Chapter Eleven
Jayla
Malachi planned my rescue mission as if I weren’t sitting at the same table.
“No,” he told Dorian. “Jayla remains inside the villa until Kenzie’s location is confirmed.”
I folded my arms.
“Interesting.”
Nobody looked at me.
Micah rotated his laptop toward Malachi. “The duplicate keys will authenticate for ninety seconds before Bishop realizes they aren’t genuine.”
“Enough time to trace the receiving device?”
“Hopefully.”
“I dislike that word.”
“So does everybody trying to satisfy you.”
Malachi ignored him.
A map of Saint Lucia covered the table. Photographs marked private airfields, abandoned estates, marinas, and properties tied to Bishop’s shell companies.
My best friend was being held somewhere among them.
Still, the men surrounding me spoke as if I were luggage they needed to store safely.
I reached across the table and removed the map.
Malachi looked up.
“Return that.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Jayla.”
“That wasn’t nice.”
His jaw shifted.
“Please return the map.”
I placed it in front of me.
“Now that I exist again, let’s correct your plan.”
“You aren’t entering the exchange alone.”
“Bishop specifically demanded it.”
“He also placed a gun against Kenzie’s head. I’m not trusting his instructions.”
“Neither am I. But he has been watching both of us. If you hide me inside some villa, he’ll know I never intended to cooperate.”
Malachi leaned back.
“You aren’t trained for this.”
“I survived Kenzie, Deon, my mother, and growing up with Nasir. I have experience with dangerous people.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Dorian coughed into his fist.
Malachi glared at him.
I pointed toward the map.
“I go to the exchange with the duplicate keys. You remain close enough to intervene without being seen.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll arrange it myself.”
“You don’t know how.”
“I have Bishop’s number.”
The room became quiet.
Malachi’s eyes hardened. “You would contact him without telling me?”
“If you continue treating me like a hostage.”
“You’re under my protection.”
“That does not mean under your control.”
Something changed in his face.
He looked toward his siblings before returning his attention to me.
“Everyone out.”
Micah closed his laptop.
“I need that,” I said.
He left it and followed the others. Dorian was the final person through the door.
Malachi waited until we were alone.
“I have spent half my life keeping people alive,” he said. “Sometimes that requires making decisions they dislike.”
“I am not one of your siblings.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then stop treating me like one.”
“You expect me to stand by while you walk into a trap?”
“I expect you to help me prepare for it.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“Get me out.”
His fingers tapped against the table in sets of four.
“Do you trust me enough to follow instructions?”
“Do you trust me enough to give them?”
He studied me for several seconds.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“You make the exchange.”
I was almost disappointed that the argument ended.
“Micah gives you duplicate keys,” he continued. “You wear a tracking device and an earpiece. If I tell you to leave, you leave.”
“If Kenzie is with me.”
“If possible.”
“If she isn’t coming, neither am I.”
“That is how both hostages end up dead.”
“She became part of this because my mother hired her to watch me.”
“She also chose to betray you.”
“I know.”
The admission hurt.
“But I need to hear why from her.”
Malachi’s hand stopped tapping.
“You may never receive an explanation that makes it hurt less.”
“I still need the truth.”
He understood that better than anyone.
“Both of you come out,” he said. “Or neither of you enters.”
“Deal.”
“One more thing. We need an extraction phrase. Something you wouldn’t say accidentally.”
I thought about Grandma’s mural and the promise I made when I was six.
“Red door.”
“What does it mean?”
“Safety.”
“Then if you say it, my men move in.”
“Even if Bishop can hear?”
“Especially if he can hear.”
He extended his hand across the table.
This time, the gesture wasn’t an order.
It was an agreement.
I placed my hand in his.
“Red door,” he repeated.
“Red door.”
The public was told Malachi and I were traveling to Saint Lucia to repair our troubled engagement.
Blogs called it a reconciliation getaway.
One headline claimed I had forgiven his imaginary mistress after he purchased me a private island. Imani sent it to me with three laughing emojis and a request to borrow the island.
The ring returned to my finger before we boarded the plane.
Malachi gave it to me without comment.
I put it on because cameras waited near the airfield—not because the small flash of relief in his eyes meant anything.
“You can stop looking at it,” I said once we were airborne.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was checking whether it fit.”
“It fit at the press conference.”
“You removed it aggressively.”
“Diamonds are durable.”
He adjusted the glass on his table until it aligned with the napkin.
Then he adjusted it again.
“Do you dislike flying?” I asked.
“No.”
“Is it the plan?”
“No.”
“Me?”
He looked across the cabin.
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you answer too few.”
His fingers tapped four times.
I lowered my voice.
“Are you worried about the exchange?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
“What part?”
“You.”
One word shouldn’t have warmed my chest.
“I’ll follow the plan.”
“You don’t follow simple instructions inside my house.”
“I haven’t stabbed anybody with the letter opener.”
“Yet.”
A flight attendant placed food in front of us. Malachi’s expression changed when he removed the cover.
The sauce had touched the vegetables.
He pushed the plate away.
I remembered what Simone told me about his routines.
Without mentioning it, I exchanged our plates. Mine had been prepared with everything separated.
Malachi watched me.
“I don’t mind sauce,” I said.
“Thank you.”
It was the softest I had ever heard his voice.
I focused on my food.
“You’re welcome.”
We landed after midnight.
Malachi’s team established operations inside a private villa on the northern end of the island. Bishop sent the exchange location an hour later.
An abandoned sugar estate.
Dramatic men apparently loved abandoned buildings.
Micah secured the duplicate keys inside a black case. My tracker was hidden inside Grandma’s silver necklace, and the earpiece fit so deeply that nobody could see it.
Malachi stood in front of me before I entered the car.
“Repeat the instructions.”
“I enter alone. I confirm Kenzie is alive before surrendering the case. I don’t enter any vehicle or enclosed room.”
“If you lose communication?”
“Red door.”
“If the location changes?”
“I wait for your approval.”
“If he threatens Kenzie?”
I swallowed.
“I don’t abandon the plan.”
His gaze held mine.
“That will be the hardest part.”
“I know.”
He lifted his hand but stopped before touching my necklace.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
Malachi adjusted the tracker against my skin. His fingers brushed the back of my neck.
The touch was careful.
My body noticed anyway.
He stepped back first.
“You’re coming home, Jayla.”
“So is Kenzie.”
His face said he wouldn’t promise what he couldn’t control.
I appreciated him for not lying.
The driver dropped me half a mile from the estate.
I walked the remaining distance alone.
Moonlight spilled over the ruins. Vines covered stone walls, and broken machinery rusted among the fields.
“Can you hear me?” Malachi asked through the earpiece.
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer unless necessary.”
Headlights appeared beyond the mill.
A van stopped.
Two masked men stepped out before dragging Kenzie from the rear.
Her hands were tied, and dried blood marked the side of her face.
“Jay,” she cried.
I started toward her.
One of the men raised his weapon.
“Stop there.”
I obeyed.
“Show us the keys.”
I lifted the case.
“Let her go first.”
The man laughed.
“That isn’t how exchanges work.”
“It is tonight.”
Kenzie looked at me.
Something in her expression changed.
“Jayla, listen to me.”
“Be quiet,” the man ordered.
“They know about the duplicates,” she said quickly. “Someone inside Crown’s house told them everything.”
The man struck her.
I moved forward.
His weapon turned toward me.
“Open the case.”
“Let me see her hands.”
“Open it.”
Malachi’s voice entered my ear.
“Do as he says.”
I knelt and opened the case.
The duplicate keys rested inside.
One of the masked men carried them to a portable reader. Green light covered the device.
“They authenticated,” he said.
The other man smiled beneath his mask.
“Tell Crown his mother sends her love.”
An explosion shook the estate.
The earpiece went silent.
Armed men poured from the ruins around me.
Kenzie threw herself against the man holding her, knocking his weapon aside.
I reached for her.
Gunfire erupted from the darkness.
“Red door!” I screamed.
Nobody answered.