She focused on Isla Paraíso again. Her humor faded, and she began to breathe deeply, like a woman on the verge of orgasm. “I hate to leave you here, but I have an appointment with Kellen Adams and her family. Her husband, Maximilian. Her darling little girl, Rae. I think in the past few years, while I was in prison, Kellen has grown quite fond of them. The best part is—they’re afraid that I’m coming. They think they’ve outsmarted me…and they did for a while. I followed them to Italy before I realized I was on a wild goose chase. That I was being followed. That was a mistake. The woman they hired was tough, but not as tough as me. Burns are such painful wounds, the little pieces of agony that make up successful torture. When I was done with her, she told me where they had gone. I removed her hands—my signature, as you now have discovered—and left her to die.” She swallowed in chagrin. “I should have known. I should have known. I went to Morocco and almost got killed before I found out she hadn’t known where they were!”

She thought she heard a whisper on the wind, whipped her head around and glared at Owen. “I can hear you laughing. Don’t think I can’t. Don’t think this doesn’t add another hour to Kellen’s torment. I’ll see to it myself.”

The yacht was riding low in the water now, starting to flounder.

She loaded her supplies and weapons into the dinghy. “I wondered—where will they end up? Where will they think themselves safe? Somewhere in the States, of course, on one of the Di Luca family properties. Someplace safe. That narrowed it down considerably. They weren’t going to a busy winery where every guest is welcome. No. It had to be isolated, easily guarded. I admit, Isla Paraíso wasn’t my first guess. I didn’t even know they owned an island off California. I mean, who does that? The family’s got money, I’ll say. After I got it narrowed down, all I had to do was check their spreadsheets.” She turned to face Owen. “Did I mention I spent the time in prison learning how to read? I demanded they teach me to overcome my dyslexia, and they had to. A judge made them, and I didn’t even have to sleep with her. I was condemned to life in prison, and the government still had to give me a chance for employment. God, these laws! You know what I mean. I hear you carrying on about exactly this. So wasteful!”

The yacht shuddered and tilted toward the port bow.

She stumbled and clutched the railing. “I’d better be careful. I’d hate to end up floating on a door in freezing water.”

Again he didn’t reply.