Chapter Eighteen
Isla
I took the elevator down to the lobby and made it as far as reception before a man behind the counter looked pointedly at me.
“Miss Stanton.” He briefly smiled, then crooked two fingers. “A moment, please?”
Shit.
My backpack was in the suite.
That was my first thought because I’d had to make more than a few rushed exits from establishments over the years. Minus one bottle of cologne, I’d never outright stolen anything. At least not anything already picked, harvested, caught, bought, or procured. But squatting was another story.
Smiling wide, telling myself my brother had never left me with a bill and wouldn’t start now, I changed course and approached the reception desk. “Yes?”
“Thank you, Miss Stanton.” Looking somewhat flustered up close, I immediately knew what this was about before he said his next words. “I have a package for you. I was instructed to hand it to you personally, but not disturb you in your suite.”
“Of course you were,” I muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” I pulled out my most innocent smile, which was a shame to use in this dress. “The package?”
“Yes, I have it right here.” He reached under the desk, came away with a padded envelope, and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I tore open the mailer and fished out a cell phone before shoving the envelope across the counter. “Can you dispose of this for me, please?”
“There’s a note, ma’am.”
About to open my small purse to stuff the cell phone in, I paused and looked back inside the envelope. Sure enough, there was a single folded piece of paper. I grabbed it, then handed the mailer to him. “Thank you.”
“Of course. If there’s anything else you need, please let me or the staff know.”
Nodding noncommittedly, I secured my clutch under my arm. Then, with the cell phone and note tucked in one hand, I walked away from the reception desk and lobby bar, taking a detour toward the oceanfront gardens and pool area. A minute later, I’d taken a seat outside and opened the note.
Three words in bold block letters were written in my brother’s handwriting on a piece of the hotel’s stationary.
CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.
Sighing, I crumpled the note and shoved it into my clutch. Then I leaned back on the plush lounger that was parked in front of the daytime cabanas and stretched out my legs.
For a long moment, I stared past the pool at the aquamarine ocean and watched the sky start to swirl with sunset hues.
As many times as I’d watched an eastern horizon as day gave way to twilight, I never got used to it.
I’d grown up in the west where the sun set over the ocean, not rose from it.
This sunset was no less beautiful, and the South Florida humidity and distant storm clouds were making a spectacular display, but it was still unsettling.
Or maybe it was just the note that was unsettling.
I didn’t want to call.
I didn’t even want the phone.
I had my brother’s numbers memorized. If I needed him, I’d find a way to call him.
But carrying around the cell, the weight of it, worrying about it getting wet or lost or stolen, not having a charger, all of it felt…
tethering. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t the actual weight, and I could easily ask the concierge or the front desk clerk to get me a charging cable and add it to the room bill.
Hell, there were probably places in the hotel I could charge the damn thing for free.
But that wasn’t how I lived.
My brother knew that.
And a month ago, before I’d come face-to-face with a different SEAL, I wouldn’t have thought twice about the cell phone in my hand. I would’ve left it with the hotel desk clerk while I ate dinner, or taken a quick trip back upstairs and tossed it into my backpack.
But now, for the first time in my life, I was wondering what it would be like if I had someone besides my brother to call.
If someone called me.
Not someone.
Him.
An attendant stepped in front of my view, abruptly derailing my train of thought. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I belatedly realized no one was in the pool.
In fact, there wasn’t anyone on the surrounding loungers either, and all of a sudden, it made me want to swim.
“What time does the pool close?” After dinner would be the perfect time to dip into the stunningly perfect turquoise water.
Maybe staying here through next week wouldn’t be so bad. I loved night swims.
“Sunset, ma’am.”
Of course. “No, thank you on the drink.” I held up the cell. “I just need to make a quick call.”
“Certainly.” With a smile, the attendant walked away.
I powered up the phone and waited.
Then I tried my luck with avoidance.
Pulling up the one programmed number on the cell, I sent a two-word text.
A second after the smartphone said the text was delivered, it rang with a blocked, incoming call.
I swiped to answer. “I sent the code word.”
“I didn’t ask how you were. My instructions were to call.”
“Good to know you care about my well-being. And hello.”
Two seconds of silence followed. Then my brother’s tone came down about a dozen notches. “Did you get a dress?”
“Yes, thank you. It’s red and scandalous, and Mom would’ve hated it.” I glanced at my sandals and let out a small laugh. “And you should see the shoes.” I wiggled my toes. “She definitely wouldn’t approve. And before you ask, yes, I used the credit card.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.”
Trying and failing to remember the last time I’d heard my brother laugh, my mood derailed. “Are you?”
“I never lie to you, Isla.”
“No, I meant, are you happy?”
“Your only concern should be yourself. You don’t need to worry about me.”
I always worried about him, but if I said that, this conversation would be over. “I miss your laugh.”
“Then make better jokes.”
“Not funny.” Suddenly, I realized something. “You’re making small talk. Whatever you told me to call you for must be bad.”
“Existentialism is small talk?”
“Oh my God.” Dressed too nice to groan like a teenager, I still made the most of an irritated exhale. “If you’re going to channel Dad, I’m hanging up.”
“Then I’ll come find you at the pool.”
Immediately sitting up straight, I scanned the entire outdoor area, the balconies above me, and the gardens in between my lounger and the sand. “You don’t know where I am.”
“Isla.”
“What?” I held the phone away and quickly glanced at the screen. For what, I didn’t know. When I brought it back to my ear, I had the distinct impression that I was being watched, but not by my brother.
“I hear the waves. Loud enough to know you’re outside. Not loud enough for you to be on the beach, and the cell has a tracker.”
“Now I really want to hang up.” And dump the cell. “You give new meaning to the term ‘Big Brother is watching you.’”
“In this instance, it’s literal. It’s also nothing new. I want you to switch hotels.”
Well, there it was.
The reason for the call.
Leaning back in the lounger, this time I exhaled in exhaustion. “It’s been a long day.” I didn’t bother asking why he wanted me to move. I’d never known my brother to not have sound reasons behind his actions. “I was about to have dinner. If this is because of money, I can—”
“It’s not the money, Isla. I told you the room’s paid for through next week, and they have a credit card on file, but I’d prefer for you to leave now. There’s a taxi waiting half a block south of the hotel’s main entrance. Leave your backpack. It’ll be picked up for you.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.” I swung my legs off the lounger, and my heels clicked as they hit the stone pool deck. “If this is some kind of repeat of Cap d’Antibes and I need to haul ass before you start shooting at people, tell me right now.”
Silence.
“Wolf,” I warned.
“Why did you mention France?”
“Why did you tell me to cut and run?”
“I’m asking you to leave. The taxi will take you to your new accommodations. The reservations are already made.”
“Accommodations,” I stated dryly, scanning the entire pool area again and seeing nothing. “Since when do you make me reservations twice in one week?”
“Since you landed in Southern Florida.”
“So that’s what this is about? Miami Beach? Who’s here?” Oh my God. Oh my God. My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Is Dad here?”
There was fraction of a pause, that split second of silence so loud, I heard my own heartbeat.
Then my brother’s resolute tone came through the line with deafening finality. “Our father is dead, Isla.”
“I never saw his body.”
“Leave the hotel,” he ordered. “Take the taxi.”
“Will I see you?”
“No.”
“Then no, thank you. I’m going to dinner.” I hung up, stood up, and had my finger poised to power down the phone when two texts came through, one right after the other.
The first was an address.
The second was an order.
Ignoring both, I turned off the cell and walked back into the hotel.