I fought him. “His brother found him. I doubt he was given an invitation.”

The pilot sniffed. “Forget about Mr. Sinclair. Don’t waste your time trying to find him. No one will help you. No one will take you.”

“Stop it!” I struggled against his strength as he dragged me closer to the hanger. My bare feet grazed on the tarmac, flaring with pain. My simple dress fluttered with the night breeze. I’d been sold to Sully without a single personal belonging. I’d been removed from Sully in the exact same condition.

I hadn’t even taken the diamond he’d given me.

I had nothing of his.

No photo to prove it was real. No promise that he’d come after me.

Just a false admittance that I could return.

And a pilot who told me that was impossible.

Panic added new power to my body and I fought harder. “I’ll find a way. I won’t let him do this.”

“It’s already done.” The blast of air-conditioning as he jerked me into the large hangar was a slap of reality after living on a tropical island. An island that might be under a siege with no one alive to protect it. An island that’d become unreachable.

A small waiting area welcomed, complete with travertine floors and flocked seating.

A young man in a black uniform with SSG on his lapel came forward. He bowed at the pilot, uncaring that he held me while I struggled. “I will ensure she is properly taken care of.”

His words could mean kill me or help me.

“Take me back to Sully. He’s in trouble. Stop wasting time and—”

“Hold her while we take off. Remind her that Goddess Isles is no longer available to her and destroy the letter once she’s memorised it.” The captain shoved my arm at the new man.

“Wait, don’t—” I tried to backpedal, only for the slim Indonesian man to wrap his bony, strong fingers around my wrist.

“I’ll hold.” He nodded curtly, digging his fingernails into my skin as the captain gave me one last look, then stormed from the luxury office in the hangar and strode swiftly back to his helicopter.

I tried to run.

I did my best to pry my new jailer’s claws off me, but I was too late.

Rotor blades swirled faster and faster, engines screamed, and my only method of returning to Sully shot into the sky.

The second the helicopter no longer touched earth, the man let me go, shaking out his hand as if touching me had been an affront to his job description.

“Do you have a preference in airlines, ma’am?” he asked politely, moving toward his desk where a computer waited. “If you advise your hometown, I can book you on the next available flight.”

“Flight?”

He nodded. “We might have to transfer you through the Philippines or Hong Kong. A lot of the main routes fly from there, but that won’t be a problem.” Pointing at the envelope in my hand, he added, “Inside, you’ll find a new passport, cash, and any other identification you might need according to your place of birth.”

Ripping open the paper, I peered inside.

Sure enough, a freshly minted American passport rested inside.

Forged or real?

“Huh, that’s strange.” The man clipped toward me again, his shoes echoing on the tile. His eyebrows rose as he peered into the envelope, perplexed that the passport seemed to be the only thing given. “Normally, there is a letter from Mr. Sinclair. I ensure you’ve read it carefully, before destroying it and confirming that you understand that the four hundred thousand dollars is yours to use as you wish...as long as you keep your employment secret.”

I choked. “Four hundred thousand?”

“Yes.” He nodded with self-importance. “All goddesses upon their release earn a salary for their service.”

“I’m not just a goddess. I’m his...partner. His friend. I need to go back...before it’s too late.”

“Not possible.” He crossed his arms. “No one goes back.”

My fingers dipped into the envelope, pulling the passport free with shaky fingers.

“Mr. Sinclair is very grateful for your time in his employ, but you are no longer needed.”

I am needed. More than ever.

He was shot at.

I know he was.

He might be bleeding and wounded and—

Don’t break down.

Nothing good comes from breaking.

The best thing I could do—the only thing I could do—was keep my fear in check and focus on arranging swift travel back to Sully.

Regardless of what these men said, I would find Sully’s islands again.

I have to.

It was unthinkable to accept that Sully had sent me away with a bald-faced lie about me returning, knowing full well I could never attempt such a thing.

He sent you away for your safety...

If he’s dead, then—

Stop it!

Sniffing back terror, I flipped to the photograph page. I flinched as my image gleamed back. Somehow, I’d been captured simple and travel approved—sitting primly with my hair loose and sun dusting my features, the image must’ve been photo-shopped onto a white background.

It looked legit with the requisite glowing seals and hard-to-replicate watermarks.

I flipped to another page.

Something slipped free, slapping against the floor.

The man ducked to pick it up, standing slowly and passing it almost reluctantly to me. “It seems you do not get cash, ma’am.”

I took it from him, my mind whirling with fear over Sully’s safety and the roadblocks that’d been so smoothly slammed in my way.

A credit card.

A black Amex with no spending limit in the name of Sullivan Sinclair. “But this isn’t mine. It’s a mistake.” I flipped it upside down, my stomach clenching at the sexy scrawl of Sully’s signature. Elegant swooping Ss and aggressive slashes for the V.

The man touched my wrist, making me flip the card back to the front. He frowned. “No mistake. See? Your name is authorised beneath Mr. Sinclair’s.” He looked me up and down, as if judging what I’d done to deserve such a gift.

I didn’t want a damn credit card.

I wanted a ride home.

A way to return to Sully’s side, despite the danger.

My trembles increased as I looked closer. Goosebumps sprang over me as, sure enough, my name was scribed beneath Sully’s.

What the hell does this mean?

That he’d given me the power to clean out his bank accounts? His version of showing me his trust? His way of tracking me with every swipe of his card?

He doesn’t want me to find him, but he wants to be able to find me?

The man strode away in his dress shoes, returning to his desk. Swiping the screen to activate his computer, he asked again, “So...which airline would you like to fly home on? I can book first class anywhere you need.”

I shivered, unable to fight the chill from the air-conditioning snowing over my shoulders and the fear of what happened to Sully.

He’d premeditated this.

He’d had time to request a card be issued with my name on it.

Why?

Had he known Drake would attack or had he planned on getting rid of me all along? And if he did want to get rid of me—if he wanted us over—then why give me access to his damn bank accounts?

“Ma’am? Your flight. Most large airlines leave around dawn, so it’s advisable to book—”