CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 21
THINGS WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE. NESS HAD FIGURED THEY were already at the bottom, but now they were burrowing into the ground.
Libby pretended Coco’s well-intentioned speech never happened, and soon she had Daisy and Ian at least tentatively on her side. Ness couldn’t help but wonder if Ian’s defection was at least partially based on self-preservation, after Coco’s unfortunate revelation. If he stuck by Ness, his access to pharmaceuticals might immediately become much more tenuous.
Despite the whole “Ness slept with Ian” thing, Hayes tried to intervene, but by that point it was chaos and, among all the voices talking over each other, someone suggested Ness and Hayes needed to be separated in case they were criminal collaborators.
“Go with it,” Hayes told her under his breath. “They need time to think this through, and then they’ll see reason.” Given the deep frown lines he was sporting, and the distance he’d been keeping between them since Coco’s spilling of the ancient beans, Ness was pretty sure he wasn’t only referring to the angry horde.
Which was how Ness found herself sitting in the mirror-covered bedroom where she’d found nearly-nude Hayes what felt like a lifetime ago. Except now she had Ian as her guard. Libby had volunteered for the job herself, but Daisy, probably fearing for Ness’s health and safety if left alone with her archnemesis (whose life she had just saved, by the way), had suggested Ian do it so the others would be free to search for Bradley and continue plotting Ness’s demise. The not-so-subtle subtext was that Ian was in no state to traipse all over the island himself and he may as well have some supervision.
Ian didn’t seem very dedicated to his new role. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, reading a battered copy of what appeared to be a historical romance novel, if the swooning redhead on the cover was any indication.
Ness couldn’t settle. She paced the room, replaying the scene on the balcony in her head and inserting all the scathing remarks she wished she’d thought of sooner.
“Ethan leaned in close,” Ian said suddenly. “His words caressed Emilia’s ear, making the center of her burst to sinful flames. She could smell the winter wind still clinging to the fabric of his heavy riding cloak and wondered if he could feel that she was burning up from within.”
Ness stopped pacing and stared at him. “What are you doing?”
He marked his spot with a finger. From across the room Ness could see his hand trembling. “Trying to distract you. Should I keep going?”
“Please don’t.”
He skimmed down the page. “Are you sure? Things are about to get very interesting for our dear widowed-yet-still-virginal duchess.”
“What’s going to happen when you run through Libby’s pills?”
Slowly, he closed the book and sat up. Anger flashed across his face but quickly morphed into resignation. He spread his arms and shrugged.
“Withdrawal. More of what you already saw. Mood swings, anxiety, sweating.” He was ticking symptoms off on his fingers. “Maybe hallucinations, which would be really exciting here. The most convenient, though, is loss of appetite. If we’re looking for a positive spin, there it is.” He smiled wryly, dimple on full display.
“I can’t tell if you’re taking this seriously.”
“I can’t tell if you’re planning to sell our secrets for financial gain. What if I go the way of Bradley and end up,” he pitched his voice deep, “done away with?”
Ness groaned and flopped down onto the dusty but still plush area rug. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s out there proving a point. He’ll probably be back in the morning, crowing about how quickly things fell apart up on this hill without him.”
Ness hoped he was right, because she wasn’t so sure. She thought back to the argument she’d overheard between Libby and Bradley. Then the letters he’d written. He had a plan, he’d said.What if his plan was . . . whatever this was?
She could see it. He’d wanted so badly to make it to the A-list, but never seemed to progress past cop shows and supporting roles in movies starring much bigger names. If he could anonymously sell the footage from the island, he’d make a fortune.
But where was he?
She tried breathing in for a four count and out for six, exactly the way her sleep app instructed every night. Instead of settling her, though, the extra oxygen seemed to push her racing brain into overdrive.
“I thought I’d already been through the worst part of my life and this was going to be an upswing, but here we are, on a swift train heading off a cliff.” She lay flat and flipped her palms to the ceiling, trying more deep breaths. A whisper of cool air made its way through the room, making Ness shiver.
“You know what’s sucking the most, aside from the potential murder accusations? I thought I was making real progress.” She closed her eyes, talking more to herself than Ian. “I signed on to this project for what felt like all the right reasons. The money was a nice perk—though, newsflash, it sounds like they really scraped the bottom of the barrel on my contract. But it was like the universe was rewarding twenty years of trying to patch myself back together with a do-over. I was so excited to be here, in front of the camera.Well, not here here.” She sighed.
“And despite ending up on this stupid island, and having to fight wildlife I don’t even want to see in a zoo, and being so hungry I would eat that dumb velvet couch, I still felt like this was worth it. I can apologize and make amends and show people I care about them here just as much, if not more, than if we were shooting.”
She heard Ian shift and looked over at him. “I thought things were getting better.”
She let her eyes fall shut again, and a wave of despair washed over her.
Ian’s voice cut through her morose reverie.
“I thought writing my memoir would be healing. It felt like I was finally doing some good, and by sharing my experience I might help other people. If I could show even one struggling person that there is a path forward, that would make a difference. But you know what I worried about?”
Ness’s eyes were still closed. She sniffled, not quite crying but not quite not crying. “What?”
“That helping wouldn’t feel good enough. That redeeming myself wouldn’t be a big enough high. That nothing would ever feel like enough.”
“Is that why you started using again?”
“No.” He laughed, harsh and brittle. Ness opened her eyes.
“No,” he repeated. “I started because it was too much. For the first time in a long, long time I was fully aware of the spotlight and the scrutiny and all these people looking up to me. For a while it was great, you know? I’d done it. I was back.”
“And then?” Ness prompted. She pushed herself to her elbows, feeling uneasy about the direction this was taking. The draft she’d felt earlier was also getting stronger. She peered around the edges of the room, looking for its source.
“And then that pressure started to feel crushing. I got paranoid. Anxious. Thinking that someone was always watching and waiting to catch me fucking up again. And that’s when I realized it was only a matter of time until I was a disappointment. Again. Always. Forever. I’ve never been able to live up to the hype. You and Hayes? You’ve always been larger than life. It can suck the air out of a room. Everyone else is instantly in your shadow. Honestly, it was a bit of a relief when you left.”
Ian was standing now, looking out the window. Her heart began to pound as her brain threw together pieces of a rather distressing puzzle.
Ian disappearing in the night. His mood swings. He’d just come off a book tour touting redemption and sobriety while still using—if that got out into the media, Ness wasn’t sure he’d get a second chance at a comeback. If Libby and Tyler had convinced him she was the one with the cameras, what would he do to make sure the footage didn’t leak? How desperate was he?
Of course, there was another option. One she’d be silly to ignore. If he’d been sourcing drugs and potentially paying people to keep it quiet for months now, Ian could be deep in the red.As far as she could tell, his lifestyle hadn’t changed much, which meant footing a hefty monthly bill. She assumed his book advance had been substantial. Other than some guest spots riding on the publicity of his tour, he hadn’t been getting much work elsewhere. It was like the industry was waiting to see what he did next before reinvesting.
If any of them was desperate for cash, it could easily be him.
Ness got to her feet and wondered where everyone else was. She wandered casually to the door and tried the knob. It was locked.
“Wouldn’t be much of a house arrest situation if the door was open, would it?” Ian had turned and was leaning against the wall, watching her. The mirrors created endless loops of the two of them.
The lights suddenly glowed brighter, then dimmed. Faintly, Ness could hear the generator starting to cycle more loudly. This would be the last night with power, then.
They stared at each other for another awkward beat, and then Ian laughed. “God, this place really messes with your head, huh?” He belly-flopped back onto the bed and started rifling through the bag he’d brought in with him. He pulled out a prescription pill bottle. Ignoring her watchful gaze, he popped the top free and shook two tablets into his palm.
“Don’t tell Libs I have these. Emergency stash.”
From Ness’s viewpoint the bottle looked perilously close to empty. She pressed her hands flat against her thighs to hide their trembling.
“Should we be, um, conserving resources here?” She looked meaningfully at the bottle lying beside him.
He rummaged some more and produced a mason jar of clear liquid. Unscrewing the top, he took a long swallow, chasing the pills down with a final glug. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered her the jar.
She accepted and sniffed. Gin. She handed it back. “I’m good.”
“Alright, then. Back to the duchess.” He flicked through until he found his page, and cleared his throat.
“‘You can’t hide your true feelings from me, precious one,’ Ethan growled. Emilia’s knees trembled and she found herself backed against the banister. The hard wood of the newel post pressed into her spine . . .”
* * *
By the time the duchess had experienced her first dozen orgasms and then, in a real twist, been seemingly spurned by the wicked earl, Ian was asleep, snoring loudly with his face resting on his forearms. Ness was pulling a thin blanket over him when she felt a cool breeze across the back of her ankles.
Casting a look over her shoulder to make sure Ian was still out, she slowly slid open the—mirrored, obviously—closet door and peered inside. A gust of air swirled around her, tickling her nose as she inhaled dust and mummified insects.
She crouched into a ball and pressed her face into her thighs just in time, allowing her legs to absorb a gargantuan sneeze. On the bed, Ian murmured something in his sleep and rolled onto his side. She froze, counting to thirty before getting creakily upright. Man, she missed her joint supplements.
A thin strip of light against the dark wooden wall at the back of the closet caught her attention. It was partially hidden behind a slinky zebra-print robe drooping dejectedly on a metal hook. Ness brushed the fabric aside and ran her hands over the wall, searching for any kind of lever or button.
Her fingers tangled in a silky cord that at first seemed to be a particularly garish part of the robe but, on further investigation, was actually dangling from the ceiling. Its gold-tasseled end shimmered in the light. She pulled tentatively, then harder. From within the wall there was a faint click and a latch released. Ness pushed the full-size door open.
She was in a small hallway that, judging by the angled ceiling, passed under the stairs. After a moment of indecision, she shoved the door to the closet closed.
The hallway walls were painted white and the floors were the same tile as the kitchen. Dim pot lights mounted far above in the double-height ceiling lit her way. It all seemed very . . . normal, which, at this point, Ness found more disconcerting than if she’d been surrounded by prints of lusty Viking gods. She eyed the light switch, wondering who had flicked it on, and when. Considering her options of staying in her surreal bedroom prison with Ian or forging ahead into the unknown, she continued on. Maybe her luck would turn and she’d find some kind of evidence that proved she wasn’t the baddie in this particular drama.
She followed the hall a short distance and entered a small room sandwiched between the kitchen and balcony. A piece of counter and cabinetry matching those in the kitchen ran along one wall, and on top stood a camera on a short tripod, red light blinking. It was pointing out a window that looked onto the balcony—specifically, onto the defunct hot tub. Ness had spent enough time pacing out there to know that from the outside the window looked just like a trellised portion of the wall.
Ness peeked out and saw, under the faint light of the moon, Coco and Daisy locked in a passionate embrace. A faint “Awwww!” escaped her lips. It was about time something good happened here.
She pulled out the memory card and ground it under her heel, then grabbed the camera, knelt, and smashed it against the tile.
Above her head, a ceiling fan whirled slowly.At the end of the room was a heavy-looking wooden door. An ornate keyhole was above the handle and Ness half-heartedly turned the knob, already weighing her chances of getting back into her prison cell unnoticed if this was a dead end. Not that it seemed like Ian cared much.
The door swung toward her.
“Huh.”
More ornate sconces with candle-like bulbs were mounted on cinderblock walls, framing a set of descending stone stairs that curved left and out of view in their flickering light.
If this were a police procedural, Ness would have had her hand on the butt of her gun. She’d have been muttering into a radio, asking for backup. And then she’d have gone down those stairs alone to save the day because time was of the essence.
She could, she supposed, go back and find someone else, but then what? Hey, bud, want to explore what appears to be a dungeon with me? Given the current trust issues running rampant among island inhabitants, it didn’t seem like a great option.
A quiet moan came from below.
“Bradley?” she called, sticking her head through the doorway to peer farther down. They’d all assumed that he’d fled outward to tame the island and prove a point, but what if he’d been in here the whole time?
She heard what sounded like a shoe scuffling on pavement. The lights brightened and dimmed again. And again. Ness figured they had a couple minutes, max, before the lights went out for good. This would be a really great time to find some more gas. And what better place to store it than in a nice cool basement. Right? Absolutely. Not that she was talking herself into anything. This was the most sensible next step. And what if there were resources down there and she didn’t get them now, while there was ample light? Then she’d have to go with a flashlight or the stupid hand-crank lantern, and it would be eighty-five times spookier, and there was the chance she’d overlook something. Plus, she could really do with a win right now.
Hey, maybe there would be wine! She perked up. She could really go for some wine.
Taking a deep breath that smelled of wet stone and mistakes, she nodded, psyching herself up. This was the only good option.
Before she could reconsider, she was five steps down.
“Hello?”
Her voice seemed to echo back at her.
“Okay, creepy,” she muttered, one hand trailing along the cool, damp cinderblocks for balance. No one had bothered to install a handrail, of course.
Pausing at the small landing at the top of the curve, Ness leaned forward, peeking around the wall to see what fresh hell awaited her.
The staircase ended in another equally dim, breezy corridor. It was no more than four feet wide, and the floor under Ness’s bare feet was cool and a bit slippery. The air smelled of the sea.
She crept along, painfully aware of the increasing frequency of the light pulses that signaled the end times for their power source.
“This is so dumb.” She kept one hand on the wall, thinking that if the lights did go out, she could turn herself around and follow the wall right back out the way she’d come. Barely terrifying at all.
The ceiling changed, and now it was curved, rough stone. Soon the walls followed suit, and the cinderblock gave way to the same dark rock.
The hall had become a tunnel.
Just as Ness’s independent and investigatory spirit was about to max out and send her back to the surface, the tunnel opened into a cavern.
The chamber she stood at the threshold of was maybe twenty feet across and irregularly shaped, following what she assumed were the natural contours of the space. Directly across from her was another doorway, through which more light was visible.
But it was the area in front of her that really held her attention.
Given everything they’d discovered in the past few days, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find herself in an oceanic sex dungeon. And yet.
Three sets of manacles were mounted to the largest wall. A large hook dangled from a chain in the ceiling at the cavern’s center. Along the far left wall were shelves lined with assorted whips and . . . Ness squinted to get a better look and immediately regretted it. Needless to say, if one were into that sort of thing, there were many options.
To her left, a semicircular pool was set into the ground. Submerged lights cast an eerie green glow. She edged closer, looking in. A trio of bug-eyed fish flicked their tails back and forth, swimming away as her shadow loomed over them. Ness leapt back, startled, then peeked again. The lights revealed a tunnel that went into the wall.As she watched, the fish made their way through the opening and out of sight.
She shuddered as a damp draft funneled through the space and wrapped around her in a ghostly embrace. Something flashed in the corner of her vision. She turned to the right, where an ornate but very rusty metal chair sat. Half-rotted leather straps dangled from the arms and legs.
On the seat, a bright, bluish light flickered.
Ness felt as if she were moving in slow motion, tiptoeing across the floor and picking up the small camera.
It was in playback mode, and she froze, watching herself wrapped in Hayes’s arms on the balcony, her head thrown back so she could stare into his eyes. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. Apparently, the camera she’d seen on her way in wasn’t the only one that had been recording the action outside.
She dropped it as if it had burnt her, sending it clattering back onto the seat.
Behind her, there was a swish of air and the rustle of fabric. Ness spun as someone disappeared up the stairs so quickly she caught only the smallest glimpse of a leg before they were out of sight.
“Hey!” she yelled, starting after them. “Wait!”
At the top of the stairs, a door slammed. The faint sound of a lock clacking into place echoed dimly off the rock walls.
To:Morris Wagner
From:Trisha Jung
Subject:Schedule
Morris,
This is a hard situation for all of us, but we’re three days into this crisis with no sign of a resolution. You need to find a way forward—with or without the current cast. We’re burning money here. Make it work.
T