“We tried a couples therapist once. Didn’t work that well in the end, obviously, because we’re here, but the therapist did tell us some stuff that helped things along more than anything else ever did. Two main things. Never stop dating your wife. After he told me that, I realized that as soon as Meredith and I got hitched, I stopped trying. Stopped taking her out, stopped trying to surprise her.”
“I see.”
“Never stop trying, because that’s when things start to get stale and resentment and boredom build up. Secondly, you gotta talk to her. Like, really talk. Don’t just wait for her to come to you all the time to start the conversation, all because women are supposedly meant to be the emotional, talkative ones. That’s bullshit. Men have feelings too. We’re allowed to talk about them. Don’t have to be macho and detached all the time.”
I hadn’t really been listening to the first part all that much, but Mike’s second point really hammered something in for me.
Shit…I’d never actually gone and talked to Indi. I was so frustrated with her for not telling me how she felt when I was convinced she secretly had romantic feelings toward me, but at no point had I gone to her and fucking admitted my own feelings.
I never went to her and actually said the words: Indi, I want you so much that it hurts. You’re all I think about anymore. All I dream about. Please, give us a shot.
Instead, all I’d ever done was crack stupid sleazy jokes and make teasing remarks about her wanting me in the hopes that she’d do all the hard work and own up to it. Nothing more.
Christ, I was a fucking idiot.
Indi wasn’t exactly my best and oldest friend, but she still knew me when I was quite a bit younger. Back then, I was a sleazebag. A man whore. The kind of guy who made women drop their panties for me, only to drop them the next day. I moved out of Lakewater around the same time she left for college, and six whole years went by before we saw each other again. And when we did, I acted like my old self: a douchey, cocky asshole.
No wonder she refused to talk to me or admit any feelings she may or may not have—she was afraid. Scared that I was still that same asshole who would use her for a good time in the bedroom and then ditch her the second I got bored. All because I was too much of a fucking idiot to ever actually talk to her and tell her she was wrong; tell her I’d grown up a bit since back in the day.
It was time I manned the hell up; stopped screwing around and actually told Indi what I wanted and how I felt.
I glanced at my watch. “We better pack up,” I said, seeing that it was already past twelve. “Filming starts at one, so we need to be back for that.”
It would only take a few minutes to head back to the inn, but I wanted a chance to talk to Indi and tell her the truth before we got back into filming for the show. We didn’t even need to be here anymore. I could give her everything she wanted if she just let me. We could end this charade and head home, forget about trying to win any sort of prize.
She was the only true prize in this scenario.
Mike nodded. “True. Let’s go.”
We packed all the gear up and trudged back to the inn. By the time I returned the fishing gear and headed into the main function room, I could see most of the contestants and crew members already congregating there in anticipation of the afternoon challenge. Indi was there too.
I strode over to her. “Indi, can we go somewhere for a minute? I want to talk to you. It’s important.”
She looked shocked at the earnest tone in my voice. “Oh. Sure,” she replied, her hazel eyes widening. “I…um…I actually really wanted to talk to you as well.”
I smiled, relieved. “Great. Let’s go back to our—”
My sentence was cut off by a loud gasp from Elise Tilden. “Yuri!”
I turned to look. Her husband had just stumbled in through the French doors, blood seeping from his mouth. He was bug-eyed and white as a sheet. “I didn’t see who it was,” he choked out, his voice raspy. “Got me….behind….”
“Yuri, what happened?” Elise said, frantically dashing over to him.
He let out another choking sound, and then he fell forward, landing on the polished floorboards with a heavy thud.
There was an ax sticking out of his back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Blake
“What the fuck?”
Dean Browning shouted, breaking the awful silence, and all hell suddenly broke loose. Some contestants and crew members screamed and ran in every which way. Others were frozen stiff with shock and terror.
Indi was one of the latter. Rigid with fear, she stood there staring at Yuri’s body, her face ashen and her hand firmly clamped over her mouth. My first instinct was to protect her, and I wrapped my arms around her and shielded her face from the horrifying scene.
“Don’t look, Indi. Just close your eyes,” I murmured. Then I turned to shout at Ed Kramer, who was standing nearby with wide, shell-shocked eyes. “Check his pulse!”
Ed nodded and gestured at a crew member, who dashed forward. He leaned down and gingerly pressed two fingers to Yuri’s neck, then shakily stood back up and shook his head. “He’s… he’s gone.”
“Fuck. Jesus fuck,” Ed cursed. “Grab that tablecloth and cover him up. And you, call the fucking island sheriff!” he added, pointing to another crew member.
Someone ripped a cloth from the table and draped it over Yuri’s body. Dark red blood quickly seeped onto the delicate white lace.
Ed yelled out again. “Okay, all contestants, please go to your rooms for your own safety! I shouldn’t have to say it, but obviously filming is canceled for today!”
“For today?” I said incredulously. Surely the show would be canceled entirely now.
He waved his hand and shook his head. “Jesus, you know what I fucking mean. Just go!”
Indi was shaking like a leaf in my arms now. I didn’t think she could walk without her legs caving inward, so I picked her up and carried her out of the function room.
When we made it to our own room, I put her down on the bed and sat next to her. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened, Indi. But I’m sorry you had to see it.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. I could tell she was trying not to cry. “Someone murdered Yuri, Blake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s so…”
“Fucked up. It’s fucked up.”
She nodded. “I can’t believe it. And Elise… poor Elise. I can’t imagine….”
She began to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks until I brushed my finger over her face to wipe them away. Then I wrapped my arms around her again, holding her tight while she collapsed against me, her chest heaving with sobs.
I had no idea how long we stayed like that. I lost track of time. Indi’s tears soaked through the right side of my shirt, but I didn’t care. I kept on holding her.
Someone knocked on the door. Indi sat back and dabbed at her eyes with her sweater sleeve. “Can you get that?” she asked, her voice hoarse from all the crying.
I nodded and stood up, crossing the room to the door. It was Donna and Keenan. Both looked pale, and Donna’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Hey,” Keenan said quietly. “We’ve all been asked to go downstairs.”
“When?”
“Now. A crew member just came and asked us to tell everyone on this floor.”
I nodded. “Give us a minute.”
I turned back to Indi. Before I could say anything, she stood up and wiped her tearstained face. “It’s okay, I heard,” she said.
She stepped out of the room, and I followed closely behind, not taking my eyes off her for a second. Whoever hurt Yuri was probably still at large, and I wasn’t going to risk anything happening to Indi.
We gathered downstairs in the bar. Ed, the crew, and several inn staff members were there already, looking pale and stressed as hell. Next to Ed was a portly man with an olive green jacket and a sheriff’s badge. When everyone was present, he spoke up. “Hello, everyone. I’m Sheriff Irons. I’m so
rry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
He paused and cleared his throat.
“Obviously most of you saw what happened earlier today. Your fellow contestant Yuri Tilden has been murdered. My officers and I will be beginning a full investigation immediately, and we’ll need to talk to each and every one of you at some point soon. Until then, it’s a waiting game.”
“We can’t leave the island,” Ed added.
“Even if we wanted to evacuate everyone from the show from the island, it can’t happen,” Sheriff Irons said. “We’ve called this in to the nearest city on the mainland, and they can’t send anyone out.”
I frowned again. “Why?”
He sighed heavily. “Usually spring up here isn’t bad, but unfortunately, weather predictions east of here are pretty damn dire for the next few days. That means no boats, seaplanes or helicopters can leave the mainland and get anywhere near us.”
“And the last boat allowed off the island already left four hours ago,” Ed said.
Indi’s face turned white again. My hands balled into fists by my side. “Are you fucking kidding me? You mean to tell us that we’re stuck here with a goddamned murderer on the loose?”
Sheriff Irons held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not an ideal situation.”
“Not ideal? That’s a fucking understatement. A man just wound up with a goddamned ax in his spine, and you expect us all to stay?”
A few of the other contestants agreed with me in mutters.
“It’s simply not possible. In a few days—a week at the most—the weather should have cleared up, and you’ll be safe to leave. After we’ve spoken to you all, that is.”
“What are we meant to do till then?” Dean said angrily.
“Everyone will just have to be very alert and careful. And of course, one of my officers will be here at the inn at all times,” Sheriff Irons replied. “We’ll begin interviews soon.”
“So I gather you think whoever did that to Yuri is one of us?” Mike asked, looking around nervously. “As in the contestants?”
The sheriff shook his head. “No. It’s too early to speculate on anything. But from what we’ve gathered so far, Mr. Tilden was attacked in the second floor east wing hallway about ten minutes before everyone began to head to the function room. We can’t see who did it on the hallway surveillance camera, because the killer narrowly avoided being seen on it, but we can see that Mr. Tilden collapsed to the ground for several minutes before getting up and stumbling down to the function room for help.”
“So it could’ve been anyone here at the inn,” I said. “Anyone at all.”
“Exactly.”
Dread gripped at my heart, eating up my insides like a gutful of piranhas. I turned to Indi, who looked utterly terrified. “I’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry,” I murmured, squeezing her hand. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”
She nodded, unable to eke out a reply in her current state. I set my lips into a grim line and looked around at all the crew, inn staff and contestants. One of them was the killer. Fucking had to be. I had no idea who, but I knew one thing for sure.
I was going to protect Indi from this monster.
No matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Indi
I huddled close to Amy as we made ourselves comfortable at a booth in the little bar restaurant area of the Candle Cove Inn. I hadn’t even known it was here until recently, but this was where the staff was setting up our breakfast each morning now that the function room was off-limits… due to the fact a man died there with an ax sticking out of him.
Blake sat on my other side, a comforting arm around me. Across from us were Donna and Keenan, and we were soon joined by Dean as well. He put two cups of coffee down and slid an arm around Amy. Then he leaned in close. “Did you guys hear what happened last night yet?”
I shook my head, dread making my stomach hurt. I couldn’t even eat. “No. Did they finally find a lead or something?”
Three days had passed since Yuri’s murder, and absolutely nothing had changed since then. The island police didn’t seem to be close to finding the culprit, and we were still stuck here on the island. Apparently weather conditions had worsened east of the island, rendering it still unsafe for any transport to come to the island or vice versa for another week at least.
Yep, another whole week. Maybe more.
Dean shook his head. “No. It just got even worse. Elise Tilden was attacked last night.”
Blake stiffened next to me. “What?”
“Yup… just outside the inn.”
“Did you say Elise got attacked?” Vanessa said. Apparently she’d just sidled up to us to join our group, although I hadn’t even noticed till she opened her overly-lipsticked mouth.
Dean nodded. “Well, she just lost her husband, so she isn’t exactly in the best state. She got drunk and ditched Meredith and Addison, who were taking care of her. Then she wandered out of the inn, right past the fucking deputy who’s meant to be on guard, and someone attacked her in one of the gardens. She’s at the local medical clinic being treated for a serious head injury.”
Fear clenched at my stomach again. “Was it the same person who killed Yuri?”
“I don’t know. The deputy heard a sound and went to investigate, and he chased the person off. But apparently he could see that they were holding an ax,” Dean replied grimly.
“So it probably was the same person,” I said quietly, shaking my head. When was this nightmare going to end?
Blake squeezed my arm, and I leaned against him. He was the one comfort I had during this ordeal. Neither of us had said a word to that effect, because we’d been too stressed and worried over the Yuri situation to have a proper talk, but we both knew it anyway—we had each other right now, and we would help each other get through this.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vanessa’s envious gaze on the two of us, but I didn’t care. Right now, she and her stupid seduction attempts were the furthest thing from my mind.
“Looks like it,” Dean said. “I just overheard the crew talking about it over there when I was getting coffee.”
He gestured toward the other end of the room, where several show crew members were eating breakfast and drinking coffee. A skinny cameraman in tight black jeans and a grey sweater spotted us looking, and he headed over to us a moment later, handheld camera trained right on us. “You guys nearly finished breakfast?” he asked. “I have to ask you some questions.”
“Huh? What the hell are you doing?” Blake asked, holding an arm out. “Are you filming us?”
The cameraman nodded. “I’m supposed to capture how you’re all feeling right now.”
“How the fuck do you think we’re feeling?” Blake said angrily. “Put that down. There’s no point shooting anymore—obviously the show is canceled after all this shit.”
The cameraman shrugged. “Well, the Holbrooks got voted out the other week, and obviously the Tildens are out. But there’s still eight couples left, so the network actually thinks the show can go on.”
“Wait, are you for fucking real?” Blake asked, his eyes narrowing. “Fuck that. I’m not participating in this bullshit anymore, and neither is anyone else, I can assure you of that. So get that shit out of our faces. You can’t film us.”
“Actually, I can. Sorry, dude. It’s in the contract. Show isn’t over till the network pulls the plug.” He sighed and lowered the camera. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s fucked up. But I’m just doing my job. The network heads actually think they can spin this somehow and explain away the Tildens not being here. They’ve even announced this week’s special double elimination on a web episode they got us to patch together last night… not that those four can leave the island anytime soon. So I guess technically there’s just six couples left because of that. But yeah, the show is still going whether we like it or not. As long as we’re all stuck on this island, the cameras keep rolling.”
I gritted my teeth
as he droned on and on. Jesus. Cinta told me that the Channel Nine network heads were immoral jerks, but this was bad even for them. To keep filming us all despite the trauma we had gone through (and were still going through) after a goddamned murder was just disgusting.
“Who got eliminated?” Vanessa asked.
I glared at her. Seriously? After all this shit, she was actually still thinking about the show and whether or not she was winning?
“The Ramirezs and the Ashworths,” the cameraman replied, looking furtively around to make sure they weren’t nearby. “But shh… I didn’t tell you. Ed wasn’t going to tell them till the end of today. He wants us to film their reactions against a sunset backdrop.”
Vanessa breathed a visible sigh of relief. “When’s the next elimination after that one? And who do you think is going to get voted out?”
“It’ll be in a week, if the show hasn’t been cancelled by then. And I really can’t say, sorry,” he replied.
“Christ, Vanessa!” Donna said, echoing my thoughts. “Is the show really all you care about?”
Vanessa shrugged. “Hey, I came here to win a million dollars, and you heard the guy—they’re keeping the show going for now. And god, even the second or third prize would be nice. So it’s just three more couples to get eliminated now that we’re down to six, and then we have the three prize-winning couples. I’m happy to stay at a murder scene if it means I still get a shot at a million bucks.”
“Yeah, well, when the viewers see you saying crap like that, you and Jay won’t be one of the winning three couples,” Donna replied, her eyes narrowed. She muttered something under her breath after that, which only Amy and I could hear. “A man freaking died, and that’s all she can talk about. Money.”
“I know,” Amy said in a soft voice. I simply shook my head in response. It was unbelievable.
The cameraman finally slunk away when he realized we weren’t going to give him any more usable material this morning, and I pushed my breakfast muffin away. “I don’t think I can eat. I’m going to go shower.”
Husband For Hire (A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance) Page 12
