I refused to be affected by Jolie’s tears or the fear in her eyes.

This was what she did; I had to remember that. She played on my emotions to weaken my resolve, and then she used my weakness to hurt. I bet her father worked in exactly the same way.

There was nothing I could do for the moment except leave her locked up down here. I was still wearing my soaking wet clothes and was cold down to the bone. I needed a hot shower and a change of clothes. I should probably check on Loretta, too, and see how she was doing. She hadn’t called my cell phone, so I guessed she was most likely sleeping off the food poisoning bout she’d been suffering from. I wondered if my housekeeper had been aware of any of the chaos happening downstairs, or if she’d been oblivious to Jolie’s escape attempt.

I was still kicking myself for letting down my guard like that. The petite frame, the silky honey-brown hair, the big blue eyes had all gone some way into me kidding myself that she would never get one over on me. What the fuck had I been thinking, taking her down a homecooked meal and even bringing her wine? Had I wanted things to go the way they had? When she’d dropped to her knees in front of me and started working the zipper on my pants, had I, deep down, hoped the evening would go exactly the way it had—not including the pencil in the thigh and the impromptu swim, of course? I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t been thinking about what it would be like to fuck her. It had been the first thought that had gone through my head when I’d seen her in person for the first time. She’d been up on that stage in her smart, low-cut shirt, exposing her cleavage, and the dark blue jeans that had hugged her ass so perfectly, and those electricity bolts that told me when I was attracted to a woman had zinged through me. I’d told myself this wasn’t a woman I should ever want to have like that, but that didn’t stop my body from reacting.

I’d already told her far too much. After what she did, the last thing I should be doing is confiding in her. She was cuffed now, and she needed to learn I wasn’t going to put up with the kind of behavior she’d displayed.

“Things are going to change now, Jolie,” I told her. “I told you that I’d been kind up until this point, but no more. Don’t expect good meals and hot showers and freedom to watch films and read books. You’re a prisoner here, and you’ll be treated as such.”

“Please, Hayden,” she begged.

“Shut up. I haven’t hurt you, physically, but that can always change as well. I told you I want to give your father some motivation, so don’t tempt me to start sending him pieces of you.”

Her eyes widened, and she shrank back. I wasn’t going to start cutting off fingers, if that’s what she thought, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her think me capable of such a thing. Maybe she hadn’t been frightened enough of me, and that was why she had run. If she’d been terrified of me, she’d never have tried to play me the way she had.

And if you hated her as much as you kept insisting, you’d never have let yourself get into that position in the first place.

I turned away from her and went back to the elevator. I wanted to let her stew on that thought overnight. She’d find things far more uncomfortable now she wore the handcuffs, and I wasn’t planning any more homecooked meals for her either. If she wanted to act like a prisoner, then she would be treated more like a prisoner.

I used the key card she’d stolen from me to open the elevator, and I stepped inside.

“Hayden...” She called to me, pleading.

I ignored her, and the doors slid shut, blocking off my view of her. I always felt better when I couldn’t see her. Hard decisions were easier when she wasn’t giving me that beseeching look that somehow had a direct line to my heart.

I stepped out of the elevator into the house that was my home. The storm continued to rage outside, and there was no sign that Loretta was up. Why would she be? It was nighttime now, and she was most likely sleeping off her sickness.

Everything looked exactly how I’d left it. I wasn’t sure why I felt like everything should be different. As though an earthquake should have shaken the place to the ground during the hour or so I’d spent down with Jolie.

Or maybe that was just how I felt—shaken down to my foundations.

I’d hated Jolie for so long, knowing how she’d protected him, the man who’d killed my mother, but when she’d told me how things had been as a child, a part of me had understood why she’d done it. I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to hang onto my anger and hatred. After all, if I didn’t, how was I supposed to do what was needed?

There was no possibility I’d be sleeping any time soon. Aside from the low-lying hum of arousal that burned through my veins, which I knew would be impossible to simply forget, there was something I needed to do.

The door we’d run through continued to bang in the wind.

With a growl, I strode through the house and yanked shut the offending door.

Then I went to the office and sat down at my computer. The desk drawers were half open, spilling their contents where Jolie had rifled through, though I didn’t know what the fuck she thought she was going to find. I wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything in there that would help her escape. I didn’t even keep the keys to the boat in my desk—they were upstairs, locked away in the safe, which was hidden inside the back of one of my closets.

I experienced a pang of regret at the loss of the boat. It might even be salvageable, but I didn’t have the time to put into trying to recover it. Besides, once I left the island with Jolie to go and kill her father, I wouldn’t be coming back here. The boat might be lost out to sea somewhere, but it wasn’t as though I’d be keeping it anyway. I remembered what I’d told Jolie, how none of it meant anything. The boat, the house, the cars, the plane were just metal and plastic, and wood and oil. None of it was breathing. None of it had a heartbeat. None of it had a soul. If it vanished tomorrow, it could be replaced. Not like a person. Not like a mother.

Or a lover.

I fired up my computer.

The lighting for Jolie’s room had been on a timer, but I was changing that now. I’d had it set so she was able to keep track of normal day and nighttime hours, feeling it was unnecessarily cruel to leave her in either permanent light or total darkness, but my level of compassion had been taken down a notch by her recent antics. I’d also had the light level set during the night so she would be able to make her way around the room in the dark—find her way to the bathroom without walking into things.

I was changing that now. I pulled up the control screen for the settings in her room and altered the lighting. She’d see how kind I’d been to her and just what I could be like when she took that kindness for granted.

She was spot on when she said I was going to use her as bait. That was exactly what I intended—to use her to lure her father out into the open. But doing so would mean taking her off the island and into a place inhabited by others, and I couldn’t do that while she had so much fight left in her. She’d proven she was willing to do whatever it took to escape. If she thought she could attempt to get off an otherwise uninhabited island, what would she do when she was surrounded by cars and other people? I wouldn’t be able to travel freely with her bound and in the trunk of my car. I needed for her to sit beside me and look as though we were together. In her current frame of mind, that would be impossible.

I needed to break her first.

There were still a few days remaining until I would need to take her to the mainland. A couple of things needed to happen before that part of this plan was instigated. The plane had to return to the island, and they wouldn’t be able to fly while the storm was still raging. Then Jolie’s letter would have to get through prison administration, and most likely would end up in the hands of the police. The police would then be forced to consult Patrick Dorman to see if there were any clues in the letter as to where she was being held—if he had some kind of insider knowledge. He didn’t, but I had men in place. Yes, I wanted Patrick Dorman to escape, but I also wanted to make him suffer before he died, and that was going to include him thinking his precious little girl was going through the same horror he’d put so many other women through.

I’d always considered myself to be a hard man, but Jolie had softened me. I needed to make that right.

Loretta wasn’t going to be happy when I told her what had happened. I was tempted to keep my mouth shut about everything, but she’d know something had changed. I knew why I didn’t want her to find out about Jolie’s escape attempt. She’d assume I couldn’t handle things on my own, which was bullshit. Jolie might have gotten past me, but I’d locked her back up again, hadn’t I? There was no actual damage done. I guessed I just didn’t want Loretta to see that Jolie might be my one weakness. The daughter of my mother’s murderer had a way of winding herself into my thoughts, her face always in the forefront of my mind whenever I closed my eyes.

Fuck, I didn’t want to even admit that to myself.

I had an Achille’s heel, and Jolie was it.