Seth! Exhaling loudly, I step out of the trees toward him. “What took you so long? We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Don’t tell me what we have to do.” His voice is sharp, and he grabs my arm, jerking me toward the open shore. “Your boyfriend almost blew our cover.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” My reply is emphatic. MacCallum Lockwood Tate cannot be my boyfriend in this realm of possibilities.
Seth is still fuming. “How did he find us, anyway? You’re in disguise. There must be a hundred islands here we could have gone to—”
“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t communicated with him since we left Miami.” It’s the truth. The last time I messaged Cal, I told him we were headed to Tortola, which was true at the time.
He waves a small LED light over his head back and forth, and a dark head pops up in the center of the boat, waving a similar light back at us.
“That is not fucking encouraging,” he says.
I watch as he rolls up his pants. “What do you mean?”
Green eyes flash at me. “I mean if he found us that fast, other people can find us just as easy. Come on.”
My blood runs cold at the thought, and I look over my shoulder for the thousandth time. In the dark, the gnarled trunks and twisted branches all look like men crouching forward, coming to kill us. I shake aw
ay my fear. The people looking for me don’t have to hide in the bushes. They can pull out guns and shoot me from hundreds of feet away.
“Just like they did to Ava,” I whisper.
“Zee!” Seth shouts. “Get on the boat!”
Snapping out of my trance, I look up to see him already across the narrow strip of water and pulling up on the bow of the small yacht. I wade into the warm waters, not even caring that the bottom of my dress is getting soaked. My clutch and shoes are high over my head, and when I arrive at the boat, I toss them onboard before pulling myself out of the water.
“Patch has clothes you can change into,” Seth says, handing me a towel. “Once we’re on Tortola, we can shop for something better.”
I think about the eight hundred dollars in my purse. Seth should have the same amount or more on him. He couldn’t have played roulette longer, as I have the transmitter in my shoe; however, he could have stopped off for a round of blackjack to beef up his winnings. I’m pretty good at the game, but Seth is better. He taught me to count cards when we first started working together in South Beach.
The roar of the boat engine fills the quiet night, and it takes only moments before we’re shooting out, away from St. Croix. We most likely won’t even use the sails tonight.
“Get comfortable,” Seth says, handing me a small stack of clothes. “It’s a five-hour voyage.”
Taking the clothes, I do a quick calculation in my head. “We’ll arrive after midnight?”
“Thereabouts.”
Turning, I go down the silver ladder to the small space below deck to change. “So you have a plan?” I call up, sliding the zipper down my side and quickly shrugging out of my wet dress.
I step into the boxers and jerk them over my hips, whipping the tee on just as fast. The entire time, I fight the memory of Cal, of catching his eyes on me in Occitan as I changed into his clothes the night I hurt my ankle. A hollow ache spreads through my chest, and in spite of everything, I miss him so much.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Cal. I was hired to do one job—seduce his brother Rowan, expose him as irresponsible and unfit to rule—and then Ava and I would disappear, walk away and live the rest of our lives on easy street.
The only problem is Rowan is not irresponsible. He’s very focused and serious about his country, and his uncle is a bigger con artist than me. Reggie had us fooled from the start, and all he’d wanted was to get back inside Monagasco, where he and Wade Paxton could take over the small nation-state. They sabotaged Rowan’s Formula One car, nearly killing him, and shot Ava to silence us. They would have killed me if I hadn’t escaped.
“Oh, god,” I whisper, leaning my head against the corner of the small room.
When I reemerge above deck, Seth is sitting against the stern, watching Patch operate the large, silver wheel.
“We have to split up,” he says, and a splinter of fear clenches my chest.
My involuntary response frustrates me more. I hate being dependent on Seth. I don’t like being dependent on anyone, but least of all him. Still, without Ava, I don’t have much choice. On my own, I’m a sitting duck—or more like a fish in a barrel, an easy mark.
“Why?” I ask, working hard not to sound afraid.
He does a shrug. “Together, we’re easier to find. All anyone has to say is a new American couple just moved to the island, and they’ll head straight for us.”