Friday, Jamaica.

Shane shoved his hand through his hair.

Lacey’s laugh echoed off the tile, filling the command room with her infectious joy. In less than twenty-four hours, Isaac and Felix were circling her like she was in heat. Lacey had even managed to make Adam crack a smile, and he was easily the most stoic person Shane knew. Kyle took her constant questions in stride.

He felt the room dim as she ducked out following breakfast.

If he didn’t get some space from her soon...

Everything had been fine, round pegs in round holes, until the moment her lips touched his.

It wasn’t even a particularly good kiss, too quick, no heat, but it’d knocked him off balance. He’d lain awake so long last night he’d taken over Felix’s shift so he was at least do something of use.

“What’s the forecast look like?” Kyle leaned over the table.

Shane blinked at the tablet.

Right.

That’s what he was supposed to be doing, not counting how many times Lacey laughed.

“Rain, rain and more rain.” Shane offered the tablet to Kyle. “Internet is cutting out every now and then. We should prepare to lose it entirely.”

“Worst hasn’t hit us yet?”

“Should happen sometime after lunch.”

“What did our host say about boarding up windows?”

“He’s got that covered.”

“What’s the latest with our bonus rescue?”

“Excuse me?” Shane blinked at Kyle. He’d avoided Lacey all morning, letting the others bask in her perpetual sunshine.

“You pulled her out of there, she’s your responsibility.” Kyle handed the tablet back.

“Nothing to report, sir.”

“I can watch after Lacey, sir.” Isaac flashed a big, too-eager grin.

“The hell you are.” Shane glared at the other man.

The lights flickered, flashed then went out.

“Shit.” Shane muttered. He tapped at the screen. “Internet’s out.”

“I don’t have any cell signal,” Felix said.

“This is going to be a fun day.” Kyle sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll ride the storm out and make plans later.”

“I know of one way to ride out the storm...” Isaac snickered.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Shane stood. His chair skidded back. He took a step and grabbed the front of Isaac’s shirt.

“Dude, chill.” Isaac held up his hands.

“It’s not funny.”

“Learn to take a joke, York.” Isaac shot his hands up, breaking Shane’s hold on his shirt and shoving him back.

“Knock it off,” Kyle barked. “We have at least one day cooped up in here together. Don’t make me send you to your rooms. Isaac, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

“Yes, sir.” Isaac turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Shane ducked out into the hall before he really lost his temper.

Isaac was being a dick, but he was harmless. He might be the hopping-beds kind of person, but none of the women he’d been with had ever complained. Then again, Lacey might be into a devil-may-care kind of guy.

Shane glanced at the stairs.

Until they were back on American soil, Shane wasn’t about to allow the others to mess with Lacey. She’d been through enough. What she needed now was time to rest and heal. Her laughter and smiles hid the bruises her imprisonment had caused. She’d let him glimpse those last night and then fled.

Come to think of it, she’d stuck to the other side of the room and hadn’t glanced his way.

Avoidance? Or ignoring him?

He needed to go check the road for washout, but when he came back, he was going to have a little chat with Lacey. They were stuck with each other, and Kyle was right. She was his problem and his responsibility. Isaac could back the fuck off.

Lacey stared at the partially-open bedroom door. Their host had given up the master suite so the newlyweds might be more comfortable. As a result, Lacey had only glimpsed Aanya and Dev since arriving, which was fine by her.

Until she’d lain awake last night, listening to the rain battering at the house, and thought about what Shane said to her.

Maybe he was right and this wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done more, fought back. Instead, she’d been complicit and that wasn’t the person she wanted to be.

The only way to change that was to meet the issue head on, and while she couldn’t change the past, she could apologize. She could try to make things better.

Lacey took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. She took two steps and rapped her knuckles on the heavy, hand-carved doors.

“Come in,” Aanya called out.

Lacey pushed the door open and shuffled forward.

Aanya reclined on a sofa facing the windows, while her husband sat at a small table with a newspaper in hand. It was the picture of domestic bliss, and one Lacey was about to ruin.

“Hi!” Aanya pushed to her feet and in the blink of an eye enveloped Lacey in a tight squeeze. Her dark, curling hair tickled Lacey’s nose, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “I meant to come find you last night before it got so late. How are you?”

Aanya took a step back, her wide brown eyes so friendly and open.

“I need to apologize. To you both.” Lacey swallowed and glanced at Dev. He glanced up from his paper like an owl caught off guard.

“For what?” Aanya tilted her head to the side.

“Everything?” Lacey didn’t know where to start or what to say. God, she was going to be sick.

“Sit, please.” Aanya took her hand and led her to the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

Here goes.

The truth.

All of it.

If Aanya and Dev hated her for it, so be it. At least they would all be aware of what had really gone on.

“Marcos told me to tell you that things would go better if you did whatever he said.” Lacey clenched her hands together. Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe, but she had to get it all out. If she stopped she might never speak again. “Maybe that was the right thing to do? Maybe it wasn’t? I just... He said that—”

“He made you tell us what he’d already told us?” Dev asked.

“Yes?” Put that way, Lacey seemed more like a trained parrot.

“That was not your fault. Whatever that man made you do or say—it’s not your fault.” Aanya reached over and grasped Lacey’s hands, holding onto them so tight her nails dug into Lacey’s skin. “I’ve told you a little about my sister?”

“Yeah...”

“She was kidnapped when we were visiting family in Delhi. The men wanted money my parents didn’t have. You know what I loved about my sister?” Aanya smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“What?” Lacey whispered.

“She was fiercely independent. A fighter. Wonderful, witty, so strong and smart. I looked up to her so much, and I miss how she used to push me outside my comfort zone.” Aanya stared at the tile floor. “We know that she fought back against the men who killed her, that she was difficult and wouldn’t cooperate with their demands.”

Lacey swallowed. She had a bad feeling about where this story was going.

“Sometimes I wonder if she’d have done what they asked, would she still be alive today?” Aanya lifted her gaze to stare at Lacey. “What I do know is that you are not responsible for anything that man made you do. People like him have been taught his whole life that if they have the power, they can do what they want. It’s great and all to tell yourself that we need to stand up to people like that, but at what risk? Yes, men like him need to be stopped, but not at the loss the lives of people like you. Like my sister. You helped us. You were kind to us. That man didn’t make you that way, that’s who you are.”

Oh fuck.

Lacey pulled one hand back and covered her mouth to keep from sobbing.

“Aanya’s right.” Dev knelt in front of Lacy. “How long did you say you were there for anyway?”

“A month, right?” Aanya asked.

Lacey nodded. Six weeks and five days to be exact, but who was counting?

“You said there were others before us. Where are they? You helped them get home safe, and no one came back to help you. Aanya’s right. You did what you had to do. The blame isn’t your burden.” He placed a hand on Lacey’s knee.

“I hate crying.” Lacey swiped at her cheeks.

“You’ve been through a lot. Cut yourself some slack,” Aanya said.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Lacey nodded.

She’d dug herself this pit of doom, gloom and despair, drowning herself in guilt, and in a matter of moments the people who should hate her, were the ones hauling her ass back to terra firma. She’d convinced herself she was equally at fault, that she could do more, and maybe she could have. But Shane—and Aanya—were right. She was a victim, as hard as that was to come to terms with. Lacey had worn many labels in her life, but that wasn’t one of them. She might not like it, but life was a journey. She’d documented most everything since that first Australia trip, and by God, she’d share this with the world, too.

Something pinged from across the room.

“Internet’s back up for who knows how long.” Dev straightened. “I’m going to try to reach my dad again. He’s the only one we haven’t been able to connect with.”

“Your father.” Aanya shook her head and sighed before turning her attention back to Lacey. “Have you talked to your family yet?”

“Oh, no. By the time I thought of it, the cell phones were already down.”

“Do you want to try after this?” Dev tapped at the screen of a tablet that’d been under the newspaper.

A virtual reunion with her family, here, with an audience?

Lacey might prefer dinner with Marcos.

“No, I don’t want to intrude.” Lacey stood. “I’ll get out of your hair, just—thank you. Really.”

She fled after a few more pleasantries. Aanya meant well, and her words were touching, but Lacey wasn’t yet ready to be that person. The victim. She was too angry to figure out how she fit in all of this.

Lacey retreated to the third floor balcony and stood just under the roof, where a proverbial downpour of water splashed on the tile. She stared out over the landscape, noting the changes in less than twenty-four hours.

Dirt and mud were sliding down the hill, covering the road. She’d spied a few overturned trees. From the bits of radio and TV they’d been able to get, she knew there was considerable flooding all over the island, cell towers were down, and houses damaged. Rain like this was unusual and harmful. The people here would rebuild.

That was why she loved Jamaica. The cheer and resiliency of the people she’d met resonated inside of her. Doing this tour was going to be the highlight of her year. And then...

Marcos.

Life was crazy sometimes.

“You do know we have running water and showers downstairs, right? Hot water, even.”

She turned toward Isaac. He paused next to the dining table tucked up against the wall and pulled out a chair.

“Showers don’t do me a lot of good when I’m just wearing the same thing over and over again.” She was pretty sure her clothes could stand up on their own, even when she hand-washed them every so often.

“Why didn’t you say something? We brought some things for Aanya that we could use for you, too.” He sat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Man, I miss smoking sometimes.”

“It’s better for you to not smoke.”

“So I’m told.” He lifted his shoulders. “I’ve also been told I owe you an apology.”

“Oh?” Lacey frowned and ambled toward him. Isaac was a fun guy, the kind of person she liked meeting out and about. Great to pass the time with, but not always a great travel partner. He was too flighty, too smooth. She was willing to bet there was a string of broken hearts in his wake. Then again, some might say the same of her.

“Yes, that I might have flirted a little too much, and it might not have been welcome. So, if I made you feel uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I’m a stupid guy and I miss signals.”

“Who told you that?” Lacey laughed, the first, honest laugh in a while. She pulled out the chair next to him and turned it to face out so she could watch the rain come down.

“Doesn’t matter. If I did wrong, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re fine.” She might like the attention, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. Isaac was harmless. To her, at least. She peered sideways at the sandy-haired man. “Was it Shane?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to answer that question,” he said slowly.

“Bullshit.”

Isaac grinned.

It was Shane.

The stick in the mud. He saw someone else having fun and had to squash it.

Lacey rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You got under his skin. I don’t know how you did it, but I was pretty sure he was about to wipe the floor with my ass.” Isaac sounded downright gleeful about the prospect.

“I didn’t do anything.” Except kiss him. A tiny bit.

“If I pay you fifty bucks to keep not doing anything, would you?”

“That would be wrong.” And way too tempting.

“Hey, I’ve known Shane a long time and I’ve only seen him get worked up a few times.” Isaac stared at the tile, some of the humor leeching out of his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked keeping her voice quiet.

“There was a...an accident a few weeks ago. Shane blames himself, and yeah, maybe it was his fault if we’re assigning blame, but... You can’t do that. Shit happens.”

Damn, that sounded familiar.

They descended into silence, broken only by the pitter patter of rain.

She’d always seen herself as an adventurer, braving the unknown, going to places others wouldn’t, and opening the eyes of people who would never get to be in her shoes. Casting this new light on her life was uncomfortable. Where did she go from here?

Shane seemed so...solid. Unfazed by even the slightest thing. Hell, he’d taken finding a girl with an explosive collar on her neck in stride and known exactly what to do. If he blamed himself for anything, she didn’t see it. What she wouldn’t give for confidence like that at a time like this.

“Isaac.”

Lacey jumped at the sharp tone. She and Isaac turned toward the double doors.

Shane stood there, glaring at Isaac as though he were about to go toe to toe in some sort of epic showdown.

Marcos picked up the phone. He’d had one miracle today. Tommy’s doctor had recommended a week off, time for the kid to recuperate. It was the time Marcos needed to come up with the cash to keep the ball rolling.

“Tell me you’ve got something,” he said. His team wasn’t equipped to follow Lacey’s social media trail, so he’d called in a specialist.

“The website just made a statement that Lacey Miles has been rescued and an update is forthcoming,” Juan Torres replied. At least Marcos assumed it was Juan. For all he knew, it could be his brother Pedro.

“And?” Marcos grit his teeth. He didn’t care one way about her, only that wherever Lacey was, so were the targets.

“You aren’t going to like this. We hacked the site and found some video. It’s of you, the team... She was recording for at least the first few weeks you had her.”

“What?” Marcos stood. His chair shot back, toppling over.

“She wore some kind of small action, body camera thing. It’s not great quality, so the feds won’t be able to use facial recognition software to ID your guys, but it’s all there.”

“Did you delete it?” Marcos paced the office. Part of Marcos’ parting words to his captives before he let them go was a threat that if anyone ever breathed a word about him, his team, or who they were, Marcos would come for them. It was a threat he’d never had to make good on. The people they targeted believed they were above such horrors, and ones behind them wanted to forget they’d ever happened.

“I deleted what was there, but this is probably not the only copy. Whoever she sent it to will have it, and the original is likely still on her. Not that you asked me for my opinion, but you need to find her and shut her up, man. If she talks...”

“Working on it. You handle the video guy. Shut him up. Do whatever you have to do, understand?” Marcos ended the call and slammed the phone down on his desk.

He couldn’t tell the client about this. He’d been honest about the escape, but this? A move like this would kill his business, not to mention his ability to travel in and out of the states. Someday he wanted to take Tommy home, watch him play in the yard, spend time with their family. But if Marcos was a wanted man, that was a future they couldn’t have. Lacey Miles and the team who rescued her had to die. It was them or Tommy, and Marcos’ son would always come first.

The cops and local guys would need to be paid more. This was already eating into his operational profits, but now they were talking about Marcos’ ability to pay his men and take care of Tommy. He—and every man who worked for him—could not allow Lacey Miles’ video to go live. If it did, they were all over.