The Missing - Kiersten Modglin (the reading strategies book TXT) 📗

and Matt had chosen the young girl, beautiful and edgy with her deep almond eyes, ebony skin, and charming smile. They were copying the strategy that had almost won it for me last time, choosing a girl the boys would fall in love with and do anything to protect. Their mistake was choosing someone too young to see reason, someone impulsive.

Of course, Roman chose the youngest man, James, with thick biceps and an angry look we’d seen on full display when he’d nearly gotten into a fight outside of a beachside motel. He was someone anyone with no experience of how our game worked would choose. Someone whose stubbornness and rage would end up getting him killed. It was the third time he’d made the same mistake. Honestly, Roman would never learn strategy. Or maybe he was just hoping his strategy would eventually pay off.

Josie and Dan found their pick—a Southeast Asian man we’d watched playing volleyball for hours on end with a group of players, who’d brushed off anyone who came near him to chat in a passive-aggressive way. They believed he wouldn’t make any connections, that he’d keep a clear head and eyes on the goal. Dan was determined to win this year. Besides Roman, they were the only ones who hadn’t claimed a victory yet.

And, of course, Barrett and I found our pick, the best of all, at a resort in Key West. She was beautiful and lonely, a deadly combination, and I’d watched her spending most of her time reading books, which I hoped would mean she’d know nearly as much as the trivia man. On top of that, she was older than the youngest girl, meaning she’d have her wits about her. She’d be able to reason, to use her better judgment, and think critically in life-threatening situations.

The next morning, once we’d selected our champions, Roman had some of his staff prepare the boats and the nine of us boarded his private jet, setting off for our island, where we would relax and wait for them to arrive. And sure enough, by the evening, the boat had delivered the five of them to us and the game had begun.

The first day was always fun for me, watching from our television screens as the cameras we had planted around the island showed them struggling to make sense of what had happened. Then, once Dan had delivered the note to their camp, they’d realize what was going on.

They’re always reluctant to get the challenge going, so we were used to waiting some time before the first round ended with the death of a pick, the loss of one of the teams. This group, though, they’d been stubborn. The game had lasted over a month longer than the last, making it our longest game yet.

I’d had my doubts about Katy for a bit, wondering if I’d judged her incorrectly, but in the end, the strategy had won out. Dan and Josie’s pick, Noah, had fallen hard for her and sacrificed himself. So, while my pick hadn’t exactly stormed her way to victory, my gut instinct, to pick someone others would want to protect, had delivered us to the winner’s seat and made us four million dollars richer.

That’s right, four million dollars. Five if you counted the money we’d put in as well.

The first challenge had happened five years ago, when I was still just Barrett’s mistress. He’d loved me, of course, more than anything, but his wife made it impossible for him to leave. Doing so would’ve cost him everything, his company, his fortune… I couldn’t let that happen.

I wrote him a note, the one he still has, the one that he says started it all. That made him feel like he could have true happiness with me.

I can kill your wife for you.

So when he’d first invited me to his island, my initial inclination was to say no—spiders, snakes, and sharks are the top of my hell no list, but when he insisted it was time for me to meet his friends, I began to formulate the plan. A week later, we'd spent an evening with his group of friends on their island, him buttering them up for their secrecy about me, and them badgering me about what I did for a living and what sort of car I drove, so I gave them a half-truth.

“I’m an analyst,” I told them. In truth, I spent my days analyzing people. Figuring out how to dupe them. And my endeavors had made me rich. Granted, not filthy rich, like Barrett Laguna. Not private jet rich. Not buy an island online with your four best friends because you’re drunk and it’s funny rich. But rich enough, if there was such a thing.

So I spent the night finding the weak spots in the group, figuring out who to coax, where to push, when to let off the gas.

By the end of the night, I knew Roman had an ex-boss he’d like to teach a lesson to. I knew Amber’s best friend had slept with her husband years ago and she’d never forgiven her. I knew Kyle had an employee who’d lost him nearly a billion in a deal gone wrong. I knew there was a client threatening to sue Josie for so much, her practice might go under. And, of course, I knew Barrett had a wife who desperately needed to be taken out of the picture.

So, with a push here and a prod there, I’d goaded them into imagining how funny it would be to put all five of our enemies into a room and watch them fight to the death.

“Gina would die if she couldn’t have her oat milk latte by nine a.m.,” Amber said.

“Darren’s fat ass would die without air conditioning,” Kyle joked.

I let the conversation carry for a bit before adding the final element, the thing I knew it would need to work. I enticed them with the one thing no one in that room could say