Immortal Billionaire, page 22
“Shut up! I gagged your sister because she was hysterical. I thought I could trust you to keep quiet.”
Blood immediately began to pour from Guthrie’s nose. Lucinda started to sob, the sound stifled by the gag so it came out as a soft snuffling. Connie tried to bend in the cramped space to assist Guthrie, but Matt caught her by her upper arm and hauled her upright. “Before you die, answer me this. Was there ever any part of you that wanted me?”
She couldn’t pretend. Wouldn’t grovel to this man who thought torturing her for four years and murder were payback for her loving another man. Would never deny her love for Sylvester. Not even to save her life. Lifting her chin proudly, she shook her head. “No matter how many lifetimes I live through, I will always choose Sylvester.”
“Then it’s time you and I headed for the Salto de Fe.” His face was wistful as he smoothed her hair back from her face and slowly raised the knife.
With a howl of fury, Sylvester swung around the door frame and hurled himself into Matt. Dressed only in jeans, his hands and feet were bloodied, his upper body and face streaked with sweat and dirt, his face contorted with rage.
Sylvester’s body hit Matt so hard he was propelled away from Connie. Within the tiny space, the two men grappled against the huge glass light. As his hands came up around Matt’s throat, Connie could see the determination on Sylvester’s face. The knife went spinning out of Matt’s grip and Connie pounced on it.
Crawling over to Guthrie, she started to cut through the bonds around his hands. Before she could finish, there was a dramatic shift in the balance of power in the fight. Sylvester might be stronger and more muscular than Matt, but he was hampered by his wounded arm and seemed weakened by new injuries. Looking up from her task, Connie saw to her horror that Matt had managed to free himself and was systematically punching Sylvester in the ribs.
“No!” Connie crawled over to the scene of the fight, holding the knife out in front of her in a shaking hand.
“Connie, stay away.” Sylvester managed to gasp out the words of warning.
Ignoring him, she launched herself at Matt, sinking the knife into his thigh, twisting it deep and dragging it down almost to his knee before pulling it back out again. Blood gushed from the wound, staining his light-colored trousers.
Snarling with rage, Matt turned on her, bringing his knee up under her chin before she could plunge the knife into him again. Connie fell back, hitting her head against the metal casing so hard she saw stars. Sylvester dropped to his knees, cradling her in his arms.
“I’m okay,” she murmured.
“Give me the knife.” He took it from her. Getting up again, he swung around, preparing to face Matt.
It was too late. Matt had gone. They heard the final telltale creak of the spiral staircase as it bore his weight. Muttering a curse, Sylvester tossed the knife to Connie and dashed out onto the viewing platform.
Despite a horrible dizziness as she moved, Connie managed to finish freeing Guthrie before turning her attention to Lucinda. Even with the gag removed, Lucinda seemed incapable of speech and sat quietly hunched over, hugging her knees to her chest.
“You saved us all.” Connie’s eyes filled with tears as she hugged Guthrie.
“I think it came at the cost of a broken nose.” He grimaced as he tenderly felt his damaged face. “Although I got off lightly when I think of what happened to other people. Did you see where he went?” He spoke to Sylvester, who had stepped back inside from the viewing platform.
“I can’t be certain. I went out onto the ocean side first and, although I walked around the platform, there was no sign of him. If he was walking across the rocks, I should have seen him.” He held out his hand and helped first Connie and then Lucinda to their feet. “Unless he went straight to the Salto de Fe.”
Connie clung gratefully to him. “Could he have jumped into the Salto de Fe?”
“I don’t know what to think about that. Rational, honorable Matt Reynolds might have killed himself out of remorse. But while you are still alive, I believe the spirit of Yargua inside him would want to keep coming after you, keep trying to make you pay for what Cariña did to him. What happened when Matt ran out of here just now will depend on who was in charge. Did he run to the edge of the Salto de Fe and throw himself in because he couldn’t live with what he’d done? Or did he sneak away and hide, so he could come after you another day?”
Lucinda leaned against Guthrie. “You mean this nightmare might not be done, even now?”
“Let’s hope it is,” Sylvester said. “Even if Matt is still alive, that injury to his leg from the knife wound Connie inflicted is a bad one and he has no access to medical treatment. For now, let’s get back to the house and report back to Jonathan.” Sylvester slid an arm around Connie’s waist. “Can you walk?”
“Yes.” She smiled up at him. “Which is just as well, because you certainly can’t carry me.”
“Probably not, but I’m prepared to try.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get away from this place.” He looked over his shoulder at Guthrie. “Can you help Lucinda?”
Guthrie nodded and the little group made their way slowly down the staircase and out into the bright sunlight.
As Sylvester turned to take the path across the rocks, Guthrie halted him. “Look.” They followed the direction of his pointing finger. “Bloodstains. They lead toward the Salto de Fe.”
Sylvester studied Connie’s face, a silent question in his eyes. She considered the matter before nodding decisively. He turned to Guthrie. “We’ll follow the stains. Although I don’t know what, if anything, we’ll see. It’s like nature’s version of the most intense white-water ride imaginable inside there.”
The trail of blood, standing out harsh and dark in the bright sunlight, took them unerringly to the brink of the ravine.
Connie gripped Sylvester’s hand tightly as the four of them stood at the very edge of the Salto de Fe. It was an awe-inspiring sensation. She felt as if she was standing on the edge of the world, preparing to step off. I did this once. When I was Cariña, I went over this edge into that raging tumult below. It was one of Cariña’s memories she couldn’t capture. Stubbornly, it eluded her. How had Cariña survived? It’s part of the magic of Corazón, she reminded herself. No one could actually be thrown into that raging madness and live to tell the tale. In a few days, Sylvester will leap into this ravine and be gone forever. She briefly closed her eyes to ward off the pain caused by the thought.
“If Matt did throw himself over, he will have been swept up into those waves. There will be nothing to see here.” Sylvester was already turning away.
“Wait.” Connie pointed. To their right, a few feet down, there was a narrow ledge. A light-colored object splattered with red bloodstains was balanced on it. Connie recognized it immediately. She had been there when—before it became splashed with blood—it had poked Guthrie in the ribs. “It’s Matt’s sneaker.”
* * *
They found Juan tied to a tree in the pine forest near the little cottage. He was almost tearfully apologetic as Sylvester untied him. “He took me by surprise. I was looking for Lucinda. I couldn’t find her after she ran out of the house.”
“I got lost,” Lucinda explained. “I’d never been to the lighthouse. When Matt ran in and said Guthrie was in trouble, I dashed out of the house without thinking. I had an idea of the general direction, but I wandered off the path. I blundered around a bit in the trees and that was when Matt found me.” She shivered. “He grabbed me and marched me to the lighthouse with the knife against my throat.”
“He must have taken care of Juan first, then come after Lucinda. She was unarmed, distressed and didn’t know where she was going, so she was the easier target,” Sylvester said. He turned back to Juan. “What happened to the gun?”
Juan hung his head. “Matt threw it in the river.” He pointed to the little stream that ran beneath the bridge. “He told me he preferred knives. He said it was a Calusa thing. I thought he must be unhinged.” As he rose he staggered. “Sorry, boss. He hit me a hell of a blow over the head from behind.”
“We’re the walking wounded.” Guthrie chuckled then winced as the action hurt his injured nose.
“We are also the survivors,” Connie said, and they were silent for the remainder of the walk back to the house, thinking of the others who had not been as fortunate.
When the house came into view, she experienced that uncanny sensation again. Watchfulness and watched-for-ness. As if she and the house were as one, completing each other. She had been the mistress here long ago, and the house had been waiting for her, needing her back once more. It was calling to her, giving her the strangest feeling. Her heart felt oh, so glad to be part of this glorious place, yet sorrowful that what she and the house both wanted could never be.
Because Sylvester leaves in two days. She thrust the thought aside. There has been enough drama for one day. Time enough for sad thoughts when his birthday arrives.
When they trouped into the house, Connie hurried straight to the study. Jonathan was where she had left him, stretched out on the sofa, reading one of the Calusa books that had survived Matt’s onslaught earlier in the day.
She gave a cry of pleasure and relief when she saw he was safe and, abandoning the distance she had always felt from this deeply reserved man, ran to him and kissed his cheek. Although a faint flush stained his cheeks, she got the feeling he was not displeased by the gesture.
“Now that’s out of the way, you have to tell me what happened.”
“It’s a very long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Jonathan patted the sofa beside him. “What happened to Matt?”
Connie scanned his face in surprise. “How did you know it was him?”
“I’ve had plenty of thinking time while you were gone.” He looked around the room. “But also—” he gave a slightly embarrassed laugh “—there’s something about this place, isn’t there? Something that makes you fanciful and imaginative. And my memory of the night I was attacked has started to come back. Not fully, but I can recall snippets of my conversation with Matt before I went into my room.”
“Were you suspicious of him?”
His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate. “I’m not sure it was even as strong as that. I think I said something like if we really were in Ellie’s 1930s detective novel, the killer would turn out to be the most likable character. Then I laughed and said, ‘That would be you, Matt.’ We said good-night and, almost as soon as I went into my room, the door flew open again and I felt an almighty blow on the back of my head.”
Connie bit her lip. “He said he thought he’d killed you.”
Jonathan winced. Beneath the bruising, his handsome features were grim. “Why didn’t he kill me when he found I was still alive?”
“Matt said Vega was up and about on that floor—she was going back and forth along the corridor outside your rooms. He was too scared to do anything in case she heard something or saw him, so he came to find Sylvester and said you’d been attacked. You can imagine his relief when you couldn’t remember anything.”
“Where is he now?”
Connie roused herself from her thoughts, aware she had not yet told him the full story. “Let’s go through and join the others. This may take some time.”
Chapter 18
There were six people at the dinner table that night. The empty seats were a reminder of why their numbers had dwindled. Despite his injuries, Jonathan proved to be adept in the kitchen with Connie assisting him. Lucinda washed dishes, swept the dining room and set the table. She seemed eager to put any past airs behind her and show her willingness to help. Guthrie slipped into his usual role of bartender and entertainer. There was a general air of sadness tinged with relief. Sylvester recalled Connie’s comment that they were the survivors. It had affected them all deeply. We might have survived, but we are not untouched.
“Three people didn’t survive.” Jonathan echoed Sylvester’s thoughts as they sat down to dinner.
“Four, if you count Matt,” Sylvester reminded him. “Whatever was going on with him, my friend Matt Reynolds got destroyed along the way in all of this.”
Lucinda shivered. “He seemed so normal.”
“He was normal,” Connie said quietly. “That’s what makes it so hard to understand.”
“But you’re all sure of what you saw?” Jonathan looked around the group for confirmation. “He did jump into this ravine you call the Salto de Fe?”
“As sure as we can be when none of us actually saw him,” Sylvester said.
“But he must have. There was nowhere else for him to go.” Lucinda shivered, even as she insisted. “Those rocks are exposed. There was no hiding place.”
Sylvester noticed the way her words made Connie glance at the darkness outside as though it had become threatening again. “Even if Matt didn’t jump, he was badly injured, with no access to any medical treatment.” He kept his eyes on hers, hoping to reassure her. “And he’s lost the element of surprise. If he tried anything now, we know who we’re up against. We’ve stopped suspecting each other.”
“That’s right.” Guthrie looked around the table with a smile. “We’re in this together from now on.”
“Let’s hope there’s nothing to be in it for. No excitement, no surprises. Just one more day before the delivery boat comes,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll drink to that.” Guthrie raised his glass.
When dinner was over, Sylvester and Connie walked along the beach. He could already feel the weight of losing her even though she was right beside him. It was like hellfire scalding through his veins, making every inward breath feel like he was drawing broken glass into his lungs. Everything hurt. It stung his eyes to look at her, branded his flesh to touch her, burned his lips when he kissed her. Yet he couldn’t get enough of her. All he wanted between now and the time when he had to go was the sweet, delicious agony of her in his arms.
I’ve lived with the knowledge that I must go for five hundred years. Now the time is almost here and it is torture. This was why he’d never allowed himself to get close to anyone else. This was what he’d dreaded throughout his long, lonely life. And the worst part of all was that he knew Connie was feeling the same way. He had the knowledge he would meet her again as Cariña. Connie had nothing to cling to. No future together to look forward to. The bleak expression in the dark depths of her eyes burned a path to his heart. This is what I’ve put her through. At least there was one final thing he could do for her.
They had discussed whether they should tell the others the whole story, including their past lives and the reason why Sylvester had to leave. In the end, they had decided the truth was too far-fetched. Sylvester would leave a letter that would explain as much as necessary to his heirs.
“There is something we need to talk about, no matter how painful it may be.” Sylvester turned to look at her in the moonlight. Her beauty took his breath away and saddened him at the same time. “I want to know what your plans are after I am gone.”
“Don’t.” Connie placed her hand on his chest as she shook her head.
He caught her wrist, lifting her hand to his lips. “I must. I said I would leave my fortune to those who were left. That means there will be four of you. You will be a wealthy woman, Connie. But I also said the island itself will go to the one I consider the most worthy. It’s yours if you want it.”
“If I want it?” Connie laughed softly as she gazed at the beautiful golden house. “Of course I want it. I love this island. Since I arrived here, I’ve felt a curious synergy with this place. An interdependence, as if we belong together.” She rested her forehead against his chest with a sigh. “But I could never be here without you, Sylvester. My heart would break every time I walked along this beach, or sat beside the fire in the den, or lay in the bed we shared. Your memory will never leave me, but somehow it is bound up in Corazón.” She lifted her head. “Jonathan should have the island. He feels its pull, too, even though he doesn’t seem like the sort of person to indulge in whimsical feelings.”
“I don’t think Corazón allows us to be cynical.” Sylvester took her hand and, despite her reluctance, drew her back toward the house. If they succumbed to the night, then the dawn would inevitably follow. “It makes our decisions for us.” He remembered the invisible hand that had helped him to climb the cliff. “Sometimes, when the outcome hangs in the balance, it steps in at just the right moment.”
Connie leaned her head on his shoulder. “That sounds very specific.”
“It is. When Matt pushed me into the dungeon, there was only one way out. I had to climb from the opening in the cliff face up to the lighthouse.”
He felt the shiver that ran through her. “My God, Sylvester, I saw that cliff from the boat when we first arrived on the island. How on earth did you do it?”
“I’m a good climber, but right at the end I was struggling. Then—and this would sound strange to anyone who had never been to Corazón—just as I was about to fall, an invisible hand reached down and helped me climb the rest of the way.” He laughed, a note of embarrassment in his voice as he realized how it sounded. “Does that make me sound crazy?”
“Yes. But this is Corazón and crazy is the norm here.” They had reached the terrace and Connie turned, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. “Whoever it was who helped you, I’m very glad they happened to be passing, invisible or not.”
Sylvester closed his eyes briefly as he held her closer. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”
He didn’t want to say aloud what they were both thinking. It would be their last day together. The following day was his birthday and he had already decided to leave at dawn.
