The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (223 page)

The guy had claimed he loved me. But if he was so in love with me, how could he have just left me in the Ryans’ stateroom like that? We had gone down there to snag a little alone time and been caught half undressed by Mrs. Ryan and Poppy, one of Upton’s many ex-hookups. But instead of staying with me and pep talking me out of my abject humiliation, he had gone after Poppy to make sure she was okay. Was he still with her right now? Had he even realized I was missing? Why hadn’t he come to save me?

My chin dipped under the water and I surged up again. My arms were moving slower and slower. My eyes had closed. I was falling
asleep. For a moment I fought against it, but I felt my lids growing heavy again. And then my nose was under. Heart panicking, I pushed up with all my might, but I barely got my chin above the surface.

This was it. I had nothing left. I had done my best, but this was how I was going to die. I thought of my mother. Of how sad she would be. And my dad. He definitely wasn’t going to take this well. I hoped my brother, Scott, would be there for them. The thought of the three of them alone together, without me, brought tears to my eyes and made my nose clog.
I’m so sorry . . . but I can’t do this anymore. . . .

“There! I see something! Right over there! Shine the light!”

I closed my eyes. I was hallucinating. It was really over.

And slowly, I started to sink into the inky blue depths of the sea.

“Reed! Over here! I’m coming!”

I blinked. My brain told me I was hallucinating, but I raised my right hand just in case. The effort did me in, and instantly, I sank like a stone. Just before the water closed over my face, just before my eyes fluttered closed for the last time, I caught the briefest glimpse of a blond-haired boy tearing off his shirt and diving into the water.

Through the slats of the white vinyl blinds, I could see palm trees. They rustled in the wind, backdropped by an impossibly blue sky. Big puffy white clouds chased one another across the window and out of view. Somewhere nearby a bird chirped happily. Where the hell was I? Why was the window on the wrong side of the bed? What was that incessant beeping and why wouldn’t it stop?

The brightness of the sun was too much. I turned my head away from the window and felt a tug on my neck, like something was stuck to the skin there. I reached my hand up to inspect and froze. Sitting at the end of my bed—a hospital bed, I now realized with a jolt—was Sawyer Hathaway, his hands clasped together under his chin. He was wearing a tuxedo shirt open over his bare chest, along with a pair of blue scrubs. His light blond hair was a tousled mess, as if it had air dried hours ago and not seen a comb since.

“Sawyer?” I croaked.

His gray eyes popped open and relief flooded his face. “You’re awake.” He stood up and moved so close to the head of the bed that I could see the flecks of brown in his irises. “Are you okay?”

As if that was even worth discussing. I simply stared up at him. “You saved my life.”

A blush lit his chiseled cheeks. He gripped the metal guardrail at the side of my bed, his knuckles white. “How do you feel?”

“What’s this thing on my neck?” I asked, lifting my hand.

I winced in pain and my arm dropped back down again. My muscles felt like lifeless bags of flour, as if I’d spent an entire day in the weight room at Easton. I tried to move my legs. Same thing.

“I can’t move,” I whimpered, closing my eyes.

“You were treading water for three hours,” Sawyer said.

“Three hours?” My eyes popped open again. “How did you even find me?”

Sawyer pulled his chair from the foot of the bed and sat right next to me. He clasped his hands and rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward.

“When Upton couldn’t find you at the party he got worried and sent everyone out to search the boat,” he explained. His voice sounded pinched. Like he was fighting for control. “No one could find you anywhere and Noelle lost it. Her dad insisted that the police send out search boats, and we all grabbed whatever boats we could find and searched too.” He unclasped his hands and rubbed them over his knees. “I was in a boat with Noelle and my dad and brother, so it’s not like it was just me who saved you.”

“Please,” I said, my heart welling as I remembered the fear, the
sadness, the resignation. “I was just about to give up. If it wasn’t for you . . .” I took a deep, broken breath. “Thank you, Sawyer.”

His face lit up. For a moment it looked like he was trying to squash it, but the smile won out. Sawyer Hathaway looked me in the eye and smiled. It was only the second time I’d seen him do that since I’d arrived on the island. It was a very nice smile.

“You’re welcome,” he said simply.

“What time is it?” I asked. “Actually . . . what day is it?”

Sawyer smirked. “It’s December twenty-seventh. And it’s a little after three. You’ve been sleeping all day.”

I took a deep breath. I felt like I could sleep for
ten
days.

A hefty nurse with dark skin and long black hair stepped into the room, wearing a starchy-looking pink uniform. She widened her eyes at us, then angled her head back into the hallway.

“She’s awake!”

When she walked back into the room, she was followed by two police officers, one of them black, the other white. They were both tall, the black man broad and muscular, while his counterpart was more wiry. Both had stern, no-nonsense looks on their faces that made me instantly feel as if I was in trouble. They wore light blue polo shirts with blue shorts that showed their knees and leg hair, and sort of undermined their authority. I glanced at Sawyer, who had sat up straight at their entrance. His gaze was fixed on the cops.

“Good afternoon, Miss Brennan!” the nurse said in a Caribbean accent, walking around to the far side of my bed, across from Sawyer. “We are very happy to see you up and awake!”

“Thank you,” I replied, keeping one eye on the cops while she wrapped a blood pressure gauge around my upper arm. I realized for the first time that I was wearing a thin hospital gown, underpants, and nothing else. No bra to speak of. Then I realized with a start that when Sawyer had saved me I had been floating in the water in nothing but a tiny pair of black undies and an even skimpier strapless bra. My face burned, wondering how much, exactly, he, Graham, and Mr. Hathaway had seen.

“Miss Brennan, I’m Officer Marshall; this is Officer Gravois,” the white policeman said, pulling a small notebook out of the pocket of his shirt as he nodded at his partner. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Tired,” I replied.

He smiled slightly, but his partner maintained his dire expression.

“That’s understandable. But when you feel up to it, we’d like to ask you a few questions about your accident,” Officer Marshall said.

Accident?
I felt an instant flash of shock and anger. The nurse removed the blood pressure gauge with a loud rip and I struggled to push myself up onto my elbows. The pain in my muscles was excruciating, but I managed to get there. Again, the bandage on my neck pulled at my skin, and I placed my hand over it, trying to calm a burning sensation beneath the dressing.

“I can talk about it now, thanks, and it wasn’t an accident,” I said. “I was pushed.”

“What?” Sawyer blurted.

“Pushed?” the nurse echoed.

“Excuse me?” Officer Gravois asked dubiously, speaking for the first time. He had a French-Caribbean accent, like the nurse did, which somehow made him sound even more condescending than he looked.

“Someone on the boat tried to kill me,” I said firmly. “They tore off my necklace and shoved me overboard.”

I winced, remembering the priceless jewels Noelle had lent me. Jewels that were now lost forever. That explained the burning sensation on my neck. The bandage must have been covering a cut left by all those diamonds and sapphires.

“Someone shoved you,” Officer Marshall said flatly.

Their doubt shot under my skin and I pushed myself up higher. The nurse procured some pillows from a closet at the foot of the bed and pushed them behind me, helping me to sit up.

“All I remember is this musky smell . . . like cologne or perfume,” I said. “And then someone ripped off my necklace and pushed me. That’s how I got this cut.” I turned my head so they could see the bandage. “Whoever did this is a thief and a murderer.”

“That would be
attempted
murderer,” Officer Gravois corrected with a chuckle. His partner hid a smile behind his hand. I noticed he was holding a pencil, but had yet to write down anything in his trusty notebook.

“You don’t believe me?” I demanded.

“Perhaps you are confused,” Officer Gravois said. “Or perhaps you feel embarrassed because the entire St. Barths police force was sent out looking for you for hours. You want to make it seem as if you are a victim, not a mere . . . what is the word . . . klutz?”

Okay.
Now
I was pissed.

“I’m not a klutz! Someone wants me dead. How can you not believe me?”

“You were drinking, no?” Officer Gravois said.

Suddenly I felt even more alone than I had out in the open ocean. I needed help. Someone was trying to
kill
me and these were the people who were supposed to help. It was their job. But apparently they were too lazy to
do
their job and preferred instead to mock me. Desperation burbled up in my veins, making my heart race like I’d downed ten cups of espresso.

“Actually,
no,
” I spat. “I had one glass of champagne. If I were drunk enough to imagine this entire thing, do you really think I could have treaded water for that long?”

“It wasn’t
that
long,” Officer Marshall said, flipping the pages in his notebook to check it. “It was only about three and a half hours.”

“That’s a long time!” Sawyer and I said in unison.

I glanced at Sawyer, grateful that I had someone on my side. The cops looked at each other, clearly amused by our overly dramatic antics.

“Look, you don’t understand. This isn’t the first time,” I said, growing more frustrated. “First, someone spooked my horse and almost sent me headlong over a cliff. Then my Jet Ski went haywire and exploded, and now this. Someone on the island is after me.”

My heart pounded as I told the story. I realized with a start that whoever was after me would probably try again. No. Not probably. Definitely. They’d already tried three times, so clearly, they were determined to get the job done. I swallowed hard, trying to dampen my fear.

“Miss Brennan, you must calm down,” the nurse said, touching her fingertips to my arm. “You need your rest.”

“I’ll rest if you tell these guys to listen to me,” I blurted.

“What’s going on here?”

Mr. Lange’s booming voice filled the room as he stormed in, followed by Noelle and Upton. I had never seen a more welcome sight in my life. Not only did the jackass police look instantly intimidated by Noelle’s father, but Noelle and Upton’s mere presence made me feel safe.

“We’re just interviewing Miss Brennan, sir,” one of the officers said. But I wasn’t paying attention, because I was too busy staring at Upton and wishing I could touch him. Suddenly, more than anything, I just needed to cuddle into his arms and stay there for about ten years. But the room was so full now, he couldn’t even get close enough to me to touch my hand. He and Noelle hung back near the foot of the bed while the nurse changed my IV bag. Noelle looked at me like she just wanted to hug me. I knew the feeling.

“Harassing her is what it sounded like,” Mr. Lange replied, crossing his arms over his chest. His handsome face was red with anger, the little lines around his mouth deeper than usual as he frowned. He glanced over at Sawyer and me. “What’s going on?”

“Reed told them she was pushed off the boat and they don’t believe her,” Sawyer said matter-of-factly.

“Pushed?” Noelle asked. She walked over to me now, practically shoving the nurse aside. Her long brown hair tumbled down her back in unwashed waves and she wore a plain white T-shirt, black shorts,
and zero makeup. The most basic outfit I’d ever seen on her. “Who pushed you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice sounding small. “But I saw a . . . someone in a hooded jacket,” I said, suddenly recalling. I glared at the officers. “I saw them moving away from the railing when I broke the surface.”

“Can you describe this person?” Officer Marshall asked, his pencil at the ready. He cast a sidelong glance at Mr. Lange, as if he wanted to make sure Noelle’s dad saw him doing his job.

“No,” I said. “I couldn’t make out their face from the water.”

The nurse slunk out behind the officers’ backs.

“You have to admit, it sounds a bit far-fetched,” Officer Marshall said, looking at Noelle’s father.

Mr. Lange took a step closer to the officers. “If the girl says she was pushed, she was pushed. I expect you to take her accusation seriously.”

The two officers glanced at each other over Mr. Lange’s shoulder. I could tell they were still doubtful, but they finally acquiesced.

“Yes, sir. Of course,” Officer Marshall said. “Of course there will be a full investigation.”

“Good,” Mr. Lange said. “I’ll be calling your supervisor to make sure your department is aware of the gravity of the situation.”

Officer Gravois’s jaw clenched. I could tell he did not like the sound of this, and I was glad. Glad that he was unhappy. He looked over at me and attempted a smile. “Get some rest, Miss Brennan. We’re glad you’re all right.”

Yeah. Sure you are. More like you’re pissed off that I just created actual work for you to do.

The two cops left the room and we could hear them bitching to each other in French all the way down the hall. Mr. Lange whipped out his cell phone and speed dialed someone, his lips set in a tight line.

“I’m going to go speak to the doctors,” he said, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Someone should be in here checking you out right now.” As he walked out he barked into the phone. “Get me the St. Barths police department. Now.”

“Thanks,” I called after him meekly. Finally, Noelle, Upton, Sawyer, and I were alone.