Page 41 of The Weekend Getaway

Bobbing his head to the beat, Alex allowed a group of scantily clad sluts to shimmy between them, smiling and laughing, drunk and flirty. He grabbed the assof the best-looking girl and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, he gave her a look, letting her know he’d find her later, and she gave him a seductive smirk before heading off with her friends.

“And then … “ Jason said, his gaze apprehensive. “Phil hit her … and then … ”

“Don’t say another word,” Alex warned, his mind swirling, his thoughts chaotic. “Just let me think.”

“What’s going to happen?” Jason asked, voice rising in alarm.

“I’m going to fix this,” Alex said, his wayward thoughts starting to come together, to settle in his mind, forming a plan.

“How?”

“Don’t worry,” Alex said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’m going to make this work for us …”

CHAPTER 41

SARAH

Sarah stared at the blood on the sheets, her heart slamming, panic racing through her.

What the hell? Why was there blood on Phil’s sheets? How had it gotten there? And whose blood was it? Sarah swallowed, glancing around the room, trying not to think the worst.

Much like her bedroom, Phil’s room was decorated in the typical Colonial Caribbean style. Lots of neutral colors, natural fabrics, hardwood floors, wicker and cane furniture, and potted palms in the corners. A large mahogany wood wardrobe on one side of the room and an orangewood bookshelf on the other.

Walking backward, Sarah looked toward the wall of French doors, all of them closed. She glanced left, toward the entry into the bathroom, and?—

Sarah frowned.

A leather suitcase and matching duffle bag sat on the floor just outside the en suite entryway.

The panic she’d managed to subside flared up again, sending her heart into her throat as she hurried to the suitcase. Dropping to her knees, she unzipped the duffle bag. Gasping, Sarah stared at the clothes packed within it, folded shirts and shorts, socks, and underwear.

Phil hadn’t left the island. Not without his suitcase.

Mia had lied to them.

But why?

Sarah rushed from Phil’s room, hurrying out into the hallway and down the curving stairway. Dashing through the living room and library, she headed down the hall leading into the kitchen.

Walking into the spacious area, Sarah stopped short. Bright sunshine streamed through the wide window above the farmhouse sink, casting a warm golden glow over the large island, glinting off the gleaming tiled countertops, the stove, and Sub-Zero refrigerator.

Sarah walked to the island. A nearly empty glass of orange juice shared the counter with a half-full tumbler, the contents of which seemed to be a Bloody Mary. Next to it, a large ceramic bowl held raw eggs, the yolks and whites congealed together.

Sarah shuddered.

The kitchen was empty. Abandoned.

“Mia? Jason?” Sarah sighed, struggling to control the apprehension surging within her. “Chris?”

Where was everyone? She glanced toward the glass pocket doors that opened to the covered terrace but saw no one out on the patio. Why had they left? What could have?—

Something vibrated against her hip.

Startled, Sarah let out a gasp, confused for a second, until she realized what it was. Her phone. She’d slipped it into the oversized pocket of her coverup, thinking she might take some photos on the beach to post online.

With a trembling hand, she yanked it out.

A text.

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