Temptation Island

by Rachel Woods

  “I don’t even know how to get in touch with Nick and Sam,” I said, hoping Lisa and I could brainstorm some way to make her idea, which I was starting to like, work. “I mean, maybe I could request them for a fantasy, or something.”

  “I’m sure you can do that,” Lisa said.

  “Or, maybe,” I said, as the idea suddenly occurred to me.

  “What?” Lisa asked.

  “I can ask one of the maids,” I said. “Just like I did when I wanted to get in touch with Joshua.”

  “You’ll do this favor for me?” I asked. “You’ll give this note to Nick for me?”

  Nodding, the maid said, “And you’ll give me three hundred dollars?”

  “Right,” I said, thankful for the mercenary attitude I’d once judged. “Three hundred.”

  Moments later, we made the exchange. I put three crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and an aqua envelope—complimentary hotel stationery—in her hands, and then she hurried off to do my bidding.

  Closing the door behind her, I walked to one of the couches and sat down, hoping my words would convince Nick to talk to me. I want to meet in private. Text me and let me know. I’d also left my cell phone number.

  What I hadn’t done, and wasn’t sure I would do, was tell Icarus that I planned to talk to Nick. Lisa had told me not to, but I didn’t know if I should keep things from him. Icarus was on my side, committed to helping me clear my name, but …

  I had to be sure that I could trust him. If Nick agreed to meet with me, and if he corroborated Icarus’s story, then I would feel a lot better about trusting Icarus. But, what if Nick didn’t corroborate Icarus’s story? I wasn’t sure how I would feel about that.

  Two hours later, a text came through that nearly brought me to my knees. Staring at the words on my cell phone, I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or terrified, or maybe both. My heart pounding, I read the response again:

  ok lets meet 2nite. 11p. bar at hotel beach

  Slowly, I sank down onto the couch. I wasn’t exactly eager to meet Nick at a beachside bar at night, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to talk with him. Despite Icarus’s warning that “cornered animals attack” and his worries about my safety, I had to try to find out what Nick knew about Henri’s alliance and the blackmail plot.

  Around ten o’clock, my nerves were shot, and my stomach was doing back flips.

  I was no longer convinced that meeting Nick on the beach at eleven was a good idea. But I had to go through with it. Before I lost my nerve, I shoved my feet into a pair of wedge heels, grabbed my purse, and left my suite.

  Twenty minutes later, nervous and jittery, I was sitting at the hotel’s beachside bar, at the far end, away from a dozen or so raucous couples—female guests and their fantasy dates flirting and displaying too much affection. I’d just taken a second sip of my seltzer and lime when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, I glanced back, gasped, and nearly fell off the stool.

  “Ms. Miller?” asked the guy standing in front of me—a guy I recognized. “I’m Nick Presso. How are you tonight?”

  At that moment, I was flabbergasted, staring at Nick Presso. He was one of the gods from the waterfall fantasy. Hermes, if I was remembering correctly.

  After taking the stool next to me, Nick ordered a shot of Hennessey—compliments of me—and when the bartender sat the glass on a napkin in front of him, he took more than a moment to savor the cognac. While Nick sipped leisurely, as though we actually were friends meeting for a drink, I took deep breaths, trying to remember the questions I wanted to ask him.

  “So, why’d you want to meet with me?” he asked and then took a slow sip of his drink, giving me a smoldering stare over the rim of the glass. “You changed your mind about the foursome?”

  “I’ll get to the point,” I said, ignoring his sly sarcasm.

  “Please do,” he encouraged, his expression all business, no longer teasing.

  “I’m sure you heard about what happened to Henri,” I started and then cleared my throat as I glanced away from his piercing glare. “And I—”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Icarus when he talked to me,” Nick said, putting his empty glass on the bar.

  “So, Icarus talked to you?” I asked, cautioning myself to make sure, but joyous relief was already spreading through my limbs.

  Nodding, Nick signaled the bartender for another drink, which I was sure would end up on my tab. “He got in my face, asking me about some bullshit plan to blackmail you that Henri had come up with.”

  “So, you didn’t help Henri blackmail me?” I asked, wondering if I’d be able to see through any lies he might be telling me. “You weren’t in the alliance that Henri put together?”

  “I don’t know about no damn alliance,” Nick said, taking a quick swig of his second drink. “I’ll tell you like I told Icarus—I didn’t try to blackmail you. And I didn’t kill Henri, either, which I’m sure was your next question.”

  I stared at him, trying to read his sullen expression, looking for deception. But, all I saw was the flippant, bored attitude of the guy from the waterfall fantasy, who didn’t look as appealing with his clothes on, covering his biceps and the eight-pack.

  “I heard you killed him,” Nick said, his teasing smirk back.

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  “Heard the cops got a lot of evidence against you,” he went on, as though he wanted to bait me into something, maybe some response that would expose me as a liar.

  “The evidence is not as damaging as the cops seem to think it is,” I said, trying to stamp out the desperate panic rising within me. “But, unfortunately, it is enough to raise doubts about me. That’s why I need to find the real killer.”

  “The real killer,” Nick said, holding his glass of cognac at eye level, examining it. “If it’s not you, then I wonder who it could be.”

  “Do you know?” I asked, my pulse jumping. “Do you have any idea who might have—”

  “Like I told Icarus, you might want to have a chat with Sam.”

  “Sam?” My heart pounded. “Why do you say that?”

  “If anybody was working with Henri to blackmail you,” Nick said. “It would have been Sam.”

  “Are you saying you think Sam killed Henri?”

  Nick finished his second drink and then put the glass on the bar. “That’s what I heard.”

  “What?” I whispered, staring at him, my heart slamming. “Do you have any proof?

  “I don’t have proof,” Nick said. “But I know somebody who does.”

  I felt something break free and take off within me. “Who is it?”

  “I need to talk to this person first,” he said. “They didn’t tell me to go repeating what I’d been told.”

  “I won’t say that you told me,” I promise, feeling as though something important was slipping away from me.

  Nick shook his head. “The person might not want to get involved.”

  “Please, tell me,” I implored. “I am facing a murder charge for something I didn’t do, something I could never have done. If there is someone who has proof that Sam killed Henri then, please, you have to tell me. Who is the person who told you?”

  With a sigh, Nick said, “It was—”

  What sounded like a herd of angry elephants split the tense air between us, the abrupt sound startling the bartender and almost knocking me off my stool.

  “What the hell?”

  “Sorry. My phone.” Nick frowned and then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Silencing the elephants, he stared at the display screen. “Hold on, I gotta check this text.”

  Frustrated, I nodded and took a sip of my water, trying not to scream. Did I believe Nick? Not sure. Yes and no. His claim about not being part of the alliance was doubtful. I had a feeling he was telling the truth about not being the killer. Couldn’t explain it, but I couldn’t imagine him plunging a knife in Henri’s chest. He was well-built, but I sensed a lack of self-confidence. He didn’t appear aggressive and volatile e
nough to take a life.

  Then again, he’d been eager to rat out Sam. Maybe too eager. Had that been because he didn’t want Sam to get away with killing Henri? Or had he been hoping to keep the suspicion away from himself?

  I wasn’t ready to speculate and make any conclusions just yet. First, I wanted to update Lisa. My best friend had demanded I call her immediately after I met with Nick. I didn’t want to engage in any deductive reasoning without her perspective, insight, and input.

  “Listen, um, I gotta go,” Nick said, still glancing at his phone as he slid off the barstool.

  “What? You have to go where?” I sputtered, panicking. “Wait a minute, you didn’t tell me—”

  “Stazia Zacheo,” he said “She’s the one who told me that Sam killed Henri.”

  “Nick, wait,” I said, sliding off my stool, eager to follow him. “When did you talk to Stazia? Where is she? Icarus tried to find her, but he said she wasn’t home.”

  “If Icarus really wanted to find Stazia, he could have,” he said and turned from me, walking away from the bar, slipping between the frisky couples, and disappearing from my line of sight.

  Troubled, I stared at the sea of lust crowding the bar. Nick’s words carried a disturbing insinuation, an implication of insincerity in Icarus’s intent to locate the fake maid. Equally hard was trying to ignore my suspicions of Icarus, which had been revived somewhat, by Nick’s claim. Why wouldn’t Icarus want to find Stazia Zacheo? Was he trying to protect her? Or, maybe warn her?

  After closing out my tab, I headed back to my suite. Probably wasn’t a good idea to overanalyze what Nick had said, I decided. Maybe it had been opinion and conjecture, not solid fact. Icarus had promised to continue looking for Stazia Zacheo, and I wanted to believe he’d been telling the truth. If Nick had been honest with me, then finding Stazia was more important than ever. She had to tell the police what she knew about Henri’s murder, how Sam had killed Henri, so the murder charge against me could be dropped.

  DAY ELEVEN

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, closing the door after Icarus showed up at my suite around three o’clock. All morning, I’d been texting him, nagging him about his work schedule for the day and reminding him to make sure he stopped by to see me before he headed home. “I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” Icarus asked, taking a seat on one of the tufted divans.

  “We need to set up a meeting with Octavia,” I began, taking a seat on the opposite couch. “And the police need to be there also.”

  “Why do we need a meeting with my cousin and the cops?” Icarus asked, leaning forward.

  “Because Sam killed Henri,” I announced, feeling a bit triumphant, like I used to whenever I would win high-profile cases, a giddy sensation I hadn’t felt in the last six months. “We need to tell Octavia and the police, so they can drop the murder charges.”

  “Sam killed Henri?” Icarus looked bewildered. “How do you know this?”

  “Nick told me.”

  “Nick told you that Sam killed Henri?” Icarus gaped at me. “When did he tell you that?”

  “When I talked to him.”

  “You did what?”

  “I met with Nick,” I repeated, a bit more adamant in response to Icarus’s tone, which was irritatingly admonishing, like an angry managing partner scolding a disgraced litigator.

  “Why did you do that?” Jumping to his feet, Icarus stared at me. “When did you talk to him?”

  “Last night,” I snipped, feeling defensive. “We met up at the hotel bar across from the beach.”

  “Why the hell would you go talk to him when I told you …” Icarus trailed off, and seconds later, his eyes narrowed. “You still don’t trust me, do you? You didn’t believe me when I told you that I talked to Nick.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t believe you,” I said, wincing at my lies.

  “It’s just that you still think I had something to do with blackmailing you,” Icarus said, shaking his head. “And I guess I can’t blame you. That video Joshua recorded for you shows me going into the locker room at Golden Lizard Beach, opening locker seventeen, and taking out the beach bag that you and I put the money in. So, I know it looks like I went to steal the money. And it doesn’t help that I lied to you about having to work because I didn’t want to tell you about my plan to force Henri to confess.”

  Sighing, I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth and then released it, saying, “Icarus, I do want to trust you.”

  Crossing his arms, he said, “But, I’m not making it easy, right?”

  “No, not really,” I admitted.

  “Still, Quinn, you know I didn’t take the money,” Icarus said, pacing around the couch. “Whoever Henri sent to pick up the cash got to the locker room before I did. That person switched the newspaper-wrapped money bundles for the newspaper-wrapped paperback books then put the beach bag back in the locker and left. The video showed you who took the money. And I don’t know why Joshua didn’t follow that person. He just stayed there until I showed up and—”

  “Wait a minute,” I cut him off. “That wasn’t on the video!”

  Icarus stopped pacing and frowned at me. “What wasn’t on the video?”

  “The person who took the money out of the beach bag and replaced it with books was not on that video.”

  “They have to be on the video,” Icarus insisted. “Whoever that person was, Joshua had to have recorded them.”

  “But, he didn’t,” I said, confused, filled with wariness and doubt. “The video only shows you removing the beach bag from locker seventeen. That’s the only reason why I thought you were blackmailing me. That’s why I went to Henri’s house looking for you.”

  “Wait, wait.” Icarus stopped me. “If the video doesn’t show who really took that money from—”

  “Then we need to talk to Joshua,” I said, thinking a bit more like the Quinn Miller who had gone undefeated in her first two years of cases. “We need to ask him if he saw someone else open locker seventeen.”

  “If he was videoing the whole time, from the moment you showed up until the moment he followed me to Henri’s place,” Icarus said. “Then he must have video of whoever Henri sent to pick up the money.”

  “We also need the original footage from his phone,” I said, energized by the idea of recapturing my intelligent discernment. “He might not be willing to hand it over, but Octavia can file a motion to compel Joshua to produce the cell phone, if need be. First, however, she’d probably need to have him designated as a fact witness.”

  “Are you sure you need Octavia?” Icarus said, his tone jocular, his gaze amused. “How do you know what motion she should file?”

  Sheepish, I shrugged. “Oh, um, well, I don’t think I told you this, but I’m a lawyer.”

  “Really?” Icarus asked, sounding a bit impressed.

  “Complex commercial litigation,” I said. “I know nothing about criminal defense, so I definitely need your cousin’s help. And, anyway, you know what they say about a lawyer who tries to represent herself.”

  “No, what do they say?”

  “She has a fool for a client.”

  Icarus laughed and then returned to the couch, sitting next to me. “Well, you’re definitely not a fool, Quinn Miller. And you’re not a murderer, either,” he said, adamant. “We’re going to prove that.”

  “Quinn, don’t take this the wrong way,” Lisa said. “But, you have got to stop thinking with your hoo-ha.”

  “What?” I pulled the cell phone from my ear to stare at it and then pressed the speaker button so I could talk and pace at the same time. “What are you talking about? I am not thinking with my … lady bits.”

  Icarus was gone and I was talking to Lisa, giving her the customary update of the nightmare my life had become and soliciting her advice and, occasionally, arousing her consternation and indignation.

  “I don’t believe for one minute that story Icarus gave yo
u about someone else showing up at the changing room, before he did, to switch the real money with paperback books,” Lisa said. “Why would Henri tell the person to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But, you’re right, his story is—”

  “It’s bullshit,” Lisa exclaimed. “If it was true, then it would have been on that video Joshua recorded for you. If it was true, Joshua would have followed that person, and he wouldn’t have recorded Icarus taking the bag out of the locker because he wouldn’t have been there.”

  “Maybe I should ask Icarus to show me the beach bag with the newspaper-wrapped books inside of it,” I suggested. “Wouldn’t that prove that he was telling the truth?”

  “Icarus is not stupid,” she said. “I’m sure he can produce the bag with the books in it. He’s already got a damn good excuse for all his lies, trust me. But don’t trust him. I believe he is smart and manipulative and he’s probably not going to slip up. So, you have to go with your gut, not your hoo-ha.”

  “I know, I know,” I said.

  “Do you really?” Lisa asked. “Do you know what happens to people who get convicted of murder on St. Mateo? Do you know it’s an automatic life sentence? Do you know how horrible the prisons are in paradise? You’re not going to have any spectacular views of palm trees or white sand beaches or—”

  “Lisa, I get it, okay,” I said, annoyed. “But, I’m not going to prison for a murder I didn’t commit. My attorney thinks we need to find a better suspect.”

  “What if the better suspect is Icarus?”

  “Icarus is not a killer.”

  “How do you know?” Lisa challenged.

  “Because,” I started and then quickly faltered, irritated because I couldn’t think of a definitive dispute to Lisa’s accusations.

  “Quinn, forget about the mind-blowing sex for a moment and consider this,” Lisa said. “You can’t really prove anything that Icarus has told you.”