Chapter 16 #2
He pulled his laptop from his duffel, set it on the kitchen bar, and opened it.
A moment later, he said, “Starlink’s working, if you want to connect.
” He lifted the duffel and disappeared from sight again, then returned, standing in the center of the space, facing her.
He held out his arms, pointing in opposite directions.
“There are two bedrooms, one on each side of the living area. Yours has a lock on the door.”
He was telling her she could seal herself away from him. That she had control over her own safety.
He stepped out of sight again.
Something in Kenzie snapped—or maybe it was more accurate to say something released. The fear didn’t disappear entirely, but clarity cut through.
If this man wanted to hurt her, he would have already. He’d had countless opportunities—in the cabin, in the hotel room, on the boat. He could have left her to the pirates, let the cartel find her, handed her over to Magras. Instead, he’d done the opposite of every single one of those things.
He’d protected her—at great cost to himself.
Yes, he’d lost his temper back at his house, but even when he’d feared she’d told someone about his daughter, put his precious child at risk, he hadn’t hurt her. And when she told him to back off, he had.
And he’d apologized.
He wasn’t a perfect man, not even close, but he was trying very hard to be a good man.
She’d been so angry and defensive when he’d accused her of betraying him, yet here she was, standing outside a perfectly safe home, afraid of him.
Would these panic attacks ever go away?
Kenzie climbed the steps, pulled open the screen, and stepped through the doorway.
The home was beautiful. Polished wood floors caught the golden light streaming through the windows. Comfortable furniture in neutral tones, a kitchen with modern appliances, and a wall of windows that gave her a glimpse of the sky painted in the pink and orange hues of sunset.
She tore her gaze away and scanned the room. Jaz must’ve slipped down a hallway on the right side of the living area. He was giving her a few moments to get her bearings.
There were framed photographs on the walls, not generic prints but beautiful images of Caribbean scenes. Beaches, rocky shores, sunsets. The composition was good, not that she knew much about such things.
A wall of shelves held books, mostly novels, from what she could see.
A guitar leaned in one corner.
This wasn’t just a house, it was a home. Or at least, it was trying to be.
He’d left her suitcase outside an open door on the opposite side of the house from the hallway where Jaz must’ve gone.
It was a bedroom with two full-sized mahogany beds.
Matching end tables and a bureau completed the set.
A fan turned lazily overhead, its blades shaped like palm leaves.
It could look cheesy, but it didn’t. It was somehow charming and perfect.
She dropped her bag on one of the beds and ducked into the bathroom—all luxury everything, like the rest of the house. She could be comfortable here until it was safe for her to go home.
If it ever was.
Kenzie took a quick shower to wash away the day and changed into a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt, more things Laguerre had bought for her.
When she was finished, she walked to the closed bedroom door and took a deep breath.
Her irrational anxiety wasn’t gone so much as standing silently in the corner.
She turned the knob and stepped into the living room.
Jaz was in the kitchen looking in the freezer. He must’ve heard her footsteps, but he didn’t react, just pulled a foil-wrapped package out and set it on the counter. “Find everything?”
“Yup.” She moved closer and stopped on the far side of an island. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s no problem.” He pulled the foil back and peeked inside. “We’re safe here. Nobody knows about this place.”
“Not even your friends?”
“Not even them. I needed a place where I could be myself.”
“Speaking of your friends, any word on Laguerre?”
Jaz smiled. “He came out of surgery, and they think he’s going to make a full recovery. They had to sew some things back together. I didn’t get the details because Martinez’s French isn’t very good, but he picked up that much.”
“That’s wonderful news. I’m so glad. He’s not in any trouble, is he?”
“For getting shot at while driving down a public road?”
“You never know.”
“He’s not in trouble. The police never found the shooters, though.”
She gazed around the living area, seeing it as not just a house but as his house, a place where he could let his guard down.
“That’s sailing for me.”
She turned to face him and saw a perplexed look—head dipped to the side, eyes narrowed, like he’d lost the thread.
“Sorry. I mean having a place where you can be your authentic self. I feel like that when I’m sailing, nothing but water and sky all around.”
“Even after the pirates?”
She considered the question, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I love being on the water. I feel like I can think better in a boat than on land.”
“Exactly. You get it.”
He held the foiled package in his hands as if weighing it to see if it would be enough. “Are you hungry?”
“Are you cooking?”
“I’ve got a couple of steaks, but it’ll be hours before they’re defrosted.”
“How do you keep the refrigerator running when you’re not here?”
“I keep it connected to the solar power. Everything else runs on the generator. So…steak?”
It’d been hours since lunch, but she said, “I can wait.”
He seemed to consider her words, glaring at the frozen meat. “I don’t think I can.” He went to a tall cabinet and disappeared behind the door, coming out a moment later with a couple of packages. “I’ll put together something else.”
She perched on a barstool as Jaz chose a thick wooden serving board from where it had perched against the backsplash like a decoration and set it on the counter between them.
He added crackers, then opened the refrigerator.
It was mostly empty, but he returned with a handful of cheeses and meats, which he sliced and arranged on the board.
The whole scene was so odd. She wasn’t sure how to process it. The peg labeled Jaz in her head had a lot of random information on it. Rescuer. Counterfeit playboy. DEA informant. Absent father. There wasn’t a spot for artful charcuterie board designer.
He added some dried fruit, a few chocolate-covered almonds, and a small bowl of olives.
When he was finished, he looked up and smiled, and for one second, she saw the eager-to-please child he must’ve once been.
“You’re more like my father than I ever guessed.”
His smile faded. “Uh…”
“You know”—she gestured to the board—“you have a special set of skills.”
That elicited a laugh. “I’ve developed a couple of hobbies in the last few years.”
“Like playing the guitar?” She glanced at the instrument in the corner.
“My charcuterie skills far surpass my musical skills.”
She chose a cracker, a slice of cheese, and a slice of sausage. It might not be a grilled steak, but it was good.
“Sorry I don’t have any fresh fruit or veggies.” He was watching for her reaction as if he’d made the items himself. “I usually grab those before I come.”
“We’ll probably avoid scurvy this time.”
“That’s what the dried apricots are for.” He found toothpicks and used one to grab a couple of olives.
“What else? What other hobbies?”
His gaze flicked beyond her, then right back as if he didn’t want to say.
She turned and guessed what he’d been looking at. “Did you take that photo?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to take a bad picture in such a beautiful place.”
“I could rise to that challenge, no problem.”
Another laugh. “Not an artist?”
“Not even close, though I like to think my sailing is masterful.”
“Oh, it is. I was very impressed at how you evaded the pirates.”
“Just tried to make it harder for them.”
“You did. One of the pirates went into the water trying to board.”
Now she was the one grinning like a fool.
Unsure what to say, she snatched a dried apricot and a slice of Gouda. Nice combination. She took her time chewing and swallowing. “I’m not an artist, but I have learned a few things over the years. I think your pictures are good.”
“Tried your hand at it, have you?”
“Oh, no. My sister’s the professional.”
His head dipped to one side, confusion written there. “Delaney’s a photographer? I didn’t know that.”
“Not Delaney, Brooklynn. She owns a studio in Shadow Cove. She’s won some awards too.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. Alyssa, Brooklynn, Cici, and Delaney. I’m the baby.”
His eyes narrowed, and she could see him trying to piece together what he’d just heard.
“I know what you’re going to ask, and I don’t know why my name’s not Emma or Emily or Elizabeth.
” She’d always acted as if she didn’t care that she wasn’t in line with her sisters.
A, B, C, D…K. She was the straggler. Her older sisters had been born one after the other, Irish quadruplets, her cousin Sam had once called them.
Kenzie had come three years after Delaney. Even if she’d been unplanned, nine months was a long time to come up with a name. Over the years, every time Kenzie had met a woman with a name that began with E, she’d thought, I could’ve been named that. Eloise, Elise, Evangeline, Elana, Elsa, Elodia.
To be fair, she was grateful she hadn’t been named Elodia. And she didn’t dislike the name she’d been given. She’d just always wondered.
“You look like a Kenzie,” Jaz said.
“Do I look like a Kensington, though? That’s my full name.”
“Uh…”
“Exactly.” She sipped her drink, feeling suddenly embarrassed, like maybe he could see right into her thoughts.
“I have no idea what happened between Delaney’s birth and mine.
Kensington is my maternal grandmother’s maiden name.
Mom said she wanted to honor her family, and she knew she wasn’t going to have seven more kids to reach the Ks. ”
He must’ve read something in her expression. “You don’t think that’s the whole answer?”
“I think…I think there must be more to the story.”
“A mystery, then.”
“Probably a really boring one, but I’d like to know the truth someday.”
They both munched the snack, and the silence felt comfortable, if a little…not strained but charged, like something was about to happen. Yet that feeling didn’t make her nervous.
If anything, her lack of nerves made her nervous. What would happen next, and after that, and after that? It seemed like they’d stepped into intermission. But the curtain would have to rise eventually. Act Two would begin.
And then…what?