Page 63 of Safari Murder Party
“Where is it?” Jackie asked, little more than a hiss.
Her finger curled around the gun’s trigger. The red polish on her index fingernail had split. Fletcher broke a light sweat, but she couldn’t decide if it was from the gunmetal or the botched manicure.
She’d never seen Jackie so unmade. The longer they spent on the island, the wilder she became. They needed to get off Lydell before she lost herself entirely. Which meant Fletcher needed the boat key, but…
“I’m working on it,” she answered.
Jackie scowled, a guttural rumble coming through gnashed teeth. Just what every woman wanted to hear with a gun pointed at her skull. “Why is it taking so long?”
“The key wasn’t at the estate, so—”
“Spence, was that you?” Waylon’s sleep-heavy voice called.
Fletcher recognized the look in Jackie’s eyes because she’d worn it herself when her name hadn’t appeared on the Lydell invite list.Betrayal.
She knew what this must seem like to Jackie. Fletcher, a lying double agent. The key, probably already shoved in her pocket. Waylon, about to take Jackie’s spot on the escape boat.
“What ishedoing here?” Jackie stalked forward as if to hunt Waylon down and skin him alive, just like she did Bertram.
“Don’t!” Fletcher said. Instinct took over, and she grabbed Jackie’s arm. “He’s with me.”
“That much is obvious.” Jackie’s gun found its way back to Fletcher’s temple. Lovely. “I thought we had an agreement, Miss Spence.”
A few gulps of air and Fletcher regained her composure. She was Fletcher Spence. Competent, capable Fletcher. Always in control. She could handle this. Even ifthiswas a head shot away from being vulture breakfast.
“We do. I’m working with—I’musinghim.”
Few things in this life did Jackie Caldera love more than using people to get what she wanted. The buzzword worked like Fletcher hoped—Jackie paused. A curious if disbelieving look crossed her face. Mouth pinched, eyebrows drawn, head tilted. “Using him?”
“He knows where the key is, so he’s guiding me to it but won’t tell me where it is. I need him on my side until I have the key in hand, so I told him he could leave with me. I know, I know. But it had to be done. So,he”—Fletcher pointed over her shoulder—“can’t know aboutus. Andyoucan’t shoot him. I need him in one piece.”
Jackie’s frown grew deeper by the second. “A pity. I thought you had what it takes to get ahead.”
Ambition was Jackie’s greatest weapon. The youngest editor in chief inJet-Setterhistory wasn’t a title easily earned. There was nothing she wouldn’t do—no one she wouldn’t kill—to get what she wanted.
The alliance they’d forged was the only thing keeping Fletcher’s brain inside her skull.
“I do. I swear I do. I’ll get you your key.” Fletcher’s stomach settled. She’d told so many half-truths that the whole truth came easily. “I want that promotion, Jackie. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. He thinks I’m on his side, and he has tobelieveit.”
Judging by the way the gun bit into Fletcher’s skin, Jackie had never believed a person less. But she didn’t have a choice. For once, everyone was playing by Fletcher’s rules.
Beyond them, Waylon’s sleeping bag crinkled. He yawned, so loud against the quiet morning Fletcher felt it in her teeth.
“Leaving without me?” he asked, and Fletcher imagined him rubbing at his eyes, his sharp features softened with sleep.
“You have to go,” she urged Jackie. “Don’t let him see you.”
Jackie didn’t budge, her trigger finger all too ready. “You’ve got one day left. Get me that boat key, whatever the cost, and get rid ofWaylon. If you don’t kill him, I will. And if you try to pull anything, you’ll be next.”
Fletcher’s mouth went so dry she could sand walls with her tongue. Whatever makeshift truce she and Waylon had come to, Jackie didn’t need to know about it. “Understood.”
The pressure of Jackie’s gun vanished, and so did she. A few moments later, the engine of her Jeep rumbled to life, headlights streaking through the grasses and steering into the depths of the jungle. No doubt off to beat Fletcher to the marina to make sure she didn’t go back on her word.
And she wouldn’t.
It wasn’t like she and Waylon were going to see each other ever again after this godforsaken company trip ended. He didn’t deserve to die here, but he wouldn’t. The rescue crew would come. She’d step off the boat ramp with a wave or maybe skip goodbyes altogether, knowing they’d stay on their separate sides of the Hudson.
Although, he was helping her, and maybe she could repay the favor by figuring out how to vouch for his asylum once she had the key—and some leverage.
