and bougainvillea concealing me from view.
Now what?
I don’t know what I expected, but there’s no trap door to a secret lair or red X marking any spot. There’s just the crashing waves, the seagulls, and… a soft, giggled laugh.
Dae’s familiar titter.
I freeze, pressing closer to the cliff as the sound wafts from above, followed by a low moan, as unmistakable as Dae’s laugh. Brad was with Dae last night, and that one moan confirms all my suspicions.
They’re together. Right now. Right under Alistair’s nose.
Several rocky outcroppings intermingle with vibrant flowering vines, forming staggered stone steps that are dangerous but climbable.
The first reach pulls sweat down my spine.
I grab a handhold and take it slowly, pulling myself from rock to rock.
At ten feet up, I look down, and my stomach cartwheels.
Bad idea. I keep going until rock scrapes my stomach, cresting the top, concealed enough by low growth to creep up next to the bungalow’s outer deck.
Less than fifteen feet away, through the ferns, Dae’s moans become words. “Yes, Daddy. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Yes!”
Then I spot Brad’s naked body, tense and sweaty, moving beside the bed with his back to the deck.
Adrenaline crashes through me.
Assuming Jake’s Wi-Fi code works, then the only thing I need is a way into the office.
This is so fucking desperate, but it might be the only surefire way at getting my story off the island.
If Brad helps me, I win. If he refuses, his and Dae’s secret is still insurance that will keep them from running to Alistair without confessing what they were doing when I found them.
That wouldn’t stop Brad from breaking me in half, but I don’t have time for finesse. I need my story off this island. Now.
I step out of the ferns onto the deck.
“Brad!”
He whips around like I’ve pulled a knife. Dae yelps, dragging the sheet up with wide eyes.
“Guess we’re not all holding our fire,” I say, trying to keep from sounding scared even though I’m terrified.
Brad storms toward me naked, every muscle I personally confirmed as rock hard aimed in my direction, plus one I’m trying very hard not to classify as artillery.
Maybe I should’ve planned this better.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brad barks.
“Catching you,” I say, retreating until the deck edge kisses my heels. “But I won’t tell Alistair if you get me into his office.”
Brad’s jaw works. He looks back at Dae, who’s already nodding.
“What the fuck do you want in his office?” Brad asks.
“Let me in, and I won’t tell anyone about you two. The less you know about what I want the better, right?”
Brad’s veins bulge as he bottles a scream into a grunt and turns around to grab his shirt off the ground.
“Stay here, baby. I’ll see you at dinner… after I deal with this rat.”
Dae’s eyes find mine, pleading. “You won’t say anything, will you?”
“Not if he gets me in.”
Brad drags his pants on without underwear, dick caught with the rest of him between the moment and my threat, and once he’s shoved it inside, he kisses Dae.
“We’re fine,” he whispers, then turns back to me. “Go. If this is a trap, I’ll bury you beside the pool.”