Page 21 of An Epic Voyage (The Epic Beauty Salon Files #1)

“It has its own generator.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Since we have a working kitchen, I’m going to go get whatever perishable items I can find in the upstairs fridge.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” He tried not to wince. The rebuke had spewed from his mouth a little too forcefully. “That’s okay,” he soothed. “You rest, and I’ll take care of it.”

Indigo crossed her arms. “You’re leaving me here to die, aren’t you?”

Griffin barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t save you just to turn around and kill you.”

One brow raised. “Save me? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

He wasn’t sexist. Women were just as capable as men. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he cautioned.

“I didn’t have to. You accomplished that all by yourself.”

Griffin sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Forget I said anything. I’ll be back soon.”

“You better, or I swear, if I die, I will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

Griffin smiled as he opened the door and left the room. She was a spitfire. He still didn’t trust her, but then, there were few people on earth he did.

Once he cleared all the hidden doors and glanced outside, his cheerfulness vanished in the blink of an eye. The sky was wicked. Menacing. The storm was still a day away. He couldn’t imagine what it would look like when it arrived.

Griffin took out his phone and punched in a number as he headed to the kitchen.

“Gorman.”

“Hey, it’s Decker.”

“How’s it going?”

“Good and bad.”

His boss grunted. “Give me the good first.”

“The impending hurricane has caused the island to evacuate.”

“That’s a best-case scenario, assuming you live through it.”

Smartass. “I found the storm cellar slash panic room where I’ll ride it out.”

“Good. What’s the bad?”

“I’m not alone.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Griff’s smile was wry. Understatement.

“Who is he? Don’t tell me it’s Van Houten.”

“It’s not Van Houten, nor a he.”

“Damn it, Decker, you’re on an assignment. Can’t you keep your libido in check?”

He bit back a sharp retort, remembering he was talking to his boss. “I didn’t invite her, if that’s what you’re implying. She got stuck on the island when the yacht departed for Miami.”

“Will you be able to do your job?”

“Of course.” He’d never failed on one yet.

“Give me her name and I’ll run a check.”

“It’s Indigo Adair, and I already did. She came up clean.”

Papers rustled in the background. “Adair. She’s the substitute makeup person for Jinger, filling in for someone named Penny?”

“Pammy, and yes.”

“Has she given you reason to suspect her?”

She had, but he kept that to himself for now. “No.”

“I’ll dig deeper anyway. Keep me posted when you can and stay safe.”

“Will do.”

Griffin disconnected and found another serving cart. Then he raided the standing and walk-in refrigerators, pillaging the perishable goods. One thing was certain: the storm might get them, but they wouldn’t starve to death.

#

I ndigo waited until Griffin left and the door sealed itself shut before she glanced around the room.

The thought struck her that this would be the perfect place to hide a nuclear weapon.

Steel-reinforced and concrete-encrusted walls, ceiling, and floor, buried behind so many hidden doors.

It would take an escape artist to get out.

She didn’t think Griffin would leave her, but she didn’t know him at all.

Maybe she should’ve left breadcrumbs. Although, Indy had no doubt she could find her way out if needed.

She’d watched Griffin and had committed the sequences to memory.

A cursory internet search gave her Van Houten’s birth date, so she knew the password.

If Benedict Van Houten were this security-conscious, it would make sense that he’d store his most valuable asset in the safest place on the island. The cave had been her first thought, but the tides and salt water made it less than ideal.

Indy needed to check the walls for something to trigger an opening. There had to be another hidden compartment somewhere, but it could be anywhere, maybe even the floor. It would take time to conduct a thorough search.

Her gaze caught on a remote separate from the one Griffin had used for the television.

It didn’t look normal. She punched the red button and watched in fascination as a panel slid open.

Indy held her breath, hoping to find what she was searching for.

Instead, it revealed four rows of four screens, sixteen in total.

None of the monitors were on. If she had to guess, it was a security system to observe activity inside the house.

It made sense that a billionaire’s safe room would have advanced features to monitor potential threats.

Indy flipped a switch, bringing them all to life.

She’d been right. They were high-definition camera feeds.

She looked for one in the kitchen and found Griffin talking on the phone.

Her curiosity wondered who was on the other end.

The screen was so clear, it was as if she were standing beside him.

She wasn’t bad at reading lips, but before she could try, he turned his back to the camera. Darn it.

Had Griffin called Van Houten? A girlfriend?

The jealousy that shot through her was totally unexpected and highly irritating, so she pushed it aside.

He was probably speaking to another member of the security team, letting them know he was stranded.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t send a rescue team too soon.

There was a lot of ground she needed to cover before that happened.

Griffin slid his phone into a pocket and opened the fridge. She didn’t have much time, so she ran her hands along the mahogany paneling, feeling for any anomalies.

She’d barely made a dent when she heard the door activate. Crap . Indy had meant to keep an eye on him. With a running dive, she landed on the couch and pretended to be asleep when Griffin pushed a cart inside.

Blinking her eyes open, she sat up and stretched. “You came back.”

“I told you I would.”

“And soldiers never lie.” How coincidental was it that he’d been a marine like the fake boyfriend she’d invented to stave off unwanted matchmaking?

“I can’t answer for everyone, but I don’t.”

Indy pushed to her feet. “Good to know.” She perused the items on the cart. “Looks like we won’t go hungry.”

“Yeah, you’ll be cooking me some tasty meals.”

Indy opened her mouth to lambast him before she noticed his teasing smile and the gleam in his eyes. She rolled hers and helped him unload the goods.

“Since it’s like we’re inside a mausoleum, what did it look like outside?”

Griffin hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Didn’t you check the monitors? I see you found them.”

Indy was losing it. Spy 101, lesson one, was to cover your tracks. She should’ve closed the panel and let him find them. “Yeah, I noticed a different remote and wondered what it did. And no, I didn’t look outside.” I was too busy monitoring you.

Griffin shook his head. “It isn’t good. I thought the sky looked bad before. Now it’s positively evil.”

“Has it started raining?”

“Not yet, but it’s not far off. How does garlic shrimp pasta sound?”

Indy’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. “Delicious.”

He pulled ingredients from the fridge.

“Wait . . . is Griffin, the big, bad marine turned security specialist, cooking for me?”

“He is.”

She was impressed. Drop-dead gorgeous and he could cook. Griffin Dean was a catch. “What can I do?”

“How about finding a bottle of Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc? They complement the flavors of the dish.”

She added oenophile to his growing list of attributes.