44. Caro

Barry dumped another meal on the floor in front of me. Potato chips, a banana, and a burrito wrapped in aluminum foil. No, not a burrito. A collito. Collin, who owned the food stand near the harbour on Ilha Grande, put his own special spin on the dish: shredded meat—don't ask what kind—fries, cheese, caramelised onions, and ketchup wrapped in a tortilla. Which meant we were on Ilha Grande. We were in Half Moon Harbour on Ilha Grande, and down here below the waterline, with the quality soundproofing a fancy yacht demanded, nobody would hear me if I screamed. These arrogant beasts—they were hiding me in plain sight, and all I had to use against them was two bottles of water. Half a litre each—they wouldn't even make a dent if I used one to hit Barry over the head.

"You look like shit," he said as a parting comment.

"Yeah, well, at least I have an excuse. You were just born ugly."

Ugly face, ugly heart, ugly soul. The door closed behind him, and I heard the click of the lock. Then the sound of voices. Who was he talking with? I pressed my ear to the wood, straining to hear.

"When can we leave?" Barry asked. "Staying here is dangerous. The police are everywhere, asking questions, and there are people from America with them."

America? A tiny ember of hope sparked. Ryder? Had he brought reinforcements?

"The police are not here. They're on Valentine Cay, on Malavilla, on Spice Island."

The newcomer was a local, well-spoken and confident. A leader, not a follower.

"It's only a matter of time. How much longer do we have to stay?"

"Until we find Monique, you know that. If Tomas hadn't been such a fool…"

Monique was still alive? That spark kindled into the tiniest of flames. She'd escaped, and if she went to the cops, if she shared what she knew about Stacey…maybe they'd hand her right back to the poachers. She knew, didn't she? She knew the police couldn't be trusted.

"I didn't know he'd told her so much. If I did, he would have paid the price sooner."

"Always so bloodthirsty."

"Is that a problem?" Barry snarled.

"Not at all, but let's try to avoid any more public shoot-outs, okay?"

"Caro's damn dog started it. If the mutt hadn't bitten Chester, we'd have been in and out, quiet. Everything was under control."

"You lost six men!" the boss snapped. "Six men, including Jackson. Everything was not under control."

Six? Knox had taken out five of them? Or had Franklin helped? He kept a gun on the top shelf in his closet, although I couldn't recall him ever using it. Maybe that was why nobody had come to help—they'd been fighting their way forward. I hadn't realised there were so many people on Barry's team. Barry the coward. He'd stayed in the boat until the end, when he'd run over with that syringe.

I hoped Knox had killed them slowly.

Knox.That tiny flame licked a little higher.

"They tricked us," Barry whined. "We thought both of the blonde slut's bodyguards left."

"Carolina and Monique—your team is making too many mistakes."

"We'll find Monique before she goes to the police. They're not even looking for her."

"I thought that idiot Fernandez sent Jason and Maceo to ask questions on Treasure Atoll?"

Jason and Maceo? Was that Jason Roy and Maceo Beattie? It had to be them. And he'd called Vince an idiot, so did that mean Vince wasn't involved? Wasn't dirty? And maybe not such an idiot either if he'd sent the two officers to Treasure Atoll. That was nowhere near Valentine Cay. Was he trying to keep them away from the investigation?

Perhaps…perhaps there was a chance for me?

"They're only asking about Carolina, and they have no idea where to start. Fernandez told Maceo that they're focusing on the smaller islands."

So, Officer Beattie was definitely involved. That no-good— Wait… Ice prickled over my skin. Carolina. The man outside had called me Carolina. Not Caro or Caroline. Carolina.

"Better that Maceo is out of the way. He's getting nervous, and we have other eyes and ears."

"Any word on what we should do with the woman?"

"The boss just arrived—he can deal with her while you search for Monique."

This man, this monster who owned cops and ordered Barry the Barracuda around, who didn't have a problem with bloodshed, he wasn't the boss?

A new voice entered the conversation.

"You can go now. I'll take it from here."

And that flame, that precious flame, it stuttered and died.