Dinner with everyone crammed into Brick’s dining room felt festive. As if wine, good food, and music somehow managed to block out the bad that lurked just beyond their little island. Camille was deep in conversation with Kimber and their father, filling them in on Remi’s gallery exhibitions.
Even Brick seemed lighter than he had when he came home. He ate left-handed just so he could hold her hand under the table, his thumb brushing possessively over her ring finger again and again.
Brick Callan was going to ask her to marry him. And she was going to say yes.
She felt like she was ready to burst. Like it was Christmas Eve, and there was a pile of presents waiting for her under the tree. Only Brick was bigger and better than any present, and a lifetime with him would last longer than any Christmas morning.
Good things were in store for them. All of them, she thought, looking at the way Kyle watched Kimber like he was seeing her for the first time. Spencer and Audrey seemed to be sharing a secret joke at the end of the table. William was answering Hadley’s questions about what it was like to be an investigator.
The shrill ring of her mother’s phone cut through the chatter.
“This is the Chief.”
Remi felt Brick tense next to her as a text came in on his.
Tension replaced the relaxed vibe in the room.
“Pick me up on the way,” Darlene said, pushing out of her chair and squeezing her husband’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Remi asked, reaching out to clasp Camille’s hand.
“It’s a fire,” Brick said as he rose, giving her hand one last squeeze. “The Grand Hotel.”
He followed Darlene out of the room.
“I can’t leave her unprotected,” she heard him say to her mother.
“I know. Call Brice. No reason she and White should get any sleep tonight if we’re not.”
Brick swore, and Remi heard him taking the stairs two at a time.
Darlene was on the phone again, and everyone else stepped out onto the porch. The Grand Hotel was around the bend and uphill, but there was an eerie glow in the night sky.
“This has nothing to do with Warren,” Remi reassured Camille. But her friend didn’t look so sure.
“Dad,” Brick, in uniform again, poked his head out of the door.
William stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. Remi waited a beat and followed. They had their heads together in the dining room.
“This is a big ask. She’s the most important thing in the world to me, and I don’t trust the feds. I need you to keep her safe—both of them—until I get back.”
William nodded solemnly. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You and Remi have something real and right. I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise you that.”
Remi’s eyes misted when Brick squeezed his father’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Turk’s here with the car,” Darlene said, opening the front door.
Brick spotted Remi in the hallway.
“I can’t leave until they’re here,” he said.
Her mom gave him the nod. “We’ll see you up there then.”
William followed her back out, leaving Remi alone with Brick.
Both of the island’s fire trucks screamed past the house, followed by the ambulance.
Her heart thumped.
“You have to go,” she told him.
“I can’t leave you.”
“You’re not leaving me alone. There is a house full of people here. You’re needed out there.”
The island fire department was well-equipped but not to battle what could easily become a 4-alarm blaze. Every available hand was needed to save the landmark. The beginning for so many happily ever afters.
Gripping his arm, Remi looked into those worried eyes. “Go.”
“Promise me you won’t take any risks. You’ll stay indoors. You won’t step a foot out the door once I’m gone.”
“I promise you, Brick.”
He cupped her face in his hand, his blue eyes burning. “Promise me you’ll be here when I get back so I can ask you that question.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Yes to tacos.”
He brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.
She cupped his face in her hands, reveling at the rough of his beard, the smooth of his skin. This face was so achingly familiar to her. He belonged to her. It had been written so long ago, yet they were just getting started.
“I love you. Be safe. Text when you can.”
He nodded, then lowered his mouth to hers for one hard kiss. “I will. I love you, Remington.”
“Oh, hey. Don’t fuck anything up,” she called as he started to leave.
He paused and stared at her.
She shrugged. “What? I’m not giving you some kind of romantic last words. I’m giving you something terrible to hold you over until you’re home again. Then I’ll say nice things.”
“I’ll love you so fucking much,” he said fiercely.
“I’ll be waiting for you, big guy.”
“Keep your inhaler on you. I don’t know how bad the smoke is going to get.”
She blew him a kiss as he jogged down the porch steps.
His large form melted into the night as he ran toward the fire.
Remi watched him go with an ache in her chest.
Something tickled at the back of her neck. A nagging sensation that had her turning away from the direction of the fire and looking down the dark street. Neighbors were coming out of their houses to see what the excitement was about. Before long, she was sure there would be a crowd of bystanders at the hotel.
But something out there in the dark made her feel like she was the entertainment. Like she was the one being observed.
William herded everyone back inside and bolted the front door. And while a debate raged over hot tea or coffee or more wine, Remi decided to behave herself and rounded up her inhaler and phone. She had a shit-ton of missed calls and texts. Mostly from Rajesh.
The phone rang in her hand.
“What?”
“Dude,” Raj said, “the pics of you and Camille are getting so much play right now. Why didn’t you clue me in? I sounded like an idiot when the calls started coming in.”
Her heart did a lopsided roll in her chest. “What pictures?” she asked, gripping the phone.
“The ones Camille posted to Instagram. They’re freaking everywhere.”
“Those weren’t supposed to go up until tomorrow morning.” Tomorrow morning, when a dozen federal agents and all of the Mackinac Island Police Department were ready to spring the trap.
Ten minutes later, Agents Brice and White showed up. As William shut the door behind them, Remi barreled up.
“Which one of you asshats decided to post the pictures early?” she hissed.
Special Agent Brice frowned and shot her partner a cool look.
Two spots of color appeared on White’s cheeks. “What’s the big deal? He already knew you were here. He probably guessed his wife would run straight to you.”
“The big deal, you stupid, dick-swinging shit, is that the entire police department is on the scene of a fire, and you two are the only federal agents on the fucking island. Why didn’t you roll out a welcome mat?”
“Ms. Ford,” Brice said.
“Don’t fucking ‘Ms. Ford’ me. If this fire has anything to do with Warren Vorhees, if any of my people get hurt, it’s on your head.”
Brice ran her tongue around her teeth. “Stay here and keep an eye on things,” she told White. “I’m going to track down Chief Ford at the fire and find out if there’s any reason to be concerned.”
“You can keep an eye on things outside,” Remi said, opening the front door for them.
Everyone gathered in the living room for popcorn, tea, and a movie. Her father and Kyle both volunteered to spend the night, telling the kids it was the first big family sleepover. Remi kept her phone on her and waited to hear from Brick.
The tightness in her chest a constant companion as the movie played. As Kimber and Kyle carried the kids upstairs to put them to bed. As one by one, everyone wandered off to bed.
Perhaps she wasn’t the only one feeling the tension, she noted.
Her father sprawled out on the couch, a baseball bat on the floor next to him “just in case.” Brick’s father positioned himself in the dining room with a book, one of Brick’s guns, and a line of sight to the front door and stairs.
“You all right in here?” Remi asked, bringing him a glass of water.
He nodded. “I’m right where I need to be.”
“I know Brick feels better with you here,” she said, brushing her fingers over the chair back.
“He’s entrusted me to keep an eye on you,” William said. “I’m not going to let him down. Not again.”
“Seems like you’ve been done letting people down for a long time.”
“It’s nice of you to notice,” he said with a soft smile.
“I’m going to marry your son,” she said suddenly.
“I’d hoped so. You’re just exactly what he needs. A reminder that life isn’t so black and white. That there’s a lot of fun to be had with colors.”
“It’s good to have you here,” she said. “I’m going to go back to the studio and see if I can burn off some energy with paint for an hour or so.”
He nodded. “I’ll be here.”
She headed down the hall, wandering past rooms that held so many signs of life now. Schoolwork for the kids. Kimber’s makeshift office in the living room. Magnus and her father both snoring in the living room. The popcorn bowls. It felt good, right, to fill Brick’s life with just a little bit of chaos.
She stepped into the studio and flicked on the lights. Shaking off the anxiety about what lurked beyond the dark windows, she rolled her work in progress back onto the center of the drop cloth.
She’d finish her painting for Brick later. Right now, she felt like exorcising some demons. With “No Surprises” on repeat, she kicked off her shoes and got to work.
The nervous energy, the sliver of fear that put a metallic taste in her mouth, was exactly what she needed. To create fear and confusion with brush and oil. To bring a desperate drive to survive to life on canvas. As it took shape, as she shaded and scraped and layered, she wondered if anyone else would ever see this painting. Or if perhaps she’d paint it and then burn it. Or maybe she’d sell it. There were collectors out there who would appreciate a moment of fear frozen in time to hang on a wall.
However it ended, she would be free. She, Camille, Brick. They would all be free to go on with their lives, to move forward.
But first, she had to finish.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when someone calling her name dragged her from the trance of color and memory. The song was still on repeat, but it felt distant now. As if its hold had been severed.
“Remington?”
She tore her eyes away from the painting and found Camille standing on the ramp. She was dressed casually in borrowed leggings that were several inches too short and a sweatshirt.
Remi snapped the rest of the way out of her reverie and fumbled for her phone to shut off the music.
“Hey,” she said. “Can’t sleep?”
Camille shook her head. “My brain feels too full. Am I interrupting?”
Remi glanced at the canvas again. “No. I think I’m done,” she said, dropping her paint-laden palette on the nearest work table and rolling out her shoulders.
“That song,” Camille said, walking down the ramp. “That’s what we were listening to in the car.”
Remi nodded.
“Are you painting it?” her friend asked.
“I think I painted the song and the accident,” she said, again glancing at the canvas.
She needed to step back, to take in the whole picture. After so many hours of detail work, she wouldn’t understand the piece until she took that step back and saw the bigger picture.
Camille joined her, and together they stared at the canvas.
“Wow,” Camille said.
Headlights and footprints. The colors of the music. Camille’s screams. The smell of blood. Everything echoed distantly. Remi felt a strange sense of peace pour over her.
“I can’t shake this feeling,” Camille admitted. “Like he’s coming. I got really good at anticipating when his moods were changing. I knew when he was going to snap, and that’s how I feel now. Like I’m just waiting for him to walk through the door.”
Remi looked at her friend. “I feel something, too. But remember, you’re not alone this time. We’re here together and we’ve got a house full of people who would love to kick him in his balls.”
Everything in the world that Brick cared about was in this house. Remi’s pulse kicked up a notch. While a landmark burned, everyone that was important to him was gathered under the same roof. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.
“We need to go,” she said quietly.
Camille nodded. “I think so, too. We’re putting everyone else in danger just by being here.”
Brick was going to murder her. But Freddie Mercury willing, there’d be a Remington for him to murder in the morning.
“Let’s grab what we need. I’ll talk to that asshat White outside,” Remi decided.
Spurred on by adrenaline, they hurried for the ramp when something thumped against the door leading to the backyard.
“Oh my God,” Camille clapped a hand to her mouth as Remi jumped in front of her. A hand slapped against the glass. It was impossible to see into the night with the studio lights blazing.
“Let me in,” a weak voice rasped. “Hurry.”
“Shit. I think it’s White,” Remi hissed.
“What happened? We can’t leave him out there.”
“If we get murdered because of this guy, I am going to be so pissed off!”
“Go get William,” Remi ordered Camille. “And stay with him.”
She waited until her friend was in the main house before yanking open the side door. White was slumped on the ground. “What did you fucking do?” she hissed as she grabbed him under the arms. “And why are you so sweaty?”
Oh God. It wasn’t all sweat, she realized, looking down at his white button-down. A crimson stain was spread in a lopsided circle.
“Did you get your ass shot? I thought you were a big fucking deal, Agent White.”
He murmured something she couldn’t make out.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this from Brick,” she muttered as she managed to drag him halfway across the threshold.
“Remi!” William burst through the door to the house, Camille on his heels.
“He’s either been shot or he impaled himself on a fucking garden gnome,” Remi said. “Help me get him inside.”
William tucked his revolver into the back of his pants and bent to pull the man inside.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Remi said, pushing the door closed. But she wasn’t quite fast enough. A shadow slithered into her periphery.
“Fuck!” She slammed the door but wasn’t fast enough. A black-clad arm slipped wraithlike inside.
Camille let out a sob that broke Remi’s heart.
William abandoned the agent on the ground and reached for his gun. But they’d underestimated the enemy. Warren Vorhees shoved the door open with exceptional strength, knocking Remi back so she stumbled over Agent White’s legs.
Gun outstretched, he fired one quick shot that sounded like the snap of a firecracker.
William crumpled to the floor next to White.
“No!” Remington shouted.
The gun swung around to point menacingly in her face.
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” he growled.
His handsome face was twisted in a grotesque mask of rage. His light hair had been dyed dark and cut short in a choppy buzz cut. The beginnings of a beard sprouted on his patrician jaw. He wore a cheap pair of sweatpants and a black jacket. His eyes, an unmistakable denim blue, had been disguised by colored contact lenses. He looked wrong, sick, evil. The shine of wealth and breeding had been stripped away to reveal the sickness beneath.
Fear coiled in her chest. Her phone was across the room, next to her painting.
“Warren,” Camille said calmly. “Just take me. Leave them alone.”
His smile was more a snarl. “You think you can ask for favors from me? You think you can appeal to my generosity after you tried to ruin me?” Gone was the debonaire charm that had seduced Camille and countless voters.
There was no shake in the hand that held the weapon. His rage gave him a chilling calm. “You think you can destroy me? You think you’re worthy of being my opponent? You’re nothing,” he spat.
Camille inched closer toward William, who wasn’t stirring on the floor.
“That’s what he gets for trying to stop me. For trying to take you away. I won in the end, didn’t I?” his laughter was an unhinged nightmare.
He fired another shot into William’s leg, the silencer suppressing the noise.
“No!” Remi cried.
“Don’t worry,” he said, turning to her with dead eyes. “I’m saving a special punishment for you. As soon as I do a little clean-up.”
He raised the gun to fire again. But as he did, Camille threw herself over William. Remi lowered her shoulder and charged the monster. The shot went wide. He laughed, catching Remi by the hair. A thousand nerves shrieked with pain as he twisted and yanked. Still laughing, he hurled her to the ground and landed a well-placed kick to her hip.
“Stop!” Camille begged. But her begging only seemed to excite him.
“You forget your place, wife. You’re a possession. A shiny, pretty thing that I take out when I want to and put away when I’m done. Tonight will be the last time I put you away.”
“If you lay a hand on her, the entire world will know the allegations are true,” Remi said, huffing out pained breaths. The last thing she needed was an asthma attack in the middle of a murderous assault.
“You can’t ruin me. Neither of you can touch me. You don’t have what I have. The power. The connections. The money. I’ll destroy you both, body and soul. And when I’m done doing that, I’ll make sure no one ever speaks your names again.”
“Delusional much?” Remi wheezed, crawling to her hands and knees.
He landed another kick. This one to her midsection. Camille jumped forward. Warren backhanded her in the face with the gun, and she crumpled like paper to the floor. Remi growled and breathed through the pain.
“Brick is going to kick your ass,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I’m counting on him making the attempt. You don’t think I’d leave without thanking him for his hospitality to my wife and her friend, do you?”
“What made you such a stupid asshole anyway,” Remi asked, trying to buy time. She needed to get help. She needed to get him away from this house.
There was a flash of movement at the top of the ramp, and Remi deliberately drew Warren’s attention back to her.
Hadley, in her pajamas, hovered in the doorway.
“What are you going to do with us, Warren?” Remi demanded.
“I’m going to take you two away from here. I have a place we can be alone. Where I can extract my pound of flesh.”
“Where is that?” Remi asked. Brick would tear the island apart by dawn once he knew what had happened.
She saw William’s hand flex at his side and nearly breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s on the mainland. I’ll borrow a boat for the occasion. Don’t worry your pretty little head about the details. Just know that tonight will be your last, and if you don’t come quietly with me, I’ll go upstairs and murder every single person in their beds.”
Hadley ducked out of the door.
Remi was going to lodge this man’s balls in his skull the first chance she got.
“I’ll go quietly,” she promised.
“I thought you might,” he said with a twisted, triumphant grin.
“I can borrow a boat. My friend Eleanora Reedbottom has one. She won’t notice if it’s gone.”
“There now. It’s not so hard to cooperate, is it? Things are so much easier when you accept your place.”
When he bent to pick up Camille’s limp form, Remi scanned the worktable for weapons. She pocketed a palette knife and prayed for the chance to use it.
“Brick is going to come after you as soon as he finds out you took us, Warren.”
Her gaze darted to the doorway. She couldn’t see Hadley but knew her brave niece was lurking just out of range.
“Your idiot boyfriend is occupied with an unfortunate fire that started in the hotel’s kitchen,” he said, tossing Camille over his shoulder like he would a sack of feed.
“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing with the gun. “You lead the way and keep your hands where I can see them.”
With everything at stake and a mad man at her back, Remi stepped out into the night.
