Nick backed quickly toward the door and peered into the living room. Belle rose from her crouch in the corner and came toward him. “Baby, are you all right?” he asked.
“Y-yeah. How many of them were there?” Visibly shaken, she tried to look past him, but he tucked her back and blocked her with his body.
“I don’t know yet. The men are checking things out. We’ll find out soon.” His jaw tightened as the last of the adrenaline rushed from his body. Taking a life had never come easy—even when the monsters in question deserved it—but Nick knew he’d do it again and again to protect Belle. He speared a hand through his hair. “Dammit, I knew something wasn’t right with Francis.”
She nodded shakily. The look of terror remained in her eyes but there was anger, as well. The hand she put on his arm was reassuring even as it trembled. “So did I. Which means everything he told us was probably bullshit.” Before she could say anything else, his phone rang.
The conversation with his security team down at the beach was quick, but the info they delivered was dismal.
“What?” Belle asked as soon as he hung up.
“Not everything Francis told us was crap. One of the men managed to dial out before he was shot. The line was still open.”
“Do we know who he called?”
“No, but the number was Venezuelan.”
Her eyes widened. “Mwana?”
He nodded reluctantly. “Francis fed us enough truth to try and lure us into complacency. And he almost succeeded.”
Witnessing her shudder threatened to blow the lid off the rage he was trying to suppress.
“I know he’s still out there, but please tell me we got all the fuckers he sent here?” she pleaded.
Despite the carnage around them, Nick grinned, deciding he liked this dirty-mouthed version of his wife. “Yeah. We got the fuckers.”
Chapter Ten
“Demetra has packed a picnic lunch, and the golf cart is out front. Are you sure you want to do this, baby?”
Belle’s breath caught as Nick walked into the room.
Dressed in a pair of jean cut-offs and a sky-blue polo shirt, he looked breathtakingly handsome. His hair had grown in the almost two weeks they’d been on the island and had begun to curl around his collar. Its thick vibrancy made her ache to run her hands through it. She forced herself to look away, focused on screwing the top back on the tube of lip gloss.
“Have the police left?” They’d been dealing with authorities from the mainland all morning. None of Mwana’s four men had survived to be questioned. What the police had found was a GPS bug near the living room door, no doubt planted by the seemingly harmless Richard Francis. He’d played them all, a fact Nick was finding hard to live with.
“All but a few officers the inspector insisted remain behind. Jameson isn’t taking it well. The guy’s already broken up about letting Francis slip out of his grasp when he dumped him on Mykonos. I left before a fistfight broke between him and the cops.”
“Poor Jameson. You think the authorities will catch up to Richard Francis?”
Nick’s lips twisted. “They’re hoping he’ll be much easier to track since they have a picture and the background info I gave them. But if he’s deep in with Mwana—” He stopped and took a breath. “Anyway, I’ve told Jameson I don’t want us to be disturbed, so we don’t have to go anywhere if you want to remain put?” he said hopefully.
“No. I refuse to live in fear, Nick. Those bastards shot at us yesterday, but we survived. I’m not letting them force me into hiding. I’m going to the waterfall.”
She shuddered at the memory of the gunfire, of the very real threat that she could’ve lost Nick. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night. Neither had he. They’d lain awake in bed holding each other. While the reason for that was terrifying, she was glad that she and Nick had grown closer because of it. She didn’t delude herself into thinking all their problems would be resolved just as easily…but there was hope amid all this turmoil.
“Earth to Tinkerbelle,” Nick growled in her ear. Strong hands slid around to anchor her waist. “Where have you gone, baby?”
She forced away the disturbing images of black-clad, masked men and focused on Nick’s image in the mirror.
“I’m glad I didn’t lose you,” she murmured.
He smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t lose me, too.”
She laughed and turned in his arms. He glanced down at her, his eyes intent on her face. “You didn’t tell me where you went.”
“I’m right here, and yes, I’m ready to go.” She tried to inject as much lightness into her voice as she could.