Logan filtered through the information. “The ‘product’ being Darcy?”

“Yeah.” She shivered, and Logan knew she feared for her friend. “The Pit likely being that dungeon under the resort we found on the blueprints. We need to get down there today, see if there’s a way to break Darcy out. If so, I can talk to them about arresting Kantor, at least. His fingerprints are all over that computer and his user ID is attached to the files. He’s guilty as hell.”

“He is, but I’m sure the Feds want Sire. If we go in too soon with guns blazing, what are the chances we’ll get him? He’ll turn tail and run, then set up shop elsewhere.”

“I know.” She tossed her head back and stared at the ceiling, uncertainty and anxiety clearly pressing down on her. “But I can’t let Darcy be sold off—”

Logan wished he could do more to set her at ease than talk. “Let’s see if we can find someone who can identify Sire. If they don’t know his name, I have to believe that if he’s running a business, he’s been here at some point. Someone must have seen his face or know his identity. I’ll ask Xander to poke around. We’ll do everything possible to nail this bastard.”

She nodded absently, her mind already turning. In spite of the furious pace of the bombshells coming her way, his Cherry was doing her best to press forward. Again, his pride in her bravery, her intelligence brimmed over. As much as he wanted her blind faith, dealing with the shock of his accusations against Adam would take time; no one could be expected to believe that a beloved family member was a stone-cold killer without proof in a matter of minutes. But she would do anything and everything to both save Darcy and salvage the other mission objectives. Her first objective was to save her fellow agent. The FBI didn’t leave their own behind. Then she had to catch a killer.

“I think I have an idea.” She bit her lip, still gelling her thoughts. “But I need to talk to Xander. We’ll need his help.”

Logan pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him now. We’ll figure this out, baby. We’ll get Darcy free.”

And he’d prove to her that her stepfather was a dangerous son of a bitch—while keeping her well loved and safe. Somehow.

TARA pushed fruit salad around her plate, avoiding Logan’s glower.

“I don’t like it,” he growled.

“Got a better plan?”

He didn’t, and she knew it. They’d been over everything when they’d consulted with Xander. They needed access to the Pit. They suspected that Kantor and Jordan had it. Kantor was damn hard to pin down, but Tara knew exactly how to get near Jordan, even if the dungeon master had been oddly stand-offish since their first day on the island. That man wanted her, and she could use it to her advantage.

Logan sighed. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Doubt it will be the last time in our lives.” She tried to smile at him.

“Probably not.”

He pursed his lips together, and she knew he was thinking of all the danger, worrying about her, maybe even brooding about what would happen when she got home and saw Adam. Frankly, that worried her, too. It didn’t seem possible that her stepfather was a killer . . . but Logan seemed so convinced. While he was trying to prove Adam guilty, maybe she could get the real story on the necklace and show Logan that someone else had murdered his mother. Her stepfather and her fiancé were never going to be great friends, but she’d like at least a little harmony on holidays, especially for the kids’ sake.

She blinked. Kids. Wow. Thinking about having them with the man she’d always secretly, deep down loved was magical, a sparkling fantasy she’d never expected to come true. Logan would make a great husband and father. And she’d get to share all the love, passion, and joy with him—just as soon as she rescued Darcy and got off this damn island.

“You’d better eat, Cherry. You’re going to need your strength.” A sensual threat threaded his low, growled words.

She repressed a shiver. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“No. I’m stating a fact. And I want you wet.”

Tara couldn’t help it; her womb clenched. “I’d ask if all you think about is sex, but that would be a stupid question.”

“When you’re near, I give a full point-one percent attention to other concerns.”

He tried to grin, but it wasn’t quite real. Her heart ached for him. She knew her lack of faith in him about his mother’s killer upset him. It hurt her to disappoint Logan, but she needed time to work through this, prove Adam’s innocence. Then they’d talk it all out.

“Do you need anything else?” Chaz stopped by their table and began collecting their half-empty plates. “Dessert?”

“Not for me.” The idea of eating anything else turned her stomach.

“No thanks,” Logan murmured.

Chaz regarded him with pale, tormented eyes against his olive skin. “At your three o’clock, see the empty table.”

Logan glanced out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah.”

“Allison, Laken’s friend, was assigned to that table until her departure on Sunday. Jordan lured her to the VIP room last night. I haven’t seen her since and I haven’t been able to reach her.”

Tara’s blood froze in her veins.

“Her room attendant is a friend of mine,” Chaz went on. “She said Allison didn’t sleep in her bed last night. Allison knew I was concerned after Laken’s death, and she was completely freaked about her friend’s murder. She wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

“We’ll look into it,” Tara reassured.

With a tight nod, he turned and left.

“I’ll bet Kantor is also involved in Allison’s disappearance,” Logan muttered.

Tara nodded, holding in a curse. “I’m guessing he’s the brains on site. He and Jordan probably needed more ‘product’ for Sire to replace Laken.”

Logan grimaced. “If she’d been sold before her death, yes. Allison already told me that she and Laken had bonded because they were both looking for the perfect Dom and didn’t have a lot of family. So no one to miss her for days and days . . .”

Not what Tara wanted to hear. “Tonight, as our plan goes down, keep your eyes and ears open.”

“I will.” Logan nodded. “But I still don’t like any of this.”

Tara didn’t either, but time was running short and with another woman gone, their options were frighteningly thin.

SOMEHOW, someway, Tara had to separate Jordan from his allaccess key card for her plan to work. No one was getting into the Pit without it.

She’d offered herself up as the sacrificial sub, but it took Tara an hour to spot Jordan in the public dungeons, now dressed in leather pants. Amid the crack of whips and the cries of pleasure/pain, he tried to give off the all-American-hero vibe with his winning smile. He’d spiced it up with a bit of badass, punctuated by the barbed-wire tattoo around one of his biceps and his gym-cut abs rippling between peeks of his black leather vest, sans shirt. But his eyes were cuttingly shrewd. Tara sensed this guy was seriously bent.

She shoved back the urge to shake as she wandered past him wearing next to nothing, putting on her best little-girl-lost face as she watched a middle-aged Dom tie his female sub up to a rack with a series of complicated knots that framed her breasts and thighs, rubbing her nipples or clit whenever the sub moved. Tara didn’t have to fake her eyes widening.

“That’s Shibari, little sub. Japanese rope bondage. What are you doing wandering around here without your Dom? Did he leave you again?”

Tara pretended to look down, clandestinely checking his belt for anything attached and his pockets for any flat areas.

“Yes, Sir. He said he was going for water over thirty minutes ago.”

Disapproval poured off him, but he softened it with a caress of his finger down her cheek. Willing herself not to flinch as he settled his knuckle under her chin, Tara allowed him to lift her face.

“He doesn’t understand the treasure he has in such a sweet sub. You know, Tara, other Doms would welcome the opportunity to care for you.”

Her heart picked up speed. Was this the first step in separating a vulnerable sub from her protector, pointing out his faults and trying to convince her that she could do better?

“I—I don’t think he cares for me very much, Sir.”

Jordan frowned, then held out his hand. “Come with me. We’ll talk.”

Crap! She couldn’t go anywhere alone with him. Too dangerous. What if Logan and Xander couldn’t follow?

Fearing that she’d overplayed her hand, she cast her eyes down again. “Master Logan told me not to wander from this area.”

He grabbed her hand. “So sweetly obedient. Such a shame . . .” He sighed. “There is a sofa against the wall. That’s not too far.”

Tara breathed a sigh of relief. It was a bit shadowed for her comfort, but even without a weapon, she was well trained in self-defense. Logan and Xander could still see her. They’d step in if anything went seriously wrong.

With a nod, she followed. He settled himself on the sofa, then patted his thighs. She hesitated.

Jordan scowled. “I won’t punish you—yet. You merely look like a sub in need of comfort, and my job is to provide all guests on the dungeon floor what they need.”

The slime was stretching the privileges attached with his authority, but she did her best to look understanding.

“Master Logan might paddle me if he sees me . . . but I could use cuddling.”

Tara tried not to cringe as she climbed onto his lap and let him put his arms around her. Beneath her left buttock, she felt something flat and hard. With a wriggle, as if trying to get more comfortable, she scooted off the item, only to see a hook at his belt his vest had previously hidden. From there, a thin silver chain dangled that disappeared into the pocket of his leather pants. Bingo!

“Thank you for holding me, Sir,” she whimpered. “I was feeling very alone.”

Probably a little too forward for someone she’d bet liked to crush girls under his feet, but he took the bait enough and tightened his arms around her. She forced herself to go limp against his chest, swallowing down bile as she thrust her hands under his vest, near his waist. The move put her breasts right in his face, and Jordan didn’t miss an opportunity to ogle.

Willing her hands not to shake, she thrust her breasts forward and slid her hand to the hook on his belt. She pretended a big sigh, which lifted her cleavage as she thumbed the hook off of his belt loop.

“You are very soft, little sub.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

She tried to think of something to prolong the conversation without arousing his suspicion. In case he suspected she was law enforcement, she couldn’t ask for a tour of the VIP room or say that she’d hoped to see him again. Instead, Tara took a softer approach.

“I don’t know why I can’t keep Master Logan’s attention,” she pretended to cry softly, wrapping her fingers around that thin little chain affixed to what she hoped was his access card in his pocket.

“It baffles me.” He brushed the hair from her face. “Kantor asked me to steer clear of you, but I can’t. You’re a treat to be savored.”

Tara froze. Why would Kantor do that unless he was suspicious? And why would Jordan tell her unless he was out of the loop? That was a puzzle to solve later.

For now, she wriggled again on his lap, trying to disguise the slow pull of the card from his pocket. It inched up, a corner sticking out, but with him sitting, she had no way to extract it cleanly.

She gave the prearranged gesture above Jordan’s head. Within seconds, Logan’s heavy footfalls came barreling toward them. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw him charging like an angry predator bent on tearing apart a lesser male for daring to infringe on his territory. She didn’t think that terrifying expression was totally manufactured.

Tara scrambled off Jordan’s lap. As he stood, she tugged the card free of his pocket. She yanked it behind her back, holding her breath as Jordan looked down with a puzzled expression. He’d felt her free it. Shit!

At that moment, Logan came to her rescue, advancing on the dungeon master with blazing eyes and an accusatory finger. Jordan merely puffed out his chest and tried to look intimidating.

Per their plan, Logan shoved her behind his back. With a clandestine movement, she slipped the key card into his back pocket.

His posture remained in angry barbarian mode. If this wasn’t an act, she suspected Logan would be forcing a big come-to-Jesus down the dungeon master’s throat. This wasn’t doing much for Logan’s disinterested image.

“Never put your hands on my sub again.”

“She was alone and needed reassurance. I provided it in your inattentive absence.”

Logan’s entire back tensed. “The way I treat her is none of your business. Perhaps I was disciplining her.”