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CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Tyson scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of that boat.

So far, he hadn’t seen anything. But the nighttime was inky black, and the water was rough. The most he could hope for was to see some of the running lights on the boat.

But if the person who’d taken Olivia was smart enough, he would have cut them off and then all but disappeared into the sea.

Tyson should have known better. Should have kept a better eye on Olivia.

Yet he knew he couldn’t control her. She’d made this choice of her own free will.

But if she’d only talked to him, he could have convinced her to stay.

Maybe.

The boat continued to buzz through the water.

“You see what you’re looking for yet?” asked Walleye—that was the name the fisherman had given himself.

“No, not yet.”

Tyson hoped the police and Coast Guard had gotten their boats in the water by now.

Maybe there was still hope Olivia could be found.

Please, God . . . let that be the truth.

* * *

Olivia continued to stare at Wes, praying she’d see his gaze transform from The Admirer back to the Wes she knew.

Maybe he had multiple personalities. Maybe he just needed to switch back to someone who could help her.

She knew better than to get her hopes up, however.

“Where are we going?” she asked, that rose brushing her fingers again.

He shrugged nonchalantly as he remained in front of her, standing uncomfortably close. “Anywhere we want.”

“I’m sure this boat only has a limited amount of gas.”

He gave her a pitying look, almost as if she were a clueless child. “Of course, we won’t stay on the boat. As you pointed out, roses don’t like saltwater. That made me think . . . the mountains are really more appropriate. Don’t you agree? It’s easier to grow roses there.”

An image of that permeated her mind, and despair tried to fill her.

She couldn’t let her thoughts go there.

She still had a chance of getting out of this.

But how? Tyson probably wouldn’t discover she was gone until the morning. By that time, she’d be long gone.

She’d planned it that way.

And no one would know Wes had come here for her. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

A cry lodged in her throat.

Right now, she could only depend on herself and God.

That meant she either needed a plan or she needed to wait for the right opportunity.

She was a decent swimmer. If she could get away from him, then maybe she could swim back to shore.

It beat the thought of being trapped with Wes in an off-grid house for months—if not longer—without being discovered.

Wes reached behind him.

Looking away from her.

Was this her chance?

But what could she use as a weapon?

Her fingers circled that rose. Its thorns dug into her flesh. But she didn’t care.

When Wes turned back to her, all the air left her lungs.

He wore a Casanova mask.

Even the sight of him made her knees go weak with fear.