The Lion's Den(117)

“I’m not going back to the boat,” I snap. Breathe. “I just want to go home.”

John’s eyes bore into me, the smile evaporated. “You can’t run away, Isabelle. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do.”

Why did Vinny let me run at all, if he was lying about helping me? Anger simmers inside me. None of this makes sense. I turn to the grandmother and Dylan to plead my case. “I just want to go home,” I repeat, more fervently this time. “Please, tell them to let me go home. I’m not a prisoner here, am I?”

Dylan again drops his gaze and shakes his head. He doesn’t look happy about any of this, but he also isn’t exactly jumping to help me. Strikingly similar to his stance on Eric’s disappearance. Eric was right about him, I decide. He’s a pushover and a patsy.

His grandmother, on the other hand, is a different story. “John.” She turns her keen gaze to her son. “Is Isabelle a prisoner?”

“This is none of your business, Mother,” he growls, refocusing on me. “Summer says you have a problem with Amythest’s disappearance.” He waits to continue until I meet his unrelenting gaze. “It was an accident. The report has been filed. We are offering a generous sum to each of you girls for your trouble, and that will be the end of it.”

Summer smiles coldly, smug in her victory. Absent Vinny, I scramble for a backup plan, hoping I’m doing a better job of maintaining a cool exterior than I feel like I am. On the positive side, none of them seem to have any idea about the phone burning a hole in my purse, which holds evidence of both John’s sexual proclivities and Summer’s confession. And no one seems to know about Eric. Clearly self-preservation is priority one. I walked my ass into this trap, so I guess at this point my best choice is to take the cash and act repentant. I can worry about getting the phone into the right hands when I get home.

I place a sweating palm on my heart and smile apologetically, putting on what I hope is an Oscar-worthy performance. “I’m so sorry. I was upset, and not thinking clearly. Of course it was an accident.”

“Good,” John says. “You can take the helicopter back to the boat with us. Once you sign the paperwork, the hundred thousand is yours.”

I don’t have any time to consider how much money that is or how the hell I’m going to avoid going back to that damn boat, before my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of wheels on the gravel drive. John looks to his mother sharply. “Who is that?”

“A friend of mine,” she says calmly. “I’ve been expecting him.”

Your sister is headed to your grandmother’s house.

Eric. Please God.

John narrows his eyes at her. “At this hour?”

“What, I’m not allowed to have boyfriends?”

“You should have told me someone was coming, Mother,” he says darkly.

She dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. “And take the chance you would not come visite your old mère? Never. And I wouldn’t have met your très belle, très young girlfriend.”

“We’re not here to visit,” he says. “We’re here because you wanted to discuss the transfer of your stock.”

“Oh yes, that.” She smiles. “Terminé.”

For the first time, John looks unsettled. “What do you mean? I didn’t get any paperwork about—”

“Oh.” Her smile widens. “I didn’t transfer it to you.” Suddenly, the little dog at Grace’s feet springs up and bounds to the door, yapping. “I transferred it to him.”

We all turn to see Eric standing in the doorway, Vinny beside him. For a moment, the entire room is frozen.

Then, at last, John’s composure fails him. “You bitch,” he seethes.

Eric claps his hands slowly, shifting his gaze to his father. “Father of the year.”

This is the first time I’ve seen Eric since I left him on the beach in Rosarito, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him. He’s dressed in his customary black, his hair still close-cropped, but his wounds are healing, leaving him with a scar across his cheek that somehow only makes him sexier.

John fumes, his eyes darting between Eric and Vinny. Summer’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, her eyes wide with horror; Dylan stares at his brother in shock, engulfed in emotion. Only Grace is composed, a smile hovering around her lips as she gazes up at Eric with affection. “Mon chéri!” she says as he approaches and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Enfin! Took you long enough.”

“I was in Montreal,” he explains.

Summer gapes at him. “You’re…” She gulps.

“Alive? Yeah,” Eric says. “I hear you’ve gotten better at killing people.” He crosses the room to me and takes my hand. “Are you okay?”

I nod and follow his eyes to my soiled dress, suddenly remembering my filthy appearance. “It’s been a long day.”

Summer’s gaze ping-pongs between us. “I knew it,” she mutters.

John watches us from under hooded eyes, his mouth in a hard line. I see his gears turning. But it won’t do him any good.

Dylan clears his throat. “Could someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Eric takes his phone from his pocket. “I’m taking over Lionshare.”