“It’s not like that.”
“Quite, sir.”
“Stop calling me that. You technically outrank me.”
He gives me a mock salute. “I’ll take the tea to your non-friend.”
“I’ll take it to her.”
“Don’t drop it. That’s my favorite teapot.”
“I’m sure she’ll be honored.”
I take the ceramic tray and walk down the dimly lit hallway to Mandy’s room, my footsteps muffled on the carpet runner. “Mandy?” I try the door handle.
Locked.
“Open up,” I call again, sliding the tray on a nearby end table. “Mandy!” My fist bangs on the door. “Open up, Mandy!” Panic creeps up my spine. I kill it and fuel my fury.
“Open the goddamn door!” I bellow again, shoving my weight against the handle.
Inside, I hear her scream.
He’s here. He has to be in the room. He’s attacking her. He’s going to hurt her.
I don’t know how her attacker got onto my island—and heads will roll when I find out—but right now, I have to get to her. I have to save her.
I barely feel it as I crash my shoulder into the door again and again.
Mandy screams over the sound of splintering wood as the door gives way and I barrel into the room.
“Where is he?” I roar.
My assistant is standing in the middle of the room, clutching the towel wrapped around her and screaming her head off while Pepper, sopping wet, howls at her feet.
I grab her arm. “Are you hurt? Where did he go?”
“My towel!” she shrieks, slapping at my upper arm.
I barely feel it. I’m looking forhim, wherever the little fucker is.
“You can’t just storm in here. I don’t have any clothes on.” Mandy tries to shake me loose.
“You were screaming!” I shout at her.
“Because some lunatic was trying to break down the door!” she shouts back.
My hand still on her upper arm, I crush her to my chest then survey the room—the dresser and nightstand toppled over by the door, the nest of blankets on the bed.
“Did you barricade yourself in here?”
She adjusts her towel, not looking at me.
“Don’t do that.” I make a knife hand in front of her face. “I need to be able to get to you if something goes wrong.”
“Don’t lecture me.” She bats my hand away.
Adrenaline still pounds in my veins. There’s no outlet for it. I just want to tear something apart with my bare hands.
