Chapter 4
Tayla’s eyes flew open. Had she fallen asleep?
Apparently.
Why was her pulse racing? She was still in Jason’s living room, curled up on the sofa. She checked her watch. Leland and Jason left an hour and a half ago.
Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck. What was going on? Her whole body was afraid, but her mind didn’t know why.
She’d probably had a nightmare. That would make sense.
The silence in the suite was deafening. She needed something—anything to help her feel not so alone. Ah. The tv. That will hel—
All her muscles seized. And this time, she knew why.
The television was off—and the dark screen reflected everything happening on the balcony. Especially the two men walking to the balcony door.
Her stomach clenched. Her throat constricted. She wasn’t sure she was breathing—she was pretty certain she was panicking.
She followed their reflections on the tv screen. They opened the door, shut it, and walked into the living area. Another six steps and they would see her.
Oh, dear God, please help. Please help me. I need you. I need a miracle.
A knock sounded at the door. “Tayla, it’s Jason. Let me in.”
She looked up and faced both intruders, staring at her. The first one held a finger to his lips. The second man pointed a gun at her.
Jason knocked again. “Tayla?”
The first intruder whispered, “Let him in. But don’t tip him off.” He made sure she saw the gun and understood the implication.
She understood.
He shooed her toward the door.
“I’m coming,” she called out, but her voice cracked. What was she going to do? She couldn’t just lead Jason right into . . . well, an ambush?
She took her time walking to the door and unlocking the deadbolt. “Did you enjoy your golf game?” she asked as she opened the door.
He raised an eyebrow. “Golf?”
“Yes, how was golf today?” If her nonsensical questions didn’t communicate something was wrong, the two fingers she held up in front of her chest, and her terrified, teary eyes surely did. She mouthed the words, ‘two of them,’ and watched Jason reach for his gun.
“The weather was nicer today,” Jason nodded and continued their improvised act. “And I avoided the sand traps this time.”
His casual tone contradicted the intensity in his grip on her arm. He pulled her behind him. Shots fired.
Maybe she should have anticipated him firing his weapon.
But she didn’t. And she jumped. And probably screamed.
But she wasn’t sure. Her hands flew to her ears, a moment too late.
The shots—two, she thought—were ear-splitting.
The deafening sound vibrated through her chest. Her ears rang.
Stunned by the explosive noise, she couldn’t move.
She simply stared at the scene unfolding in front of her.
The intruder with the gun fell back, dropping his weapon.
The second man lunged for it, but Jason intercepted him.
They fought. And it was an altercation unlike anything Tayla had ever witnessed.
Jason’s actions—explosive, efficient, and clearly skilled—subdued the second attacker before Tayla could take two full breaths.
Not that she was sure she was breathing at all.
Jason ordered the man to lie face-down on the floor with his hands behind his head. The man moaned, spat some blood on the floor, and complied.
Tayla glanced at the shooter. He was still laying on the ground, but she watched his chest rise and fall.
Jason’s head whipped to her. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes.”
“Are you sure? Are you hurt?”
His eyes travelled over her body, his gaze attentive, worried.
Something warm bloomed in her chest, insisting she was safe with Jason. She didn’t know what to do with that.
“I’m . . . I’m okay.” She watched him lean over the shooter. “Is . . . is he . . .”
“He’s alive.”
“Where’s Leland?”
“He stopped by his room to—” His attention—and his gun—pivoted to the door when it swung open.
“It’s me,” said Leland, aiming his own weapon around the room. “I heard shots.” He glanced at the men, calculated the situation, and turned to Tayla. “Oh, Tayla. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
She nodded.
Jason lowered his gun and took out his cell. “Watch that guy, Leland,” he said, pointing to the man he fought. He dialed a number. “I’m going to see if Drakos can get this one to a hospital in Morghana City via chopper. He might make it.”
Leland squatted next to the prone man and tilted his head. “What do we have here?” He pointed at the man’s face. “You don’t look so bad.” He jabbed a thumb in Jason’s direction. “He went easy on you.”
The man’s eyes grew large. Leland laughed.
This was a side of Leland Tayla hadn’t seen before.
And yet, it wasn’t foreign either. He’d always been short on words, quick to act, sarcastic, and a little cynical.
But he always showed up when it mattered.
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. But after her parents died, he checked on her often.
He helped her move in and out of her first three apartments.
He walked her down the aisle when she got married. And held her hand at Spence’s funeral.
Jason ended his call and looked at Leland. “The hospital is sending a chopper. And Morghana City police will send two officers to pick up the other guy.”
“Morghana City Police? Why?” asked Tayla. “Doesn’t Isadora Island have police?”
Jason shook his head. “The closest thing to police on the whole island is Alec Drakos’ security guards.
Morghana is a small country. There aren’t police on each island, mostly just around Morghana City, the capital on the main island.
That’s the most densely populated area in Morghana.
” He turned to Leland. “You good staying here with these guys? I need to talk to Drakos in person about . . . everything we learned.” Tayla detected restrained anger simmering in his words.
“Yeah, go on. I’m good.”
She felt Leland looking at her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the blood on the carpet.
“Take her with you,” she heard him say.
She pulled her eyes to his. “What?” She looked back at the blood. The room tilted. Either the ringing in her ears, or the blood—or both—were making her dizzy. “Um. Yes. I wouldn’t mind leaving.”
Jason exchanged a long look with Leland she didn’t understand.
Leland received whatever message it was, and nodded. He stood and faced her. The grief in his eyes stole her breath. “About Gus . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
Um. What? No. No, no, no. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Maybe he was going to say Gus was ill, or in the hospital.
But the thick, suffocating silence filling the room choked out any hope.
She stilled for a few beats, then wrapped her arms around her uncle. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She wanted to ask so many questions. So. Many. Questions. But she knew this wasn’t the time.
He held her tight for a moment, then stepped back. “You stay close to Jason. I’ll wrap things up here.”
She knew he didn’t want to say any more, so she gave his arm a squeeze and followed Jason to the door.
“It won’t take the police too long,” Jason said before opening the door. “They’re sending two officers already on the island helping with . . . Gus. They’ll be here soon.”
What? Oh. Of course. Leland and Jason must have called the police when they found Gus. Oh, poor Gus. Part of her didn’t even want to ask the inevitable questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answers.
Oh dear Jesus, I pray Gus is safe in your arms right now.
Walking to Drakos’ office, Jason’s comforting presence wrapped around her like a blanket.
Not just because he was over six-feet of well-trained muscle.
It was also because his eyes silently checked on her.
Repeatedly. She appreciated the compassion flooding his gaze. Even if she didn’t feel like talking.
The bossy agent who told her to drink her tea this morning proved more complex, and more considerate, than she’d first thought.
“Is he in there?” Jason asked the assistant stationed at her desk. He pointed to Alec Drakos’ office door.
She looked flustered by his tone. “Yes, but do you have an appoint—”
“Thank you,” he said, striding past her.
“Hey, you can’t just—”
He held the door open for Tayla and gestured for her to enter first. She looked a little unsure, but complied.
The assistant hurried in behind them, tripped, and bumped into Jason. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, before she remembered she was perturbed with him. Then she righted herself and glared at him before addressing her boss. “Mr. Drakos, they just barged in. I tried to—”
“It’s alright, Mrs. Catterwell. I’ll see them now. Thank you.”
Mrs. Catterwell exited in a huff, and Jason focused on Drakos. “We need to talk.”
Drakos sat behind his polished wood desk, eyeing Tayla. “And this is . . .?”
Tayla looked like she didn’t know if she was supposed to respond.
“This is Tayla. She’s with me. She’s not what we need to talk about.”
His eyebrows inched up. “You sound concerned. Did you learn something?”
“Why did you send the kids from the orphanage to Morghana City this week?”
His brows hiked up further. “Why ask me about that?”
“Does the timing of their trip have anything to do with what you’re storing in their basement?”
The resort owner’s eyes danced with appreciation. Leaning back in his tan desk chair, he smoothed his mustache and almost smiled. “I believe I underestimated you, Mr. Bridger.”
Jason kept his anger in check. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Why, may I ask, is the orphanage basement relevant?”
He leaned on the desk with both fists, inching into Drakos’ personal space. “Because we found Gus Branch at the orphanage. He’s dead.”
Color fled Drakos’ face. His fingers twitched and tugged at his mustache in double time. “Dead?”
Jason felt Tayla stiffen next to him. She already knew about Gus, but she probably wasn’t prepared for his curt exchange with Drakos. He glanced at her. The moisture in her eyes contradicted her stiff posture and set jaw. She was holding it together, for now.
“Dead?” Drakos repeated.
“Yes, sir.” Jason stood to his full height. “Gus sent a brief message saying he was going to the orphanage to observe a meeting. When we found him, he’d been shot, and shoved off a cliff, yards away from the house.” He realized—moments too late—his bluntness had shattered Tayla’s resolve.
Her hand flew to her face. “Excuse me,” she said, rushing out of the room.
He glanced back to Drakos. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” He jogged out of the office. And noted Mrs. Catterwell staring daggers at him while pointing down the hall, clearly holding him responsible for Tayla’s emotional state. Which was partially his fault.
He slowed his jog when he found her standing outside the second-story administration area. She stared at a tropical flower garden below, gripping the walkway railing as if she needed its support to keep from collapsing.
He approached in silence.
When she sensed him, she raised her head and faced him. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t ready to hear that.”
Guilt raked across his insides. “I should have prepared you on the way to his office. I could’ve worded it more delicately . . .” He ran out of words. “I’m sorry.”
Her tears shifted something inside him, awaking dormant emotions he wasn’t comfortable with. He wanted to hold her. But a list of reasons why he shouldn’t smothered that urge.
She wiped the last tear from her face and straightened her shoulders. A new clarity shone in her eyes. “Do you know who killed Gus?”
The abrupt question surprised him. “No. Not yet. But I’ll find out.”
“And I’m holding you back. I’m sorry. Let’s go. You obviously think Drakos knows something.” She turned to leave.
“Hold on.” He gripped her forearm and pivoted her to face him again. “Just hang on a second. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. We should go.”
He knew what she was doing. Pushing down all her emotions and focusing on the mission. He was an expert at that. But he didn’t kid himself about it being healthy.
He exhaled a long breath. “We need to go back and question Drakos, but I don’t want to torture you with this. You’ve been through a lot today. If you want me to take you back to Leland—”
“No. No, I’m okay. He won’t want to talk. And he needs to attend to . . . those guys. Besides, I feel safe with you. Not that I don’t feel safe with Leland, I just . . . nevermind. Let’s go back to Mr. Drakos.”
‘I feel safe with you,‘ echoed in his mind all the way back to Alec Drakos’ office.