Fourth a Lie

“Where?”

My voice revolted, unwilling to give up my secrets but I forced them out. “Monyet.”

“And what exactly is Monyet?”

“Another island. I have a lab there.”

A lab unbound by FDA rules and bureaucratic tape. If I had a breakthrough in the Java Sea, I didn’t need to worry that it would be stolen by greedy politicians or shut down by corrupt governments.

The lab out there was a country all on its own. Overseen by Peter Beck with regular live streaming and condemned to far less paperwork, breakthroughs on Monyet had far surpassed those of my lab in America.

“And how many vials are ready to go?”

“Sully, don’t!” Eleanor’s yell made me stiffen, but I ignored her.

“Four hundred.”

Drake whistled again. “Does anyone else have the recipe?”

I tapped my temple with a smirk. “Just me. I give it to my scientists piece meal. No one knows the full ingredients.”

He pursed his lips, thoughts racing in his gaze. He took a moment, deliberating for far too long. I grew angsty to help Jess. I grew furious to protect Eleanor. I honestly didn’t know how long I could restrain myself from wrapping my fingers around his throat and strangling the bastard.

Finally, Drake sniffed and held out his hand. “A truce then. Give me the four hundred vials, write down the recipe, give me access to the codes for Euphoria, and sign the deeds for Goddess Isles into my name, and—”

“That isn’t a truce. It’s the exact same request that I denied at the start of this fucking war.”

“Ah, ah, let me finish.” He clucked his tongue like an asshole. “Give me those things. Let’s face it...you don’t need the wealth, Sullivan. Be generous and spread it around. Give me what I ask and...I give you my word I will not kill Eleanor...or you.”

A laugh fell from my mouth. A bark of disbelief. “Yeah, right. You’d been better off telling me baboons can fly than promising not to hurt—”

“Calling me a liar?” His face darkened. “I give you my word, Sullivan.” He waved his hand that still speared between us. “Shake on it, and my men will lower their weapons. You, me, and Eleanor will take a little helicopter ride to wherever this lab island is. If you’re telling the truth about the four hundred vials and you sign over the titles to this sex-fest, I will personally drop you off in Jakarta where you two can go live happily ever after in some mansion elsewhere.”

“Sully...he’s lying.” Eleanor’s suspicion blended with my own.

Actually, it wasn’t suspicion. It was damn right knowledge.

Drake had never conceded or compromised in his entire life.

If we flew with him to Monyet—if I signed those documents—he would kill me.

One hundred motherfucking percent he would murder me before the ink was dry.

He would put a bullet in my skull and then either abuse Eleanor until she begged for death or kill her and leave her to rot beside me.

I narrowed my eyes, studying him.

He licked his lips, his blue gaze doing their best to hide behind sincerity but far too smug.

He thought he could hoodwink me.

He thought he could keep me a pliant prisoner, willingly walking to his guillotine.

And the shitty situation about this was...I didn’t have a fucking choice.

If I said no, he’d shoot Eleanor.

If I refused again, he’d shoot Cal.

If I continued to deny him, he’d rip off Pika’s wings and break apart Skittle’s body. He would revert to the psychotic child who got his kicks from mutilating animals who couldn’t fight back.

Jess is dying.

Hurry the fuck up.

If I accepted his terms, at least I had an opportunity to protect Jess and everyone else behind me.

Monyet was a fifteen-minute helicopter ride.

That would give me time to plot.

Stepping into him, I gritted my teeth from the rancid sensation of touching him and slipped my hand into his.

“Sully, don’t!”

“Be quiet, Jinx.”

Drake grinned like a heartless mongoose as his fingers latched tight, and we shook. “Good choice, Sullivan. Good choice.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” I yanked my hand away. “And we both know the outcome of what I’ve agreed to.”

He smirked, his shields dropping, showing me the fate he had planned. “You always were too smart, baby brother. But smarts will get you killed. I’ve always told you that.”

Snapping his fingers, he rounded up his mercenaries. “Gentlemen, I believe we have a flight to catch. Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

AS A GUN BIT into my lower back, ushering me down the bamboo jetty to a red helicopter manned by Drake’s pilots and not Sully’s, my instincts hissed a sinister warning.

The warning became louder with every step, evolving from a hive of bees to a swarm of plague-driven locusts.

As Sully winced and did his best not to limp on a harpoon massacred leg, he climbed regally into the cabin and a sixth sense bombarded me with pictures I hoped would never come to pass.

Sully shot.

Me dead.

Drake victorious with elixir.

My heart threw itself against my ribs, so convinced, so sure that if we flew with Drake, we would die with Drake.

I tasted the inevitability. I heard the bullet before it’d even been fired.

I didn’t need puddles or masks removed in Euphoria for another kind of premonition. The kind that iced my blood and froze my bones. The kind that set my heart pumping in entirely new ways, seizing my muscles so I would not meet my end.

The mercenary behind me grunted when I refused to climb the steps into the aircraft.

Sully winced as the man wrapped his hands around my waist and tossed me into the cabin.

I fell on my knees, the bare floor cutting with its metal grippy covering.

Sully bent and gathered me tenderly, pulling me upright and placing me beside him. He didn’t speak. He just stared. His sea-glass, waterfall gaze held mine, and I knew I wasn’t wrong in my fears.

Violent sickness rushed up my throat.

The leather seats squeaked with promise as Drake and his men sat down.

The squeal of the engines and the growl of the rotors all added to the shivery sensation of dismay.

Drake will kill us.

The moment Sully gave him what he wanted...he would kill us, destroy our story, and end our love before we’d even had a chance to fully unfurl it.

No.

I shook my head as Sully cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my lips.

Still he didn’t speak even as the helicopter swooped into the dusky sky, sliced through ribbons of peach and gilded sunset and added power to the rotors to cut across the ocean in search of yet another island.

I understood Sully’s unwillingness to talk with his brother sandwiching me between the two Sinclairs. I appreciated his desire to keep our bond as hidden as possible.

But he couldn’t stop the crackle of connection between us.

He couldn’t stop the tingle or tangle between our souls.

And he couldn’t lie to me.

He could only nod and narrow his eyes, trying to convince me he had a plan to avoid death. I tried to trust him. To believe he had some mystical way to win.

But I wasn’t convinced.

We were running on fatigue and the dregs of bad health. Sully had the added disadvantage of dealing with constant pain. Whatever he attempted probably wouldn’t be rationally thought out. It would be instigated by sheer stubbornness and worry over my own survival rather than his.