Page 136

He wanted to go to her, ask her to confide in him, swear that she could trust him, and vow they’d survive this hell with their souls intact if they just stuck together. But how could he make that promise when he wasn’t sure himself?

If Mila was here somewhere on the island, possibly being held in some hidden section of the compound, what did that mean? How could they ensure she was freed, too? Nash didn’t want to leave behind another victim, especially not another one who, like Haisley, had probably been sucked into this whole mess by George Benedict.

But it begged the question, if Benedict had been the mastermind and he’d gotten both Haisley and Mila out of his way…why had he killed his mistress and offed himself?

The answer: likely because he’d been a cog in the giant wheel of this rotten ring. Maybe Benedict had been messy. Maybe he’d fucked up, and the real mastermind had seen no option but to put him down. And maybe…Nash was way off base.

Either way, when they blew this case wide open, he’d find all the answers. For now, he had to believe they were closing in. Somewhere on this island was the key to ending this fucking mess. They just had to find it before time ran out.

Or before life on this island shattered Haisley.

* * *

The following afternoon, Haisley approached the spa with trepidation, mirroring the dark storm clouds gathering outside. A distant rumble of thunder made her shiver as she approached the elegant facade, which somehow felt less threatening than during her first terrifying visit. Maybe because Nash had sent her here with a purpose. With all internet and outside communications mysteriously down across the island for the past twenty-four hours, they desperately needed to connect.

The timing seemed suspicious since Black Velvet was rumored to arrive soon. But it also meant Nash couldn’t contact his bosses or his brother or get updates. Did they have any updates on Mila? Nash and Kane didn’t know; they were flying blind.

At least she’d meet this new operative, posing as a hairdresser. Nash claimed Karliah was nice. After that crazy party in the Rose Room Saturday night, she wouldn’t hate having another ally on this island—a woman who understood what it was like to be living this hell—even if Karliah was here by choice.

“Welcome! I’m Karliah.” A pretty blonde shook Haisley’s hand with a friendly smile. “After I met Master Jasper, I’ve been hoping you’d come in. That island sun and salt air can be brutal on hair as gorgeous as yours.”

The woman’s genuine warmth put Haisley at ease. But she was here for information. They needed to know if Karliah had seen Mila. And she needed to be careful about how she asked this question.

“You think? I saw this woman a few weeks back. She had this stylish long bob. It hit about here.” She pointed to her collarbones. “Her hair was a caramel brown, and she was a bit older, but it was perfect with her blue eyes and short stature. Maybe you’ve seen something like that? Maybe it would look good on me?”

Karliah looked contemplative as she led Haisley to the shampoo bowl. “Sounds lovely. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen anything like that lately, especially since I’ve been here. I’ll keep my eyes open. But honestly. Your hair really is beautiful. It would be a shame to cut it. And I can’t without Master Jasper’s permission.”

So the undercover operative hadn’t seen Mila on the island. Then again, Karliah hadn’t been here for long.

As the woman settled Haisley into the chair and under the spray, the warm water and gentle massage began melting the tension from her shoulders. Outside, rain began pattering against the windows. “You’re good at this.”

“Thanks. My mom was a hairdresser, so I grew up in her salon. I’ve always loved making people feel better about themselves.” Karliah’s nimble fingers worked away days of stress. “Are you a reader?”

The question surprised Haisley. She lowered her voice. “Don’t we have to limit our conversations to the treatments?”

“On your first trip to the spa. After that, management allows some small talk. I think reading fits that description.”

No idea why Karliah wanted to discuss books, but maybe she had a plan? “Sure. Reading is my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine, too! OMG, I’m so glad to find another bibliophile. TV just doesn’t do a thing for me.”

“I’m not a huge fan, either.”

“A kindred spirit!” Karliah squeed. “I’ve been reading this amazing book. I can’t remember the author’s name. Flowers and skulls on the cover. All the rage on social media lately…”

Where was this woman going with this conversation? Nash must have sent her here to pass information, so Haisley played along. “Oh? Do you remember the title?”

“No. I read so much they blur together sometimes.”

“Same here.”

“I’m hoping you’ve read this one. It was fantastic, and the heroine reminds me so much of you.”

Haisley caught her meaning. Information disguised as fiction. “Oh? Tell me more.”

“It’s a super juicy romantic suspense, which is my absolute favorite genre. So…this heroine is trapped in an impossible situation. Like a pressure cooker, you know? These people try to break her, hurt her. She has others working to help her. She knows that, but she’s not sure if she can trust them, even when the rescue plan is almost ready. Does that sound familiar? Hate that I can’t remember the title or author.”

Haisley’s heart caught in her throat. After what she and Nash had endured—the drugs, the public claiming, the way he’d sheltered her as best he could while maintaining their cover—the parallel hit very close to home. “Oh, that does sound familiar. I think I started that one, but my copy is at home and… Do you know how it ends?”