Page 48 of Uncharted Desires

She was going to die; they were going to kill her; she knew too much about their operation, and no one would know, and really, who would care? Her mom would be sad, and probably her younger brother Cam would miss her. Caleb her eldest brother might be a touch sad, even if he didn’t know how to show a single emotion. Lydia and Cher would be sad, but they were all about to go their separate ways anyway, or at least it appeared they were. They hadn’t talked about what their futures held.

Would West even care? They weren’t anything to each other. Sure, he had just given her the best orgasm of her life, but that didn’t make them anything. He hadn’t professed any feelings for her, and even if he had, she wasn’t sure she could believe him. West wasn’t capable of long-term commitment.

She groaned, and it echoed in the vastness of the dark room. Her head ached; her body hurt. She should be worried about getting out of this situation, and yet all she could think about was him. She wanted him to run away, to get the keys to a boat and flee the island as they had planned. To leave her and not try to save her. But deep down, she knew better. He wouldn’t leave her here, and he would get caught. They were both screwed.

Moving her wrists, she could feel the rope digging into them, making it impossible to get free, her arm protesting at the sharp angle. She discovered they’d tied her feet just as tightly when she tried to pull them away from the chair.

“Stop your struggling.” A voice rang out into the silence, making her jump.

She saw light from beneath her blindfold. Contrary to what she’d thought, it wasn't night. She was in quite a predicament. Heavy, booted footsteps stalked closer to her, and she tried to push herself farther back into the chair. A hand touched her head, ripping the blindfold off. Light flooded her eyes and she squinted. A man she hadn’t seen before stood in front of her.

He leaned down so his face was right in front of her. He smelled of weed and something else. She guessed it was cocaine, although she was unsure of what that smelled like when someone smoked it.

“So, you’re the pain in my ass my guys found on the beach?” He smiled, and she saw he was missing a couple of teeth. Her head drooped, and she wondered if they had drugged her, causing her to sleep through the night. He pulled her head up by her hair, and it took everything in her not to wince in pain. She wouldn’t let him see he was hurting her.

“You better hope your little lover boy shows up soon, or we’re going to sprinkle breadcrumbs to help him find his way.” He looked around at her tied-up hands. “You don’t need all your fingers, do you?”

Pure terror enveloped her as she instinctively tried to pull her hands loose. The man laughed, let go of her, and backed away.

“You’re dying either way, darling. Boss’s orders. I can make it quick or slow, that’s up to your man.” He eyed her up and down, a lascivious look in his eyes. “Although it’s such a shame to let you go to waste.”

That hadn’t been the news Kat was hoping for and she tried to scream, the gag blocking the sound. She knew it was a waste of time, and no one would hear anyway. They had locked her in what appeared to be a storage warehouse for their finished product before they shipped it out. Even if someone did happen to hear her, no one would save her. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make her feel better. She screamed again for West, but of course he didn’t come.

The man chuckled, the sound unsettling her. It was nothing like West’s laugh, which wrapped her in warmth. This one made her feel like she had a rock in the pit of her stomach.

“You keep screaming, girlie, you’ll just wear yourself out. Might help your guy find you quicker though.” As if he had just had a brilliant idea, the man stepped up to her and took the gag off. Kat sucked in huge gulps of air, on the verge of screaming for West again before realizing that was exactly what he wanted her to do.

“You want him to find me?” Her voice was raspy and not her own.

“Well, of course, we got to kill you both. The boss knows he snuck up here a few nights ago, and now you’ve seen the operation, so you both gotta go.”

She cocked her head to the side, realizing this man liked to talk. Maybe she could get him to confess. Isn’t that what all villains did? Well, maybe in novels and soap operas, but maybe she could get something useful out of him if she played to his ego.

“I thought you were the boss,” she practically purred, batting her eyelashes.

He puffed up his chest, and she bit back a smirk. “On the island, I’m the boss, and you best remember that. But it’s a global operation. There’s a group of bosses. My boss answers to those guys, so it’s got a big hierarchy.”

“How fascinating.” She pretended to practically swoon. She looked around the large warehouse. “This is quite the operation. It must be a lot of work. To keep it all going, you must be rather skilled.” She gave her most radiant smile.

He walked closer to her, and for a moment, she had to suppress the urge to shrink away from his touch. She wanted him to untie her, and if flirting got the job done, she could push aside the massive icky feeling it gave her. His hand came out, and he grabbed a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger.

She had decently long hair—it was one piece of her culture she had tried to keep. After going through a phase of cutting and chemically altering her hair, she now wore it more naturally. It was much healthier and smoother, and her natural waves gave her the perfect beachy look every day.

But now that this rough-looking man had his grimy hands on it, she was rethinking the no-cutting. She felt gross and defiled as he wrapped the silky strands around his finger. West had done something similar, but she had allowed him to, had wanted him to. How starkly different the two situations had been.

“You have no idea how much work it is, darling. A man could definitely use a reward for his hard work.”

She tried not to throw up in her mouth as she thought about what reward he was alluding to.

“Lock . . . Mr. Lock, are you in there?” she heard another voice call from around the corner. Thankfully, he dropped her hair, turning around to greet the newcomer who appeared at his side.

“What do you want, Williams?” he said gruffly, annoyed they had been interrupted. Kat made a mental note to thank Williams at her earliest convenience.

Williams was no more than nineteen, maybe twenty, years old and nearly shook in his boots. He was about five-foot-ten, but reed thin. He was American, like Lock, with greasy blond hair and obsidian eyes. Kat was curious how this boy had ended up on a remote island in Indonesia, but that would be a question for later.

The boy stood there wringing his hands, his eyes averted. “There’s . . . there’s . . . a . . . a . . .”

Lock crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it, kid.” His patience was clearly being tested.