Page 73 of Close Your Eyes and Count to 10

She didn’t have a plan pastget rid of his body. What happened next had not been written yet. The publicity of his murder or disappearance would be a firestorm. There was no way around that. And Extreme being linked to another suspicious event was not good for any of them or their pending deal. She couldn’t get them out of that, but she could delay it, maybe get them off the island before all hell broke loose. And maybe that would be enough to save Extreme, to save Mav.

“It’s clear,” she said, gazing out into the hallway one last time.

Tavo and Maverick hesitated another moment, then each took one side of the rug and maneuvered the body of their friend out the door.

“Where are we taking him?” asked Tavo when they were out in the hallway. He was crying, big tears trailing down his cheeks. But he was cooperating.

The plane was a bad idea. His body would start to smell and could easily be discovered by airport workers. And it wasn’t the place they’d want him found.

“Let’s take him over to the wall.”

The cliff from where Princess Jacintha had thrown herself to escape a loveless marriage to a known brute. The cliff face was steep, with a hundred-foot drop into churning, rocky, deep water, no beach. The island was in the middle of the Atlantic, no other land mass except for the other islands for thousands of kilometers.

“What if there’s someone else here? Someone watching us,” asked Mav. “I mean Isawsomeone. They could be lurking just out of sight.”

Angeline reflected on this a moment. Did she believe someone was following and had it in for Mav? Therewerea lot of people who hated him. Chloe Miranda’s family. Moms Against Mav.Petra and her army of thugs. The losers of his challenges that claimed they were rigged before it began. The vitriolic haters who commented on every live broadcast and post, whoever they were. Still, it seemed paranoid and just slightly narcissistic to think he was being followed, that someone had tried to kill him with so much subtlety and creativity from Venice Beach to the Italian Alps. And yet someonehadkilled Alex. So what did that mean? That Angeline thoughtMaverickkilled Alex and she was doing this to protecthim? She didn’t love that version of herself.

“We’re just going to throw him off the cliff?” said Tavo, ghostly pale, face drawn with strain and horror. “I mean, his body might never be found. What will we tell Lucia? His son?”

She looked between Tavo and Maverick, their eyes on her. They were weak, both of them. And honestly it sickened her a little.

“Do either of you have a better idea?” she snapped.

After a moment, both men shook their heads.

“Then, let’s go.”

Mav had a place where he went. But so did Angeline. There was a place in her brain that was cool and calculating, calm under pressure. They hadn’t killed their friend; they were just trying to save the company. She was sure it’s what Alex would have wanted her to do, because it meant that she could make sure Lucia and the baby would be set for life. She couldn’t bring Alex back, but she could take care of the company and his family.

As they moved awkwardly toward the wall, Angeline followed, scanning the darkness for anyone who might be watching. Petra’s words rang back to her.

It’s too late for them. The sickness has already invaded their spirit. But it’s not too late for you.

The old woman had been wrong. It was too late for Angeline, had been for a while. And even though part of her had been pretending it wasn’t true, a bigger part of her already knew that.

24

MAVISALIAR

If you watch something on a screen and don’t see it with your own eyes, is it really happening?

Press Record.

Let other people decide if it’s real or not.

These days we never know, do we? What’s true and what isn’t?

Three figures emerge from an exterior hallway that leads to a glittering lap pool. The dim light dances on the surface of the water. The three move slowly, two of them struggling with the weight they’re carrying between them. Seen through this tiny rectangular screen, there are just shadows, all distinguishing features blacked out by the stormy sky.

One is slim, a woman, she moves out ahead. Says something. Her tone official, quietly commanding. The man closest to her is huge, tall and broad, muscular. The third is smaller, but lithe and quick on his feet, in shape, nimbler than the other man. They edge past the pool, knock against one of the loungers. A female voice cuts the darkness.

Be careful.

Then they move onto the grass and come to stand by the low stone wall.

The woman dumps her head in her hands, and the big man moves in to comfort her, her darkness disappearing into his. But she pushes him away. The third figure stands aloof, posture stiff. They all radiate a deep unhappiness, a kind of toxic sorrow.

What is evil?

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