“I’ll give you a hint.” Mal caught my gaze and held it fast over the beer bottles. “It’s somewhere no one will ever find us.”
CARTER
“You did what?!”
“We searched his room and found a few things you missed,” I said. “You’re welcome.”
Hanson flushed a dangerous shade of purple.
I had called the detectives to tell them our find, only to hear they were on their way to see us. Rosalie called the Adlers back and asked the other guys to enjoy the day while we met with the police. From the still and silent group of Zion, Hazel, Kelli, Owen, and the rest of our friends keeping watch through the window, no one was enjoying anything.
“We found this.” I gestured to Preston who slid the note across the table. “It’s a routing number, day, time, and a boat registration number.”
Frowning, the detectives glanced at it but made no move to pick it up.
Rosalie did that for them. “You truly searched this man’s room? Does that mean— Preston, was Carlos telling the truth? You went to the inn and offered a blank check to Byrne’s possible co-conspirators?”
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking?” his father shouted.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Ortiz chimed in. “What would possess you to do something like that?”
“I was thinking we have to get Belle back! Byrne could’ve approached other people on our team. If they’re helping him for the money, we’ve got more.”
Cecilia rose from her seat. “Has anyone contacted you?”
“Yes, but—” Preston looked away. “Seven messages to go there or check that place with a seven-figure price tag attached. When I reply they won’t see a cent unless the information leads us to Belle, the replies dry up.”
“Of course they do,” Hanson said. “This is murder and abduction. Anyone involved is wise enough not to let money draw them out. The rest are leaping on an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.”
“At least we’re doing something,” I hissed.
Ortiz gave me a level look. “As are we. It’s why we’re here. We subpoenaed the airfield’s security tapes. A small plane did take off thirty minutes after Miss Adler was taken. We believe she and Mr. Byrne were on it.”
“What?”
The three of us shot to our feet.
“Are you certain?” Mr. Adler asked.
“The picture is grainy, but we can clearly make out a tall, dark-haired man and slight blonde woman entering the plane. They had no luggage.”
“Belle,” Cecilia whispered.
“Are you trying to tell us Belle’s been gone the whole time?” Nathan stalked around the table with a look in his eye that forced Hanson’s hand up. “How did you miss that? They could be anywhere by now.”
“He clearly had this planned. The pilot was ready and standing by. The workers scheduled that day were late for one reason or other.”
“What do we do now?” Cecilia asked. “He’s right. They could be anywhere.”
“Not anywhere,” Ortiz said. “The type of plane they’re flying is small and has the tiny tank to match. An hour and a half and they need to refuel. There’re three places along the coast where they can do that. We’ve already informed authorities on the mainland.”
“They won’t be there,” she sobbed. “It’s been over a day. They’ll have refueled and left.”
Hanson knelt beside her. “We’re on the trail now. As long as we’re moving in the right direction, that direction will lead to your daughter.”
I glanced at the note in Rosalie’s hand. “What about what we found in his room?” I asked. “Fuller went through the trouble of hiding it. The boat is important.”
“I’m certain it was,” Ortiz said. “As his getaway off the island. Unfortunately for Mr. Fuller, he didn’t get the chance to use it.” He nodded at his partner. “We’ll look into it, but our first priority is tracking down that plane and its passengers.”
“We know what we’re doing, gentlemen,” Hanson said. “This better be the last we hear of you playing detective.”
“Bring our girlfriend back and it will be.”
BELLE
I washed the last dish and set it on the rack.
The television blared through the tiny space, playing the news on repeat. If Mal, or I, was hoping for news of the search, we didn’t get it. Apparently all there was to report on this damp island was the End of Summer Citrine Festival.
Quietly, I folded the kitchen towel, set it down, and padded to the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
The slurred question stopped me in my tracks.
“Bed,” I said lightly.
“Wait.”
No.
I picked up my feet, hurrying into the room, and shutting me in. The door didn’t lock. The only one in the house that didn’t.
Fully clothed, I found the bed in the dark and pulled the covers over my head.
His advancing footfalls sounded outside the room, each one slicking my palms and echoing in my pounding heart.
The door banged open.
The urge to flee—to knock his drunk ass over, bolt out the door, and never stop running—overwhelmed my instincts. My body screamed down to the cells for me to get away from him.
I lay still. Breathing even. Eyes closed.
“Arabella?”
He shuffled in the darkness. My forehead creased slightly, confused at what he was doing. Then the unmistakable sound of his zipper filled the room.
“Arabella?” The mattress dipped. “Wake up.”
Cold air hit my underside as he lifted the blankets.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over—so fast I nearly cried out.
“Wake up,” he ordered, shaking me.
I flopped limp on the sheets, face smooth and serene as if truly sleeping. It was a testament to how many beers I fed him that he didn’t note how unlikely it was I’d fall asleep this fast.
“It’s been too long, a chroí.” Disgusting, alcohol-tainted kisses peppered my face. “I’ve missed you.”
I held my breath as his fetid air washed over me. Don’t move. He’ll stop. He’ll stop. He has to stop.
Mal slipped under my dress, tugging my underwear down, and the scream rose in my throat.
I didn’t care if he killed me. My mother’s murderer would not have me—or her. If this had to end in one of our deaths, morning light would not shine on both of us.
My right hand curled into a fist.
“Wake up, Arabella.” The fingers disappeared from my thigh and a sudden smack snapped my head to the side. The shock fluttered my eyes open and I made out a bare chest and obvious bulge before they closed just as quickly.
Mal swore under his breath. Hooking his arm under me, he pulled me close and collapsed on top, resting his head in the crook of my neck. Within minutes, his soft snores poured into my ears.
Relief so strong I could cry flooded me—and I did.
Soundless, choking sobs soaked my cheeks, dripping onto my pillow.
This would not work every night. I didn’t doubt Mal chose our new home well. If he got me there, I’d have no escape, and he’d make me his in every way.