I rationalized my behavior by reminding myself that Arianawasmy target. I needed to run surveillance. Learn as muchabout her as possible so when I put my plan into action there would be no surprises.
In reality, that had nothing to do with why I was still here. Instead, the second I noticed her step onto the back patio, walk by the pool, and kneel by a small garden on the corner of their estate, I couldn’t stop watching her.
She barely resembled the glamorous trophy wife I’d observed these past several months. No heels, no designer dress. Just a black t-shirt, faded jeans, and a silk scarf knotted loosely at her throat. She looked...ordinary.
I prided myself on knowing every detail of her life. How often she visited her mother at the private care facility in Coral Gables. What shade of lipstick she wore. How often she had her hair cut and colored.
But this version of her — the peaceful woman tending to a simple garden — didn’t match any of it. And it sure as hell didn’t match the woman Victor paraded around like a prize.
I shifted in my seat, adjusting the binoculars to get a better view, when a shadow passed between us.
A boat. Mid-sized. Cabin cruiser. Matte black hull.
I figured it was just on its way past South Point and out to the Atlantic. But then it slowed and turned toward Star Island. Toward Ariana Kane’s house.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a boat slow its speed so tourists could take pictures of the houses on Star Island, most of them belonging to celebrities.
But this didn’t look like some tourist joy ride or paparazzi hoping to sell a bunch of blurry photos to a magazine.
When the boat pulled up to the dock off the back of the Kanes’ estate, my gut tightened, my body going on high alert. I knew every vessel that had docked at this property in the past several months — delivery boats, maintenance crews, Victor’sgaudy Sunseeker. Even the security patrols that circled the series of manmade islands every forty-five minutes.
This one was new.
I lifted the binoculars again, my fingers tightening when I saw the man on board. Broad shoulders. Black clothes. Sunglasses. Leather gloves, despite the seventy-degree weather.
After he tied off the boat, he moved with precision toward the back gate, keying in a gate code like he’d been here before. I knew the code, but that was because I was able to hack their security system, which ended up not being as easy as I thought. So how did this guy have it?
Maybe he was a new employee. But I’d been watching Ariana and Victor Kane for months. I knew every single one of their employees and household staff. This wasn’t someone who worked for him. Even if it were, why the gloves?
No. This was someone else.
My grip on the binoculars tightened as I watched Ariana stand, brushing dirt from her jeans, completely oblivious to the man stalking toward her. I couldn’t see everything through the line of palm trees and wrought-iron fence, but I saw enough to know that one second Ariana was standing, and the next she’d fallen to the ground.
He slung her limp form over his shoulder, striding down the dock and onto the boat. Not a single hesitation. Like this was planned.
I didn’t think. Didn’t wait. I started the engine and slipped into his wake, keeping a conservative distance as he navigated north. I didn’t call attention to myself. Not yet. I couldn’t spook him.
I kept my eyes pinned to the vessel ahead as we threaded past party boats and rental jet skis. Every idiot on the water was now a liability. He could vanish into this chaos if I lost him for even a second.
Eventually, the skyline gave way to rusted metal and forgotten industry — old boatyards and half-sunken pilings. He turned into a shadowed inlet near a cluster of warehouses. I coasted in behind a derelict tugboat, tying off in its shadow.
Then I waited. And watched.
He hauled her off the boat and disappeared into a corrugated metal structure that felt like it would fall apart if I breathed on it too hard.
I followed on foot, observing no cameras or any sign of security. Probably to make sure no one could track him. But that also meant no one would be able to track me.
Inside, the air was wet with mildew and oil. Beams of dusty light cut through the holes in the roof, illuminating floating particles. The stink of rot clung to everything — old rope, stagnant water, rusting steel.
I moved carefully between crates and stacked barrels, the floor slick beneath my shoes. Somewhere ahead, I heard movement.
Peeking around a barrel, I found him securing Ariana’s zip-tied wrists to a rusted pipe, the cement floor dirty and wet. Just as he finished, he paused, his eyes trained on a puddle by his feet.
Then he whirled around and pulled out a gun, pointing it directly at me. I kicked it out of his hand, the bullet flying past my ear. The gun clattered across the cement and disappeared beneath a crate.
He snarled, displaying his yellowing and cracked teeth, and lunged at me, yanking a knife from his belt. The first swipe was fast. Practiced.
I dodged left, the blade singing past my ribs. I countered with a quick jab to the throat, but he absorbed it, grinning as he lunged again.
