Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“Yes or fucking no?” Drake growled.
The older pilot shrugged again. “Depends if luck was on his side. As far as preferred conditions went...yes, he could have survived. Water temperature, breaking surface tension, and velocity all play a part in the outcome. However, bones are brittle things. If he landed head first, his neck would’ve snapped, and—”
“And if he landed feet first?” I interrupted, unable to listen to his morbid conclusion.
The younger pilot pinned me with an apologetic stare. “His legs are most likely broken. Feet and ankles, too. He might have survived, but...he probably won’t be able to swim and will drown as a secondary cause of impact.”
I went arctic blizzard cold.
A pitiful moan escaped me as Drake chuckled. “Excellent. Let’s hope the bastard chokes on his precious ocean.” Dragging me toward the hulking lab in the distance, he added, “Let’s get this over with.”
The mercenary sandwiched me next to Drake while the pilots trailed us.
The older pilot said, “We’ll walk with you, Sinclair, and we agree to carry a gun, but under no circumstances are we pulling a trigger.”
Drake looked behind him. “You’ll do as your fucking told.” His cold bark was smoothed by a slithering smile. “But as I said, you won’t have to shoot anyone if you play your part.”
“And if you don’t play, I’ll happily give you a different type of bonus.” The mercenary with his brown buzz cut snickered, enjoying his promotion to second-in-command.
I struggled as Drake carted me up the gravel path linking the helipad with the fortified door of the laboratory.
I winced as my tender feet bruised thanks to sharp pebbles instead of silky sand. My wardrobe of a simple yellow shirt left me exposed in all the wrong ways.
Hiding my pain, swallowing back my rage at Drake, I glanced at yet another diamond in Sully’s crown of islands. The building was an oddity. The largest of Sully’s villas—not that it could be called a villa with its sweeping white walls, barred windows, and keypad for entry outside. It looked clinical instead of tropical. Convinced on its purpose of housing drugs and specimens rather than fading into the scenery with thatched roofs and coconut wood.
A shadow of someone walking past a window appeared and disappeared, no doubt alerted by our presence thanks to the helicopter.
Had they heard the gunfire?
Did they see me as the damsel in distress?
Was Drake right when he said the men and women on this island were test tube geeks, or were there guards standing watch?
I peered into the pruned undergrowth, searching manicured bushes and pretty flowers, hoping to see men loyal to Sully and his enterprise.
Nothing.
Choking on my disappointment, I hissed again as Drake dug his fingernails into my wrist, breaking my skin. He dragged me the final way to the forfeited door. “No one speaks. I’ll do the conversing.”
“Sure.” The pilots nodded.
Drake shook me. “Answer me, Eleanor. You’ll keep that pretty little mouth shut, won’t you?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and didn’t reply. Once again, I would enlist silence to be my shield. If I spoke another syllable to this creep, I’d snap.
I’d scream.
I’d leap on him and beat him senseless. I wouldn’t stop until someone shot me.
His threats of hurting me. His joy at his brother’s death.
It all pushed me closer and closer to a ledge labelled mental breakdown.
Sully...you have to be okay.
I won’t stay sane if you aren’t.
His fall repeated again, my scream vibrating in my skull.
Over and over.
You’re coming after me.
I know you are.
You’re alive.
I have to believe that’s true.
“Answer me, Eleanor.” Drake shook me, his watery blue stare malicious and cold.
I pressed my lips together and arched my chin.
Fuck.
You.
“Cat got your tongue again, huh?” Drake rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Your dramatics are tiresome.” Dragging me up the three steps to the door, he tucked his gun into his waistband and knocked on the sparse white entrance as a sickly grin spread over his face.
I shivered, doing my best to sense if Sully was alive or not.
I wanted the taste of conviction like I’d felt when I’d raced crazily around Jakarta. Then, I’d known that he wasn’t safe. I’d felt it in my bones...but at least I’d known he was alive.
Now all I felt was a blockage.
Almost as if the man I’d fallen in love with had vanished.
Please...Sully.
An intercom crackled above us, pouring a male’s voice over our shoulders. “Who the hell are you? Get off this island. It’s private property.”
Drake lost his grin. His pompous businessman façade crumpled as quickly as he’d conjured it. “Open the fucking door.”
“You expect me to open for you when I heard a gunshot moments ago? Hell no. Leave. Get back in your helicopter and—”
“Open the fucking door,” Drake snarled. “I’m a Sinclair. Your boss is my brother.” He cocked his head, doing his best to rein in his temper. “You have four hundred vials of elixir, and I’m here to collect.”