Fourth a Lie
“Send me back to his Goddess Isles.”
He blanched, genuinely afraid for my mental capacity. “You cannot return, ma’am.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. Because you are not welcome. No one is permitted to return.”
“And like I told you, all I want is a private charter back to Mr. Sinclair.” I strode toward him, clutching Sully’s credit card. “That’s the only destination I need.”
“Not possible.”
“Make it possible.” My anger appeared. “I don’t care who you are or what your guidelines require. Mr. Sinclair is in danger. He only sent me away because he believed it would keep me safe, but I need to go back. I need to make sure he’s—”
“Mr. Sinclair does not permit anyone to know his location. Only those who have been carefully screened and approved—”
“I’m not a guest seeking to indulge. I was a goddess who lived there. We’re going around in circles.”
“What country are you from? I’ll book that—”
“You’re not listening to me!”
The man glowered. “And you are not listening to me. Your return is not possible.” He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, his teeth clenched as he snipped, “Preferred airline?”
“I’m not leaving until I get a lift back to Sully Sinclair.”
“No one will take you, ma’am.” His black eyes narrowed as his patience reached its limit. “Please advise me the airline you’d—”
“No flight!”
He sounded like a damn robot with pre-approved sentences.
He was the gatekeeper.
And Sully...God, Sully.
Please be okay.
I crossed my arms, Sully’s credit card dug into one hand and my fake/real passport dug into the other. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”
“No one will help you, ma’am.”
“Sully is well-known. Someone will spill.”
He bared his teeth. “You are not permitted to stay in Indonesia. What airline—”
Swooping toward him, I let go of my temper. I shouted like I should’ve shouted at Sully. “I am staying in this damn country because I deserve answers. I deserve to know what the hell he meant sending me away with no way of going back to him. I deserve to look him in the eyes and see which was the lie...loving me or getting rid of me. You and his pilots and all the guards in the world cannot stop me. Put me on a plane, and I’ll fly back. Ship me off to somewhere, and I’ll swim back. I will leave when I’m good and ready. And I will find a way back to him with or without your help.”
His eyebrows soared into his black hairline, his own temper fading under mine. “But...it’s just not done.”
“I don’t care. I’m not just any goddess.” Pointing a finger in his face, I snapped, “So, what’s it going to be? Will you help me, or do I have to find someone else?”
He licked his lips. “I will not help you, ma’am.”
“Fine.” My heart fell.
More delays.
More worry.
More time when Sully could die before I ever found my way back.
Bracing my shoulders, I commanded, “Take me to the closest hotel then. I’ll find my own way from there.”
Chapter Thirteen
THE SEA DIDN’T HAVE favourites.
The predators she kept safe one day could become chum for a bigger beast the next. I’d spent long enough in the salty embrace to know how traitorous the depths could be. But I couldn’t hate the ocean for choosing me as its next casualty.
I couldn’t be pissed that my blood now blended with brine, ringing the dinner bell for sharp-toothed creatures to swim swift and hungry.
But I could be worse than any of them combined.
Ignoring the harpoon stabbed clean through my thigh, I pushed off against the sand beneath me. My lungs burned from lack of air while the surface above me taunted. So close yet so unreachable unless I could get the bastard’s foot off my spine.
A slither of oily black appeared in the darkness.
A quicksilver whip of a fin.
The reef sharks were always present here. Most no bigger than a small dog. Most passive and content to swim side by side without challenging for dominion.
But their teeth were sharp and their nose for blood incomparable.
And I was wounded in their waters.
One brushed past my leg where the harpoon delivered blazing pain.
A scream sounded above the surface, warbled and followed by splashing of another diver as someone got bitten.
Digging my hands deeper into the sand, I searched for a weapon. Any weapon. Oxygen was needed. Breath was paramount.
Finding a piece of dead coral, I fisted it and struck with every last bit of power I had. I reached behind me, striking at the leg of the bastard drowning me.
I connected.
His foot vanished.
I shoved to the surface and stood with a huge gust of fury and air.
A shark oozed between my legs. The sharp nip of teeth against my already shredded flesh shot me from the sea and toward the beach.
The twine imprisoning me to the harpoon gun, shot by some hired mercenary, jerked me to a stop. Twisting, I reached down and fisted the rope, searching for a way to rid myself of the harpoon as three divers launched themselves from the shallows thanks to the cruising hungry sharks.
The diver holding the gun attached to me had a hole in his wetsuit and a trickle of blood down the back of his calf.
Yanking the rope, I jerked the harpoon out of his hands, making him slam to a stop, pinning his gaze on me.
Tearing out a hunting knife from a sheath around his thigh, he advanced on me.
Pain flared in his gaze. Panic a debilitating emotion.
I was above all that.
I felt nothing.
Heard nothing.
Saw nothing but rage.
Throwing myself at him, I whacked the coral against his temple, cracking his mask and most likely his skull, sending him plummeting to the sand.
Two other divers rushed toward me, their harpoons thrown away in the shark attacks, their hands fumbling for blades.
It only took a single heartbeat before I crushed the windpipe of one with a well struck punch and plunged the blade of the other into his heart.
Three bodies in the shallows, more blood dripping into the sea.
White water appeared in the darkness as the small sharks turned into a frenzy.
Breathing hard, I glanced at the horizon, seeking Drake’s boat.
Shit.
He was so much closer than he’d been before.
No longer barely noticeable, his black craft sped toward my shore and beached itself in a heavy wake. My guards immediately added more firepower, shooting and surrounding the boat. Some aimed at the hull and the men hiding within while others aimed at the engines to create an explosion.
Only...it was pointless.
Drake proved once again he had no respect for life.
A machine gun spritzed my shores, mowing down my men, a blanket of bullets all firing faster than their fingers could squeeze the triggers on their semi-automatics.
Forty guards.
Reduced down to nothing.
Fuck!
I stumbled as the throb in my leg amplified. My gaze drank in the carnage, my golden sand turning black in the moonlight with blood.
Cal.
Where the fuck is Cal?