“We’ll find her,” I say, and Nolan and Oren are already on it.
Our resources outweigh Troy’s by a mile. Our leverage is something only money can buy, and Clover is fucking precious cargo.
“Thank you,” Troy says, relief flooding his voice. He’s right to feel relieved; his sister is our problem now. Nothing will ever happen to her, not on our watch.
“Just keep her safe until I can sort this out.”
By the time I disconnect the call, we already know where the slip of trouble is.
“The Hook Up Resort?” I ask, a frown creasing my brow.
“It’s a singles’ resort island club known for hookups. Fuck,” Oren says, his jaw clenching as hard as Nolan’s and mine.
What the fuck is she doing in a place like that? Does she think she can fuck other guys? Hell no. She’s Troy’s baby sister. She’s supposed to remain a virgin until the day she dies. She might as well become a nun.
How the fuck did she disappear so quickly? We aren’t above keeping her under our personal surveillance, and we check in from time to time.
She had ten days off from her rotations. No plans to go anywhere. She isn’t seeing anyone. We would probably break his neck quietly and pretend we know nothing about it. She doesn’t have a big circle of friends she hangs out with, except her bestfriend, Alessia Hagen, who isn’t who she claims to be. We get full reports on every single person in her life.
By all accounts, she was supposed to go home after her last rotation and stay home for the full ten days. Except for the little detour she made. To our apartment, no less. Does she understand how we devoured the lingering scent of her perfume when we went home?
We were going to see what she was up to, but damn. We went into one long, hostile takeover meeting, and she disappeared with our fucking boxers. What is she up to?
Does she also understand how fucking hard it is to stay away from her? Because the instant we’re within arm’s length of her again, she becomes ours.
Ever since that night at the masquerade ball, when we found her sitting there in nothing but a red bra and panties—an image that has haunted us to this day—we knew the next time, we wouldn’t send her away. And the code... Fuck.
“She’s going to get an extra ten strikes when we get our hands on her,” Oren says as we’re already on our way to our helicopter pad at the top of our building, carrying the overnight duffel bags our PA, Samantha Simone, shoved into our hands “just in case.”
Clover had us fucked from day one, from that night in the hotel room when she offered us her body. But that wasn’t enough. We wanted everything.
The island is so far away it feels like we crossed half the damn planet. It’s a wonder we haven’t lost our minds getting there. We couldn’t help thinking the fucking worst too.
Would we have to tear apart the entire resort until I found her? How long was that going to take? Nolan kept himself busycalculating exit routes and security weak points, while Oren needed desperately to pace, and being confined in a helicopter wasn’t working out for him. We’d already gotten our inland contact to set up radar around the island, making it the most protected island of all.
By the time we finally step off the helicopter pad and onto the soft white sand, my blood is already boiling with protective fury.
It doesn’t take us long to find her. Not when we’re in apex predator mode. Not when we have a vested interest in the detail.
She’s standing near the open-air beach bar, the warm glow of the string lights catching in her hair. She’s laughing — actually laughing—at something some tall, tanned bastard in a linen shirt is saying. He’s leaning in way too close, drink in hand, looking far too comfortable talking to the woman who belongs to us.
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. Beside me, I feel Nolan go completely still, that sharp thinker’s brain of his already dissecting the scene. Oren lets out a low, dangerous sound under his breath.
We’ve been caged animals worried about her, and she’s having the fucking time of her life in a sundress that hugs every curve of her body and shows off the dewy skin of her shoulders. But then the bastard puts his on her waist.
The three of us exchange one glance. No words needed.
Chapter Seven
Clover
One minute I’m sipping a drink with a tiny umbrella, flirting with a very nice-looking man who is ready to help me lose my inhibitions in a prostrate position, on my back, naked. Sex. He wants to have sex with me, and here on The Hook Up Island, it’s the absolute permissible thing to do.
But then the next minute, my would-be tryst is dangling in the air as one billionaire takes him by the throat and tells him to get lost or die. Literally.
Another billionaire commandeers my cocktail from my hand before a third billionaire scoops me up, tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of nothing, and marches me into the hotel reception, up an elevator, and into... not my room, but what looks like a supremely more luxurious one—like a presidential suite or something.
And the worst part? No one helped me. I screamed ‘kidnapping’ in broad daylight to deaf ears. Instead, everyone just moved aside and let the three men in their bespoke suits and with theirgorgeous faces go right ahead. The elevator-button presser just greeted them reverently while I kicked and screamed for help.
