Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Kindra

I finally have some time to myself in the late afternoon. Ezra and Bennett haven't bothered me since they went to play golf, and Cat is probably still at her cooking class for cannibals, leaving me with some much-needed peace and quiet so I can think.

The Abattoir Adonis is on this island, yet no one seems to know who he is. Whenever I ask, I'm met with sideways glances and shrugs. This leads me to believe he's not here...or he's using a different name.

When Cat presented the list of attendees back in New York, I'd promptly destroyed it once she'd left. It made no sense to keep something so incriminating. Now I wish I'd at least taken the time to memorize the names so that I could compare them to those on the island.

As I sit on the uncomfortable couch and sip a warm mug of tea, I recall what I can. Which isn't much. Aside from Ice Pick, Grim, and Maudlin Rose, it seems everyone else has gone by a different name.

So lost in thought, I barely register the knock at the villa door. I place my tea on the coffee table and hurry to the window to learn who's come to interrupt my solace this time.

Cat stands in front of the door, a large suitcase dragging behind her. She raises a small fist to knock again, but I open the door before she can.

"You can't move into my villa," I say. "If you're that frightened?—"

"No, that's not why I'm here," Cat says as she hoists her bag through the door. "I can't decide what to wear."

"Wear? To what?"

"Dinner. At the mansion."

"You're really going all in on this cannibal thing."

"Maybe, but when in Rome . . ."

"I don't think that counts when we're discussing eating human flesh."

Cat shrugs and opens her suitcase. "What happens on the island stays on the island, so I might as well go big."

"Regardless, I fail to see why you need to bring your closet to my villa. I'm not exactly fashion forward." I motion to the baggy t-shirt and loose shorts I slipped into as soon as I returned from the horseback ride.

Undeterred, Cat pulls a few options from her suitcase and drapes them over the back of the couch. "I respect your opinion. Plus, I know you won't let me walk around looking like a clown."

The girl places far too much blind faith in me.

She nibbles her finger and considers what she's pulled from the sea of fabric. Her decisions made, she plucks three from the lineup, returns the rest to the luggage, then retreats to my room.

Moments later, Cat emerges in a shimmering red dress. The neckline plunges between her breasts, and I'm fairly certain I see a flash of pink nipple every time she moves. It's pretty, and it looks amazing on her, but it's also an attention grabber. We're trying to find my brother's killer, and that means we can't draw too much attention while we're here.

"It's a bit much," I say. "Stunning, but better suited for the red carpet. Plus, remember that we need to lie low."

She holds up a finger. "Right. Got it."

The door clicks shut behind her, and like a butterfly, she emerges changed. This time she's chosen a sky-blue spring dress. It flatters her figure just as much as the first, but it's less ostentatious. The color also brings out her eyes.

"That's the one," I say. "Subtle, yet still very alluring."

Cat's eyes light up and she spins in a half circle. Her excitement is almost contagious. "Now that I have the fit, I just need to situate the rest of my look. Will you help me with my hair? I was thinking about a cute French braid, but I can't braid my hair myself."

I start to tell her no—I don't do anything with my own hair, let alone someone else's—but her wide, hopeful eyes tug at the few heartstrings I have.

"Fine."

Cat grabs a comb from her suitcase, then sits on the couch. I stand behind her and begin sectioning her hair. I haven't done anything like this since I was in grade school, but my fingers pick up the rhythm as if I never stopped.

Though I did stop.

When my brother died, things like hair and makeup and cute clothes lost their luster. Friends didn't seem so useful anymore either. I boxed myself off from the world because everything in life had become so pointless. What was the point of wasting hours on relationships and appearances when it could all be snatched away by a psychopath with a few meat hooks?

"What's killing feel like?" Cat asks, pulling me from my self-dug hole of despair.

I clear my throat and blink away the mist in my eyes. "It feels good, I guess. If it didn't, we wouldn't do it so often, especially considering the risks. It's like the best sex you've ever had."

And I'd know because I experienced the best sex of my life just a few days ago with the man I now have to shrug off while I'm at this retreat. What I felt while lying beside him before I went back to my room was the closest I've come to the killing high.

Cat offers a slight nod. "I think I'll get my first kill tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?"

"Did you even read the brochure, Kindra?"

"No."

"It's the Island Olympics! We slaughter Cattle in a relay obstacle course. I think the competition aspect will prevent me from overthinking the actual murder part."

Thinking about the murder is part of the high, though. The anticipation just before ending an evil life is what makes that end so sweet.

I pull a few strands of hair taut and motion for Cat to hand an elastic band to me. "Did you ever think maybe you aren't a killer? You're fascinated by what we do, but that doesn't mean you have to join this very exclusive and fucked-up club. There's a word for people like you."

"Hybristophilia. The sexual attraction to killers. While that's accurate, I don't think that's all there is to it."

"So if you're attracted to killers, how are you not attracted to Ezra's brother?"

Cat rips her hair from my hands as she whips her head around to stare at me. "I would never date a man who hates cats. Bennett is a menace, and it will be a cold day in hell before I ever let him near my vagina. We can't even be around each other for two minutes without me wanting to claw his eyes out, but judging by the scar through his eyebrow, someone else got to him before I could."

"But could you imagine the hate sex?"

She rolls her eyes and faces forward again. "What about you and Ezra? You're perfect for each other, yet you keep pushing him away. Now that's insanity."

I get back to work on the second braid. "It was supposed to be a fling. You know, the sort of thing where you never see the person again unless you're hiding behind a menu when they happen to come into the same café. It never would've happened if I'd known he'd be at the retreat. And besides, Ezra is clearly obsessed with someone else."

Cat rips the braid from my hand as she turns to face me. "Who?"

"The Heartbreak Killer."

Cat's eyes narrow on me, and the wheels turn in her head. "But...that's you."

"No, I'm the fucking Sunl?—"

"Sunshine," she corrects. "Why don't you just tell him who you are?"

"I don't want anyone knowing who I really am, especially Ezra."

I don't even think Ezra would be mad if he learned my identity. Based on how enamored he looked when he spoke the name, he'd probably just come in his pants. If anything, he'd become even more obsessed with me.

And I can't have that.

I need to stay focused. I need to find my brother's killer. And I won't find him in Ezra's bed.

"So, the murder relay race..." I say, desperate to change the subject.

"The races are in groups of four. If you'll partner with me, we just need to find two more. I don't care if you recruit Ezra, but I veto Bennett."

"Pass. I'm not interested in anything that involves running on sand in the heat."

"Please?" she begs, and there goes her silk hair ripping from my hands again as she turns to look at me.

"I'm about to let you go to dinner with half your hair done, Cat."

"I'm sorry. I just need you there."

"If you need an emotional-support serial killer, then you aren't ready for your first murder."

"I don't need an emotional-support person. I need a friend."

A friend?

I've fought that word since the moment I met her. Friends don't write extensive blogs about their friends. They don't document every morsel of crime their friends commit. They don't make it easier for the police to catch their friends.

But she speaks with such genuine human emotion, making it difficult to deny her assumption that we are friends. I suppose it wouldn't kill me to be a little kinder to her.

"Fine, I'll do the damn relay race."

I finish the second braid, and Cat gets up to admire it in the mirror.

"It's perfect!" She turns back to me. "Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner?"

"I am absolutely certain."

"Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early." She crinkles her nose, grabs her suitcase, and totters out the door in a pair of sparkling heels.

The door closes behind her, and just as I sit down on the couch, there's a knock. Cat must have forgotten something.

"What did you—" I say as I whip the door open.

But it's not Cat. It's Bennett.

"Uh, hi," he says. He peers into the room, his head on a swivel. Almost as if he's ensuring there's no one around to witness him murdering me.

I glance at the couch and make a mental note of the blade tucked beneath the middle cushion. Just in case.

"Bennett . . . come in, I guess."

I haven't actually said more than a handful of words to Ezra's brother. He's been too busy arguing with Cat since we met. Despite our limited engagements, he's entirely candid with what he says next.

"You need to stay away from Ezra."

I wouldn't mind staying away from Ezra, though he's drawn to me like a handsome fly to a pessimistic piece of shit. But I don't like being told what to do.

"And why would I do that?" I ask.

Bennett brushes a hand through his hair as enters the villa and begins pacing in front of the door. "Because he's a playboy. You're being used. Don't you see that?"

Considering I'm the one shrugging off every single one of his advances, I'm pretty sure I'm not being used. Who cares if Ezra sleeps around? I'd be more surprised if a man who fucked a stranger he met in an airport wasn't that type of person.

"I'm an adult, Bennett. I think I can handle myself. I don't know if you noticed, but I've skirted every one of your brother's attempts at this retreat. But even if I hadn't, what we do is none of your goddamn business. Are you worried we'll get married and have fucked-up little children with poor coping mechanisms? No. This is just a fling, and it's not even that anymore. I have one thing on my mind at this retreat, and it's finding my brother's killer."

Bennett grips the door and swings it open, letting the heat and humidity seep into my villa. "This won't end well for you two. And don't say I didn't warn you," he says before disappearing like a ghost of flings past.

I suck in a breath as the door closes, but I can't stop thinking about what Bennett said. Even as I sit on the couch and remind myself of my reason for being here, thoughts of Ezra creep into my mind.

Bennett's words were a ploy. That much was clear. Ezra may be a playboy, but that's not enough of a reason to stop allowing him to get me off. So why is Ezra's brother trying to warn me away from him?

I get up, lock my villa on the way out, and head to Ezra's. He could be at the dinner for all I know, but maybe he decided to skip out on tonight's human delicacies.

Sand crunches under my feet as I march down the boardwalk. The sun has started to set, but the tiny grains grip the last strands of warmth and use them to burn my arches. It'll be worth it to see the look on Ezra's face when I knock on his door.

And I'm in for a treat, because his wide eyes and dropped jaw don't disappoint as he sees me standing on his little porch.

Surprise, motherfucker.

I bully him into the villa with my body language alone and close the door behind me. It's all an act. I just want to see him squirm.

"So you're a playboy type, Ezra?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You sleep around? Love your one-night stands?" I step into him as I talk.

He scratches the back of his neck. "What are you talking about, pet?"

The panic in his eyes nearly makes me laugh. I don't actually care. He's not mine, and this is just a fling gone weird. An extended-stay one-night stand.

"Wait, who told you I was a playboy?"

I flop onto his couch and pick a grain of sand from beneath a fingernail. "Your brother."

"Bennett told you that? Oh, pet, you can't listen to a word he says. He's out to protect one person and one person only, and that's himself. He's just worried I'm getting attached."

I flick the grain of sand onto the floor and look at him. "Are you?"

"Of course not." He wears a poker face as he speaks, but I don't miss the way his voice has risen an octave. "Are you?"

"Not a chance in hell." I'm a much better liar, though if he called my bluff and told me to get undressed right now, I absolutely would.

He steps closer and leans down, placing an arm to either side of my head. "Then I see no issue with resuming our little arrangement."

His warm breath rushes over my neck and chips away at my resolve.

"I'm not a playboy, but I'm not out to make you fall in love with me, either. I like this push and pull between us."

"Mostly push these days."

"Yes, regretfully. What do I have to do to get a little more...pull?" His hand grips my hair and yanks back my head, giving him access to my neck.

I don't push him away as he lowers his lips to my skin. I don't protest as his hand falls to my breast. Like the little slut I am, I moan and encourage him to keep going as all thought evaporates from my mind.

But just as I reach to undo the pesky button separating me from pleasure, the villa door flies open.

"She's the bane of my existence, Ezra! If I have to hear her—" Bennett freezes beside the couch and looks away as Ezra and I scramble to put space between us.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Ezra shouts, and I don't think I've ever seen a human turn that shade of red.

"I didn't expect you to have company," Bennett says.

I sit forward and smirk at him. "And why is that? Because you told me to stay away from him? You should have known that would only push me toward him, Bennett."

Remembering why I'm there in the first place, Ezra turns toward his brother. "Speaking of that?—"

"Nope, we can discuss this later." Bennett shakes his head and turns for the door.

"At least tell me why you're back so early," Ezra says before he can leave. "The dinners usually last well into the evening."

Bennett balls his fists at his sides, more than happy to vent about the blonde stranger who ended his evening. "Her little friend ruined everything. When Chef Maurice brought out brain puffs as a nice little hors d'oeuvre, she refused to try it."

Ezra winces.

"When Maurice came at her and tried to assault her, I had to step between them. Do you know how difficult it was to defend the thing I hate?" Bennett shivers and looks at the ceiling. "I should have let him beat her to death, but I enjoy the food."

So I have both Cat and Bennett to thank for interrupting what was sure to be an evening of moaning, writhing, and a lot of pleasure? Well, I know just how to thank both of them.

I turn to the men and smile. "How would you boys like to team up with me for the Island Olympics tomorrow?"