Under the Covers (21 page)

Eventually the party moved to the beach as groups of construction workers hefted the coolers on their shoulders. Most of the crowd followed them like rats after a string of sausages. It was the opening Drew had been hoping for. As the mess tent emptied in one direction, he slipped away in the opposite, but not before snagging a couple more cold beers to get him through another long, vigilant night. Heck, maybe he'd even share one with Bree.

As he trekked through the dense forest with the last rays of sunlight at his back, whether from the effects of too many beers after so long without a drink, or from some leftover unfulfilled fantasy, Drew paid little attention to his route. The more he thought about sharing a beer with Bree, the more he convinced himself it was a good idea. She was still avoiding him, but after the day he'd made her come with his fingers, he knew she was only fooling herself. She wanted him, maybe even loved him, and it was time she came to terms with her feelings. She might as well start tonight.

He cradled both beers between his forearm and his chest, using his free hand to turn the doorknob. It still blew his mind people as smart as Ryan and Richard could build houses with no security measures whatsoever. He shouldered the door open, stepped into the dark entryway, and kicked the door shut with his foot.

Damn. Maybe she wasn't here. He shifted the beers and blinked to adjust his eyes to the total darkness inside the house. He took one tentative step, trying to remember if the small table he remembered in the entryway was to the left or the right, when a sharp pain split the back of his head. The last thing that ran through his mind as his knees buckled and his world went black, was,
damn, she's still pissed at me
.

****

Drew remained still, gathering information before he opened his eyes. His head hurt like a son-of-a-gun, and he was going to kill the son-of-a-bitch who hit him… as soon as he got his goddamned hands and feet untied. At least it wasn't Bree who'd hit him. If he wasn't mistaken, she was next to him on the floor, probably tied up too. He could hear her even breathing, could smell the lemon-scented soap she used. If the circumstances were different, it would stir his blood to the boiling point. But right now, he had other things to think about.

Like the man responsible for this. Heavy footfalls told Drew the man was pacing near the window. Sounds he'd become very familiar with told him night still cloaked the house. He sensed no lights were on in the room, though a weak light filtered in through the open door from the hallway. His cheek pressed against cool wood, and coupled with the position of the window and door, this had to be Richard’s and Fallon's playroom, which explained the soft cotton ropes around his wrists.

Bree stirred beside him, and he opened his eyes. Red-hot rage spiraled through his system. She lay on her side, her arms and hands tied behind her nude body. She blinked, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips. A profound sense of relief rose like a tide and washed over him, leaving behind a firm resolve to get them both out of this situation. He found what he thought was a smile, and Bree blinked in acknowledgement.

Drew grunted and cursed as he struggled against his restraints. His efforts earned him a kick to the ribs from their captor, and an admonishment to shut up. Drew fought the urge to vomit. When he was in control of his body, at least his insides, he squirmed around to get a better look at the room.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" he demanded.

"What's it to you, asshole? My business is with the little lady." In the darkness, Drew couldn't make out the man's face, but the Southern drawl left little doubt this was the elusive Vernon Cannon. He mentally scored points for Bree. Her analysis of Cannon's state of mind was spot-on.

"Since you clocked me on the head and have me hog-tied on the floor, I think that makes it my business now."

"Just shut the fuck up. If you're lucky, I'll let you go later, but no one is going anywhere until the ship I came in on is unloaded in the morning."

"Then you have a problem, Mr. Cannon," Bree spoke up. "No one is unloading anything onto the island unless I tell them to."

"Is that right, Mrs. Wolfe?" Cannon sneered. "I saw you on the dock yesterday, strutting around like the queen. Does your husband know you're fucking this bastard while he's away?"

He thought Bree was Fallon Wolfe. Interesting. Of course, Cannon had met Richard, but perhaps he hadn't met Fallon. Or if he had, he didn't remember her. Bree wasn't correcting him, so Drew kept his mouth shut too.

"That's none of your business, Mr. Cannon. But if you want your ship unloaded, you'll have to let me go. This is my island, and as you put it, I'm the queen."

Streaks of pink and gold were beginning to stream through the window. The ships would be unloaded whether Bree was there or not, but Cannon didn't know that. He prayed Bree could convince Cannon to let her go.

"After I saw you yesterday, I asked around, found out you were living in Richard's house. That's when I figured out who you were. I thought you were a blonde."

"Do you see any hair salons around here?" Bree sounded disgusted.

"It's just like Richard Wolfe to leave his whore of a wife on an island full of men, to do a man's job. How much does this one mean to you, Fallon?" He nudged Drew's shoulder with his booted foot. "I'm going to let you go when the sun comes up, but I'm keeping lover boy. I'll kill him if my ship isn't unloaded first thing."

"You'll let him go when the ship is unloaded?"

"I can see the dock from here." He nodded at the window. "I'll let him go when I see my stuff on the dock."

Yeah, that promise and a couple of dollars would buy you a cup of coffee. "What's so important about the stuff on your ship?" Drew asked.

"You'll see soon enough. I'm finally going to get even with Richard Wolfe."

"What did Richard do to you?" Bree asked.

"The bastard stole Crystal from me! She wanted him, and that fucking ship of his, and when I tried to buy it for her, the bastard refused to sell it. I always get what I want."

"Maybe I could convince him to sell. He'll listen to me."

"Yeah, well, I'm through trying to get the ship. Crystal's gone for good, and now I'm going to destroy Richard Wolfe, starting with this fucking resort. And maybe I'll take you too."

Certifiable. No doubt about it. Drew hated dealing with crazy people. They were unpredictable. He really didn't want to know what Cannon meant by his comment about taking Bree. It could mean a number of things, none of which were good.

"Well, I'm not too happy with Richard myself. Untie me, and maybe we can work something out. I'm not exactly thrilled about being left on this island to work my ass off while Richard is living it up in Miami. Why else would I be hooking up with this guy? Construction workers aren't my type."

"Hey!" Drew protested.

"Don't worry, sugar. I wasn't talking about you." Bree shot him a smile that said she knew what she was doing and to shut up.

"You're just like all the others, looking for a sugar-daddy. I knew Richard couldn't keep a woman like you happy. He must be pitiful in the sack if he has to tie up his women so they'll let him fuck 'em."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of that too. It was fun for a while, but you're right. The sex isn't all that great."

"You do what I say, and I'll show you what it's like to be with a real man."

"I'm looking forward to it," Bree almost purred. If he hadn't known what she was up to, Drew would have been sick.

Cannon walked to the window and stood silent as the sky gradually grew lighter. Drew and Bree waited for the man to decide his next move. He'd been working on his restraints since the moment he'd regained consciousness, but the bastard had done a good job with the ropes. He was at the man's mercy, and he knew in his gut that Vernon Cannon had no mercy. Right now, his best hope was for Bree to convince Cannon to let her go. It was their only hope.

"This is what we're going to do." Cannon picked up the handgun he'd left on the windowsill and turned. "I'm going to let you go. You're going to go down to the dock and see that my ship gets unloaded. I'll be watching from here. If you so much as talk to anyone for longer than I think necessary, I'll kill your boy-toy."

"I have to talk to the workers."

"I'll be watching. If anyone heads up the trail, I'll shoot this one." He waved the gun at Drew. "And then I'll shoot them. Just get the ship unloaded."

"And then what? Will you take me with you when you leave?"

"Maybe." Hatred brewed in Drew's gut as Cannon raked Bree's naked body with his gaze. "You aren't half-bad. First thing I'd do is wax that jungle between your legs. Christ, you look like a heathen. I like my women smooth."

Drew couldn't contain his disgust. His protest earned him another kick to the stomach.

"Richard likes it. I used to keep it smooth as a baby's butt before I met him."

Drew bit his tongue as Cannon knelt next to Bree and traced the lines of her body with the barrel of his gun. "I'm going to loosen the ropes enough so you can wiggle out of them. Make it a good show, and I'll let you get dressed before I send you down to the dock."

Bree did indeed make it a good show. She had Cannon's full attention, giving Drew time to work on his restraints in earnest. He managed to loosen the ropes at his wrists, but not enough to slip his hands free. At least blood was flowing to his fingers again. He'd need that when he strangled the life out of Vernon Cannon.

"There." Bree freed herself from the ropes and stretched. In the weak morning light, Drew could see the sweat forming on Cannon's brow. "You know, you didn't have to go to this much trouble." She sidled closer to Cannon, doing her best slut imitation. Cannon stepped back, waving his gun around like this was some sort of television show. Bree, no idiot, stopped her pursuit. "What now, sugar?" She looked down at Drew as if he were an insect. "He won't be any trouble. Why don't we go in the bedroom, and you can show me how a real man does it."

"Fallon, baby…." Drew pleaded. "You said I was the best you ever had."

"Shut up," Cannon spat. He waved the gun at the door. "Let's go. I'll watch you get dressed. Then you're going to get my ship unloaded. There'll be plenty of time for fucking later."

Drew exchanged a glance with Bree before she turned and strutted through the door with Cannon on her heels. He listened to the sounds of her getting dressed, and her teasing narration he figured was more for his benefit than Cannon's. As long as she was talking, Cannon wasn't fucking her. Alone, Drew worked harder on the ropes at his wrists. He had a new respect for the bondage games Richard and Fallon played. He truly was at another's mercy as the ropes refused to give any further.

He was soaked with sweat from his efforts by the time Bree walked past the door on her way out. Cannon followed her to the front door. He knew a moment of relief. Bree was safe, at least for now. But if he knew her, she had no intention of remaining that way. She'd come back to get Cannon. He made a mental calculation of the time it would take for her to double back. There was a large portion of the trail that wasn't visible from the house. Bree would use the opportunity to leave the trail and come back through the dense woods to the house. It was up to him to keep Cannon distracted so he didn't notice how long Bree was out of sight. Once she entered the house, he had to buy her time to retrieve a weapon.

As soon as Cannon returned, Drew began his campaign. "Do you really think a class act like Fallon Wolfe is going to fuck the likes of you?"

"Class act? She's a whore. She'll fuck anybody for the right price. Is that what the beer was for?"

Drew saw red. He was going to enjoy every minute of killing this guy. Drew had spent a lot of time in the company of Fallon, and calling her a whore, even if he was directing the insult at a woman he only thought was Fallon, took this guy from shithead to deserves-to-die shithead.

"And what does that make you?” Drew said. “I'll tell you. It makes you a dumb-fuck. Oh well, it doesn't matter. She's just using you to get off this island. Besides, you're too old to keep up with her. She's a tiger in bed. You should see the bite marks on my chest. Christ! She'll chew up an old fart like you, and spit you out."

"You don't know shit. I don't want her anyway, but I am going to fuck her. I'm going to tie her up and fuck her brains out, and I'm going to videotape the whole thing. Then I'm going to send it to that bastard husband of hers. Maybe I'll keep her for a while, fuck her every which way, and send him the tapes before I give her back to him."

Cannon was pacing now, not paying any attention to the trail, or to Drew. He was lost in his delusional world, planning his revenge on Richard. He was one sick bastard, no doubt about it. Drew tried to judge the time. Had Bree made it back to the house? Was she close? He had no idea where she'd left her weapon, or for that matter, what Cannon had done with his. At first, he'd hoped Cannon hadn't found the knife strapped to his ankle, but he had, and he'd taken his gun too. Just another example of the man's delusions. He apparently hadn't questioned what a construction worker was doing with an arsenal on his person.