Page 32 of Rio (Knight Empire #3)

RAQUEL

I haven’t slept well at all, for the second night. I feel groggy and tired having tossed and turned all night.

My muscles feel tight, and I feel restless, maybe it’s sheer exhaustion from insomnia, or maybe it’s guilt because I feel like I betrayed Rio when I handed the foreman the injunction yesterday. I shouldn’t feel guilty. I was just doing my job, but somehow, I do.

I’m relieved that it’s the start of the weekend. I’m supposed to be taking a small boat to go further along the coastline and get more evidence. Pierce’s words haunt me, and I need to make sure we have a watertight case. .

But lying in bed, it’s Rio’s face I see.

The way he looked at me, his face twisting with shock and anger.

I wasn’t prepared for that reaction. That’s when I understood.

He thinks I used him. He thinks I planned this.

He thinks I worked him over just to beat him down again.

That’s the worst part, because there’s something real and raw between us, and beneath his fury, he feels something for me, just like I feel it for him.

Maybe he’ll even throw that in my face next time we talk. I’m playing with fire, getting involved with him, but he was the one who came to my hotel room. He was the one who suggested I go to his.

It’s all getting so complicated. So messy. We should have stayed away from each other, but we couldn’t, and now things are spiralling out of control.

I should never have sat next to Rio Knight at that bar in Manhattan.

I should never have bought him a drink.

But, maybe our paths would have intertwined later down the line, given that my best friend is engaged to his brother. She’s already been bitten, and I’m hoping that this time around things will work out just fine.

It’s best for me, for my career, to stay away, even though Delport Realty is the company behind the Eco resort, it’s the Knights who are really running this operation. They’re just hiding out of plain sight.

As I lie in my bed, ruminating, my phone rings and my heart jolts with anticipation, then quickly deflates when I see Alma’s name on the caller display.

“How are you, Raquel?” she asks. “I wanted to check in on you.”

“Check in, why?” I let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Because of the injunction.”

“That’s just work. It had to be done.” I’m trying to figure out her angle, what it is that she’s worried about.

“Your friend didn’t seem to take it too well. Is he your friend?”

“He’s someone I know from back home. You don’t need to worry about him, Alma.”

There’s a long pause. She doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t need to. I feel her judging me.

I suspect she knows Rio and I are involved, in some strange capacity, and she probably knows it’s wrong for me to be mixed up with someone from the other side—but I’m not involved with Rio.

We just got carried away the other night, like we always seem to do whenever we’re around one another.

I blame it on the scorching off-the-charts chemistry between us.

I’ve never had it with anyone else, and I’m finding it harder to fight each time we meet.

I sense he’s also struggling to keep things purely professional.

“Why don’t you come with me, if you’re free today? My daughter’s having a barbecue for my grandson’s birthday, and I’d like you to meet my family. You’ll get to have some of the tastiest home-cooked Belizean food.”

I’m taken aback by her inviting me to meet her family. “That’s so kind of you, Alma, I would love to but I had plans to go further along the coast to get some more evidence.”

“Evidence? For what? We already served the injunction.”

“I just want to make sure that it’s watertight. You saw the way Rio Knight reacted.”

“It was hard to miss,” she agrees. “The foreman wasn’t too happy either, but we already have evidence. We’ve got pictures and satellite images and—”

“My boss cautioned me, now that Knight Enterprises is behind Delport, he wants me to make sure their lawyers can’t gut this case. I want to put my mind at ease. The Knights have deep pockets and they’ll hire the best lawyers. They’ll gut this injunction if we’re not careful.”

“Shouldn’t we have gotten that additional data before?”

“We didn’t have time, Alma,” I remind her gently. “You wanted to file immediately, remember?”

“Are you sure you want to do that today? Ordinarily I’d come with you—”

“It’s the weekend, and you have plans. You can’t miss your grandson’s birthday.”

“I’ll send someone from the team.”

“Not necessary. It’s the weekend,” I echo again. “I’m sure we already have enough evidence but this is for my own peace of mind. I was going to have a quick look at Caye Encanto. I won’t take too long.”

“Be careful, Raquel,” she warns me. “The roads up there are bad. Must you go?”

“I would like to.”

“Then take a small boat, and be quick.” She doesn’t want me to go, but I’ll be so quick. Pierce has it in for me, I can tell, and I need to have this locked in.

“Don’t worry about me. You enjoy your grandson’s birthday.”

“Don’t go too far,” Alma warns. “I hate the thought of you being out there all alone. The weather can turn in a minute and the sea can get dangerously choppy.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

I make my way to the place where I can hire a boat. I’ve seen the little rowboats with the outboard engine. Easy enough for to handle. I’ve ridden jet skis and quad bikes before. This should be easier by comparison.

***

A few hours later I head down to the dock and hire a small motorboat. It rattles a tiny bit when it idles, but I’m not going too far. Setting my backpack down, I check the bearings on the GPS on the dash, then enter the location of Caye Encanto.

Even though we’ve filed, it’s prudent to get more documentation, especially if I’m already out here.

I’ve looked at the map. The caye is a narrow stretch of coastline, about thirty minutes by boat.

It’s a place tourists don’t see. It’s undeveloped, a tiny fringe of jungle and I’m curious to see if the damage reached that far.

Alma has her suspicions. She’s thinks Delport Knight bulldozed through mangroves but they also violated marine protection zones too.

I tie my hair up into a knot, wipe my hands on the back of my shorts, and slide my phone into my backpack. The battery’s dying. I didn’t charge it last night. I was too tired, too wired, too everything after that confrontation with Rio.

There I go, inviting more thoughts of him in. I can’t seem to help myself.

I push the boat off the dock and start the engine. It’s a lovely day. The sun’s shining and the sea is calm and shimmering. It’s a perfect day for sunbathing, and for reading and having cocktails. For relaxing. Maybe I’ll do that later when I get back. I might even go for a dip in the sea.

I’m two miles along the coastline when I see the caye.

Slowing the engine down, I ease the boat into the shallows where I toss the small anchor overboard.

It’s light enough for me to pull back up on my own, but sturdy enough to keep the boat from drifting.

I wade through the warm, knee-deep water, and pull the boat slightly onto the sand, just to be safe.

Then I tie the rope around a thick mangrove root at the water’s edge so I can climb back in later.

I climb out of the boat and walk around the edge of the caye. It’s quiet here. Very peaceful. Very still. Maybe a little too still. A little too eerie.

The narrow strip of land is hemmed in by mangroves, but some of the trees look unhealthy.

Off-browning leaves, exposed roots, dark water swirling at their bases.

A powdery gray film clings to the trunks and floats in the shallows.

I’ve read about this. It’s a telltale sign of sediment runoff.

The roots are getting choked, thereby starving the plants of oxygen.

This is what happens when construction runoff isn’t contained.

When concrete washout and chemicals spill into coastal ecosystems. It’s a slow and quiet killer.

I shake my head in dismay. Caye Encanto is anything but enchanted. It’s looks damaged beyond repair.

Taking out my phone I start snapping photos—wide angles and close-ups of the damage I see.

It’s so pronounced here. The discolored water, the broken roots.

I quickly jot down field notes, then feel a breeze brush my skin.

I rub my arms because it felt a little chilly.

I snap a few more photos as I make my way along the narrow strip of land.

I see a small hut further up. The roof is a mixture of tin and weathered corrugated iron.

I walk up to it, knock on the door, but the door pushes open.

I gingerly step inside. It’s small inside.

Small, and wooden, and dilapidated. The walls are thin, and uneven, with holes.

They’re patched in places with rusty sheets of corrugated metal, and palm fronds stuffed into the cracks like plugs, to keep the wind at bay.

A small wooden bench runs along one side.

I can’t work out if it’s to sit on or sleep on.

At one end of it is a little hurricane lamp and a box of matches.

There’s a rickety table, two chairs, but one is broken.

On the far wall is what looks like a crooked little window.

It looks more like a hole covered with a rusted shutter barely hanging on.

Battered crates are stacked in the corner, with a pile of old tattered newspapers lying on top.

A sagging fishing net is draped over a hook.

A musty smell of decay and salt and iron fills the air.

I step back out, closing the door behind me and continuing with my investigation.

I wander a little father along the shoreline, on the lookout for any other signs; chemical sheen on the water, floating debris, a break in the vegetation where equipment might have been dragged ashore.

Anything that will support my case.

Anything we can use.

Suddenly, a gust of the wind tears at me. Trees begin to sway and bend slightly. The air shifts.

I look up. The sky starts to darken; a flicker of fear lances through me. I’m almost done. I look up and the sky darkens in an instant. Feels like a storms coming. The clouds are thick, like heavy clumps of dark and foreboding matter, bruising to a garish violet.

I try to head towards the boat, but the wind is so strong, I can’t take a step forward.

It feels like I’m fighting with an invisible monster.

The wind slaps into me, the trees swaying and bending like strings.

I’m enveloped in danger, and suddenly, I feel afraid because it’s all happened in an instant, and I never truly believed it could turn so fast.

I try harder to move towards my boat, but it’s like wading through tar. Buckets of rain crash over me. Like the heavens cracked wide open and emptied. I’m soaked through in seconds, caught by surprise. That’s when I see my little boat bobbing up and down, tossed around like a dog chew.

I can’t get into that. I turn around, with great difficulty, getting drenched by the second, in my shorts and spaghetti-strap tank which seemed perfect this morning. Now they’re my worst mistake, second only to coming out here alone.

I should have listened to Alma. I suddenly hanker for a young child’s birthday celebration. A barbecue. To be safe, surrounded by people, laughter and dry clothes. Instead, I’m battling the elements, and so badly ill-equipped for it.

I manage to reach the hut just as the sky opens, like a round of firecrackers erupting. Once inside, I close the door behind me, leaning against its flimsy frame, my soaked backpack sliding off my shoulder and falling to the floor in a sodden heap.

A sharp crack of thunder shatters the silence, and lightning flashes outside.

It’s too close for comfort.

I freeze. The tin roof? Not good.

I could die in here.

I could die outside.

I sink to the floor, not caring that it’s dirty. Not caring that I’m soaked and scared and very much alone.

I don’t want to die. I’m too young, and my mom has only me.

I can’t die . It would break her. Heart thudding, I tell myself it will be fine. This will pass. I’ll wait it out.

Somehow, I’ll get back to safety.