Page 110 of The Oscar Escape
He didn’t look her way. He was glued to his phone. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he scrolled like he wanted to scrape his thumbprint into the screen. “Dammit, how could I have been so careless? How could I have sent this?”
“Talk to me. What did you do?”
“Oscar, there’s no power to the outdoor kitchen,” Margo called from the inn’s back door.
Etta joined Margo. “Aria, the people with the rental chairs are on their way. They want to meet you at the amphitheater. They say they need to talk to you about the layout.” Etta left Margo at the door and hurried to them, her silver braid swaying as she jogged. Worry was etched on her face. “The island is already teeming with media. They’ve come in their own boats. We can’t keep track of who’s on the island. I’m not even due on the mainland for two hours for the first ferry pickup.”
“It’ll be all right, Etta. I’ll see to the outdoor kitchen and wrangle the media. We’ve got a place for them to set up. It’s under control,” Oscar assured the woman, but Aria knew better.
Oscar’s pinched features told her something awful had happened.
“Oscar,” she said, but he was already sprinting toward the dock.
“Go inside the cottage,” he ordered from over his shoulder. “I’ll come for you once I get these issues sorted.”
There was no way she would hide and wait for anyone. Not when everything was riding on her plan’s execution. She patted Etta’s arm. “I’ll head up to the amphitheater.”
Mrs. Alden glanced over her shoulder toward the harbor. “I’d help you, but I need to make sure the ferry is ready.”
“Do what you need to do, Etta,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s normal for the press to get wind of an event and descend at once. It’s like a domino effect. We’ve had great luck getting the word out. People are coming because they want to experience the Havenmatch Island magic. And that’s what we’ll give them.”
Etta nodded and released an audible breath. “You’re right. I’ll give you a hand with the chairs in a bit.”
Aria watched the woman disappear down the trail, then surveyed the sky as the helicopters made another pass. “The chairs,” she whispered and peered at a fork in the footpath. She could take the route that cut through the preserve. A little calm and quiet would do her nerves good.
She entered the wooded space. The breeze rustled through the autumn foliage, and the echo of the gulls calling to each other slowed her hammering pulse. If there was ever a time to have her cell phone on her, this was it. She rolled her head from side to side, working out the kinks and replaying the interaction with Phil. He knew she was Aria Paige-Grant. She could see it on his face. But what leaked video was he talking about?
The edge of the amphitheater came into view. She sighed and stared at the trail, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other when a second pair of footsteps pounded the ground, coming in fast. She stopped, looked over her shoulder, and shrieked as a large man in a ski mask embroidered with lobsters wrapped his thick arm around her waist. She flailed, knocking off her hat and sunglasses before smacking the assailant in the nose. The creep groaned but didn’t let go.
“Hold her still,” another man called.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” a third man’s voice squeaked.
She couldn’t see them. They had to be behind her.
“We can’t stop now. We’ve come too far,” her attacker barked, tightening his grip as he held her against his ample belly.
Aria’s breaths came hard and fast. She tried to get a better look at the goons. She craned her neck, but before she could catch a glimpse, someone hoisted a bag over her head, and everything went black.
Chapter20
ARIA
Oh, hell no! There was no damned way she was getting kidnapped. Not today.
“Is the camera ready?” the man who’d barked for her to hold still asked, breathless.
“He said they’d be ready.”
Their voices sounded familiar. She stopped fighting and took a second to regain her bearings. These asshats needed to know they weren’t dealing with a helpless girl.
“Are you here to kidnap me?” she asked, in the same tone one would use to inquire about the soup of the day.
“No, I mean yes,” one of the men sputtered.
These weren’t hardened criminals. They were colossal idiots. And she sure as hell wouldn’t be abducted by the likes of these amateur crooks.
“You should probably make up your mind,” she replied and cracked her knuckles.
