Unmasked: Volume Three (2 page)

“
S
tay here
,” I whisper to Alex and she glares at me.

“Not funny!”

I leave her securely tied to the bed as I head toward the back door, which leads onto Alex’s overgrown backyard. I pull aside the curtain covering the window in the door and glimpse Crow standing in the knee-high weeds, his gun pointed toward the neighbor’s backyard.

I yank the door open and I’m not surprised to see Alex’s next door neighbors, Ignacio and Noemia, lying dead in their garden. “You idiot!” I shout at Crow. “I can’t leave you alone for one fucking hour!”

“They were getting nosy!” Crow shouts, his nostrils flaring and his dark skin gleaming in the moonlight. “They knew something was going on. They asked me where Alex was!”

“You should have told them she was inside the house. They would have accepted that. You didn’t have to kill them!”

“How about a little fucking gratitude? I just drugged that fucking bounty hunter for you! And how about you tell me what the fuck you’re planning to do with her?”

“I don’t answer to you. My plans are
my
business.”

“You’re going to blow this job for her, aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me they’re leaving the island tomorrow? I should know these things!”

“Why? So you can kill her yourself? Don’t you forget that if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here.”

Both our eyes widen as the sound of Alex screaming my name echoes through the dark night. “She’s going to get us both arrested!” Crow seethes. “I can’t believe you’re risking your life for a woman who wants nothing to do with you.”

I let out a soft chuckle as I gaze across the yard toward the two shadowy lumps laid out in Ignacio’s garden. Then I recall that night in Harold Irwin’s flat in London. That boy lying peacefully with a bullet in his brain. Then Alex’s father’s face flashes in my mind. How is it I always end up with bodies that need burying whenever I’m on a job with Crow? It can’t be a coincidence.

I turn to Crow and look him in the eye. “Thank you for getting me out of Irwin’s.”

He raises his gun, but I beat him to it, putting a single bullet between his eyes. He falls backward and lands with a thud in the overgrown grass.
Great.
Now I have three bodies to get rid of.

Heading back inside the cottage, I tuck my gun into my waistband and hasten to Alex’s side where I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “I regret to inform you of this, sweetheart, but you will be tied up a bit longer. My associate just killed your neighbors.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s not funny!” She grapples with her bonds, grunting as her exquisite body writhes against the mattress.

“Of course it’s not funny. I was quite fond of Ignacio and his wife. But I’ve taken care of it. My associate knows he did wrong.” I place my hand on her abdomen to calm her struggles. “You really need to remain calm,
chérie.”
Her body stills, but she’s still breathing hard. “That’s it, just relax. I have to go check on the bounty hunter, but I’ll return soon. Try to remain calm while I’m gone.”

She closes her eyes as I lean down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Please don’t leave me here,” she pleads, her breath hot against my lips. “Please, Daimon. Please take me with you. I won’t try to fight you. I don’t want to hurt the baby. Just please don’t leave me here alone.”

I place my hand on her cheek and gaze into her eyes, one brown and one gray. There are two sides to every person: their true self and their false self, which is presented when they want something. As much as I love Alex, I’m not blinded by love. I know the real Alex wouldn’t beg anyone for anything. Well, except for the time she begged me to put my cock inside of her. But pleas made in the throes of passion excluded, Alex is not a begging woman.

“You can’t possibly think I would believe that.”

Her eyes squeeze shut again, pushing out the tears. “Can’t you see how painful this is for me? I don’t want to beg you. You killed my father.”

“In self-defense.”

“If it was self-defense, then let me go. I believe you. I just… I just need some time to think.”

She is very good at this.

“I underestimated you, Alex.” I brush the tears from her face, then I kiss her forehead and stand up. “But I won’t do that again. I’ll be right back.”

Pulling my gun out of my waistband, I’m on high alert as I leave the cottage through the back door. I don’t know how much tranquilizer Crow gave Nicolas or when he gave it to him. All I know is that I can’t count on it to last more than twenty minutes. He could already be awake, which means I can’t leave through the front of Alex’s cottage. I have to go through the back of Ignacio’s house to the street then head back past Dolores Street, and approach Nicolas’s house from behind. All because I made the stupid mistake of trusting Crow as a partner on this mission. I should have gotten rid of him this afternoon. Then Ignacio and Noemia would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have to worry about getting attacked by Nicolas when I enter his home.

I pass Crow’s body, but I don’t look at him. I’ll deal with him later. I find Ignacio and Noemia in their backyard and my stomach twists at the sight of her body draped facedown over his. She could be sleeping if it weren’t for the small bloody hole in the back of her head. Ignacio’s eyes stare straight up into the black starry sky, a bullet hole above his right socket. His mouth hangs open, revealing the three missing top teeth that gave his smile such character. I can’t leave them here. I don’t know if they planned on having company tonight.

I heave Noemia’s plump body off of Ignacio’s, then I search his pockets for the key to his work shed. I’ve moved many dead bodies in my lifetime, but something about digging through his pockets while they’re still warm makes me slightly ill.

Once I have the keys and the shed door is open, I drag them both inside. Every inch I drag their bodies feels as if it takes an eternity. I need to hurry so I can get to Nicolas before he wakes, but I can’t be sloppy. I lay Ignacio and Noemia next to each other on the dirt floor of the shed, then I lock the door and slip the keys into my pocket. The keys will be the only thing missing from the house. The authorities will think they were killed by someone close to them.

I take one final look at the old shed and shake my head.
Forgive me, Ignacio.

Cutting through the back of the neighbor’s yard, I come out onto the street with the open-air market, which is closed down for the night. I nod at a few young men who are standing outside the corner market. Crossing Dolores Street, I glance at Nicolas’s house. The windows are dark. Either Crow turned the lights off after he drugged Nicolas or our little bounty hunter has awakened.

I cross the street and cut through the backyard of the corner house then into Nicolas’s backyard. Keeping my gun flat against the outside of my right thigh, I scurry across the yard until I’m just outside the back door. I press my back flat against the wall, then I reach across with my left hand and slowly turn the knob.

I let out my breath when I hear the soft click of the latch disengaging. Pushing the door inward, I keep my back pressed against the rear wall to stay covered. I hold my ground for a few seconds, then I raise my weapon and turn into the open doorway. The inside of the kitchen is dark, but I see no signs of movement.

Inching my way into the darkened house, I find myself wishing I had Alex’s acute vision. If she weren’t tied to a bed and completely volatile right now, she’d make a much better partner in crime than Crow. I proceed into the living area, expecting to find Nicolas laid out on the wood floor or his limp body draped over the sofa cushions, but he’s nowhere. Maybe Crow caught him in the bedroom. I don’t want to see the bed where he slept with my Alex, but I have to neutralize him.

I ease my way into the bedroom and my heart drops when I come around the other side of the bed. I search the bathroom and closets to make sure I’m right, and it only confirms my suspicions. Nicolas isn’t here.

I race out of the house toward Alex’s cottage, gun at my side, hoping none of the nosy neighbors are watching from their windows. I don’t want to kill anyone else.

I recklessly burst through the front door, giving Nicolas a clear shot at me if he were on the other side. But my adrenaline is peaking. I can’t stop now. I need to keep him from taking Alex.

Rushing into the bedroom with my gun drawn, I kick the bed hard enough to send it sliding across the wooden floor until it slams into the wall.

She’s gone.

A
s soon as
Daimon leaves the bedroom, I begin devising ways to get myself out of these restraints. But I can’t use too much energy or I won’t be able to get away or fight him off if he comes back. Do I really want to fight him off?

The muscles in my shoulders slacken as this question siphons the fight out of me. I’ve been pining for Daimon every second of every day since I arrived on this island. And now I’m trying to get away from him? Why?

Because I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth about my father’s death. I may never know the truth. If I give in to Daimon, it will be because I’ve accepted that I’ll never know for sure whether he killed my father in self-defense. I don’t know if I can accept that explanation, much less believe it. I suppose it comes down to whether Daimon truly loves me. If he loves me, he wouldn’t lie to me about something so important.

I writhe against the mattress, my emotional disquiet manifesting in my physical struggles. I yank my arms and legs in every direction, attempting to loosen the thin ropes that tether me to the bedposts, but it’s no use. I’m no match for Daimon’s military and law enforcement background. No doubt he knows at least a dozen ways to tie someone up.

This thought makes my body flood with a warmth and longing for his touch. I shake my head, trying to clear away thoughts of Daimon pleasuring me while I lay immobilized. His tongue sliding over my flesh, searching for my clit.
Oh, God.
Just the thought of it has me on the brink of orgasm.

I need to get out of here, away from Daimon, where I can think straight.

“Alyssa!” I open my eyes and Nick is standing in the doorway. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head adamantly, thinking of how I was just imagining my captor giving me head. I’m definitely not hurt. At least, not physically. I can’t say as much for my mental health.

“Please release me,” I plead, and he rushes to the bed to untie the ropes.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I insist. “He just wanted to talk to me.”
Why am I defending him?

Once I’m released from the restraints, my heart begins to thrum painfully against my chest. I know we have no more than a minute or two before Daimon returns. Part of me wants to wait for him, but I don’t know if I’d rather punch him in the throat or leap into his arms and kiss him.

“We have to get out of here,” I whisper frantically.

Nick takes my hand. “I know where to go. Come.”

I pause for a moment, staring at our hands clasped together. “Are you a bounty hunter?”

“What?” His reply is high-pitched, but his mouth hangs open making him appear a bit dopey. “Why would you say that? Did he tell you I’m a bounty hunter?” He throws his head back and laughs. “That is very funny. A guy who makes sunglasses is a bounty hunter? He is desperate if he’s trying to convince you of something so ridiculous.”

Looking into his shiny green eyes with the clock ticking down in the back of my mind, I try to figure out what I’m missing. Someone is hiding something from me. But I can’t decide if it’s Nick or Daimon. And I don’t have time to ponder this question.

“Let’s go,” I reply with a nod.

He nods back and pulls me out into the backyard where I spot the black man who followed me for days, dead in the overgrown grass. That’s Daimon’s associate, Crow? Why was he so dispensable to Daimon?

I don’t have time to contemplate this question as Nick yanks me into my neighbors’ backyard. The neighbors Crow didn’t kill. Their yard is neatly manicured with stone pathways snaking through the space between their citrus and stone fruit trees. The air smells sweet and fruity. The warm humidity clings to my skin and fills my lungs, suffocating me.

“Where are we going?” I whisper as we tiptoe toward the other side of the neighbor’s house.

“To the marina.”

We creep along the north side of the property and stop at the front corner. Nick inches his head forward to peer into the street. His eyes widen as the sound of frantic footsteps fall on my ears. It must be Daimon racing away from Nick’s house toward my cottage. We wait a couple more seconds, then he yanks me forward and we dart toward the steps leading down to the harbor.

My whole body aches with every step I take as if every cell of my being wants nothing more than to reject this path I’m taking.
Go back
, my body is screaming.
Go home to the one man who truly loves you
.

We reach the dock and find a gentleman who’s tying up his speedboat for the evening. My heart screeches to a halt when Nick pulls a Glock 22 and points it at the man.

“Suelta la cuerda!”
Nick shouts at him. The man’s wrinkled eyes widen as he drops the length of rope and slowly raises both hands in the air. Nick waves the gun toward the boat.
“Metate en el barco!”

The man scurries into the boat and Nick keeps the gun trained on him as he climbs in behind him. Nick reaches up, offering his free hand to me.

“Alyssa, we have to go!”

I inch forward until the toes of my sandals hang over the edge of the dock. I gaze into the dark water, glistening with moonlight.

“Alyssa!” Nick barks at me.

I reject his offer of help and climb into the boat myself. At once, he wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me close to him.

“Maneja!”
Nick shouts as the man sits in the drivers’ seat.

The man steers the boat away from the dock and punches the gas pedal. The inertia pulls Nick and me backward, and we fall back onto a cushioned bench seat in the rear of the speedboat. Nick continues to bark orders at the man and I’m almost positive he just told him to take us to Tenerife, a neighboring island with a large international airport.

I look over my shoulder and my stomach clenches when I see him. Daimon races along the dock, frantically searching for something. Nick looks over his shoulder just as Daimon disappears behind a mid-sized sailboat, as if he jumped into the water. My heart pounds and worried thoughts race through my mind. Seconds later, another speedboat roars out from behind the sailboat and heads straight for us.

Nick shouts at the man again and our boat shoots forward, flying over the rippling seas. I sense I’m being torn in two. My body is here in this boat, sitting next to Nick. But my heart is behind us with Daimon.

I glance over my shoulder a few times, half-hoping I will see his boat gaining on us, but he seems to be falling behind. This boat must be more powerful than the boat he’s driving. At this speed, we’ll reach Tenerife in thirty minutes, at least ten minutes before Daimon. Plenty of time to get a head start and get to the airport. I can’t help feeling disappointed.

I don’t love Nick. In fact, the only thing Nick has going for him is the fact that he didn’t kill my father.

“Why do you have a gun?” I shout over the roaring squeal of the boat’s engine.

“I brought it from my house after they drugged me,” Nick replies, his eyes locked on the driver as he keeps his gun pointed at him.

“Why did you have a gun in your house?”

“For protection, of course!” he shouts impatiently.

Is it normal for a man who manufactures sunglasses to apply for a gun permit? It’s not as easy to get a gun in Spain as it is in America. I know. I looked it up before I booked my flight to La Palma. You need to be able to prove a legitimate reason: hunting, target shooting, collection, personal protection.
Protection from what?

Maybe Nick works in law enforcement. Or, as a bounty hunter.

I have to think this through. I begin by listing the facts as I know them:

E
verything Daimon told
me adheres to the truth as I know it. Then it must stand to reason that he told the truth when he said he killed my father in self-defense. And it must also be true that Nick is a bounty hunter.

“We should arrive at Tenerife in fifteen minutes,” Nick shouts at me.

I stare at him in silence as I try to formulate a response that will pacify him. He can’t know that I’m onto him. But I’m just so angry; at him and at myself.

“Did you hear me?” he shouts as I continue to glare at him.

How could I be so stupid? Because Nick had me convinced that he accepted me as I was, discoloration and all? He preyed on me at a time when I was vulnerable. Still reeling from Daimon’s possible death, I was prime for him to sweep in with his sword and shining armor and rescue me.

I am
not
a damsel in distress.

“Alex!” He shouts my name and it takes him a few seconds before his eyes widen when he realizes his blunder.

He’s not supposed to know my real name.