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Chapter One
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SULLY.
His fall into the ocean was on repeat inside my head.
Tripping out the door.
Plummeting down, down, down.
My heart squeezed each time his splash replayed.
A splash and then...nothing.
My thoughts weren’t in my body, locked on Drake’s lap, skimming over the sea, but back there. Back where Sully had fallen. Where he’d disappeared. Where we’d been separated against our will.
Sully...please.
Almost an hour had passed.
The longest, nightmarish hour since I’d last seen him.
Since I knew he was alive...
“Descending,” the pilot yelled over the din. “Found it.”
The pilot’s voice brought me back; Drake’s legs tensing beneath mine ripped me from my wonderings.
I glanced out the window, shuddering as Drake’s hold on me tightened.
Monyet.
The island with a large laboratory hidden within its paradise, pumping out drugs that went above and beyond aphrodisiacs, creating who knew what else within its walls.
Sully...are you okay?
My mind split down the middle. It now had the ability to focus on my plight while staying firmly on Sully’s in my past.
It was like staring into two mirrors.
A mirror angled behind me—a portal to a man who I begged to rise from the sea. And another angled on my present—revealing unfolding events taking me farther and farther away from him.
“About fucking time,” Drake muttered as the helicopter engines cut off mid-screech, the rotors slowing down the moment we touched land.
I shuddered again, overflowing with disgust as Drake pushed me off his lap and onto the seat beside him.
For fifty minutes or so, the pilots had skimmed over Sully’s empire, peering at each island, trying to figure out which one housed a lab. Unfortunately, it’d become fairly obvious as darkness descended, and lights spangled below.
The smaller islands with no inhabitants were easy to discount, followed by those with smaller populations performing whatever tasks Sully had set for them to do. Monyet was at least twice the size of Serigala, and directly in the centre of a fortified encampment. Ringed with fences and palm trees, it sat in a well-lit facility reeking of scientific dealings.
“We’re on the main helipad within the barbwire perimeter,” the older pilot said. “They’ll have heard us arrive. Better figure out your story, quick.”
“I don’t need a story,” Drake said. “This is family owned, and I’m family. Therefore, it’s mine, and everything inside is mine.”
“Nothing is yours,” I snapped. “You’re a thief.”
He chuckled, his eyes still tight with fatigue from his indulgence with elixir. “Thief? I prefer to be called an opportunist.”
“Bastard suits you more.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind that one.” He looked out the window, eyeing up the lab he’d come to raid.
Drake had been bold and uncaring that he trespassed. He’d stolen so much from Sully already...and now, his thievery would continue on a different island.
Sully...
I hugged myself as goosebumps decorated me.
Please...please be okay.
“What’s the plan?” the remaining mercenary asked.
I curled around my pain, turning my attention away from the mirror on my present and stared into the one showing that ever-repeating image of Sully being thrown out of the helicopter.
Falling.
Falling.
Splash.
“There’s four of us,” Drake muttered, rubbing his eyes as the exhaustion still consumed him from Euphoria. “They’re just nerds. We’ll knock, ask politely, and leave. They don’t obey; they die. I want out of this stinking country the second we’ve got elixir on board.”
“Fine.” The mercenary nodded.
The pilots jumped from the cockpit, moving toward the door where Sully had tumbled.
Nausea lapped up my throat.
You better be alive, Sully.
The pilots—one young with brown hair, and the other old with grey—glanced at each other before the older one snipped, “You hired us to fly you around, Mr. Sinclair, not to shoot anybody.”
Drake latched his fingers around my wrist, jerking me from the helicopter.
I tripped at the sudden inertia and fell to my knees as he yanked me from the machine. My skin scraped on the roughness of the helipad as he dragged me to the grass a few metres away and left me puddled at his feet.
I hissed at him.
He smirked.
Keeping his hand on my shoulder to prevent me from standing, he nodded at the mercenary to pass a spare handgun to each pilot. “Stand with me, gentlemen, and you won’t have to shoot anyone. You’re there for show, that’s all.”
The men accepted out of ingrained decorum, cringing against the arsenal. “What do you expect us to do?”
“Just have my back.” Drake grinned, his fingers digging deeper into my shoulder. “They won’t put up a fight. My brother hires pussies. Geeks who jerkoff into their test tubes. I promise.”
“It’ll be easy.” The mercenary chuckled. “In and out. We’ll be done in five minutes flat.”
“Get off me.” I struggled, shoving Drake’s hand away and swooping to my feet. “Don’t touch me.”
Blood trickled from my grazed knees.
Sickness splashed up my throat.
Drake just laughed as if I was a silly gerbil caught in his paws.
Ignoring him, I locked eyes with the pilots, and snapped, “Sullivan Sinclair will pay you an exorbitant fee if you use that gun you’re holding and kill the man holding me prisoner. Take me back to Sully, and you’ll be rewarded—”
“Stupid, stupid Eleanor.” Drake slapped me around the head, sending me tumbling forward, my skull throbbing. “Don’t listen to her, gentlemen.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a bonus when we disembark in Jakarta. How about that? Help us gather this last item, and I’ll pad your payday with another twenty grand each.”
“Sully will give you a hundred,” I hissed. “Kill Drake and—”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” The mercenary tried to strike me, but he missed.
I ducked and ran.
A gunshot cracked in the night, kicking up grass and soil by my feet.
I froze.
Drake’s footsteps padded lazily behind me.
My skin crawled as he moved in front of me and reached out like a considerate confidant, taking my hand in his. “First and final warning, Eleanor Grace. Move without my permission again, and the next bullet goes into your back. You’ll either die or be disabled. Either way, I’m past caring.”
He jerked me into him, his palm gluing itself to mine. “I’m getting old, you see. After fucking that goddess last night, my urge for sex has been well sated. I get hard at the thought of a billion dollars, not your pussy...even if my brother has become obsessed with it. When I’ve had some sleep, I’m sure your little outbursts will turn me the fuck on, and I will enjoy finding out why my baby brother couldn’t keep his hands off you, but I will warn you, in my current mood, I honestly don’t fucking care what state you’re in when I do fuck you. Alive, bleeding, or quadriplegic, so I suggest...” Leaning putridly close, he ran his nose along my cheekbone before whispering in my ear. “...you listen to me and be a good girl if you want to stay alive.”
Tearing myself away, I tried to unlock our hands, but he dug his fingernails into my knuckles.
I despised him.
I cursed him with a thousand hexes.
“That goddess you slept with was called Jess. You shot her. She’s probably dead. Just like Sully is—”
“Dead. Yes, I truly hope so. A tad inconvenient seeing as I didn’t get everything I needed, but...ah, well.” Flicking his gaze to the pilots behind me, he asked, “Can a man survive a fall from that height?”
I looked over my shoulder, hope flaring, despair cloying.
The pilots threw each other a look before the older, greyer one shrugged. “We were over a hundred feet high.”
“So...is that a yes or a no?”
“Depends.” The younger pilot scowled. “Our velocity was still increasing, the tropics mean the ocean is warm not cold...the other man fell before him and broke the surface tension of the water.”
“Yes or fucking no?” Drake growled.
The older pilot shrugged again. “Depends if luck was on his side. As far as preferred conditions went...yes, he could have survived. Water temperature, breaking surface tension, and velocity all play a part in the outcome. However, bones are brittle things. If he landed head first, his neck would’ve snapped, and—”
“And if he landed feet first?” I interrupted, unable to listen to his morbid conclusion.
The younger pilot pinned me with an apologetic stare. “His legs are most likely broken. Feet and ankles, too. He might have survived, but...he probably won’t be able to swim and will drown as a secondary cause of impact.”
I went arctic blizzard cold.
A pitiful moan escaped me as Drake chuckled. “Excellent. Let’s hope the bastard chokes on his precious ocean.” Dragging me toward the hulking lab in the distance, he added, “Let’s get this over with.”
The mercenary sandwiched me next to Drake while the pilots trailed us.
The older pilot said, “We’ll walk with you, Sinclair, and we agree to carry a gun, but under no circumstances are we pulling a trigger.”
Drake looked behind him. “You’ll do as your fucking told.” His cold bark was smoothed by a slithering smile. “But as I said, you won’t have to shoot anyone if you play your part.”
“And if you don’t play, I’ll happily give you a different type of bonus.” The mercenary with his brown buzz cut snickered, enjoying his promotion to second-in-command.
I struggled as Drake carted me up the gravel path linking the helipad with the fortified door of the laboratory.
I winced as my tender feet bruised thanks to sharp pebbles instead of silky sand. My wardrobe of a simple yellow shirt left me exposed in all the wrong ways.
Hiding my pain, swallowing back my rage at Drake, I glanced at yet another diamond in Sully’s crown of islands. The building was an oddity. The largest of Sully’s villas—not that it could be called a villa with its sweeping white walls, barred windows, and keypad for entry outside. It looked clinical instead of tropical. Convinced on its purpose of housing drugs and specimens rather than fading into the scenery with thatched roofs and coconut wood.
A shadow of someone walking past a window appeared and disappeared, no doubt alerted by our presence thanks to the helicopter.
Had they heard the gunfire?
Did they see me as the damsel in distress?
Was Drake right when he said the men and women on this island were test tube geeks, or were there guards standing watch?
I peered into the pruned undergrowth, searching manicured bushes and pretty flowers, hoping to see men loyal to Sully and his enterprise.
Nothing.
Choking on my disappointment, I hissed again as Drake dug his fingernails into my wrist, breaking my skin. He dragged me the final way to the forfeited door. “No one speaks. I’ll do the conversing.”
“Sure.” The pilots nodded.
Drake shook me. “Answer me, Eleanor. You’ll keep that pretty little mouth shut, won’t you?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and didn’t reply. Once again, I would enlist silence to be my shield. If I spoke another syllable to this creep, I’d snap.
I’d scream.
I’d leap on him and beat him senseless. I wouldn’t stop until someone shot me.
His threats of hurting me. His joy at his brother’s death.
It all pushed me closer and closer to a ledge labelled mental breakdown.
Sully...you have to be okay.
I won’t stay sane if you aren’t.
His fall repeated again, my scream vibrating in my skull.
Over and over.
You’re coming after me.
I know you are.
You’re alive.
I have to believe that’s true.
“Answer me, Eleanor.” Drake shook me, his watery blue stare malicious and cold.
I pressed my lips together and arched my chin.
Fuck.
You.
“Cat got your tongue again, huh?” Drake rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Your dramatics are tiresome.” Dragging me up the three steps to the door, he tucked his gun into his waistband and knocked on the sparse white entrance as a sickly grin spread over his face.
I shivered, doing my best to sense if Sully was alive or not.
I wanted the taste of conviction like I’d felt when I’d raced crazily around Jakarta. Then, I’d known that he wasn’t safe. I’d felt it in my bones...but at least I’d known he was alive.
Now all I felt was a blockage.
Almost as if the man I’d fallen in love with had vanished.
Please...Sully.
An intercom crackled above us, pouring a male’s voice over our shoulders. “Who the hell are you? Get off this island. It’s private property.”
Drake lost his grin. His pompous businessman façade crumpled as quickly as he’d conjured it. “Open the fucking door.”
“You expect me to open for you when I heard a gunshot moments ago? Hell no. Leave. Get back in your helicopter and—”
“Open the fucking door,” Drake snarled. “I’m a Sinclair. Your boss is my brother.” He cocked his head, doing his best to rein in his temper. “You have four hundred vials of elixir, and I’m here to collect.”
A long pause before the intercom crackled again. “If you’re Sullivan Sinclair’s brother, why didn’t he come with you?”
“Because Drake’s a psychopath!” I yelled. Call the police—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Drake growled beneath his breath and lost any hint of executing this burglary with calmness. “Just remember, you made me do this.” Ripping out his gun, he drove the muzzle against my temple, forcing my head sideways.
My neck blazed with discomfort, the cold bite of the weapon sending my heartbeats wild.
“Open the door, please,” Drake clipped. “Otherwise, you’ll hear another gunshot...and see the consequences of a bullet.”
“Don’t hurt her!”
The intercom screeched.
A click of a lock.
The swish of a door being opened.
Drake grinned, his lips spreading with gloating triumph as a man with a widening waistline and white lab coat appeared. “Wise choice.”
Giving up his attempt at being a chameleon and playing nice, Drake looked the man up and down.
With his dumpy frame and stained lab coat, the scientist looked like a peace-loving, petri dish enthusiast who played with Bunsen burners and beakers because he didn’t like the messy mayhem of the outside world.
His gaze fell on me, panic blazing through a pair of yellow-lensed glasses perched on his nose. “Look, I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and I don’t want any trouble. Let her go.”
Drake drove the gun deeper into my temple, making my entire body twist. “I’ll let her go when you give me what I want.”
“I can’t.” The man licked his lips, nervousness making him jumpy. “You’re not on the list of approved visitors. I can’t just give you—”
“Give him the vials, nerd.” The mercenary swung his weapon upward, pointing it directly at the scientist’s face.
Oh, shit.
The scientist blanched, his hands diving into his lab pockets. “If you are who you say you are, let me call Mr. Sinclair, and he can authorise—”
“Sullivan is dead.” Drake grinned. “He died in an unfortunate helicopter accident. Just like this girl, who happens to be the love of his pathetic life, will die, and then you will die. Every fucking geek in that stinking lab will die unless you give me four hundred vials of elixir. Right. Now.”
“We have other drugs. I can give you those—”
Drake let his head fall, sighing dramatically as if the man tested his already frayed patience. “I don’t want any other drugs. I want that drug. Elixir. Lust in a tiny bottle. Liquid fucking orgasms.” He smiled a crocodilian grin. “My brother is dead. I am now in charge of this lab, and you work for me. That means whatever you’ve cooked is my property. Just like this girl is my property. Just like I can shoot anyone I fucking want because you all belong to me.”
The scientist gulped. “I’ll trade you.”
“Trade me?” Drake laughed coldly. “For what?”
“Elixir for the girl.”
His temper flashed, driving the gun deeper into my skull. “Now, why did you have to try to be a hero, huh?” He twisted the muzzle, catching my delicate flesh with the coldness of metal. “No trades. No bargains. You have one last chance to get me what I want, or not only will I shoot you, but I’ll also return with an army and blow up everything on this island.”
Drake smiled icily. “You might have heard the explosion a few days ago? That was my handiwork. Serigala is no more. So many animals...it’d be sad to add scientists to that count. Especially seeing as you still have employment working for me now that my brother is gone.”
“I refuse to work for men like you—”
“Men like me?” Drake yanked my hair back, exposing my throat and running his gun down toward my breasts. “Men who aren’t afraid of power? Tell you what, I’ll let you choose. My version of a trade. Thanks to your refusal, Jinx here is gonna die. Do you want me to shoot her in the heart or the head? I’m more of a skull shot kinda guy, but I can—”
“Stop!” The scientist’s shoulders sagged. “Please stop.”
My heart couldn’t figure out a healthy beat.
I expected to drown with fear. Instead, everything shut down. Everything apart from my livid hate for this madman.
“Told you Sullivan hired pussies,” Drake muttered to his mercenary.
The pilots stood well back, their willingness to be a part of murder waning.
There had to be other men and women in the lab. Were there enough to stop Drake? I might be a lost cause, but they didn’t need to be. Where were Sully’s guards? Surely, he’d protect this place with a trained militia?
“Run!” I blurted. “Get help—”
Pain.
Instant walloping pain on the back of my head as Drake cracked his weapon into me.
I groaned, tumbling forward in his embrace.
“Hush.” Drake stabbed the gun into my head again. “You just keep pushing my limits, don’t you, Jinx?” With me prone in his control, he snarled at the guard. “Right, I’m done negotiating.” With disgusting aggression, he trailed his gun from my head, down my front and kept going. Lower and lower until he dipped under the hem of the man’s shirt I wore and nudged the bare lips of my sex with the muzzle.
I jerked.
Snow settled on my skin.
Shock and stupor.
Hate and horror.
I wanted to attack him, but I daren’t move.
The world swam.
Sickness drowned.
How could you fight a crazy person?
How could you win against someone who had no boundaries and followed no rules?
How the hell did Sully survive a childhood with this lunatic?
Drake drove the gun deeper into me, making me moan with disgust. “Vials. Now. Or I shoot her in the cunt right here, right now. She might not die, but it would be a horrific injury, don’t you agree?”
“Fine! Fine!” The scientist vanished into the lab, yelling at max volume for elixir.
“Finally.” Drake huffed, thrusting the gun into me one last time before removing it and wiping his forehead with his arm. “Was that so difficult?”
I swayed as Drake let me go.
I swallowed back a rush of loathing, doing my best not to run or attack him.
Nasty silence fell as we waited on the stoop, listening to the quick scurry of feet in the lab. Would help arrive? Was there anyone here with a damn weapon?
A minute later, a trolley with two large boxes shot from the lab, pushed at warp speed by the poor scientist. No one else. Just a terrified chemist with no background in warfare.
“About fucking time.” Drake stepped aside, jerking me with him as the trolley came to a stop, the boxes clinking and clanging with glass vials inside. “The second you get back inside that little lab of yours, I expect you to make more of this stuff.”
“But I can’t. Not without—”
The mercenary angled his gun at him. “Get cooking, nerd. Your new boss expects a thousand more boxes of elixir.”
Drake snickered, grabbing a box and shoving it into the older pilot’s hands. “Carry this, please.” He gave the younger pilot the second box. “And you.”
Gripping the seemingly heavy boxes, the pilots turned and practically ran back to their helicopter as if they couldn’t wait to be airborne.
Four hundred vials of a heart-crippling, body-hijacking drug.
And Drake has it.
Shit.
“See ya ’round.” Drake waved at the scientist, then spun me around and dug the gun into the base of my skull. “Walk, Eleanor.”
I had no choice.
I walked under his instruction and away from potential help.
The mercenary protected Drake’s back as we marched, sweeping his gun at the lab.
Drake won again as we piled into the helicopter and took wing.