Chapter 4

The engine note beneath the floor faded.

I had been locked in the dark cabin for almost two hours when the yacht finally stopped moving.

The silence pressed against my ears.

The electronic lock chirped.

The heavy door pulled open.

The same guard stood in the corridor.

He didn't have his gun drawn, but his hand rested comfortably near his waistband.

"Upstairs," he said.

I stood up from the cot.

My ruined duffel bag lay on the linoleum, my clean clothes scattered and trampled.

I didn't try to gather my things.

I walked past the guard and climbed the teak stairs to the main deck.

The salt air hit me immediately.

The temperature had dropped over the last two hours.

The string lights that had illuminated the engagement party were off.

The glasses and silver trays were gone. The deck looked as if the party had never happened.

Cole stood near the stern railing.

His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

A few feet behind him, Vivian sat on a white leather lounge chair.

Vivian had a wool blanket over her evening gown.

The wind went straight through my thin gray sweater.

I walked toward the railing.

A massive, jagged silhouette broke the line of the horizon.

It was a steep rise of dense brush and black rock jutting out of the water.

There were no resort lights, no harbor markers, and no docks.

A tender waited at the swim platform below with its engine running.

Two of Cole's men stood inside.

"What is this?" I asked.

"An old holding island," Cole said.

His voice gave nothing away.

"Get in the boat, Avery."

I stared at the black outline of the rock. "You're leaving me here."

"A supply boat comes through these waters every three days," Cole said. "If my men verify that the leak didn't come from your phone, they'll pick you up."

"Then leave me a radio," I said.

Cole said nothing.

"One bottle of water. A flare. Anything that proves you expect me to be alive when they come back."

He didn't answer.

He just looked at the island.

I stepped closer to him.

The wind whipped the fabric of my sweater against my arms.

"Vivian sent a dress my exact size before the wine was ever spilled," I said, my voice steady. "Someone accessed the guest network and revoked my Wi-Fi. And you packed my charger."

Vivian pulled the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"The dress proves I knew you were coming," she said, her voice perfectly calm. "It doesn't prove I put a tracker in your bag or ordered men to fire on my family."

I ignored her.

I watched the man who had waited outside the ER for me.

"Do you actually believe I planted that tracker, Cole?"

Cole looked past me at the island.

He took too long to answer.

I needed him to say yes.

If he truly believed I had betrayed him, his cruelty would at least make sense.

"I can't afford to be wrong," he said.

That wasn't an answer.

It was worse.

He hadn't called me guilty.

He had decided I was easier to lose.

"Put her in the boat," Cole said.

He turned his back to me.

"Cole, please."

The word left my mouth before pride could stop it.

I hated the way my voice sounded.

He didn't turn around.

One of the men stepped forward and grabbed my arm.

My hands moved before I could think.

I caught the teak railing with both hands.

He pulled my fingers loose, one at a time, peeling my hands off the polished wood.

He dragged me down the metal stairs and pushed me into the small rubber tender.

A second man threw my torn duffel bag down after me.

It hit the aluminum floor with a dull thud.

The outboard motor roared, drowning out the wind.

I sat on the hard edge.

I kept my eyes on the island as the tender crossed the dark water.

The driver nosed the tender toward the rocks.

"Out," he ordered.

I stood up, grabbed the strap of my torn bag, and climbed over the edge.

I had to step into knee-deep water to reach the shore.

Cold seawater soaked through my shoes and slacks.

I waded onto the dark, sharp rocks.

The engine roared again.

The men reversed the tender, pulling away from the shore.

Five minutes later, the massive engines of the yacht rumbled in the distance.

The ship slowly turned, its heavy wake crashing against the rocks at my feet.

The yacht's stern lights grew smaller.

I waited for them to turn back.

They kept going.