Chapter 10 #3
And clearly she’d read too much into Blake Brennan and his too-sharp eyes. In all likelihood, there was no assassin sitting somewhere in this group, wrapped in a scarf and pretending to care about wildlife.
Which meant that right now, she could let herself actually look forward to seeing the penguins.
And her husband.
The trip took nearly two hours, weaving south onto the peninsula, along ragged cliffs and rocky shores, finally pulling into a massive parking lot surrounded by rocks and scrub and fields of burrows.
She disembarked, the wind chapping her face, and followed the crowd into the reception center.
Lost herself in the gift shop, eyeing a penguin sweatshirt. Why not?
Dakota appeared at her elbow, two cups of hot chocolate in hand. “From the café. Figured you might need warming up.”
She took the cup. Their fingers brushed. “Thanks.”
“Ready for this?” He blew on his cocoa.
“To see the smallest penguins in the world make a run for home? I’m in.” She bumped his fist.
He grinned at her, and yeah, she completely forgot she was a spy. Or ever wanted to be.
She followed the crowd out down a massive stretch of boardwalk to bleachers and a roped off area on the sand. She ditched the bleachers and took a seat at the very bottom, next to a rope, the sand chilled beneath her, but warming as she sat.
Dakota sat beside her, against her, also warming her. She didn’t hate it. Not at all.
A guide got up and gave them a safety talk—no flash photography, no going out beyond the ropes. Quiet, so as not to scare them.
A tall spotlight puddled luminescence on the shore.
The air smelled of salt and kelp, the only sounds the soft murmur of waves upon the shore.
The sky deepened from gold to purple to the particular blue of twilight. The crowd hushed.
And then—
A small shape rose from the surf, paused, then retreated.
Another followed, then a cluster—stepping onto the sand, stopping, turning back again.
They gathered at the water’s edge, waiting, testing the sand, until one finally broke into a sudden, awkward run.
The rest followed at once, a scatter of tiny bodies waddling up the beach in the fading light, determined at last to go home.
Something in Jayden’s chest came unmoored.
“Look at them,” she whispered.
“Brave little guys,” Dakota said softly into her ear.
More penguins appeared, hesitating, retreating, then surging forward in bursts—dozens, then hundreds—until the beach filled with motion.
They passed the bleachers in loose lines, pausing to shake the sea from their feathers or call to one another in rough, braying cries, a brave, stumbling procession disappearing into the night.
“I read that they do this every night,” Dakota said, his voice low. “Every single night. They go out to sea, fish all day, then come back.”
Jayden watched a particularly small penguin hesitate at the edge of the sand, flippers fluttering as it took a few steps forward, then stopped. “Every night?”
“Every night. Same beach. Same path. Same burrows waiting for them.” He paused. “And there are things out there that know it. Gulls. Foxes. Anything hungry enough.”
The penguin bolted. The others rushed after it, a sudden scurry of movement.
“That’s why they go together,” Dakota said. “So none of them has to be brave alone.”
She turned toward him. His face was softened by the dusk, something open there that she wasn’t used to seeing. Unprotected.
“I move around a lot,” she said after a moment. “I don’t really have a place that waits for me.”
He didn’t answer right away. His shoulder rested against hers, steady, warm. “Maybe it’s not about the place,” he said. “Maybe it’s just knowing someone’s moving with you when the danger’s still there.”
Something settled between them then—quiet, unspoken, real.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe that’s enough.”
Dakota’s hand found hers in the darkness.
She didn’t pull away.
The hotel was quiet when they returned. Most of the tour group dispersed to their rooms, tired from the day and the evening chill. Jayden’s fingers were still cold despite the hot chocolate, and Dakota kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the hallway.
Playing the part. That’s what she told herself. Just playing the part.
Their room was at the end of the hall.
Dakota was reaching for their key card when the crash came.
Loud. Glass breaking. A shout—male, pained.
Dakota’s hand closed around her arm, pulling her behind him. “Stay back.”
More sounds—a door slamming, footsteps running. Then Howard Brennan’s voice, high with panic: “Help! Someone help! Call security!”
Dakota moved. Jayden followed, turning the corner at the end of the hall.
The Brennans’ door hung open, light spilling into the hallway. Inside—chaos. Drawers pulled out and dumped. Luggage torn apart. The window shattered, curtains billowing in the night air.
And Howard, sitting on the floor with blood running down his face from a gash above his eyebrow.
“Someone was in here,” he gasped. “I came back—Blake went to the vending machine—and someone was in here. They hit me. I didn’t see—”
Blake came running down the hall, a can of soda in his hand. His face went white when he saw the room. “Dad. Dad.” He shoved past Jayden, dropping to his knees beside Howard. “What happened? Who did this?”
Dakota’s hand closed around her elbow, firm and urgent. He pulled her back, away from the doorway, into the shadow of the hall.
“What if that was meant for you?” he said quietly.
“What?”
“What if someone saw Blake with the gray bag? They think he has whatever they’re looking for. But he gave it to us.” Dakota’s jaw was tight. “The bag is in our room. If they’d come to our room—”
“Why would they want my bag?” Jayden stared at him, her heart pounding. Please, Dakota, tell me what you know—what you saw—
He gave her a hard look. “I’m trying to figure that out. Why someone would want to hurt you. Back in Cairns. Or tonight. You didn’t have your bag in the Hunter Valley. It’s the only thing that”—he swallowed, looked away—“that makes sense.”
He was lying.
And her heart just fell.
Never mind that she would have lied too.
So she just nodded. “I guess so.”
Dakota glanced down the hall, where more doors were opening, curious faces peering out. “Stay here. I’m going to talk to Bonnie, make sure she calls the police. Someone needs to manage this.”
“Dakota—”
“Stay behind me.” His eyes met hers, intense and worried. “Get to the room, and then lock the door and stay there. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”
He was gone before she could argue.
Jayden stood in the hallway, watching the chaos unfold. Gerald was hovering near the Brennans’ door, offering to call for ice. Mags had appeared in a bathrobe, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. The Novaks—Josef and Anna—poked their heads out, looked terrified, and retreated.
No sign of Riley Stewart.
Jayden slipped into her room and closed the door. Leaned against it. Dakota had told her to stay. To lock the door. To wait.
But everyone was distracted. Most of the tour group was clustered around the Brennans’ room, focused on the break-in, the injury, the drama.
Jayden checked her watch. Dakota would be downstairs for at least ten minutes, dealing with Bonnie and hotel security. That was enough time. Enough time to search the newcomer’s rooms. Enough time to finally get some answers.
She pulled out her lock-pick set—standard Black Swan issue, disguised as a manicure kit—and eased open the door.
And nearly collided with Vic Simons.
He stood in the hallway directly outside her door, wringing his hands in that nervous way of his. His face was pale in the fluorescent light.
“Oh!” He startled back. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—I heard the commotion and I was just—” He gestured vaguely toward the Brennans’ end of the hall. “Is everyone all right? Poor Mr. Brennan. I hope he’s not badly hurt.”
Jayden stared at him.
Harmless Vic. Anxious Vic. The nervous IT consultant who’d been on this tour since the beginning.
Vic, who was standing in the hallway outside her room.
“Fine,” she said slowly. “Everything’s fine.”
“Oh good. Good.” He bobbed his head, still wringing his hands. “Well, I’ll just—I should probably—” He gestured vaguely and shuffled away down the hall, his shoulders hunched.
Jayden watched him go.
She’d been looking at the new arrivals. Blake with his sharp eyes. Riley with her gender-neutral name.
But what if the threat had been here all along?
What if it was someone she’d dismissed from the very beginning?
Vic disappeared around the corner, and Jayden stood frozen in her doorway.
And right then, of course, the elevator opened, and Dakota came out, his face a storm, as if truly furious, again, that someone might hurt her.
She slipped back inside the room. Maybe she’d been looking in the wrong direction this whole time.