MERCILESS (The Mermen Trilogy #3) (5 page)

“Mom? Dad?” she said calmly from the backseat. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know where Dana is. I don’t remember anything. I just…woke up on the beach outside that cabin.”

“Was it the cabin where you were being held?” her mother asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. But when I looked inside, I spotted blood all over the kitchen. Then I saw a cell phone on the counter, so I grabbed it and ran.” That would not give her parents any peace of mind, but her story would be out in the news by now. And the flight attendant on the plane ride home told her that the police had already found the beach house despite Liv’s attempt to misdirect them. She’d had to explain where she’d gotten the phone, but didn’t want them running off and finding Shane’s place containing a rather deadly and hungry mermaid. Regardless of her efforts, however, there weren’t many homes in that area, so they found the house. Just like she’d said, there was blood in the kitchen. Thankfully, the maid had seen to it that there was no body.

Her father turned left down the street where they lived. The reporters were already behind them. “The police said it was some sort of animal blood. They couldn’t say which kind, though.”

That was because it was merman blood.

“We’ll find her,” Liv said quietly, trying to hide her utter panic. “I turned up. She’ll turn up, too.”

Dear Lord, I hope.

CHAPTER FOUR

After a few hours with her parents, where she was re-interviewed by the state police, who still had a manhunt going for Dana, Liv borrowed her mother’s laptop and went into her room. She tried not to think about how she’d just lied to the world, to the very people who were trying to help, and to her own family. But what other choice was there? Send them all to El Corazón?

Sitting in her room and scrolling through news articles, Liv chewed on her thumbnail. Where was the island?
How could she get there? It wasn’t too far from where she’d been rescued the first time by a cargo ship that belonged to Roen. Someone had to know where that spot was, like the captain of that ship.

She would call Roen’s office as soon as they opened in a few hours. No, no one there knew about her relationship with the boss, but they knew who she was. Maybe she’d tell them she was writing a book about being lost at sea.

Fiction, of course.
Because her story had tailless mermen in it.

She then did a quick search for any news having to do with Roen, hoping there might be something, anything to indicate he was alive.

Nothing.

He’s not dead, Liv. He’s not dead and neither is Dana.

So how would she be getting back to that island? An island normal people couldn’t see unless one was physically right on top of it because the place was alive and had some sort of ability to camouflage itself. And if she managed to get there, what would she do? She was no match for the men who lived there.

There was a light knock on the door.

“Yes?” Liv said.

“Honey,” said her mother, “there’s a call for you. It’s a man named Phil. He says it’s urgent and that you know him?”

Liv blinked. Phil was Roen’s pit bull attorney. And a notorious asshole.
Why’s
he
calling me?
The last time she and Phil had spoken—the
only
time they’d spoken—was a few months ago when he’d been looking for Roen. Phil then accused her of killing him and then proceeded to tell the press the same thing. It was a nightmare until Roen resurfaced.

Yeah, never did see an apology card for that.

Liv walked out into the living room that now looked like a crocheting workshop. Handmade throws, doilies, and pillows covered almost every surface and every piece of furniture, including the top of their old television. Obviously, her mother had recently taken up crocheting for stress relief.

“Hello?” Liv said, dragging the phone with the long cord into the den, where stacks of paper covered her parents’ desk. Her father worked as an insurance broker and her mother was a bookkeeper for some of the local businesses.

“Miss Stratton, it’s Phil—Mr. Doran’s lawyer.”

“Yes?” Her parents were just in the other room, so she spoke quietly. She had no clue what Phil wanted or knew or didn’t know.

“I just saw the news that you were rescued. Do you have any news from Roen?”

Liv’s heart sank. “No. I was hoping you would.”

“Fucking hell. He’d better be dead, because I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Nice.
“When’s the last time you spoke to him?”
Please say it was yesterday. Or the day before.
Or any time after she’d seen him last. He had to be alive.

Phil groaned. “Early last week. I’ve been trying to reach him since. It’s important.”

Last week. That would be before Shane had taken her, right?

Fuck.
It didn’t tell her anything.

Liv closed the den door so her parents wouldn’t overhear. “Phil, do you know anything about his island?”

“I know everything about his island.”

She sincerely doubted that; otherwise, he wouldn’t still be Roen’s lawyer. No person in their right mind wanted anything to do with that place. Regardless, his words ignited a spark of hope.

“You have to tell me where it is—the exact location.”

“Why do you need to know?” Phil asked.

“Listen, asshole, you just called me looking for Roen. That means you don’t know where he is and that you’re probably worried.” She lowered her voice, trying to keep herself from yelling. “And you should be. Now tell me where the fucking thing is.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need a favor.”

A favor? From her?

“What?” she snapped.

“I’m getting close to having this island formally recognized as US property, something I promised Roen I’d do for him. But I need money. A lot of it.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.” With her small savings from tutoring undergrads last semester, minus her student loans, she had exactly…
Negative one hundred and ten thousand dollars.

“You have to sign the form to release the funds,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“Didn’t that fucking idiot tell you?” Phil grumbled.

“No. And stop talking about him like that.”

“He signed over all of his assets to you,” Phil said, not sounding too thrilled about it.

Liv felt her blood pressure plummet. “Huh?”

“You own it all. His twelve homes, his cars, his ten-billion-dollar shipping company.”

Holy crap.
“What was he thinking? Why?”

“I thought you might know. The way it sounded: he was dying.”

Oh no. Oh no.
“Phil, I need to get to that island. Can you help me?”

“Roen has three company jets—I mean,
you
own three company jets. They’re usually kept in Seattle. I know because I file all of the insurance and FAA paperwork.”

Oh God. This is crazy.
What were the odds that she would need a plane and the location of the island and that it would fall right into her lap?

A heavy knot the size of a brick formed in her stomach. The odds were zero. Which made her feel like she was playing a fixed game. That said, what did it change? Nothing. She still had to go.

Phil went on, “Call Roen’s—I mean your assistant, Cherie, and tell her to send a helicopter for you. She’ll take care of everything.”

“Great. Okay. Do you have her number?”

Phil rambled off the number, and she jotted it down on a piece of scratch paper.

“And, Miss Stratton?” Phil said.

“Yes?”

“I’ll send the information on the island to Cherie, so you’ll have what you need, but the funds transfer is critical. I’ll ask Cherie to arrange for you to sign the approval while you’re there in Seattle. The twenty million dollars has to be deposited by tomorrow or we lose our chance.”

“Twenty million dollars?” It was a huge amount of money.

“That was the price to buy a few friends in Moscow. The island is in international waters and nobody in Congress wants to stir up crap with Russia—they had to sign off.”

Russia? Congress
. Were they in a spy novel now? It dawned on Liv that this situation was much bigger than just finding Roen and her sister. There was a larger issue of keeping that island isolated. Roen had wanted it protected from people, but the way she saw it, people needed to be protected from Her Holy Evilness.

Then the harsh reality hit Liv. If Roen
was
dead, there would be no one else to deal with this.
But he’s a public figure. He’s…fucking Roen Doran.
The man was no stranger to
Forbes
covers and power meetings with world leaders. She had absolutely no idea how to run his company or influence people or make sure the island was contained. And frankly, deep down in her heart, she only cared about finding her sister and Roen. All of that other stuff was…well…
okay, it’s important, too
, she conceded.

She let out a breath, realizing that whether she liked it or not, she was in charge. Roen had seen to that. It had nothing to do with money or setting her up with a cushy life. She was his mate. He believed in her and trusted her.

Which means you’re just as strong as he is.
It was a thought she’d never considered. But killing Shane, fighting back, was proof. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a coward. She could handle anything thrown her way.

Maybe?

Phil continued, “Miss Stratton, I don’t know what’s the matter with Roen, but if you find him, please let him know I did what he asked. He’s like a brother to me—an asshole brother—but I promised I’d take care of this one final thing for him. Or should I say for you—you technically own everything now.”

“It’s a dream come true,” she said dryly, realizing the irony of her holding the title to that island. “I’ll be in touch, Phil. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and called this woman Cherie.

As the phone rang, Liv started thinking about how a jet would land on that island if the pilot couldn’t see it.

Dammit, you’ll parachute from the damned plane if you have to
. Not that she knew how, but she was a billionaire now. She’d damn well hire someone to show her. But either way, this was far from over, and she
was
getting to that island. She refused to believe that Roen was dead. Her heart would know if anything had happened to him. Or to Dana. Wouldn’t it?

~~~

Twelve Hours Later

As the small private jet approached the coordinates provided by Phil, approximately two thousand miles west of Seattle, Liv began to feel like something was watching her, expecting her. Was it paranoia or simply her nerves trying to get the best of her?

Hell no. The island definitely knows you’re coming.

Which meant Liv had to be mentally prepared for anything. The honest truth was, however, she was already running on fumes and had been from the moment she’d woken up in Shane’s beach house. But there’d been no time to sleep, even during this five-hour flight on, yes, the world’s nicest plane.

It’s like a five-star hotel suite in the sky
—extra-large, beige leather seats, a workspace, kitchenette, and satellite TV.

She still found it difficult to digest Roen’s two very contrasting worlds—one the epitome of wealth, power, and success. The American dream. The other savage, deadly, and, well…crap, they had monsters, mermen, and a living island. The universal nightmare. There couldn’t be two more different worlds, yet Roen had managed to walk in both, be a leader in both, and be the man she loved in both. Which was precisely why she’d broken her parents’ hearts and left, only leaving a note to say she was okay, but needed some time alone. It was also why she was about to risk her life to save him. She just hoped she wasn’t too late. And if a hair on Dana’s head had been harmed, Liv would make them all pay. How?

Hide the butter knives.

First, however, she’d had to get up to speed. Because apparently, while she’d been indisposed, a story about the discovery of “the Fountain of Youth” had spurred a massive search for El Corazón. And she had a damned solid clue which particular human had started those rumors.

It was the ER doctor in Wrangell who’d been on call when Liv’d been punished by the island for breaking her promise not to tell anyone about its inhabitance. In Liv’s defense, she’d been so messed up in the head after being shipwrecked on El Corazón and after leaving Roen behind—his choice, not hers—that she’d been going mad. She’d later learn it was because mates who were separated after finding each other went a little crazy. But the moment Liv had spoken the word “mermen” to her therapist, the island let her have it. Convulsions, burning in her veins, the inability to breathe. How did Crazy Dirt do it? Liv had no clue. But the punishment didn’t stop at giving her a massive painful seizure on the therapist’s office floor. Crazy Dirt went after Dana, too, landing her in the ER with respiratory failure. That was when Liv used a vial of sacred water she’d taken back from the island to heal her sister. Unfortunately, Liv left the vial behind, and it snowballed from there. Dr. Fuller found it and sent the remaining few drops to a lab. Why? She’d been suspicious when her patient miraculously healed. Later, Dr. Fuller would confront Liv and confess that she’d also had repeated dreams about a miracle water that could cure any illness. Then the tabloids somehow got wind of the lab reports, and the legend of the Fountain of Youth was born.

Now, over five hundred fishing boats and yachts filled with treasure hunters, desperate souls, and good old-fashioned opportunists were looking for the island.

And they’re all crazy people
. Because only crazy people would actually believe a tabloid story and then hop on a boat in search of the mythical Fountain of Fucking Youth. From what she’d seen in the news articles online, they were close, too. A few hundred miles too close. It was only a question of time before one of them got lucky and ran right into the place. Which was why signing the bank transfer had been critical, just like Phil said. Roen had already told her his plan to hire private security to keep people away once he held the title.