Niall (Vigilance 2)

Niall thanked her, then turned to me. “Once we land, we stay in character until we’ve checked our room for cameras and listening devices.”

“I remember. Are you ready?”

Niall sighed. “I’m never ready. I just walk into it anyway.”

He started to move toward the bathroom, but I grabbed his arm.

“We can do this.”

He nodded. “I know. We don’t have a choice.”

It was the first time I’d ever seen Niall look frightened. I knew what we were doing was risky. These men wouldn’t hesitate to kill us if they thought we stood in their way or if they found out we’d lied, and getting off the island wouldn’t be easy, but there was no turning back now. Niall and I were in this. Together.

12

Niall

We’d both changed into some of our new clothes when we’d neared our destination. I was wearing the first outfit I’d tried on but absolutely not because I knew how much Marco liked me in it.

Marco dressed in beige linen pants and a loose white button-up. He looked rich but also dangerous, which was perfect.

Butterflies dive-bombed in my stomach the way they always did at the start of a mission, but I thought I’d kept from letting my nerves show until Marco stepped up behind me. He pitched his voice low so the crew couldn’t hear. “Breathe, baby. Do what I tell you and everything will go fine.”

I wanted to be annoyed at the way he insisted on taking charge, even though that was just a role, but his words soothed me. I turned around, intending to tell him I was fine, but he was right there, only inches away.

My breath caught when he took my hand.

“Just think about tonight when it will be just us in our own room.”

“I told you—”

“We can relax, sit on our deck, look out at the stars, and have a drink.”

I was not disappointed that he hadn’t mentioned fucking. “We should stay sober.”

“Would a drink or two really affect you that much? I thought you were Irish.”

“Wow, you’re seriously going with that stereotype?”

“I’m an Italian mobster. I’m used to the stereotype thing.”

“You’re not really like that, though.” The words came out softer than I intended.

Marco smiled. “So you do pay attention.”

“Always.”

“We exited the plane.” A man wearing khaki shorts and a polo with Arlington Island embroidered on it was waiting for us.

“Hello. I’m Roberto. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“Yes, thank you,” Marco answered.

“I’ll be escorting you to Arlington Island by boat. The ride will take approximately half an hour. Once we arrive, Mr. Arlington’s housekeeper will show you to your room and tell you everything you need to know about the island. Mr. Arlington and the rest of the party are spending the afternoon on his yacht, but you may make yourselves at home while you wait for them to return. I suggest making use of the excellent swimming pool.”

Marco squeezed my hand. “That sounds lovely.”

“Right this way.” He motioned us toward a luxury SUV. “The marina is only a few minutes’ drive from here.”

Marco and I said little while on the boat or in the golf cart that led us up a wide dirt road toward Arlington’s enormous house, situated at the highest point on the island.

Susan, the housekeeper, seemed pleasant enough but very reserved. She led us to our suite, which was even larger and better appointed than I’d expected. We had a fully stocked bar, a small kitchenette with a mini fridge, some cabinets full of snacks, and the largest bed I’d ever seen. It must have been custom made. Marco could do so many incredible things to me there if I gave into what we both wanted.

When I glanced up and saw the way he was looking at the wide expanse of mattress, I was sure he was thinking the same thing.

“Is this room satisfactory?” Susan asked.

Marco nodded. “It’s quite nice. I can see Mr. Arlington has excellent taste.”

Overdone, ridiculously gaudy, showing-off-his-money taste, but it was perfect for our purposes.

After explaining how to get to the pool, the dining room, and other important spots around the house, Susan started to leave, and a gray tabby cat sauntered into the room. I took a step back, and Marco stifled a laugh as he bent to pet the creature.

“Mr. Arlington’s cat?” I asked.

Susan sniffed. “I wish that was the only one. The island’s previous owners let their cats breed rampantly. There are at least a dozen of them left.”

Marco gave me a bright smile. “Isn’t that wonderful? Since you love cats so much.”

I was going to kill him.

“Enjoy them outside, please,” Susan said. “We’re trying to keep them out of the house.”

She shooed the tabby out and hurried off, leaving the two of us alone.

I gave Marco a pointed look and laid my finger against my lips. Then I searched the room for listening devices and cameras. He did the same. I didn’t know how much experience he had with this type of search, but neither of us spotted anything. Honestly, that didn’t surprise me.