Chapter Five
Isla
With one arm, my brother hugged me back.
Then, over too soon, he pulled away, but not before noticing something I didn’t want to think about. “You’re not wearing your barrette.”
“Yeah.” The golden barrette that he’d given me. The one that doubled as a lockpick but also had a serrated knife on one edge and could be used as screwdriver or about a dozen other applications if needed. Another casualty of the infuriating, kidnapping SEAL. “I sort of lost it.”
My brother glanced down at me. His expression hadn’t changed, but I could read him all the same. Skepticism and judgment drove the slightest lift of his left eyebrow.
“I might need another one,” I admitted, hating that I had to ask.
He scrutinized me for another two seconds, then let me off easy. “Noted.”
“Thanks.”
With only a nod in acknowledgment, my brother led me toward the marina parking garage to a tinted-out SUV that had the small, telltale barcode sticker that rental car companies used.
“You rented a vehicle?” Usually he avoided it, especially when he could borrow one.
“Quickest way to get to you.” He unlocked the SUV and tossed my pack into the back seat.
“About that….” I opened the front passenger door, got in, and waited until he was behind the wheel.
“How did you find me?” I’d been in Miami…
I didn’t know how many days exactly. I didn’t count time, but it’d been close to a week.
Admittedly, I hadn’t been doing a stellar job of watching for a tail, but I had been avoiding security cameras.
My brother spared me a glance before he backed out of the parking spot and aimed for the garage exit.
“Come on. It’s only fair. I always tell you how I did it when I find you.” I turned up the air-conditioning, then immediately turned it back down. Apparently, I’d gotten used to South Florida temperatures.
“You’ve never found me.” Scanning the street, he pulled into Miami Beach traffic and headed north.
“Not true. Remember Iceland?” I smiled at the memory.
“I let you find me in Reykjavik.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Years ago, when I was still calling him regularly with his mandated monthly wellness checks—my wellness, not his—we’d been on the phone when I’d heard a woman tell him good day in Icelandic.
Except I hadn’t known it was Icelandic at the time, and I’d definitely never heard a woman on our calls before, in the background or otherwise.
More than curious, especially when he wouldn’t tell me where he was, I’d become a sister on a mission.
“Do you know how many people I had to ask what Góean daginn meant before someone recognized the language?” I’d been in Spain at the time.
Not a lot of Spaniards knew Icelandic. “And you never even appreciated how complicated it was to get there.”
“You took one containership from Bilbao to Reykjavik.”
“Yes, but I had to get to Bilbao first. Then that route from Spain to Iceland took twenty days and twelve hours. And by the way, those last hours were the worst.” I still shuddered at the memory.
I never wanted to hear chunks of ice hit the hull of a containership again.
Also, it’d been cold as shit when I’d stepped off that boat.
Thankfully, my brother had not only answered his cell when I’d called him from port, but he’d also still happened to be in country.
I only stood there shivering for twenty minutes before he came to meet me.
But none of that diminished the fact that I’d found him. Once.
“You could’ve asked me to arrange air travel.”
“I’m not falling for that trap.” He always warned me off air travel. So had our father. “It’s impossible to fly anonymously, especially when you purchase a plane ticket.”
“I didn’t say I would’ve put you on a commercial flight.”
Dismissing his comment, I watched the densely packed landscape of Miami Beach turn from high-rises and hotels to more spread out, luxury residential buildings interspersed with mansions. “Where are we going?”
“Here.” He pulled into the Four Seasons Hotel at The Surf Club.
“This is….” Oh my God. “Turn around.” Not good. At all.
“No.”
I looked at my brother—the one person I thought I knew better than anyone.
The only human who’d risked his life for mine.
He looked out for me. He’d taken care of me.
He’d protected me. “What are you doing? This is, this is….” I waved my hand at the cobblestone drive, travertine columns, giant terracotta planters, lush greenery, and waiting attendants.
It was sheer opulence and outrageously expensive.
It was also a place that would have a lot of security cameras, and my family did not do security cameras.
“It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine. He would be caught on security cameras, and our father had always said that was a death sentence for operators.
Which I knew was an obsolete thought process now, especially with the sophistication of technology, but the fear was ingrained, and the habit of staying off the grid was second nature.
Besides, this place was probably a thousand dollars a night.
That was a luxury I didn’t need or want. “You can’t afford this.”
“Yes, I can.”
Before I could ask how, my brother had stopped the SUV, and my door was opened.
The valet, tall and trim with a closely shorn beard, smiled as he held my door with one hand and kept his other politely angled behind his back. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” He glanced at my brother. “Mr. Stanton. Welcome back.”
Stanton? My brother had been here before?
Without missing a beat, my brother thanked him as another valet opened his door.
I got out.
My brother handed the second man a folded bill, then opened the rear passenger door, grabbed my backpack, and addressed the first valet as he came around the vehicle. “We’re in for the night, Alvaro.”
“Of course, sir.” Alvaro nodded at me and shut my door.
My brother’s hand landed on my back as the second valet drove off with the SUV.
Then he led me through a lobby that was all at once elegantly grand, modern, and storied.
With sweeping high ceilings, curved arches, brass-trimmed hexagonal light fixtures, tropical green plants, and perfect potted palms, it was a vision.
My brother didn’t pause to look at any of it. He didn’t even scan the other guests.
Drowning in the architectural beauty of the seamless mix of contemporary and classic Miami, inhaling the scent of ocean breezes, night jasmine, and cool air-conditioning, I wanted to sink into one of the couches and watch the world go by.
But my brother was briskly leading me to an elevator, where he swiped a card key.
Once we’d stepped onto the waiting lift and the doors closed, I looked at him. “Stanton?”
“New alias.”
“Now a defunct alias.” He wouldn’t use it twice.
My brother didn’t answer.
The elevator doors opened to a private oceanfront suite, and he strode into the open-plan living area that also had a full kitchen.
My first thought was holy shit.
My second was that this was definitely more than a thousand dollars a night.
Dumping my backpack on a low, pale gray modern couch, my brother headed toward one of the two bedrooms that flanked either end of the suite. “Groceries are in the fridge.”
I stared at the stunning turquoise ocean, then glanced back at the gleaming white kitchen. “What’s the catch?” And what was my brother doing these days that he could afford this place?
“I’m grabbing a shower.” Ignoring my question, scrolling on a cell phone, my brother didn’t look up. “There’s local fish, fresh herbs and vegetables, fruit. Should be enough there for you to come up with something.”
I wasn’t offended. The opposite, actually. My brother knew I loved to cook my own food.
I obsessed over it.
But that wasn’t what I was asking.
This suite, the hotel, the view, him staying the night, or at least him telling the valet we were in for the night—my brother didn’t do that.
“Hey.” Something was off. “I asked a question.”
He stepped out of his boots, pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, and dumped it on a dresser before setting his cell down next to it. Then he looked at me. “I made you an appointment. Tomorrow.”
My stomach dropped, and panic hit. I shook my head. “No.”
My brother’s expression hardened. “You’re going, Isla.”
“No way.” No, no, no way.
“Oh nine hundred. I’m taking you.”
I stepped back.
His gaze shot to the elevator-slash-entry-door, then landed back on me as he raised an eyebrow. “What happens when you run?”
After years of experience with this exact scenario, my whispered response was automatic. “You follow.”
“Always, Isla. So save us both the trouble and don’t take off. The end result will be the same. You’re going to the appointment tomorrow.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Make yourself something to eat.” He shut the bedroom door.