Getting out of bed, Domitian headed out of the room, relieved to see that the door to Sarita’s room was closed. Hoping that meant that she was still sleeping, he moved silently down the stairs.
“You’re awake.”
Domitian stepped off the stairs and glanced toward Thorne as the other man appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“I was afraid it would be Sarita and you’d have missed your chance,” he said dryly.
“She is not up yet then?” Domitian asked with relief. She’d been in his dreams right up until he’d opened his eyes, but might have woken up at the same time and slipped down before him.
“No,” Thorne said and then glanced toward the ceiling and said, “but I suspect it won’t be long before she is.”
“What makes you say that?” Domitian asked with a frown.
“Because she was moaning and groaning like crazy all day, but has finally gone silent. I suspect that means she’ll be up and about soon too.” He glanced back to Domitian and considered his expression briefly before saying, “You both were. It alarmed the ladies. Maria went up to check on Sarita several times and said she was thrashing around and hollering fit to die and the nightmares she was suffering must be horrible.” He quirked an eyebrow. “She made me check on you too. Didn’t look to me like you were having a nightmare.”
“Why did you not wake me?” Domitian asked with irritation.
“You didn’t ask me to,” he said with a shrug.
Domitian scowled at him and then turned and headed up the hall next to the stairs, asking, “Did you take care of those cameras for me?”
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” Domitian murmured. “Thank you.”
Thorne gave a grunt of acknowledgment.
“Where are the ladies now?” Domitian asked as he reached the back door. He was turning the doorknob when Thorne answered.
“All that screaming unsettled them so much they decided to sit out in the garden.”
Domitian froze, and then heaved a resigned sigh and pulled the door open. He stepped outside, wholly expecting the women to come at him with a barrage of concerned questions. Instead, a glance around revealed the garden was empty.
“I guess they must have gone around to the pool or out front,” Thorne said with unconcern when Domitian glanced back to him.
“Right,” Domitian said, heading for the trees that lined the garden. “Keep Sarita here if she wakes up before I get back. And if something happens to me, don’t let Dressler get his hands on her.”
They had reached the tree line by then. Domitian didn’t wait for Thorne to agree, but set off into the woods at a run. He already knew the man would do his best to keep Sarita safe. He had no doubt that Thorne had been there for the reading of Sarita’s letters every week too, and that, like the ladies, they had been the bright spot of his life in this gilded prison. Domitian suspected Thorne had been half in love with Sarita before she’d ever set foot on the island. Once he’d seen how vital, brave, and beautiful she was in real life though, Domitian had no doubt the man had lost the rest of his heart to her.
Fortunately, Domitian wasn’t the jealous type, and the pinching he’d felt as he’d entered the kitchen and overheard Sarita in Mrs. Dressler’s room, saying Thorne was magnificent . . . well that hadn’t been jealousy. Nor had the tightness he’d suffered in his chest each time Sarita had smiled at the man while they’d had tea that morning. She’d smiled at all of them several times as they’d had their tea. There was nothing to be jealous of. But it did occur to him as he made his way through the woods that if anything happened to him, Sarita might be stuck on this island for a long time, hiding in the cottage with her grandmother, Mrs. Dressler, and Thorne her only comfort.
“Bastard,” Domitian muttered, but it wasn’t jealousy.
Fourteen
Sarita stepped out of her room and frowned when she noted the open door to Thorne’s room, where Domitian was supposed to be sleeping. He’d obviously woken up before her, she realized, and she headed toward the stairs just as her grandmother’s voice sounded, calling Thorne.
“Coming,” she heard him say and the word was followed by his heavy footfalls. Sarita reached the top of the stairs in time to see the man slip outside and pull the front door closed. Frowning, she jogged down to the entry and peered out the window in the door to see that her grandmother, Mrs. Dressler, and Thorne were all out front, talking as they eyed Dressler’s goon on the cliff.
Goons, Sarita corrected herself as she followed their gazes to the two men now on the cliff. Dressler had doubled the guard. Did that mean they’d found the gilled man Domitian had killed last night and now suspected they might have come this way? Probably. The gilled man had probably rolled right up on the beach, pushed there by the tide, she thought with a frown. They should have weighed him down or something. Although, they hadn’t actually had anything to weigh him down with, she thought with a sigh and turned away from the door.
A glance into the living room didn’t reveal Domitian. Neither did a look in the kitchen. Sarita even crossed the kitchen and took a peek into Mrs. Dressler’s room, but no luck. The main floor bathroom was the last place he could be, and Sarita didn’t even have to open the door to see he wasn’t in it, the door was already open.
She started to turn back up the hall, but paused and eyed the back door. Stepping up to it, she tugged the curtain aside and peered out to see a path leading through first a small patch of grass and then a garden before it disappeared into the jungle. It must have rained at some point that day—the path was muddy, and she could clearly make out two sets of footprints heading away from the door. And one returning.
He’d left without her. Sarita knew it as surely as she knew her own name. Domitian had gone ahead without her.
Cursing under her breath, she pulled the door open and slipped outside. She was entering the jungle before it occurred to her to worry about the cameras.
Too late now, she told herself and burst into a run. Sarita was determined to catch up to Domitian. Actually, she had to. He didn’t know the layout of the house and yard, the routine of the men patrolling the grounds, the path they took to approach the kitchen at dinnertime, or even which set of French doors led to Dressler’s office. He needed her.
As desperate as she was to catch up to Domitian, Sarita soon found she had to slow down. While it had still been relatively light when she’d left the house, with the sun setting it quickly became much darker in the jungle. Afraid she’d trip over something and break a leg or that she might even wander off the path she was trying to follow, Sarita slowed down to a quick walk and cursed the need to. She knew without a doubt that Domitian wouldn’t have to slow down. The man had great night vision thanks to those nanos of his. He had increased speed as well. Her only real hope of catching up to him was if she arrived at the edge of the woods before the men headed around to the kitchen to get their dinner. He would have to wait inside the woods for that to happen before making a run for the house. At least that was his best bet of success.
The trek through the jungle was longer than Sarita had expected. Long enough that she wasn’t surprised to find it was full dark outside the jungle too by the time she reached the edge of the grounds. A quick scan of the area proved she’d missed Domitian.
As well as dinnertime, Sarita saw, stepping quickly behind the trunk of a palm tree as two men drew near, patrolling the edge of the property.
“I don’t know why he wants the patrols doubled,” one was complaining. “I’ve already done my shift. Hell if I want to be out here holding your hand while you do yours.”
“Hey, I hear ye,” the other one said. “And believe me I’d rather be doing this alone.”
“Yeah?” the first man asked. “You’re not afraid of those vampires?”
The second man gave a short laugh. “I’m not stupid. I know they’re dangerous, but I’ve got El Doctor’s special juice in my gun same as you. Hit him with one of these puppies and it’s ‘hasta la vista, baby,’” he said with satisfaction. After a moment, he added, “And frankly I’d rather let the bastard drain me dry than have to listen to you whine and cry about having to walk around a little longer.”