Chapter 2
The familiar nightmare woke her, and Sadie shot up in bed, clammy and sweating, feeling the familiar, phantom pains down her back and legs that always seemed to pursue her, no matter how hard she tried to extinguish that shit.
Hell, she’d become a freaking psychologist in the hope she could eliminate her own demons.
Fat lot of good that had done.
She took in a shuddering breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed as she tried to center herself. She obviously needed a good whip session to help her eradicate those torturous memories which haunted her dreams, and give her a different focus for the pain.
Sadie knew, to her detriment, that if she didn’t tackle this particular bull by the horns, she’d become stifled by imposter syndrome. The one that had her asking herself how she could possibly counsel others, when her entire psychology degree hadn’t helped her heal herself.
And fuck that shit. She was done allowing her past to determine who she was.
In theory, anyway.
Giving up any attempt to get back to sleep, Sadie shoved the sharp-toothed devils from her past back down where they belonged, and darted into the shower to wash away their fetid presence from her body.
They couldn’t touch her now. That’s what she told herself, anyway, even though she knew damn well why all this was having such a profound effect on her recently.
Nope - not thinking about it.
Of course, she’d tell her clients they’d need to deal with it to exorcise those ghosts, but she wasn’t quite ready yet.
That was her own secret shame.
Another one to add to the mile long list.
Feeling better once she’d cleaned up, Sadie wondered what to do with herself. Since it was 3.30am and even Iniquity, the kink club where she chose to flagellate her demons, was closed for the night.
She wandered onto the balcony, hoping the scented tropical beauty of the night would calm her, only to be confused by the distant thwap-thwap sound of rotor blades.
Not that the sound of an approaching helicopter was unusual…
it was, after all, the only airborne way to get onto the Caribbean Island of Elysium, since it wasn’t big enough for a runway.
But not at this time of night, since the management operated a strict daylight only flight policy.
The hairs on her arms stood up as the sound grew louder, closer. Something wasn't right. Sadie squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the approaching aircraft. A faint pinprick of light appeared on the horizon, growing larger as it neared the island.
Her heart began to race. Who could be arriving at this hour, and why? The residents and guests of Elysium valued their privacy above all else. An unscheduled nighttime arrival was unprecedented.
As the helicopter drew closer, Sadie could see it was sleek and black, unlike the white Airbus Ecostar typically used for island transport.
It swooped low over the treetops, heading for the private helipad on the edge of the island.
Was it her imagination, or did it seem to be flying a little erratically?
There were no landing lights illuminating the helipad, which meant nobody knew about this arrival. But it was equally clear, whoever was flying knew exactly where they were going, so it wasn’t a stranger.
Although it wasn’t any of her business, Sadie couldn’t shake the insistent urge to investigate this mysterious arrival, so she quickly threw on some clothes and headed out.
The warm night air caressed her skin as she made her way down the winding path towards the helipad on her personal ATV, the only form of transport on the island.
Palm fronds rustled in the hibiscus fragranced breeze, and the distant crash of waves provided a soothing backdrop.
But Sadie was oblivious to it all, remaining on edge, her senses heightened.
As she neared the landing site, she could make out the dark silhouette of the helicopter, its rotors slowing to a stop.
The aircraft sat at an odd angle on the pad, as if the pilot had been in a hurry to set down.
Sadie killed the engine on her ATV and crept closer, staying low and hidden in the lush foliage surrounding the clearing.
A figure stumbled out of the cockpit, nearly falling to the ground before catching themselves on the helicopter's frame. Even in the dim moonlight, Sadie could see the pilot was in trouble.
Male, she thought, her quick mind cataloguing everything about him. The chopper's interior lights showcased someone tall, well built, and wearing a tuxedo, something odd in itself, because who flew a helicopter in a tux?
And injured, unless she was very much mistaken.
In the stark darkness of the night, Sadie was glad she’d parked the ATV out of sight.
She wasn’t just a survivor, she was also extremely cautious.
And while she was a black belt in mixed martial arts and more than capable of defending herself, the element of surprise was never a bad thing. It gave her an added advantage.
It occurred to her she probably should have called ahead to Colt James, the Eden Resort’s head of security.
But she knew he’d be tucked up in his bed on Syèl la, the neighboring island catering to families, right along with Craig Colton, the island’s flight controller and mechanic, Shay Lando, the Entertainment manager, and Kimika Murakami, their wife.
In fact, she should have alerted Craig too, since this situation involved them both. Along with Dani Moreno, the resort administrator. In fact, she’d do that right now, before she confronted whoever had gatecrashed the island.
Fumbling around for her phone, Sadie cursed when she realized she’d forgotten it in her hurry to leave the house. “Fucking rookie mistake,” she muttered to herself. She knew better than this.
Sadie paused for a moment, worrying her lip as she decided on the best course of action, but as she watched the guy stumble away from the slowing rotor blades, he lost his balance and slumped to his knees.
Sadie's instincts as a psychologist and her innate compassion overrode her caution. She emerged from her hiding spot and approached the man carefully, hands raised to show she wasn't a threat.
"Hey there," she called softly. "Are you alright?"
The man's head snapped up, and even in the dim light, Sadie could see the pain etched across his face. He tried to stand but faltered, grimacing.
"I... I need help," he managed to gasp out.
As Sadie drew closer, she noticed the dark stain peeking out from his unbuttoned jacket.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the dark stain was blood. A lot of blood.
"Oh my god," she breathed, rushing to the man's side. "What happened to you?"
As she knelt beside him, her gaze locked with his midnight dark eyes, which were glazed with pain, and a ricochet of... recognition hit her.
"Saul Stephens?" she whispered, her voice hoarse with shock. The man didn’t know her, of course, but he was larger than life, always splashed over the tabloids and gracing magazine covers as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors.
And, because of her job here on Elysium, she also knew he was one of the ten co-owners of the island.
But how the hell did the playboy billionaire end up with - if she wasn’t very much mistaken - a bullet wound?
Saul's eyes widened briefly before he schooled his features into a mask of calm. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sweetheart," he said, his voice strained but still carrying a hint of his trademark charm.
"I'm Sadie Jones," she replied, her mind racing. "I'm the psychologist here on Elysium. But never mind that now - we need to get you medical attention immediately."
She reached out to help him up, but he flinched away from her touch. "No hospitals," he said firmly. "No one can know I'm here.”
Sadie hesitated, torn between her duty to help and the clear desperation in Saul's voice. "Okay," she said slowly. "But you need treatment. That wound looks serious."
Saul's eyes darted around the skies, as if searching for potential threats, and she couldn’t help scanning the dark horizon lit only by the light of the moon.
Was someone chasing him? A shudder echoed through her.
She knew what it was like to be on the run; the need to find safe harbors.
Wasn’t that what she was doing here? How could she possibly, in good faith, deny this man the same?
Besides, she couldn’t do anything at all until she got to her phone.
She knew there would be someone from the security team on duty, but the fact nobody else had made an appearance as yet only proved Saul’s unceremonious entrance hadn’t triggered any alarms. Which meant it was all down to her.
Her mind already formulating a plan, Sadie nodded. "My cabana isn't far. I have an ATV, but it’ll be bumpy. Can you walk?"
Gritting his teeth, Saul pushed himself to his feet, grunting with the exertion and swaying dangerously.
Sadie quickly moved to support him, slipping her arm around his waist. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the hard planes of muscle beneath. Despite his obvious pain, he still exuded an aura of strength and control.
"Lean on me," she instructed, guiding him towards her ATV. "We'll take it slow."
“My bag…” he ground out, gesturing blindly. Sadie looked around until she saw a small leather satchel, which he must have dragged out of the aircraft with him and dropped.
She grabbed it up, and as they made their way across the uneven ground, Sadie's mind whirred with questions.
What had happened to Saul Stephens? Why was he here, bleeding and desperate, in the middle of the night?
And why was he so adamant about keeping his presence a secret?
Ironically, that last question was the one that concerned her the least, because it was a motivation she fully understood.