Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ROBBIE
“Evidence?” The word scorches through me, my skin tingling as though I’ve been dragged too near an open flame. Did he actually just say that? Evidence?
I lean forwards, my knuckles pressing into the polished surface of his desk, hard enough that I half expect it to splinter beneath my fists. “What fucking evidence?” My voice comes out louder than I mean it to, but I don’t care. “There can’t be any evidence because I didn’t do this, Da. I didn’t take anything!”
Da sighs, weariness etched across his face. “That temper of yours. Could you try to rein it in? And for the second time, Robbie, sit down.”
“Bloody hell, you’re accusing me of stealing from guests! Getting upset is a pretty natural reaction.”
“I wanted to speak with you directly before calling the police, to give you a chance to explain.” His voice is maddeningly calm, as if this is all just a bit of admin he has to sort out before lunch. “But I’m only willing to talk with you if you make an effort to control yourself. So can we discuss this like adults, or should I go ahead and make that call now?”
My hands itch to break something, anything. Instead I force myself to take three deep breaths, the way Johnny always tells me to when I’m about to lose it. The rage doesn’t disappear, but it simmers down enough for me to drop back into the chair.
“Okay, then,” I say through gritted teeth. “Let’s talk and maybe we can sort this mess out.”
Da presses his fingertips together. “As I mentioned, I’ve been conducting my own investigation and... well.” He fixes me with that piercing stare of his. “Unfortunately, Robbie, your keycard was used to access Mr Ashford’s room the day his watch went missing... to access Ms Laurent’s room the day her earrings disappeared... and last night to access Mr Harrington’s room.”
“What?” My voice is flat at first—quiet disbelief—but then it spikes. “Are you serious? This is bollocks! Someone must have?—”
“According to the maintenance logbook,” he continues, cutting me off, “you didn’t perform repairs in any of those rooms on those dates.” He leans forwards, his gaze never wavering from mine. “So tell me, if you weren’t working in those rooms, what exactly were you doing in them?”
“I wasn’t in the rooms!” My chest is tight now, each breath coming shorter than the last as both fury and panic set in. “Someone is stitching me up. You have to believe me, Da.”
But I can see it in his eyes—that familiar look of disappointment and suspicion.
“Fucking hell.” I rub my hand over my face. “I swear I didn’t do this.”
He watches me carefully, his expression giving nothing away. “Your words might hold more weight if you hadn’t said the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions as a young man, only for it to emerge later that you were guilty as sin.”
The old resentment flares hot in my chest. “C’mon, Da, what is this, the boy who cried wolf? I’m thirty-one years old, not fifteen. I’m telling you, I didn’t do this.”
He taps his fingers against the edge of his desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm, like he’s counting down to something I’m not going to like. “And I truly hope that’s the case. But at this stage I have no choice but to contact the police, and I have to pass on to them what I’ve uncovered so far. If you’re as innocent as you say, the truth will come to light.”
I shake my head, a hollow laugh escaping me. “For fuck’s sake.” It’s like a knife to the heart that my own father won’t believe me. After all these years, after everything I’ve done to straighten myself out, he still sees me as that troublemaking kid.
“Furthermore,” he says, his tone sliding into the clipped, formal cadence he uses for staff disciplinary issues, “in line with policy, I’m going to have to suspend you until the police have concluded their investigation. If your name is cleared, you’ll of course be reinstated to your position.”
I huff out a breath. He’s not just accusing me—he’s suspending me. My own father. “You know what? Let’s make this easier for both of us.” I push to my feet, the chair scraping loudly over the polished floor. “I quit.”
“Robbie—”
“Nope. This is bullshit, Da. You don’t believe me? Fine. But I don’t need to stand here and take this crap from you.” I turn and stride towards the door.
“Wait!”
I pause, gripping the handle but refusing to look back.
“There’s something else that needs to be addressed.”
Reluctantly I turn back to him. “What?”
He clears his throat, still pretending like this is some official HR meeting instead of a father accusing his son of being a thief. “As you’re currently under suspicion, I can’t allow you to wander around the resort unattended.”
“You can’t be serious. You honestly think I’m going to nick someone’s Rolex on my way out?”
“It’s policy,” he replies firmly, his expression unmoving even as colour rises in his cheeks.
“Policy? Right. Because heaven forbid we ever bend a single rule at the Glen Garve Resort.”
Ignoring me, he says, “Johnny will escort you to your locker so you can collect your belongings. Once you leave today, you aren’t permitted back on the premises without prior agreement from me.”
So my own brother is to escort me out of here like I’m a common crook? You couldn’t make this up.
“It’s not personal,” Da adds. “It’s just procedure, son.”
Son . The word sounds hollow, a formality rather than a bond. I stare at him, this man who shares my blood but has never really understood me. I wonder if he ever will.
“Fine,” I grit out. “Let’s get this over with.”
Johnny’s waiting outside, his face a picture of misery. He falls into step beside me as we head down the staff corridor towards the locker room, his shoulders hunched like he’s carrying the weight of this whole mess. The silence between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
I hate seeing my wee brother like this. It takes the edge off my anger, just a bit. I’ve spent my whole life trying to shield Johnny from the worst of things, and here he is, caught in the middle of this shitshow.
“Hey.” I nudge his arm. “Relax. I’ll be fine.”
He shoots me a look that’s somewhere between exasperation and concern. “I should be the one reassuring you, Robbie, not the other way around.”
I shrug. “I’ve got thick skin.”
“I warned you to keep your cool in there.” He glances around to make sure no one is within earshot. “I was right outside, and you weren’t exactly being quiet. I know it’s not fair, but Da was only going to suspend you while the police investigate. Did you really have to quit?”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “You weren’t in the room, Johnny. You didn’t see the way he looked at me. He’d already decided I was guilty.”
“That’s not tr?—”
“It is,” I cut him off. “And we both know it.”
We reach the locker room, and I’m grateful to find it empty. The last thing I need is an audience. I spin the combination on my locker, open it, and pull out my leather jacket, which is stuffed in a heap at the bottom. As I do, something clatters to the floor between us.
A ring.
A signet ring, to be precise. Gold with some sort of crest on it.
For a beat, neither of us moves. The ring just sits there on the floor like it’s mocking me. My brain stutters, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
“What the fuck?” The words come out low and sharp, my pulse pounding in my ears. I glance at Johnny, whose face has gone as white as the resort’s overpriced bedsheets.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like he’s choking something down. “Is that?—”
“The ring that was reported missing this morning? I think so.” My heart thuds harder. “Johnny, I swear to God, I’ve never seen it before in my life.”
His eyes dart between me and the ring like he’s waiting for someone to yell, “Surprise!”
“Robbie...”
“I didn’t put it there,” I bite out, shoving a hand through my hair. “Seriously, if I’d nicked it, do you think I’d chuck it in my bloody locker? Only for it to then fall out right in front of you?”
I crouch down and scoop it up. “Here.” I thrust it towards him. “Take it. Say you found it somewhere else—outside maybe, or on a table or something. I don’t care. But if the police find out this was in my locker, then between this and those keycard logs, I’m done for. We’re talking jail time, Johnny. Someone is framing me, I swear.”
He doesn’t move to take it. Just stares at the ring, then at me, his expression torn. “You want me to lie... to the police? And to Da?”
I can see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of what I’m asking him to do pressing down on him. Johnny’s always been the good son—honest, reliable, the one who follows the rules. Asking him to lie goes against everything he is.
“Johnny, you know me.” I step closer to him, lowering my voice even though we’re alone. “If I was guilty, I wouldn’t drag you into this with me. I’ve always looked out for you, haven’t I?”
He hesitates, his expression shifting like he’s at war with himself. “Aye,” he says softly. “You have.”
“This is something I need you to do for me.” I hate how it sounds like begging, but right now my pride is the least of my concerns. “Please.”
He’s quiet for what feels like forever, his gaze dropping back to the ring in my outstretched hand. Finally he takes it and slips it into his pocket. “Aye, I’ll... come up with something. A story about where I found it.”
The look on his face twists something deep inside me. He doesn’t like this—lying for me—but he’s agreeing all the same, which makes the guilt churn hotter in my stomach.
“Thank you. Seriously.”
He doesn’t respond, just gives me a slight nod as I shrug into my leather jacket. Usually, the worn weight of it feels grounding, comforting. Not today.
We head out, Johnny leading me towards the exit like I’m a dodgy punter being shown the door after causing too much trouble at the pub. The sound of our footsteps echoes off the corridor walls, every step grating on my nerves. We pass Samantha coming out of her office, and her lips curl into a satisfied smile. Being the head of housekeeping, she’ll know all about the thefts—and, no doubt, about me being the number-one suspect.
“Bad day, Robbie?” Her voice drips with false sympathy.
I stop in my tracks, ready to give her a piece of my mind and wipe that gloating expression off her face, but Johnny places a hand on my shoulder and urges me forwards. “Not worth it,” he murmurs.
And he’s right. Losing my temper now wouldn’t solve anything. It’d only give people another excuse to call me trouble.
Outside, the summer sun is still blazing down. Clearly, it hasn’t got the memo that my life is crumbling to pieces. My bike gleams in its usual spot. Johnny stops a few paces from it, his expression grim.
“Da... has asked me to keep my distance from you while the police investigate.”
Another blow, right when I thought things couldn’t get worse.
“He says we can’t risk it looking like we’re meddling, given we’re your family. We’ve got to let the police do their job without getting in their way.”
“I get it,” I admit, although that doesn’t mean it stings any less.
“I don’t want to keep my distance. Now is when you need your family the most.” The emotion in his voice threatens to crack my composure, but I refuse to let it.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, feigning a confidence I don’t feel. “This’ll all blow over once the police realise none of it holds up.”
Johnny nods but doesn’t look convinced. He pulls me into another hug.
When he lets me go, I swing my leg over my bike, settle into the seat, and turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life beneath me, vibrating through my bones. Usually, this is the moment when everything else falls away—when it’s just me, my bike, and the open road.
Not today. Today the engine’s rumble can’t drown out the chaos in my head.
As I pull away from the resort, I catch a glimpse of Johnny in my mirror, still standing there, watching me go. It hits me all over again that this isn’t just happening to me. It’s happening to him too, caught between his brother and his father, between loyalty and doing what’s right.
And me? I’m completely and utterly screwed. Because someone has gone to a lot of trouble to set me up, and I’ve no idea why. All I know is that I’m on my own, and the evidence against me is stacking up by the minute.
This entire situation is a mess.