Chapter 23
A concussion rolled through the east wing. The floor shuddered, the walls groaned, and the windowpanes rattled.
Natalie flinched, fingers biting into Gaby’s sleeve. “What was that?”
She barely got the words out before alarms wailed.
One of the other girls appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed and shaking. “What’s happening?”
Mateo was already moving. He crossed to the window at the end of the corridor. “There’s smoke coming from the dock and the ridge.”
“What’s on the ridge?” Gaby asked, moving up beside him.
“The helipad,” he answered. “And the mechanical building. The generator’s there.”
She hesitated, almost afraid to ask, “If both are destroyed, how do we get off the island?”
Mateo’s mouth tipped downward. “Good question.”
Peering out, wondering what else could go wrong, she saw sparks lift on the wind and catch along the roofline of the main building. “We need to get out,” she whispered, “before the entire compound goes up.”
“Agreed.”
He pivoted and strode toward the gate at the far end. Gaby, Natalie, and eight frightened young women followed him, running to keep up.
Mateo gripped the bars and shook them. They rattled but held firm. He reached through for the security panel, but it was just out of reach.
“Damn,” he muttered, stepping back and eyeing the structure. “Maybe I can pry out the hinges.”
Another concussion hit, louder, closer, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The alarms cut off mid-shriek, leaving an eerie silence.
Natalie gasped. “What now?”
Mateo flipped a wall switch. Nothing. “Power’s out.”
Gaby looked at the gate. “Then this should be unlocked.”
She tried the handle then rattled the bars. It wasn’t.
Natalie’s face crumpled. “He’d rather see us burn than risk us escaping.”
Smoke rolled in from the far end of the wing. Something cracked overhead, showering sparks like orange rain.
“Oh my God,” one girl sobbed. “We’re on fire.”
Mateo swore and said to Gaby, “I’ll handle that. You get the door open.”
“With what?” she snapped. “A hair clip?”
He bent, pulled something from his boot, and slapped it into Gaby’s hand.
She looked down at… a butter knife. “Are you kidding me?”
“No weapons allowed,” he said grimly. “We’re lucky they didn’t notice that missing.”
He yanked a fire extinguisher from its bracket and ripped the pin free. “See if you can pry the hinges.”
Natalie clutched her arm, shaking. “I don’t want to die in here, Gaby.”
She wasn’t keen on dying under the evil bastard’s roof either, but she had little faith in her demolition skills. But the girls were frightened and looking to her to save them.
“You won’t,” Gaby said, with no idea how she’d make that true.
She crouched at the gate. Screws were visible, but the knife blade was too thick. She tried popping a hinge pin. The tip snapped off.
“Dammit.”
The metal plates of the hinge were thinner, not wrought iron. Maybe…
She jammed the blade between the wooden jamb and the hinge plate and leaned her weight into it. It creaked, gave a fraction then slipped.
She swore, adjusted, and tried again. This time, it bent.
The smoke thickened as she worked, burning her eyes and throat.
“Gaby,” Natalie rasped. “He’s on the second canister and losing the fight.”
“Hold on,” she grunted. “I’ve almost—”
The knife snapped in half.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shouted. Beyond frustrated, she stepped back and kicked the hinge hard.
Pain shot up her leg to her hip, but the wood splintered. Reaching deep, she kicked it again, grunting with the effort. Four of the girls moved up beside her, their hands closing around the bars. They pushed as she kicked again and again.
Finally, the hinge tore free, screws ripping out of the salt-air-softened wood.
Natalie stared at her, stunned. “Holy shit, Gaby.”
She didn’t pause, shouting, “Mateo. We need you!”
He ran up, wheezing, eyes streaming.
“Lift the bottom,” she said. “We’ll squeeze through.”
With only one hinge left, he had leverage and created a wide enough gap for the girls to wiggle under one by one. She went last, leaving Mateo, who was big, with shoulders too broad, on the other side.
“I’ll figure it out. Go,” he said between coughs.
“Like hell,” Gaby muttered. She jumped, grabbing the bars at the top. “Help me!”
The same four girls mirrored her instantly, all that would fit.
“Now pull up,” she told Mateo.
Between his strength and their combined weight, the last hinge gave. The gate jerked, and they went down in a heap, screaming as they hit the hard ground.
It was enough, though. Mateo squeezed through.
Once the girls scrambled to their feet, he hauled Gaby up and crushed her in a hug. “You make a damn fine addition to the team.”
“Thanks,” she wheezed. “But could we—save this—for later?”
He released her at once, all business again. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
***
Mateo led them through the courtyard, smoke hanging low and gray, turning the morning light the color of dusk. He paused at a service door, cracked it open, scanned both directions—then waved them through.
“Go. Now.”
Gaby went first, pulling Natalie with her. The other girls followed in a tight cluster, Mateo bringing up the rear.
They burst into open air and nearly collided with two guards hustling a line of women toward the tree line to the south.
The other muses. They were barefoot, faces streaked with soot and fear, roped together at the waist, knots cinched tight.
“?Alto!” one guard barked, already raising his rifle.
Mateo wasn’t about to stop. He hit the nearest guard like a battering ram, knocking the rifle loose as the man crumpled. He scooped it up and, in the same fluid motion, swung the butt into the second guard’s face. Bone cracked, and he dropped too.
The line of women screamed, pulling against the rope in panic.
Gaby rushed to them, fingers working quickly at the knots. “Quiet, please. I’ll get you free, but we can’t draw attention.”
The guards had tied them for containment, not comfort. Her fingertips were sore by the time the first knot gave, but the rest came easier.
“Past the grotto, you’ll find a concrete channel,” Gaby told them as she worked. “Follow it down to the beach. Run. Don’t stop.”
They all scattered, except one. She froze—until gunfire cracked somewhere close. Then she bolted.
A third guard emerged from the smoke, weapon raised.
Gaby didn’t think. She reacted.
Dropping low, she scooped up two fistfuls of sand and flung it into his face. As he shouted and staggered, she drove her elbow into his gut and followed with a knee between his legs that dropped him hard. He didn’t get back up.
She bent, stripped the gun from his grasp, and came up ready.
Rifle in hand, Mateo stared at her. Surprise flashed across his face, followed by something like renewed respect.
“Don’t mess with me when I’m pissed,” she advised.
He huffed a breath, a half grin breaking through. “Duly noted.”
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed Natalie’s hand, refusing to be separated from her again. “What about Rhys and Leland? The rendezvous point was the helipad?”
Mateo’s expression sobered. “Plan B.”
Gaby frowned. “What’s Plan B? I don’t remember it from the briefing.”
“I’ll let you know when I come up with it.”
Boots pounded, and shouts cut through the smoke. Two guards rounded the corner ahead. Another pair closed in from behind.
Forward was a sheer drop, and the courtyard wasn’t an option.
Mateo swore. “We’re boxed in.”
Gaby and Mateo pivoted automatically, backs to each other, Natalie shielded between them.
“Disarm,” one guard called. “You’re outnumbered.”
Go to hell was on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak, a shot rang out. The lead man cried out, collapsing to one knee, clutching his thigh.
A second shot followed. The next man spun, clutching his bloody shoulder, and went down.
The remaining guards hesitated, scanning the smoke.
A shape moved through it. Not running. Advancing.
Rhys broke through the haze like something unleashed.
The last two guards rushed him, firing wildly. Mateo dropped one with a precise shot. Rhys closed the distance on the other, driving him into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.
From behind her, another guard ran past, not glancing at her and Natalie, dismissing them as a threat. Big mistake.
Gaby slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. Then she jumped onto his back, locking her arm around his throat.
“Help her!” Natalie cried.
The guard staggered, clawing at her grip, but she held fast.
It was enough.
Mateo stripped him of his gun, then Rhys sank a brutal fist into his gut. Gaby jumped clear when he wheezed and doubled over, seconds before Mateo finished him with a knee to the face.
Rhys turned to Natalie first. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, too shocked to speak.
Then his gaze found Gaby, relief in his blue eyes, followed by something raw and unguarded.
“What about you? Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life. Except maybe her sister.
Managing a faint smile, she replied, “I am now.”
He took her hand and squeezed. That’s when she saw the blood soaking his shirt.
“Rhys. Your side!”
He glanced down, unconcerned. “It’s nothing. A scratch at most.”
“A scratch doesn’t gush blood,” she shot back. “Hold still.”
“We need to go, Gaby.”
“Mateo can stand guard. This will be quick,” she insisted, tearing a strip from the hem of her skirt. Two of the girls did the same, handing her fabric without a word. Gaby wrapped the makeshift bandage around his ribs, tying it off the best she could—not a nurse by any means.
“That will have to do for now.”
Before she drew away, he caught her hand and pulled her closer. His voice dropped, meant for her alone. “You bite your lip when you concentrate,” he observed. “Sexiest medic there ever was. Thanks, love.”
When she glanced up in surprise, he actually winked. Then said louder, for the others, “Let’s get to the tunnel. But stay alert. Others may be trying to evacuate through it.”
“What tunnel?” Mateo asked.
“Leland clocked it during recon. It doubles as a maintenance corridor. South ridge.”
With no time for questions, Rhys led them away from the burning mansion, through thinning smoke, and down a sloping path.
Then, suddenly, they were out of the gray haze. Sunlight broke through the trees ahead, brilliant, almost blinding. The air was cleaner, the roar of the fire muffled behind them.
Rhys stopped and scanned the hillside. There it was, beyond the trees, partially hidden by vegetation. A heavy steel door stood wide open. Not just a tunnel, álvarez’s final contingency. Already lost, like his smoldering palace.
She spared no more than a fleeting thought for the millions of dollars of art lost to the fire. The real treasure followed in single file—young women, including Natalie, being given a new lease on life.