Page 107 of One Secret

'So that you can underbid them.' And steal eighty percent of the competition's transport avenues in one fell swoop.

My heart is hammering in my throat. My palms are sweating.

Do not draw your weapon, asshole. One wrong move, one sign of threat, and it's all over. You draw, you die.

Darcy...!

'What I do with those rates is my business. How you get them is yours.'

'Fine,' I agree. Because what else can I say? Despite the way Felix is watching me, his greed seems larger than his distrust. Perhaps the mission isn't dead yet. Hanging by a thread, maybe, but not yet clipped.

Just twenty-four hours. Just play along until tomorrow night and you could have Gabriel...

'I'll get them to you,' I promise, heading for the edge of the boat. I'll get back to Darcy and send her home. Then I'll stay and play Felix's game for one more night. 'It'll take me until—'

'Tomorrow night,' Felix interrupts.

I freeze with one boot on the safety rail. Felix's cookie-cutter henchmen are swarming too close for comfort. Ramirez is missing.

'Excuse me?' I ask him, a sense of doom settling in my gut.

Felix keeps his gaze forward, his posture cool and his vehemence edgy.

'You have until tomorrow night, Alesi,' he vows. 'Before the party.'

'You want me to dig up the most coveted secrets in the Machelli hauling trade in less than a day? You don't think that will look a little suspicious?'

'What do you care?' Felix asks, his eyes gleaming like a cat. 'You're leaving their employ... aren't you?'

I chew on my molars.

'Fine.' Because, again, what else can I say?

I'm barred again as I try to leave. One of Felix's men braces a hand against my shoulder and I choke the urge to throw the fucker overboard.

'Do not take me for a fool, Alesi,' Caruso taunts from behind his swirling whiskey glass. 'You or your little woman try leaving this island and I will take great joy in breaking the both of you.'

Don't bite... don't bite.

You draw, you die.

'Fail to get me those numbers,' Felix continues, 'and I'll make sure to start with her.'

* * *

Hot, panting, and aching from head to toe, I stare angrily at the leg of the bed.

We had such a good time together last night, old friend. Can't help me out now though, can you?

Exhaling hard, I send several locks of my hair streaming over the carpet. The plush weave is thick and heavy against my shoulder.

After using my weight to build momentum, I've successfully thrown the chair—and myself—onto its side.

Having worked my tongue around the gag, I throw my exhale behind the wad of cotton and send the socks dancing under the bed.

'Okay,' I exhale steadily. I have a few bruises to add to the collection but, all in all, not going too badly, here.

The fact that I'm still tied to the chair is a serious bummer, though.

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