Page 169 of Risky Obsession

I drank more coffee. “Do you know who is coming with her?”

Rosalina placed the frying pan she’d used into the dishwater. “I don’t know their names, but she has three other people with her. Which is lucky because Archer can only fit five people in his helicopter.”

I frowned. “Is Archer picking them up?”

“Yes.” She scrubbed the pan and put it on the drainer beside the sink. “It’s not a long flight, so they should be here about two thirty.”

“Wow, that’s quick.” I took a bite of the toast and appreciated the lashing of butter. “Do you know if anyone checked on Cooper this morning?”

Rosalina shook her head. “I think we should give him something to eat, don’t you? Maybe some toast.”

I nodded.

Rosalina strode to the large pantry.

I took another sip of coffee, and it burned its way down my throat. After all the screaming for help I did yesterday, it was a wonder I could talk at all.

I finished the last of my breakfast and as I drained my coffee mug, Rosalina placed buttered toast onto a dinner plate. She put that onto a tray with jars of jam and Vegemite and pulled a knife from the drawer.

“He can’t have a knife, Rosalina.”

“Oh, of course.” She replaced the knife with a teaspoon and added a serviette. “The key to the room he’s in is in that bowl.” She nodded toward the end of the bench.

I fished a key attached to a miniature gold anchor from the pretty aquamarine bowl. “This one?”

“That’s it.” With Rosalina carrying the tray, I led the way below decks, toward the Daydream room where Cooper had been secured last night.

With every step, my body reminded me that I’d been through hell, and my mind whirled with questions I needed answers to . . . like where the hell was Grant Hughes.

“It’s the next door on the right,” Rosalina said, behind me.

I stopped at the door with a gold plaque labeled Daydream Suite. “Stay back from him, okay?”

She nodded, showing absolutely no fear.

Either she had no comprehension of how evil Cooper was, or Cooper wasn’t their first captive onboardEvangeline’sSister.

Maybe it was both.

I unlocked the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. I turned on the lights and pressed a button to open the blinds. As sunlight streamed onto the untouched bed, I strode to the bathroom doorway.

Cooper was on the tile floor, with one wrist handcuffed to the drainpipe under the sink. Dried blood painted a gruesome stain from his ear, and more dried blood spread from his nose down his chin. His left eye was swollen shut with an enormous purple bruise, and a dark red welt crossed his neck from my pipe attack on his throat yesterday.

I was lucky I didn’t crush his larynx.

“We've brought you something to eat,” I said.

“About damn time,” he growled. His bloodshot eyes filled with hatred. “Starving me won’t make me talk.”

“You don’t deserve anything, Cooper Apollo.” Fighting to control my rage, I took the plate of toast off Rosalina’s tray and placed it within his reach.

His eyes burned with hatred. “Go to hell. I should have fucking killed you.”

I nudged the plate closer with my foot. “Tell me about Grant Hughes.”

He released a bitter laugh. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

He tilted his head, and the overhead light caught in his left eye.