CARA

"Not bad," Travis says, a teasing grin on his handsome face. "For your age."

Armin laughs, lowering his shotgun. He broke most of his clay targets, as did Travis. "The wind is picking up again, so let's let Cara have another turn before we go back inside."

Katrine, the member of the estate staff who was assisting us, loads my shotgun and then hands it back to me. I took it from her, gripping it gingerly, trying to remember the instructions she gave me earlier. "Thanks," I say.

I shifted my feet in the correct stance and lifted the shotgun to take aim. "Pull!" I call out.

Katrine fires the throwers with the remote controller. The clay targets fly from the two machines into the sky. I track the first one with my sights, move past it, then squeeze the trigger. I miss. Shit. I want to believe I kind of scratched the barest edge of the second clay with my next bullet even if I didn't break it, but that didn't count.

I miss the rest of the succeeding shots. With a disgusted grunt, I tear off my ear protectors.

"Not too bad," Travis says.

"Thanks but we all know I'm terrible at this." I hand the gun to Katrine.

Armin pats me on the shoulder as I take off my tinted shooting glasses and put on my sunglasses. "You just need a little more practice, my dear," he says. "We'll do this again again tomorrow."

Katrine is closing up the housing of the two trap machines. "I hope the weather improves," she says, frowning up at the sky.

Travis sidles up to me as we walk back to the house. "Having fun?" he says.

I shiver as another breeze hits me. This dress was a mistake. I should have worn a sweater or something. The scarf I threw on hardly gave any protection from the increasingly chilly winds. "If learning something new that I'm terrible at, then, yeah, I'm having a blast," I say.

"You'll be a much better shot by tomorrow, I'm sure of it."

"I don't know." The weather worries me. "Armin, it looks like that storm's going to hit us. I don't like how that sky looks."

"Hmmm," Armin muses, gazing over the cliff into the sea. "It might, yes. Don't worry, we've been hit by a few bad ones before. And there's plenty of supplies and backup generators."

I adjust my scarf, attempting to wear it as a Sharon "That's fine, I don't really need mu— Hey!" I try to grab my scarf but it flies out of my reach, caught by a gust of wind. I watch in dismay the moss-colored length of muslin sail over the field.

"Hang on, I'll get it," Travis offers.

"No, I'll go," I say, waving him off as I start off toward my wayward accessory. "Go on ahead, I'll see you later."

"Let it go, my dear," Armin says, amused at my predicament. "I'll buy you a new one."

That stupid scarf cost more than a month's pay for me, there's no way I'm just going to let it go. Not that I'm going to get to keep it after this job. I agreed to let Armin buy me clothes for this charade on the condition that he take everything back when we were done.

Smiling, I wave at him and Travis before going off in a sprint. Thankfully, I had the sense to change out of my heels and into a pair of comfortable sneakers. If I had been more sensible, I would have at least worn a jacket.

I run past an amused Katrine who is trailing behind Travis and Armin, rolling a case behind her and carrying my shotgun.

It takes me a couple of minutes to catch up to my scarf. "Gotcha," I gasp under my breath as I grab it before another gust of wind carries it away again. Turning around, I see Armin, Travis, and Katrine too far away for me to catch up. I might as well take my sweet time.

I raise the scarf to drape it around my neck. It's then that I hear a sharp sound from far away, and sense something whiz past my head.

I freeze.

There's no movement in my peripheral view. I want to turn around and look behind me, but I'm too scared to even turn my head.

It's fine, Cara. It's just the wind.

I take a deep breath and look down at myself, then pat the sides of my head. I'm not bleeding. Jesus, I'm now hearing imaginary gunshots. It's probably just me having spent a couple of hours listening to shotguns being fired.

Annoyed at myself, I knot my scarf around my neck. I'm not taking any chances that this thing is going to fly away again. Cautiously yet with a surge of forced bravado, I calmly walk back to the house.

I check on Armin first. He's in his room, sitting in a chair and out of breath.

"You seem to have over-exerted yourself," I say. "I'm going to take your blood pressure, all right?"

He mutters something about being perfectly fine but he lets me do my job. His blood pressure is not the best, but nothing to alarm anyone.

"Do you want a snack?" I ask. "I can call the kitchen and have them bring you a tray."

"I'm not going to be a patient in my own house," he grumbles. "Let's go down to the pool. I just need to use the bathroom first."

"Fine. Let me just put my sunglasses away. Gimme a sec."

In my room, I unknot my scarf. It's only when I lay it over the back of my dresser chair that I notice a tear in the fabric.

"Damn," I mutter. How did I not notice this?

I finger the small gap in the muslin. It's an oddly shaped tear. It looks like it was punched with a stick.

Or shot through with a bullet.

MARCUS

"Let's play a game," Armin says.

"What kind of game?" Fiona says, her eyes darting around the room nervously.

We are all assembled in the library, as per grandfather's request during dinner. The meal was a less strained affair in comparison to lunch, thankfully. But I can tell that Cara's presence in the room now is making everyone apprehensive. Because Armin specifically requested to see just his grandchildren. No partners, no kids.

"A treasure hunt." Armin links his fingers, his elbows on the armrests of his wingback chair. "We're going to find a gun."

"Is it an expensive gun?" Travis says, smiling confusedly. "An antique?"

"No, but it's valuable. Maybe even life-changing."

Bridget looks amused. "Will we be getting clues?" she says. "Maybe a map?"

Grandfather laughs. "That would probably be helpful, but no, there is no map. I couldn't make one even if I wanted to."

I study him from where I sat by the window, trying to determine whether he's being serious or not. "You don't know where this gun is?" I ask.

"No."

"So how do you know it's here?"

"I just do."

Fiona wrinkles her nose. "One gun doesn't seem like much of a treasure."

"The gun isn't the treasure, my dear," Armin says. "But whoever finds it gets this island."

There's an audible gasp from someone, then stunned silence.

It's my cousin Isaac, the youngest person in the room, who breaks the silence. "You mean, you'll leave it to them in your will?" he asks.

"I'll hand over the island and everything on it to whoever wins the game as soon as I can confirm the authenticity of the gun." With a self-satisfied sigh, Armin gets up. "Well, now that's done, I think I'll do some reading before bed. The hunt starts after breakfast tomorrow, so don't stay up too late."

Cara, who was sitting on a chaise longue beside his chair, gets to her feet too, and follows him to the door.

"Wait a sec," Cody says. "Why is she here?"

Armin turns around. "She?" he says, his tone sharp.

His grandson raises his chin in defiance. "Cara. Your friend."

"Opi, I think what Cody is saying," Cameron says, "is that you excluded Sevel and Amber and Gwendolyn from this meeting."

"So I did." Armin smiles. "Cara will be playing the game with you."

"Why?" Cody says, eyeing Cara with unconcealed hostility.

Armin does not seem to be bothered by his outburst. "Because I say so. Good night."

***

MARCUS

Cara doesn't seem surprised to see me waiting for her in the hallway outside my grandfather's bedroom.

For dinner, she changed into an ankle-length black and grey leopard print slip dress. The neckline is cut low in front, even lower at the back. It's clearly couture, but if she's playing a trashy gold-digger, she's doing a great job.

I could barely keep my eyes off her all night.

She shuts the door quietly. "Armin is asleep," she says, walking toward me. "If you want to talk to him, you'll have to wait until breakfast."

"He didn't seem that tired earlier," I say.

She smiles. "He is now."

I grab her arm as she tries to walk past. "We have to talk."

She glances down at where my hand is gripping her upper arm, before raising her eyes to meet mine. "Let go of me, Marcus."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"I think Armin already explained it to you."

"He hasn't explained shit. Why is he making us search the island for a gun?"

"I know just as much about it as you do."

I pull her closer, bringing her face close to mine. "You're lying."

To my surprise, she leans closer. Her lips are so close I could almost taste them. My body tightens in arousal, goddamn it. I'm torn between pushing her away and dragging her into her room and onto her bed.

"Maybe." Her gaze lowers to my mouth for a moment before she looks up into my eyes. "What are you going to do about it, Marcus?"

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