The Island (19 page)

In eighth grade, you cheated. They can’t take that from you.

In tenth grade, Troy Faulkner kissed you. That’s yours forever.

You were a dumb kid. All yours.

You once vomited on a whole bunch of people at the county fair. They’ll never forget you
.

Chastity hated you because of prom. They can’t have that.

Chastity was your best friend in college. They can’t take her away from you.

You broke your arm and didn’t tell anyone for nine hours. You were stupid and stubborn, and they can’t take that.

Even on the island, he had kept his secrets from them.

Today you found seven sand dollars, and they were all beautiful and fragile, and you didn’t crush them.

Shaw won’t hurt you.

He swayed on his aching knees and tried to believe it.

Whatever happens tonight, your soul’s unbreakable.

Chapter Thirteen

Shaw had always had the ability to mask his emotions. It was essential in his line of work, given the people he dealt with and the situations he found himself in. It also made him a hell of a poker player. But when Vornis led his guests into the room after dinner, even a consummate professional like Shaw couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise.

Holy shit.

It wasn’t a dungeon, exactly, but its purpose was clear. There were shackles hanging from the ceiling, racks of equipment and accessories on the wall, and a padded bench in the middle of the floor. The room was in the center of the main house. There were no glass walls here that looked out to the endless ocean; the room was solid, secure, and soundproofed.

Guterman looked around the walls approvingly, and then his gaze fell on Shaw. Appraising him? Shaw curled his mouth into a smile.

Lee was kneeling on the floor, his hands still shackled behind his back the way Shaw had left them. Shaw knew that made him an accessory to whatever happened here.
Well, I didn’t rape him, and I didn’t kill him, but I did cuff his hands behind his back and deliver him to Vornis and Guterman
. Christ, where was Callie with her no-bullshit advice when he needed her?

Lee looked up as the men crowded into the room, his face already streaked with tears, and then lowered his head again. Shaw could see his chest heaving with quick breaths.

“I don’t,” Gatehouse stammered, “I really don’t think I…”

Vornis looked at him, and Gatehouse snapped his mouth shut.

“Shaw, get his pants off him,” Vornis said.

Shaw moved forward. Another little show for Vornis, he supposed. His favorite boy stripping his favorite toy. Vornis had always liked Shaw, always wanted him, and every performance Shaw had staged back in the bungalow must have added more fuel to that nasty little fire. Vornis had probably jerked off when he’d watched the security feed.

Shaw stood behind Lee and pulled him up by the cuffs. Lee staggered back against him and Shaw put a hand on his back to steady him. He reached round in front of Lee’s hips and found his fly. He popped the button and pulled the zip open. Lee whimpered, and Shaw wrenched the pants down.

Any minute now. Any minute now the other shoe will drop.

“And the cuffs,” Vornis said.

Shaw felt in his pocket for the key. Lee’s hands shook as Shaw released them and dropped the cuffs on the floor.

Vornis laughed, and Lee glanced up at him fearfully.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” Vornis said, his voice low and amused. “And then anyone else who wants is going to fuck you.”

Lee’s jaw trembled.

Shaw drew a deep breath.
He’s going to give me up. He’s going to scream at me to save him. He’s going to get us both killed. And why shouldn’t he? He’s got nothing to lose.

Vornis leaned in toward Lee, his dark eyes gleaming. He reached out and traced a blunt finger down Lee’s chest. “And then we’re going to kill you.”

The strangled gasp didn’t come from Lee. Shaw turned his head sharply. Gatehouse. Gatehouse had lost his nerve at last and was scrambling for the door. Bertoni pulled the little man back by his shirt and laughed when he squealed.

There was a knife hanging on the wall. Shaw didn’t see Vornis reach for it. He didn’t even see Vornis move, but suddenly Gatehouse was squashed between Bertoni and Vornis, and when they stepped away, he was on the floor. He jerked and gaped like a landed fish.

Shaw watched as the blood slowly trickled toward the drain in the center of the room. The floor was sloped, like an abattoir’s. How clever.

Shaw heard Lee’s slow intake of breath. He could feel Lee shaking against him. He could feel the warmth of his flesh, the fluttering of his heart. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against Lee’s shoulder. He tasted of sweat and fear, but he didn’t pull away from Shaw. Jesus Christ! He still trusted him, after everything. He would trust him, Shaw realized, even as he died. His head swam. What the hell had he done to earn that amount of trust? Stupid fucking kid.

Usayd was watching them.

Guterman was watching them as well. Untroubled by the man dying on the floor, he rubbed his crotch through his trousers and stepped toward them. Even when he was standing in front of them, even when he reached down to grip Lee’s cock in his meaty hand, Lee didn’t flinch. He leaned his head back against Shaw’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Guterman’s eyes were dark with desire. He grinned at Shaw. “Bend him over the bench for me, Shaw.”

Shaw couldn’t breathe. The blood pounded in his skull. He heard Bertoni and Vornis laughing as they stood over Gatehouse’s body. And that was
his
responsibility, Shaw thought. He’d brought art to Vornis, so Vornis had brought an art expert. Gatehouse was his responsibility. And so was Lee.

“Hurry up,” Guterman said, unzipping his fly. “Bend the little bitch over.”

Shaw began to move toward the bench. He raked his gaze over the wall. Vornis was nothing if not prepared. There was another cattle prod there, and it was almost in his reach.

“You’re okay,” he murmured to Lee, pushing him down onto the bench. It made him sick how Lee immediately knew where to put his arms, how far to spread his knees.

Jesus, Shaw, what are you going to do? Are you really gonna let this happen? Really?

Shaw heard the blood roaring in his skull, as loud as the ocean.

The ocean.

Guterman ignored Shaw now. He fumbled in his pants for his cock. A look of bliss crossed his face when he found it, and then he was spitting into his hand and pressing his fingers into Lee’s anus. Lee whimpered and pressed his forehead against the leather padding.

Shaw looked at Usayd and reached for the cattle prod.

“Guterman,” he said. “Who’s the little bitch now?”

Guterman screamed and fell back when Shaw pressed the prod into his neck, and then all hell broke loose.

It was fucking chaos, but Shaw liked chaos. He
knew
chaos. Guterman, slipping around on his back in Gatehouse’s blood, screamed and cursed, and Shaw took the opportunity to hit him again. As close to the balls as he could manage this time.

Guterman didn’t scare him now. None of them did. Shaw was in his element.

Bertoni stood there like a sack of shit, gaping. Then he went for Shaw with the knife. Shaw dodged him, and then his back was against the wall.

Vornis, his face distorted with rage and disbelief, went straight for the alarm. His mistake. He’d thought it was four against one, but that was before Usayd caught him around the neck and forced him to the floor. Usayd knelt over him, one arm tensed around his throat, choking him out.

Shaw felt the knife slide against his ribs and glance off. He got an elbow in Bertoni’s fat face and felt the man’s nose crack. It felt good. Bertoni reeled away, clutching his face. Shaw hit him with the cattle prod, and he went down. Shaw hit Guterman again. Just so the prick really felt it.

He heard the dull thud as Vornis hit the floor.

Usayd looked up, his eyes black.

Atmadja edged carefully around the wall, his delicate hands fluttering anxiously.

Shaw reached down and retrieved the knife. “Get up, Lee.”

Lee was pale and shaking. He hitched his pants up and fastened them with trembling fingers.

Usayd didn’t take his eyes off Atmadja. Shaw advanced on him. The man pressed back against the wall. He tried to disappear into it as Shaw held out the cattle prod. He didn’t scream when it hit him. He only jerked, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the floor.

“All this waste for a pretty face?” Usayd asked him and wrinkled his nose at Lee. “No offense.”

Lee trembled.

Usayd held out his hand, and Shaw gave him the knife.

“You don’t have to watch,” Shaw said to Lee.

“I want to,” Lee whispered, and Shaw put a hand on his shoulder.

Lee flinched as Usayd moved through the room like a predator, crouching over the trembling or unconscious men, pulling their heads back by the hair and cutting their throats. He worked quickly and silently, and when he was finished, he turned back to Shaw.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Shaw nodded. “Ready when you are.”

Lee didn’t speak as they slipped out of the room. He was trembling. Not even Shaw’s hand on his shoulder calmed him now, and why would it? The men who killed your monsters weren’t heroes. They were even more frightening.

They walked quietly through the house, heading for the front door, and then Irina saw them. Saw them, saw the blood, and saw exactly what had happened. Her hands fluttered to her mouth.

Fuck
. Shaw exchanged a glance with Usayd.

Irina’s gaze traveled over Lee’s bruised and scarred body, and then she looked Shaw in the eye.

“Where?” she murmured.

“Away from this,” Shaw said, willing her to believe it.

He saw the doubt cross her plain face, the suspicion. But, like Lee, she clung to useless hope. She needed to believe it, and so she did. As simple as that. How had Vornis not beaten it out of her? Shaw thought that he would never understand hope as simple and pure as that. He was too much of a realist, and maybe he’d been lucky enough never to have needed it. Leaps of faith were for the desperate. Shaw had never been desperate.

Even now he wasn’t there. The advantage was theirs. Usayd still had the knife. Whether or not he used it was Irina’s decision, even if she didn’t know it.

Her gaze shifted from Shaw’s face and back to Lee. Tears glistened in her pale eyes.

“One minute,” she whispered, her thin hand hovering over an alarm on the wall. “One minute.”

They ran out of the house, heading for the beach. It was the longest sixty seconds of his life, Shaw thought, and the shortest. They’d hardly cleared the house when the alarm started blaring.

“Have you got a boat?” Usayd gasped as they pounded down the path toward the guest bungalows. “Tell me you’ve got a boat!”

“Not exactly,” Shaw managed, his lungs burning. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Have you?”

“No!”

Lee was lagging. Two months of imprisonment and torture had weakened him, and Shaw was afraid he wouldn’t make it. He was too slow. He was stumbling. Shaw heard shouting behind them now and gripped Lee’s good hand to pull him along.

They hit the beach and headed straight into a pair of security guards responding to the house alarm. One of them was Hanson, the head of security. The big man’s face twisted into a mask of rage as he saw them, and then the moon slipped behind a cloud.

Shaw heard a burst of static from the man’s radio.

A part of him had wondered from the moment he’d met Hanson and sized him up if it would end in a confrontation. At the moment, he still had surprise on his side, but not for long.

Shaw pushed Lee into the sand. “Stay down!”

Usayd lunged, and he had Hanson’s sidearm pointed into his stomach before Hanson knew it. Shaw heard the shot before he’d even reached the men, and then a second and then a third. Shaw saw bodies tumble into the sand, a tangle of limbs in the darkness.

“Fuck.” That was Usayd. “Fucking got me.”

But he was already back on his feet.

Shit
. Shaw wasn’t often surprised, but Usayd was something else. The man was a killing machine. He reached down and hauled Lee to his feet again.

“Let’s go, come on.” Shaw pulled Lee toward the water.

“This is your plan?” Usayd asked as he splashed into the shallows. He was holding his arm across his body, gripping his shoulder. “I’m fucking shark bait now.”

They waded deeper.

“The boats are on the other side,” Shaw said, tasting saltwater on his lips. “They won’t get them around in time. Just go with the tide.”

He could see torchlight on the beach now and hear shouting, but they were far enough out to stop splashing and move quietly through the water. It was warm and dark, and maybe it would be safe enough.

Shaw turned his phone on, praying the case was as waterproof as he’d been promised. He sent the text message he’d typed out that afternoon before dinner:
Where are u? Need you, babe
. And he activated the GPS.

* * * *

They drifted for hours. Usayd was losing blood, and he wasn’t happy about it. “When the sharks come, I hope they eat you first. You’re a fucking disaster zone,
Shaw
.”

Shaw was worried about Lee as well. They all floated together, Shaw in the middle, and held hands to stay close. Usayd’s grip, despite the wound in his shoulder, was strong. Lee’s wasn’t. At one point, he let his hand slip out of Shaw’s entirely, and Shaw caught him by the wrist to stop him drifting away.

He couldn’t lose him, not now, not in the warm embrace of the black Pacific. Not after everything.

Shaw swallowed. The saltwater was already swelling his throat painfully. Beside him, he heard Usayd spit out a mouthful. Lee was too quiet. He was sinking into shock. His flesh was cold.

“If the sharks don’t get us, the sun will in the morning,” Usayd said after a while. “We’ll die of exposure by tomorrow night.”