Part 17 (1/2)

Ryan shakes his head. ”It's a thirty-minute loop. Looks like it was recorded about two A.M., and they started the repeat at two-thirty. There was no moon last night, so it's only the infrared, and n.o.body at the monitoring station noticed.”

”So how did you find out?”

”Once Damien got the email, we knew what to look for.”

I glance at Jackson, who is doing a valiant job of holding in his temper. I can see it though, pus.h.i.+ng at the edges, building toward release.

He turns to me, the tension in his body palpable. ”I may end up in prison after all, because I swear I will kill whoever is f.u.c.king with us.”

”You'll have to fight me for the privilege,” Damien says.

I look between them. ”Don't even joke about that, you two.”

They look at each other, and despite everything, I see a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in their eyes.

I can't help itI have to smile. They're brothers, all right.

sixteen.

I spent most of Tuesday and all of Wednesday on the island with Jackson organizing cleanup and wading through the vile remnants of that horrible, ma.s.sive act of vandalism. My stomach started hurting the moment I stepped onto the island and saw the destructionmachinery destroyed, storage sheds toppled. And that was only the tip of the iceberg.

It was horrible and vengeful, and all I want now are two things: to find the b.a.s.t.a.r.d and to fix the damage. Because fixing it will be like lifting my middle finger and telling the f.u.c.ker he lost.

Thursday morning I'm back in the office, but I can't say that the day is shaping up to be much better. Damien has back-to-back international calls all day, which means that I arrived at my desk by four A.M. The only good thing about Damien's early calls is that I have no time to brood about the sabotage or worry that a detective is going to show up to arrest Jackson. Both Tuesday evening and all of Wednesday were blissfully arrest-free, but I'm still on edge.

The morning has been a blur of calls and emails and minor crises, both professional and personal. The professional all center around Damien's schedule and the resort. We're trying to get him ready for the China trip. He's spending only a week in Beijing, but with all the preparations we're making, you'd think he was staying a month. He's leaving Sunday night, and everything in the office is crazy.

The personal is entirely centered on me. We'd returned to the marina late last night, and as soon as we were back in range, my phone pinged with a dozen messages from Ethan asking if I was okay and telling me that he loves me.

As for Ca.s.s, as far as I can tell, she spent all of yesterday and Wednesday repeatedly texting me.

You there?

h.e.l.lo?

Why did Ethan go racing out after you?

Do you want to come by?

Should I come there?

Jackson's not in custody is he?

Why aren't you answering me?

Dammit, Syl, you're p.i.s.sing me off.

Sorry. Sorry. (Not that sorry, but dammit, call me or text back!) WTF?.

h.e.l.lo?

Called work. You're not in.

Where. The. f.u.c.k. Are. You.

As soon as Damien is squared away on his eight A.M. call, I answer the ones from Ca.s.s: Sorry! Sorry!

Was at the island. No service.

Everything is a mess with the island and with Jackson. But not scary. Not much. Not yet.

Gotta go. Work insane.

Her answer is almost instantaneous. Clearly, she's been waiting for me to reply.

You sure?

Don't go yet: Ethan. What was that all about?

I scowl as I remember that my dad dragged Ethan into my personal horror, a little fact that had gotten buried in the h.e.l.l of sabotage and pending arrests.

Dad told him everythingreally NOT happy.

Her answer is short and to the point.

Holy f.u.c.k.

U okay?

I hesitate, then answer honestly.

I am now. Mostly. Wasn't before.

Seriouslygotta go.

Don't worry about me. No new tats needed.

Promise.

Her replyXXOOmakes me smile.

For Ethan, though, I can't just send a text. But I also know that I can't call him before ten. The company he works foran online company that books travel packagesgave him a week off with pay and two weeks without so that he could get settled back in the States. For my brother, that means sleeping in.

To be honest, I'm okay with not talking to Ethan right now. My dad is the last person I want to be thinking of, and so I dive back into work with a vengeance. At nine, Damien gets on a conference call that is scheduled to last an hour, and Mila arrives at my desk.

She's one of the floating secretaries, and I'd asked for her to be a.s.signed to me today since I'm doing double duty as Damien's a.s.sistant and as the Cortez project manager. I would have preferred leaving it all to Rachel, but she's off until Sat.u.r.day and is up in Monterey with her sister.