Chapter 18
Styx
My lovely, sweet, and vulnerable Emily remained quiet after my proclamation as I drove through the compound to the outer reaches of my property. I glanced at her every so often and her expression never changed. I'd anticipated defiance or flat-out anger from what I'd said, but she was demure, almost as if she'd grown content with my plans for her future.
I knew better.
She was doing nothing more than biding her time, her eyes scanning the property and if I had to guess, I'd say she had a photographic memory. Well, she would soon learn that there was no escape. There were two ways off the island and I controlled both.
A boat, for which there was one way in and one way out.
A plane, for which I held the keys.
Even the plane I'd commissioned had extra security, armed with weapons. In my case, not only did I have countless enemies, families of those I'd been hired to kill, mafia organizations who abhorred the Saint name, and even corporate moguls and weapons experts who hated the fact our corporation held a majority interest in worldwide sales. What she didn't know, and I had no plans of telling her, was that the idiots stupid enough to try to come on shore so far had been those pledging their lives to some of the most dangerous cartels in the world.
They truly believed they could simply boat near my island and swim onshore to learn secrets from the wealthy yet unidentified man who owned the island. So far, there'd only been one bombing attempt…
Of course my satellites and automatic weapons systems had detected the intruder miles away, tracking the pilot on radar until his approach was confirmed, my weapons locked and loaded. I couldn't count how many mutilated bodies my soldiers had been required to drag further out to sea to allow the sharks to finish. The last thing I wanted was for the massive creatures to take up residence on the shores of my beautiful home.
That wouldn't bode well for guests longing to bask in the shallow tides.
Not that I'd had a single guest up to this point. Even my own family hadn't been told of my whereabouts. That had been on purpose.
My father's last hunt before we'd cut off his limbs one at a time had been for the three of us to attempt to track down the other.
Only instead of being armed with paint guns and other innocuous fake weapons meant for a skilled game of subterfuge and cat and mouse, we'd been forced to carry knives and guns, spears and axes. It had been ridiculous, but he'd known that our indoctrination into becoming just like him would eventually take over, forcing us into protection and kill mode.
The only reason the game had been stopped was because of a horrific hurricane that had strengthened over the course of several hours.
However, once a predator, always a predator and I didn't need Creed and Easton's brand of crazy on my island. Especially now. Especially when I had my most precious possession in my home and in my life.
No one would dare touch her or they'd face the kind of carnage they would never recover from. Forget sharks. There would barely be enough of their bodies left to be considered chum. As I snickered, I sensed she'd tensed. I slowed the Jeep to a rolling stop, pointing over her shoulder to the foliage only feet away from the passenger door.
"That, my love, is a jungle."
"So what?"
"So the entire six-acre area is booby-trapped."
At least that got her attention. Emily slowly turned her head, staring at me as if I was the most reprehensible bastard she'd ever met. Little did she know what her father was capable of.
"Meaning what?" Her words were stilted.
"Meaning there are holes dug deep into the terrain. Some are filled with venomous snakes. Others have sharp spears pointed at the sky and yet others are merely empty waiting for food for the various wild animals living on the island."
"If you're trying to scare me, it's not working."
"I'm not trying to scare you, my little sparrow. I'm trying to enlighten you that you are safe here. No longer can your father or the people who attempted to hire me get to you. I will die to keep you safe." And to find out what the fuck was going on.
Her face was suddenly pinched. Then she burst out laughing. "You are kidding me, right?"
The rush of my usual anger was fortunately short lived. "Meaning?"
"Do you find what you're telling me endearing? Do you honestly think I'd going to forgive you, even fall in love with you because you have all kinds of ways for me to die just because you want to protect me? If that's what you think, you really are out of your mind."
Her boldness was amazing and delightful. But getting old. "I'm doing nothing more than sharing with you the reality of the situation in hopes that you'll take comfort in being safer than you've ever been in your life."
"Safe? I don't feel safe with you, Talon, or whatever your real name is. I don't even feel frightened of you any longer because I realize you're completely insane. Whatever your father did to you and your brothers must have been horrific and I certainly hope the bastard is rotting in hell, but I have a news flash for you. I feel nothing inside. Dead. You are dead to me."
She slowly turned her head away, returning to the quietness of before.
Sighing, I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and headed toward my favorite spot on the island. Maybe a picnic by the ocean waters would help. As I drove through the twists and turns of the road I'd had built as it led down from the protected perch where I lived to the single spot on the island that allowed for a walk on the sandy shores, she kept her hands fisted in her lap.
So be it.
I would break through with her. Of that I had no doubt.
That's because of the passion we already shared, the love of music our strongest connection. And because I adored her.
I was ready to drive through the cluster of tropical foliage when her question came out of the blue.
"Who was she?"
"Who are you talking about, Emily?"
"The woman you tried to protect and lost in some horrible event? The one where you obtained the scar?"
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? Do I look like her? Do I act like her? Did she play music? Is that why you kidnapped me?"
She had a way of making me feel more uncomfortable than I had in a hell of a long time. "It doesn't matter. The past is the past. Let's work on you trusting me."
"Trust?" She snorted this time, pressing her hand against her lips. "Trust is earned, buddy."
"Then how can I break through that ice?" I slipped through the trees to the beach, turning my head and noticing a slight flicker of appreciation at the incredible view in front of her.
"Why don't you start by telling me your real name? Think about it. If I'm your prisoner and will be for the rest of my life, then there's no chance of me being able to share the great news with anyone. You know my name and everything about me. So trust me enough to tell me something personal."
I thought about her request as I parked the Jeep on the soft sands, taking a minute to breathe in the salty air. It had been several months since I'd been to the water. I used to enjoy taking daily swims until the island had become more of a target for unwanted guests. I cut the engine and waited for a few seconds before answering. She was right. Even if there was a chance she could get off the island, it wouldn't matter. Everyone knew that coming against me in any way meant an early death.
"My name is Styx Saint."
Tick. Tock.
Her silence brought a smile to my face.
She whispered it back at me and I was rewarded with a slight smile. "I like that. It suits you. Very… evocative."
"Why, thank you. Come on. Let's take a walk and find the perfect place for a picnic."
At least her mood brightened somewhat, enough that I didn't think I would need to chase her down like some animal. I grabbed the basket of food and wine, allowing her to take the lead. As expected, she headed to the water, digging her toes into the sand. When she was standing on the froth, she held her hand over her eyes, shielding them even more from the bright sun.
I could tell she was scanning the area, no doubt searching for some method of leaving the island. From where we stood, you could see the dock and one of my boats. I had a more powerful craft located in an enclosure. However, for quick jaunts or just for sightseeing, the smaller boat was positioned at my ready.
I moved behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against me. While she stiffened at first, the moment I pressed my face against her neck, she issued a slight moan. It was enough to know she didn't hate me as much as she purported in doing.
"About two hundred yards out is another security method I put in place. It was costly and took months in preparation but it's highly effective."
Emily stiffened all over again. "What is it?"
"For lack of a better term, underwater grenades. And no, don't worry. It doesn't catch fish, sharks, or dolphins in the rays of infrared light. The system knows the difference in a human intruder."
She shivered for a few seconds in my arms. "My, oh, my. You've thought of everything. Haven't you?"
"That's required because of who my family is."
"And who are you?"
Another test. Another debate. Why not? I felt generous this afternoon, but she would pay for that generosity with her body. Why not put the gauntlet down? I was a fair man after all. "If I provide that information, what will you give me?"
She pulled away, shaking her head. "We're bartering now?"
"Or some would say tit for tat. Why not? You want information that I have to give."
"You know everything about me. What can I give you?"
I took a long stride closer, taking a deep whiff of the light strawberry scent that remained. "You. Freely. Openly."
Her mouth twisted as it had done before, her jaw clenching as she thought about my request. "Fine. Your name sounds familiar."
I wasn't expecting that and so soon. My mood had just improved significantly. "Excellent. I like this game. As it should, sweet Emily. My family has been considered the top arms manufacturer in the country for over a decade but our claim to fame, if you will, is that we're also one of the most brutal and well-funded crime syndicates in the country."
She sucked in her breath, struggling to accept the news. "No wonder."
"No wonder?"
"No wonder your father was a heinous pig. Where are we picnicking, and can I take a dip in the water, or will your bots sense my presence and kill me?"
"Of course you can take a swim if you like. I encourage you to do so. We'll set up in the shade under those trees over there. You can change whenever you'd like."
Her smile was almost as evil as mine. She was plotting and planning.
And I fell in love with her just a little bit more.
She eyed me carefully for a few seconds before nodding. I trudged toward the soft sand, the area perfect for holding our picnic. I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken a day off, enjoying the fruits of my labor. I didn't watch movies, no matter the state of art equipment in my house. I rarely attended parties, although I had certain requirements like everyone else in my business. I had to keep up the act of being a business owner, the CEO of a very profitable company needing to show his face at least a couple of times a year.
I watched as my guest grabbed her swimsuit, not asking me where she could change but disappearing into the shadow of trees to do so. Her modesty was admirable but something she would learn meant nothing to me.
As I placed the blanket Celine had provided on the sand, I thought about my life in general. If someone had asked me two months ago if I was happy, I would have easily said yes. How couldn't I be? I had billions of dollars at my disposal, several resort-style houses in different areas of the world, a trained staff to do my bidding. And all the toys money could buy.
But as I sat down, crossing my legs, eagerly awaiting Emily's return, I was forced to accept that happiness wasn't just in the eye of the beholder at all. It was the moments that someone could cherish that had little if anything to do with wealth, power, or influence.
This was one of those times.
I wasn't certain what my housekeeper Celine had placed in the basket, but the lovely girl had seemed more animated than I was used to seeing. While I paid her extremely well, the atmosphere in my house up to this point had been unappealing to a woman of her age.
Still, she was providing more income for her family of ten than the others of working age combined. However, the moment I opened the basket, peering at the treats inside, I knew I had to give the girl a raise. She'd whispered words in Spanish, acting as if I was going on a date, something Celine had never seen. She'd once dared to ask me why I didn't have that important someone in my life.
She'd been sweet enough to approach a damaged, dangerous man, blushing when she'd suggested I would make a good catch. I would never forget that moment. Now, as I pulled out cheese of several varieties, freshly baked bread, fruit and vegetables, homemade strawberry shortcake with whipped cream, and even seafood along with two kinds of wine, all I could do was smile.
Maybe this was the turning point I needed.
I laid everything out, cracking open a bottle of wine.
Only seconds later, my lovely guest reappeared, standing at the edge of the trees in her bright red bikini that accentuated her voluptuous figure. I was surprised she'd chosen the slinky two-piece instead of another, but that pleased me more than she could understand.
As if the foxy woman was trying to seduce me. My cock twitched from the thought. I could almost see forcing her into a hunt. Only the outcome would be entirely different than I was used to.
She stared at me at first before slowly lowering her gaze, studying the feast I'd laid out, tugging on strands of hair constantly flitting in her face from the light breeze. I could tell she was debating coming to sit with me, acting as if I'd likely shackle her to one of the trees or possibly worse. There was no trust here. There wouldn't be for some time to come. Not that I should care.
Then why did I?
I wasn't the kind of man who wanted to make anything romantic or special. That wasn't my makeup. Or at least so I'd thought. Right now, all I wanted to do was enjoy the day, sharing the sunshine and perfect weather, the warm water and the amazing food prepared by a lovely young woman with a heart of gold.
Business could wait, even though I needed to make decisions on several lives and make another few billion dollars. Not today.
Wow.
My little sparrow might be turning me into a decent man.
Emily approached, acting as demure as she had in the Jeep. When she sat down, her actions were tentative, but I could tell she was hungry even after her healthy breakfast. I could also sense I'd confused her with the niceties. She removed her sunglasses, placing them gently on the blanket. After that, she reached for mine. I flinched, which was ridiculous and she half laughed.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Styx, or rip out your eyeballs. Yet. I simply want to see your eyes. You can't have a decent conversation with a man in dark sunglasses. Didn't you know the eyes are the windows to a man's soul?"
"Well, then that shouldn't take long since I don't have a soul to see. Besides, I'm certain you've thought of other ways to poke out my eyeballs when I'm sleeping."
"Perhaps. Everyone has a soul, Styx. It might be black as night, but it's still there. However, colors can be changed."
"You think too highly of your effect on me."
"No, I just know everyone has a good side. It's all about choosing which side to be on. Tragedies can change a person, horrors as well. It's what we do afterwards that either shows our fortitude by surviving or our weakness by falling into the abyss the monsters wanted to thrust us into." She plucked a blueberry from the bowl, popping it into her mouth and it was all I could do not to ravage her.
"You have rose-colored lenses covering your eyes."
She laughed again and the sound was like the sweetest flock of birds in the spring. She rolled her eyes, her body rocking. "Hardly. Let's see. My mother was murdered and I found her lifeless body covered in blood. My father couldn't care less whether I'm alive, keeping me prisoner with two bodyguards, who were murdered. I've had a single kind of boyfriend in my life, who my father drove away, and few friends because everyone feared my dad. If you really want to plop the cherry on the whipped cream, then you can add in that I was recently kidnapped by a dark, mysterious, and very sexy stranger who stalked me, fucked me in the middle of the night, and proceeded to whisk me off to a beautiful but secluded island wrapped in electric wire. I don't think I've lived a fairytale life that would be conducive to being a good girl. Do you?"
"Hmmm… When you put it that way, I'm surprised you're not a raving lunatic."
"That's what my father intended on turning me into." Her eyes opened wide after the admittance. "I guess he has his reasons. So, what's your story? Once a bad man, always a bad man?"
Her frankness and ability to make light of the rather wretched life she'd endured brought a moment of sadness into my obsidian-laced soul. "I haven't always been a monster. What is it they say? A bird can change feathers?"
"What does that mean?"
"It means I once tried to heal people."
I caught her so off guard her mouth slacked open. "Really?"
"Yes, really. But as you mentioned, certain events in your life can change you dramatically. I guess I failed on all counts, resorting to what I'd been taught from the time I was a boy. To kill or be killed."
"That's… the biggest tragedy of all." Her words were entirely too sincere, the girl worried about the bastard who'd captured her. Her resilience was the kind of thing bravery was comprised of.
Now I laughed, unable to keep from doing so. She was delightful in every way.
I poured a glass of wine, handing it to her, even being careful not to allow our fingertips to touch.
Yet.
I would devour her for dessert after tasting the lovely cake Celine had prepared, but not yet. I wanted Emily to be more comfortable around me, especially since I was leaving the island in the morning. I hated the thought more than I'd believed I would.
She was still tentative in her actions but accepted the glass, closing her eyes as she took a sip. While I found it difficult not to continue watching her, I laid out the plates and napkins, opening containers so she could make a choice herself. When she plucked a cube of smoked Gouda from the plastic container, for some reason I grinned. "I wish you could see the beauty around you. Even I can envision what this gorgeous island would be like without the barbed wire."
"A lovely fantasy but impossible in my world. There are men ready to destroy me if I show a single weakness."
"Then what am I?"
"A risk worth everything… but don't forget how powerful I am."
"No, I think you've made that perfectly clear. Obey or die. Maybe one day you'll remember the man you once were."
I doubted it. I seriously doubted it. Not that I wanted to in the first place. "Let's relax and enjoy ourselves. There is no need to delve into our respective ugly pasts."
Everything about her was adorable, including the way she nibbled on the cheese after a heavy sigh of contemplation. "Delicious. Everything is beautiful. But you didn't do this. Did you?"
"You caught me. I do love to cook and do most of it myself as I told you before, although cooking for one is not nearly as amazing as sharing my food with someone else. However, romance is not something I'm good at. Celine is an amazing young woman who has worked for me for years. She was very happy to learn I had a guest in my house."
"Celine?"
"My housekeeper. She's been an amazing find."
"She knows all about you? I mean that you're a killer?" Emily asked as she selected a shrimp. Why was it that everything she did, including the way she ate, brought about a deep longing in me?
"That I'm a dangerous, reprehensible man with a love of bloodshed and a need to destroy the competition? Yes. Given the war-torn country where she's from, she understands the value of those who can take care of her and her entire family. That's why she's so loyal to me."
My admittance brought about laughter, which was unexpected and delightful. "Interesting. A killer who looks after the families of those who work for him. At least you're honest. Maybe that good side of you is trying desperately to be freed."
"I am honest, Emily. I strive to be anyway. But I doubt decency is in my vocabulary. I know those in high powered businesses are supposed to be cutthroat. I am in certain aspects. My two brothers are as well. However, as my mother would have likely said, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. And loyalty."
"Is your mother alive?" She seemed content in selecting more food, which in turn allowed me to relax and eat.
"Yes, she is. I keep tabs on her. She's remarried to a very nice man, a doctor from Seattle."
"She left your father."
"Absolutely. He was a disgusting, horrible man who abused her."
Her eyes lit up from my frankness. "My mother hated my father as well." As soon as she made the statement, she slapped her hand over her mouth as if she'd said the wrong thing.
"It's okay, Emily. You can be honest with me. I'm sorry about what happened with your mom. Girls need their mothers."
"Boys do too. My father's mother left him at the door to an orphanage, or so I heard when I was young. Fortunately, his father grabbed him just as my dad was placed into the system. I think that's what made him such a horrible man who had no understanding of how to love anyone."
I was surprised she was being so forthcoming, but grateful. "We are more alike than you want to admit."
"Perhaps." She grabbed a strawberry, using two fingers to slide it to her mouth. I was mesmerized by the way she sucked on it, taking a tiny nibble afterwards. She noticed I was watching her intently and, in another surprise, shifted her arm toward me, pressing the half-eaten piece of fruit against my lips.
The surge of need in my system was as unexpected as her actions. I took my time accepting the bite, but as with everything else up to this point, the taste was spectacular.
"But we are different people entirely," she added.
Chewing then swallowing, I snagged a blueberry, repeating the move to her. While she accepted, as with everything else, her actions were tentative.
"How so, little sparrow?"
As her tongue licked her bottom lip, I took a deep breath and held it. My cock was already at full attention, pushing against the stupid trousers I'd selected for the day. At least I'd been smart enough to slide into swim trunks underneath.
"I'm hopeful for a bright future. You're still living in your past. I can only imagine what you've been through, but you need to move on and try and see the beauty in life. It can be very tough but not impossible. The woman you lost would want that for you. She'd want you to find love and happiness, joy in the simple things in life. Nature. Food. Wine. The ocean. Whatever makes you happy."
Goddamn, her words seemed to have some control over me. How odd. She was offering me advice when I'd done everything in my power, although it hadn't been my intention, to take away her hope. "She wouldn't understand me moving on. That's not what we shared."
She sipped her wine, never blinking as she looked at me. The search continued, as if she had a determination to find a diamond in the rough.
I found it interesting that no matter what situation we were placed in as humans, our true nature always shone through the muck. When she placed her hand on mine, it proved the case. She even squeezed my fingers, fighting the moan I could see attempting to slip past her lips from the electric connection.
"You don't know women very well. We have remarkable resilience and always want those we care about to be happy. I have no doubt she would want you to find another reason to live." She didn't wait for my answer to continue with her psychoanalysis. "I know you don't want to share the truth but I have a feeling the loss wasn't about divorce. If that's the case, she's looking down at the heavens on you, wondering what's taking you so long. And I assume she was the bright light in your world, which means she garnered a place in heaven."
The ache in my heart continued, growing exponentially. "She was an angel just like you are. And actually, I am learning that lesson right now." Why was it easy to be more than just honest with this woman? I was opening up, which was dangerous on every level.
However, I received a reward. Another bright smile.
"Tell me. What's the most dangerous recreational sport you've ever done?"
I couldn't help but laugh, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. "I need to think about that. Hang gliding. I did that in the Fuji islands. I once was pushed into a hot air balloon. I wasn't a fan. Oh, and I've jumped from a spiraling plane in a parachute. Of course that was unexpected, forced on me."
"My, oh, my. You do live a dangerous life. Eventful."
"Much of it not to my liking. Tell me, my little sparrow. What have you done or what would you like to do that might seem dangerous in your world?"
She snacked on several pieces of cheese before answering. "Bungee cord jumping across a beautiful ravine. White water rafting. Maybe jumping off a cliff, albeit a short one, into a beautiful crystalline lagoon of the bluest water in the world."
"Have you done any of those?"
Her snort was adorable enough to push the bad man inside of me closer to the surface. "Hell, no. My father forbade anything he considered riskier than having a hot cocoa on a cold winter's day."
"I hate your father. That's easy to say and feel."
"That makes two of us."
The fact she'd admitted it a second time allowed me to know she was keeping family secrets of her own, the darkness difficult for her. So much so her eyes were suddenly haunted by memories of actions the man had taken. I wanted to crush his skull between my fingers for hurting someone so amazing.
She carefully placed her partially consumed wine on the blanket, standing and stretching. "Time for a swim."
I watched as she ran toward the water, acting as if our adventurous moment was something she'd agreed to instead of being forced on her.
As she waded into the tumbled waves, I eased my bent knees to my chest, allowing another admittance that the way she'd affected me wasn't anything like what I'd anticipated.
And in truth, for a brutal man such as myself, I found that as debilitating as if I had the barrel of a weapon pointed at my head.
It was entirely possible I'd underestimated my little sparrow.
In doing so, perhaps she truly had become my weakness.