Flawless Danger (The Spencer & Sione #1) (41 page)

Thinking of John, she cringed, wishing she hadn’t had to lie to him.

Before leaving, Spencer had sent John an email saying she was going to a neighboring hotel to check out a local art exhibit they were hosting, an event she’d seen in the small neighborhood circular she had found in the resort lobby.

But he couldn’t know the truth.

Earlier that morning, after John had left for the office, one of the bellmen had delivered her a note. Inside, the message had sent a jolt of panic, disappointment, and fear through her. Ben wanted to see her today. There was an address where the meeting would take place. The last line warned
don’t be late sweet girl …
 

Sighing, Spencer checked her watch. 5:21 p.m. She was supposed to meet Ben at 5:30 p.m. at a house in some neighborhood she knew nothing about. The driver had nodded when she’d told him her destination and assured her he would get her there on time.

Not that she was anxious to arrive at the designated meeting place. She was nervous about seeing Ben again, face to face; it had been a few weeks since that morning in his kitchen when he’d forced her into the unenviable position of having to do him a “favor” to secure her freedom.

The shuttle turned up a small hill on a quiet street. Her pulse jumped. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, she’d be out of the shuttle, knocking on the door, and then face to face with Ben. And what would happen when she saw him again?

Ben hadn’t mentioned the envelope in his note, but he didn’t have to. Spencer knew they were meeting to make the exchange they’d previously agreed to—the envelope for her passport, the plane ticket back to Houston, and the video of her stealing from him.

Spencer thought about the envelope, resting at the bottom of her Birkin. Why did Ben want the envelope? What was sealed inside the lambskin? Rae thought she should have opened it, but Shady had said it would have been like opening Pandora’s box.

Spencer had agreed. The contents of the envelope didn’t matter. All she wanted was to give Ben the envelope and get her passport.

Once her passport was in her hand, then what? Would she leave Belize? Get on a plane and go back to Houston? Back to some temporary assignment she hoped might become a permanent position with vacation and benefits?

If she stayed in Belize, then what? Would she actually have a chance to be with John? A chance to see if “something” really was happening between them?

Her feelings for John were deepening and lengthening day by day. And yet, her old doubts and issues lingered. Spencer wasn’t sure she wanted love and romance and a soul mate.

The shuttle slowed and then stopped in front of a modest two-story house surrounded by trees and flowering bushes. The small yard was enclosed by a chain-link fence, and security bars covered the windows.

After thanking the driver, she exited the shuttle, her heart slamming. It was a balmy night, breezy with a whiff of rain in the wind. On shaky legs, she walked through the gate and up the gravel drive toward the front door, passing large, leafy banana trees lined along the fence.

At the door, Spencer hesitated and thought of turning around and running for her life down the dark street. But no longer willing to prolong the inevitable, Spencer knocked on the door. Minutes later, when it opened, she froze.

The man standing at the door was not Ben Chang.

San Ignacio, Belize

Shawville Subdivision

Before Spencer could scream her protest, Tommy Fong reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!” Spencer stiffened, heart thudding as she tried to resist, but his hold was like a shackle as he yanked the Birkin from her, threw it to the floor, and pulled her into the house.

Behind her, the door slammed. Terror gripped her, making its way around her throat, threatening to strangle the life from her.

“You not going to get away this time, bitch,” he said, manhandling her toward a lumpy, brown sectional couch in the middle of the living area.

“What are you—”

Fong gave Spencer a backhanded slap that set her face on fire and sent her stumbling to the floor. Sprawled on the cool tile, Spencer struggled up on all fours as Fong came at her, a deep vertical crease in the middle of his forehead. Reaching down, he grabbed her hair, pulling the strands from her chignon. Screaming, Spencer kicked him in the ankle and then rolled over, across the floor, losing her right shoe as she scrambled to her hands and knees again. Crawling to the couch, she pulled herself up and glanced over her shoulder.

Fong was behind her. Shaking, panic and adrenaline swirling in her veins, Spencer stumbled around the couch and toward the kitchen, her gaze trained on a door next to the refrigerator. A hand clamped around her ankle. Spencer cried out and crashed to the floor, banging her elbow and her hip. Ignoring the pain, palms on the floor, she fought to pull herself forward as Fong tried to yank her back.

“No!” She kicked her leg back and felt her heel connect with flesh. Fong grunted, his fingers loosening around her ankle, and she kicked again, this time feeling something wet and slippery as her toes made a connection.

Howling, Fong dropped her foot. Spencer dragged herself to her feet. Stumbling and hobbling to the door, she looked over her shoulder. Staggering to his feet, Fong lurched toward her. Flinging the door open, Spencer stumbled out of the house.

Wild and desperate, she ran haphazardly, heading into a tangle of trees. Stumbling, she kicked off her remaining shoe and then continued barefoot through the trees. Confused and disoriented, she pushed past the leaves, vines, and branches surrounding her, enveloping her in a cool shroud, blocking the late afternoon sun.

She needed to get to the road. If she could get to the road, she could find her way back to the resort, someway, somehow. As she sprinted through the hanging vines and past the thick leaves, she realized something was wrong. She was running in the wrong direction.

She’d escaped through the door next to the refrigerator, but she hadn’t entered the house through that door. Desperate and panicked, in her haste to get away from Fong, she’d made the mistake of running out of the back door.
 

With sickening terror, Spencer skidded to a stop and turned around.

Fong was racing toward her.

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita

It was 6:34 p.m. Sione stood in his bedroom, staring at the space where Spencer slept wrapped in his arms every night. When he woke up every morning, he couldn’t help but think how perfect she felt next to him, as if she were meant to be there. He wondered if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her.

Though he couldn’t say for sure how he felt about Spencer.

He didn’t think he was in love with her. He couldn’t be. Not yet, anyway. They hadn’t known each other long enough for him to be in love with her, he didn’t think. But maybe he was heading in that direction.

The question was, did he want to? Spencer was beautiful and exciting, sometimes even goofy and funny. But she could be selfish and abrasive, too. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fall in love with a woman who was fierce and a bit demanding, no matter how sexy she was.

Sione stared at the bed, unable to shake the apprehension he felt. He hadn’t seen Spencer since early this morning, and all he’d wanted to do when he got back to the casita was pull her into his arms, and into the bedroom, but she wasn’t there. Earlier, she’d sent him an email about an art show at a neighboring resort she’d gone to. Sione had found a listing for the event in the circular newspaper, and the show was from 4:00 to 6:00 p.m.

The event was over, but Spencer wasn’t back yet. He didn’t want to start worrying, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Moana’s promise.

Spencer is next.

Sione exhaled and forced himself to think rationally, logically. He couldn’t let Moana’s threats haunt him. Moana was dead. He wasn’t sure if it was by his hands or someone else’s. Either way, he knew she was dead.

Spencer is next.

No, that wasn’t true. Moana couldn’t hurt Spencer. He shouldn’t even be thinking of Spencer being hurt or in some sort of trouble. Those were baseless conclusions he had no reason to jump to, but still he was worried. Sione couldn’t shake the foreboding feelings, sly as serpents, coiled within him. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking something bad was going to happen.

San Ignacio, Belize

Outskirts of Cahal Pech

Spencer’s bare feet pounded the jungle floor as the trail snaked to the right and then abruptly curved left. She flew between two sandalwood trees and jumped over roots slithering across the forest bed. Increasing her speed, she glanced back again. Fong was too close behind her, steadily cutting the distance between them.

Panting, she skidded on leaves as the trail twisted and snaked, forcing her down a steep slope, one she had to slow down to navigate or risk falling on her ass. She felt her stamina fading, and forcing her burning legs to keep going was almost insurmountable. Spencer glanced back again, looking for Fong. She didn’t see him.

Adrenaline surged through Spencer, strong and heady. She lurched forward, afraid to stop and catch her breath. Fong might be trying to trick her, trying to fool her into thinking he’d given up the chase. Too scared to look back again, afraid she might see Fong behind her, she forced herself to run faster.

A thousand thoughts swirled in her mind, questions and worries. One thought prevailed, demanding her attention.
Would she ever see John again?
Gulping air, Spencer kept going, propelled by fear and desperation as the question haunted her.
Would she get the chance to tell him how she felt about him? Would she—

An arm snaked around her neck, tightening around her throat. Terrified, Spencer tried to scream, but when she opened her mouth, a strangled gurgle escaped. Clamping her hands down onto Fong’s arm, Spencer clawed at his skin, trying to pull his arm away. Gasping and panting, she bucked and jerked, trying to escape, but the more she fought, the more exhausted she became until a strange, deep cloud descended upon her and everything went black.

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita

Sione paced from one end of the living room to the other and back again. Spencer hadn’t returned from the art show, and he was trying not to get anxious. Shouldn’t she be back by now? How long did it take to look at a bunch of paintings she wasn’t going to buy anyway?

Clutching his cellphone, Sione sat down on the couch and then stood up. Then he sat again and sent Spencer another text, the fifth, or maybe sixth, message, asking her where she was and telling her to call him immediately and let him know she was okay. So far, each text had gone unanswered, and she hadn’t called.

He tried not to worry and told himself not to jump to any unfounded conclusions, like Spencer hadn’t called him because she couldn’t, because she wasn’t okay. There was no need to think the worst. After all, Spencer was tough, right? Wasn’t she always telling him she could take care of herself? Her fierce independence and her bad girl posturing was one of the things about her he found both alluring and infuriating.

Standing, Sione pushed the thought away, unwilling to let his mind go there, and walked into the kitchen, trying to stay calm, and glanced at the wall clock. 8:02 p.m. Maybe he should call the police?

What would he tell them? Spencer was an adult. If she wanted to leave the resort, she had every right to do so. And she probably wouldn’t want him calling the cops or leading some search party to look for her. Hadn’t she told him she didn’t need to be rescued?

Yeah, but he wasn’t sure if that was true, wasn’t sure he believed all her protests against the knight in shining armor.

I don’t need a hero.

Well, too damn bad. Spencer didn’t want a hero, but he wasn’t going to let her get hurt.

Hesitant, Sione went to the table and sat. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions too quickly. Maybe Spencer was fine. Maybe she really had gone to look at art. But Sione couldn’t assume anything. He had to make sure Spencer was okay.

Resolved with his decision, Sione dialed the front desk. When the employee on duty answered, he asked, “What shift are you working?”

“Noon to nine p.m., Mr. Tuiali’i.”

Sione cleared his throat and then asked, “Did you happen to see Ms. Edwards leave the hotel this afternoon? Maybe around three?”

“Yes, sir, I called her a cab,” the employee said. “But she said it was taking too long, so Raul offered to give her a ride in the shuttle.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Shawville Subdivision

Turning off the main road, Raul steered the shuttle between an opened chain-linked gate and into the grass-and-gravel driveway.

In the front seat, next to Raul, Sione leaned forward, trying to see. “This is where you dropped her off?”

Darkness shrouded the area. The lone source of light, a street lamp yards away, offered feeble illumination, barely enough to make out the bushes lining the perimeter of the fence.

The house was modest, two-stories and surrounded by a low chain-linked fence with a yard full of banana trees. Why had Spencer told Raul to bring her to this house? Why had she lied to him about going to the art show? What was she keeping from him? Why was she still keeping things from him? Why wouldn’t she tell him what was going on?

He couldn’t help but think that Spencer’s trip to this house had something to do with her reasons for coming to Belize.

Fake passports and money. The favor she’d been forced to do to satisfy a debt she would never have been able to pay. A chance to get out of her predicament, given to her by some asshole who did dirty work for Ben Chang. The offer seemed to be for her benefit. Or so she’d been tricked into believing. Acceptance had been to her detriment. Her debt would never be satisfied. Ben would always want her to do one more thing ... or else.