CARA

Fuck.

I can't tell what Marcus is thinking right now, but I'm sure it's nothing good.

"Go home, Sevel," I say, shouting to be heard over the torrent of rain.

Sevel doesn't move for a long moment and I wonder whether he understood me or was thinking of taking my gun.

I tighten my grip on the Glock.

A smirk appears on his face and he raises his hands in mock acquiescence.

I watch him carefully as he takes a step backward then turns around. He pauses upon spotting Marcus above him on the buff. But after a second, he moves on, walking away along the beach.

Marcus disappears and I put the handgun — now soaked through probably — back in my coat pocket and wait.

It takes a minute for Marcus to reappear down on the beach. By the time he gets to me, I'm annoyed. What the hell is he doing here, anyway? I have work to do.

"Aren't you supposed to be babysitting?" I demand.

He puts his hands in his pockets. "We need to talk," he says. "Come on, let's get back to the house. In case you hadn't noticed, the weather is pretty bad."

"I'm not going back to the house." Not now. Not yet.

He nods. "You were right. Someone did try to shoot you yesterday."

I froze and my heart thundered against my chest. I struggle to keep my knees upright under me as my mind races in a million different directions. So it wasn't a bee. Not a wasp. A bullet. I try not to think of how close the bullet came to my head but fail.

Shit. What is going on?

I can't speak. I can only stand there, struggling to figure out what to do. I need to leave the island. I need to take Armin and go somewhere safe. Would I be able to convince him to leave?

I don't even notice that Marcus has walked up to me. He's so close that I can at least see the expression on his face. The concern in his eyes.

"There's a guest house close by," he says. "Look, whatever it is you're here to do, I'll help you. Let me help you, Cara. But we need to get shelter."

I nod. Fine. We'll do it his way.

For now.

MARCUS

The front door unlocks with the code I put in. Cara follows me inside the guest house but she stops in the foyer as I turn on the heating.

"How did you know someone tried to shoot me?" she asks. "That I wasn't imagining it?"

I take off my jacket. It wasn't enough to keep me dry, as my sweater is damp and my jeans are soaked through. "I sent off the photos of the scarf to get checked. They can't confirm what tore through it until they can check it in a lab but they said it's entirely possible it was made by a bullet. A small one. Here, let me have your coat."

She hesitates for a second, then takes something out of her pocket. I hold out my hand and she hands me the gun. At my questioning look, she says, "Relax, it's not loaded."

Because she needed some kind of protection. Or at least the appearance of protection. Of course she did. I wasn't much help, after all. "I'm sorry. I should have believed you."

"Well, you believed me enough to get the scarf checked, at least." She sheds her coat and hands it to me.

"The police will be on their way here as soon as the weather clears. You'll be safe as soon as you get off the island."

"Safe from whom?"

Good question. Because who would have a motive to make sure my grandfather's fiancée was dead before any wedding could take place? All of us. Including me.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, I promise." Surely she knows she's safe with me. If she can trust anyone, it should be me. Not even my grandfather, no matter what he wants me to believe about their relationship.

She nods. "Can I have a towel?"

"The two bedrooms upstairs have en suites. There should be towels in both."

"Right. Thanks."

After she leaves, I go to the living room and pick up the landline to call the main house. The butler needs to know where we are.

"I'll inform Ms. Booth, sir," Alonzo says after I explain the situation to him and arrange for the driver to pick us up. "And Mr. Müller, of course."

"Thank you." I eye the handgun on the coffee table. It's probably grandfather's, if I have to guess. He must have wondered why she needed it. "Alonzo, this may seem like a strange request, but I'd like you to take note of anyone who asks where Cara is."

There's only a brief pause before Alonzo replies. "Yes, sir."

Cara is coming down the staircase rubbing her damp hair with a big blue towel. "Who was that?"

"The butler," I say. "I needed to let them know where we are. They're sending the driver to pick us up in an hour."

She looked at me in dismay. "An hour!"

"He's driving the groundskeeper to check on the power cables, to make sure we don't have an outage if the weather gets worse."

"Oh. Can I call Armin?"

As much as I try to keep my annoyance from showing, my jaw tightens. Of course Armin will want to know his so-called-fiancée is all right. As much as I doubted any romantic relationship between them, I can tell he cares about her.

The phone rings.

I know who it is, even before I pick up the phone. "Hello. Marcus speaking."

"Are you and Cara all right?" says a gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes, Opi. She was just about to call you."

Cara smiles at me gratefully as I hand her the phone. It doesn't escape me that this is the first time she's smiled at me all day.

"Hey, darling," she coos into the phone. "I'm so sorry to make you worry. Yes, I'm safe."

I turn away, feeling my jaw clench even harder. This cloying display of affection is obviously fake. The way those two are hard-selling it is actually laughable. Darling my ass.

"Oh no baby," she says, her tone sweet and reassuring. "I'm sure we'll be okay until Sands comes to pick us up."

Leaving her to her call, I make my way upstairs. Cara might want to make a performance of her supposed relationship with Armin, but I'm not interested in hanging around to watch her make a fool of herself.

In the main bedroom, I strip out of my drenched sweater and pants and step into the shower.

CARA

"All right, he's gone," I say, checking the staircase.

"So you didn't find it?" Armin says.

"No." I emit a huff of frustration. "Are you sure you gave me the right directions?"

"I'm sure I did. It's been years. The entrance is hidden under foliage. But I suppose it's difficult to see in the rain."

"I'll try again this afternoon if the weather clears."

"I doubt it. The storm is supposed to get worse. Why don't you stay there? I'm not sure I want Sands driving around in this weather."

"Here?" I squeak. "With Marcus?"

"Why not. The pantry is stocked, you should be getting lunch soon. Marcus is a pretty good cook, you know."

Lunch? I narrow my eyes. "What exactly are you up to?"

"I don't know do you mean."

"Uh-huh. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you sent me here on a wild goose chase so Marcus could come after me."

"Cara, I'm dying. You don't think I have better things to do?"

"Shut up. You're not dying okay." I swallow the lump in my throat. "And this better not be some weird matchmaking scheme."

"I have to go. I promised Gwendolyn I'd make time for baby Aldéric."

***

I push open the door to the main bedroom and step inside. "Marcus, is there any coffee around here—"

My words trail off and I stop dead in my tracks.

Marcus is shirtless. And wet. Water droplets glisten on his skin, a few of them sliding over his chest between his toned pecs down to his muscled abdomen. Has he been working out? I could swear he only had a six-pack. It looks like eight now.

"I'll show you where it is," he says, tucking the corner of the towel he has around his waist.

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