Chapter 7
Gus’s suite, back at The Mandeville Hotel, was identical to Jason’s.
Two bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full-size kitchen and a sprawling living room.
But the view was different—more ocean, less parking lot.
And the carpet was free of blood. It was also the largest suite—not currently a crime scene—that they had a key to.
So, even though Tayla felt a little awkward to be in their late friend’s room, it was decided they would convene in Gus’s suite to discuss the situation. And order room service.
Rowan had tapped into the hotel’s security and set up several cameras of his own before Leland, Knox, Tayla, and Jason returned from the cottage.
By the time they arrived at The Mandeville, Rowan could view nearly every inch of the resort property from his laptops sitting at the dining table in Gus’s suite.
Tayla had to admit she felt safer. No one could sneak into this suite from any direction without Rowan seeing them coming.
She’d introduced herself when they walked in, and he’d given her a curious smile.
He looked too young to be, well, anything outside of high school, but his surveillance set-up was impressive and Leland, Jason, and Knox seemed to respect his skills, so that was enough for her.
Jason didn’t hesitate to voice his disappointment back at the cottage when the guys showed up without food.
But when room service finally arrived, their dinner smelled so good that Tayla decided it was worth the wait.
The adrenaline spikes over the past few hours stole her appetite—until the savory aromas wafting from the dinner cart reminded her how long it had been since she’d eaten.
Only she and Leland could fit at the dining table because of all the laptops, but Jason, Knox, and Rowan didn’t seem to mind eating in the living area on the two sofas.
She knew the events of the day weighed heavily on Jason, but the hamburger he was devouring seemed to bolster his spirit.
And she enjoyed watching him and Knox interact.
They were obviously friends. Knox, blonde, fit, and roughly the same age as Jason, stood about the same height as Jason as well.
Which meant they both towered over Rowan, making him look even younger.
She savored her grilled shrimp and pasta while she listened to the four of them discuss the last twenty-four hours.
Leland and Jason took turns highlighting everything that happened while Knox consumed an enormous plate of fish and rice, offering a nod now and then to prove he was listening.
Jason wrote out a list on a legal pad while they talked, then tossed it on the coffee table in front of Knox.
“What’s this?” Knox asked.
“A list of the attacks on us, and Drakos. With a few notations. Notice something?”
Knox stared at the list for a few seconds and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah. Interesting. Lots of players.”
“What does that mean?” asked Tayla.
Jason pivoted on the sofa to face her. “It means there are at least two sets of bad guys. One set much more professional than the other. Probably hired by two different people.”
“Hired by different people? How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “We don’t know for certain.
But we do know there is a gaping chasm between the skill level of the sniper at the cottage and the goons that chased us to the wildlife lookout.
“ Jason tapped his pen on his knee. “Not really shocking. Drakos took possession of valuables that aren’t exactly his, and were probably stolen at some point. So, the idea that more than one person wants his little treasure isn’t far-fetched. ”
Intrigued, Tayla let her next question fall out of her mouth before propriety could rein it in. “What about Gus? Can you tell who killed him?”
The uncertainty she saw on Jason’s face was not about who killed Gus. But about how he wanted to answer her question.
Leland rescued him. “Professionals, Tayla. That’s all you want to know. Trust me.”
The pain on Leland’s face made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut. And he was right. She didn’t want the details. But she was glad they seemed to have a clue about Gus’s killer.
Knox held up a hand, like a third-grader with a grammar question.
“Yes?” Jason asked.
“What’s our main objective at this point? Finding Gus’s killer, or protecting Alec Drakos? And do we really want to protect Drakos? All these characters are just after the items he stole.”
Jason leaned forward, his forearms on his knees.
He still didn’t look half as tired as Tayla felt.
“How far we want to go with Drakos is ultimately up to Eric. But my recommendation is that we investigate enough to tell Drakos who is trying to kill him. If Drakos wants to press his luck and keep all that stuff, we’re not going to sit around here protecting him. ”
Leland set his sandwich down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. I thought you’d be so fed up with Drakos that you’d want to toss him to those sharks.”
Jason pursed his lips. “It’s tempting. But we have to keep digging into this until we know who killed Gus. Because we owe that—”
Leland straightened. “I wasn’t suggesting otherwise. I’m not leaving this island until I’ve caught Gus’s killer.”
“We’re not leaving until Gus’s killer is caught,“ Jason said. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was tired. “I don’t know how Eric will want WhiteRock to proceed, officially. Because Drakos got himself into this, and I’m not protecting his misdeeds—”
Knox balled up his napkin and tossed it on his empty plate. “But you want to go ahead and investigate these threats? To be able to tell Drakos who is trying to kill him? Why? He’s the one attracting the danger. Helping this guy doesn’t give me warm fuzzies.”
A corner of Jason’s mouth quirked up. “I want to have something to offer Drakos. We need some leverage with him.”
“Why?” Tayla asked.
His smile spread a little further. “Because I’m going to insist he move everything he owns out of the orphanage basement.
If he wants any more of our help, he has to relocate his accumulation of .
. . questionable legality. Its presence is putting those kids in danger.
In exchange for that, we’ll at least tell him who’s out to get him.
If nothing else, the kids will be safer.
And if he decides to return all those items instead of hoarding them, we can help return them.
That’s the only course of action that will stop the attacks.
We’ll see how badly he wants to feel secure. ”
Admiration for Jason exploded in Tayla’s chest. This man is amazing.
Then—out of fear her admiration was growing obvious to everyone in the room—she jumped up and started collecting dirty dishes, throwing a nonchalant “that sounds good” in Jason’s direction.
She busied herself in the kitchen. Wondering what Jason thought of her. And wondering why in the world she cared what he thought. She was beyond exhausted. Self-analyzing in a sleep-deprived state was probably a bad idea.
She returned to the dining table and retrieved her purse from where she’d placed it on one of the empty dining chairs. “Leland, I have to get some sleep. Want to walk me to my room? I’ll bolt my door tonight and—”
“No,” Leland said. “You’ll stay here. In one of the bedrooms. I’ll stay in the other. Jason will sleep on one of these sofas in the living room.”
She was so tired she almost didn’t care how bossy Leland sounded. But she did manage a stern glare—warning him not to talk to her like a child.
“And we will be across the hall,” Knox said. “If they snore, text me. Rowan and I can switch out with them.”
“I appreciate that,” she answered. She looked at Leland again. “I need my luggage.”
“Yes,” Jason said. “I’ll walk you to your room so you can get your things.” His voice was kind, not commanding. Something tender flit across his face. “Your uncle is right. You’ll be safer here.”
Yes. She would sleep much better knowing Jason—with all his muscles and Hollywood-fight-scene-moves—was just on the other side of the wall. He made her feel safer than the bolt on her hotel room door. But she didn’t dare utter that out loud. Instead, she offered a simple, “Yeah, okay.”
Tourists and hotel staff bustled around Jason and Tayla the entire walk to her room. With so many ears around, they made the unspoken decision to walk in silence. But it was a comfortable silence.
Jason sensed, somewhere along the way today, they’d progressed to a deeper level of trust. He hoped he wasn’t imaging that.
Because the people targeting Drakos—and anyone protecting him—were ruthless.
Skill level notwithstanding, anyone after Drakos’ ill-gotten gains posed a deadly threat.
He would protect Tayla at all costs, but her cooperation would aid his efforts tremendously.
There was one worry nagging his conscience. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up in front of the others, but as they entered Tayla’s room and she started gathering her belongings, he decided to take advantage of their moment alone.
“Tayla?”
“Yes,” she answered, tossing her toiletry bag into her suitcase.
“Back at the cottage . . .”
She’d walked to the far side of the bed, apparently looking for something. When he didn’t finish his sentence, she stopped and shifted her focus to him, concern tightening her features. “What’s wrong? At the cottage? What were you about to say?”
“I know the situation was intense. That bullet nearly hit you. But why did you say that I wouldn’t come back?” He walked to her and considered touching her face for some reason. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know we only met this morning—”
“This morning feels like a month ago.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. More than exhaustion clouded her face. Something akin to fear—and that twisted a knife in his chest.
“True,” he said. “But I want . . . I need you to know that I would never abandon you. I had to deal with the sniper. I said I would come back, and I did. I’m not sure what the next few days hold, but I really need you to trust me. No matter what happens. I’ll keep you safe.”
She didn’t respond. Her entire body looked rigid, like it was desperately trying to dam a tidal wave of emotion. She finally lifted a finger and choked out a whisper. “One . . . give me one second.”
He watched her speedwalk to the bathroom and shut the door.
He wanted to kick himself. Or punch something. What did he say? Why did she look more afraid of him? Her reaction was the polar opposite of what he was going for. He replayed his short speech in his head. What part upset her? Maybe he should have—
“Hey.”
He turned to her voice and watched her walk back into the room, looking less troubled than moments before.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“Don’t apologize. I don’t know what I said that upset you, though. I was trying—”
She placed her hand on his forearm. The compassion in her eyes siphoned all the frustration out of him.
“Jason, I do need to apologize. You deserve to know that comment today, about you not coming back . . . that had nothing to do with you.” She let her hand slide off his arm, but her gaze stay locked on his.
“You didn’t deserve that kind of reaction from me.
This day, particularly my life being in danger, has resurrected some fears I thought I’d sufficiently buried.
It’s not something I want to talk about though, and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention this conversation or my earlier comment to my uncle. ”
“Of course.”
“Please know that I do trust you. I do. I’m just . . . still dealing with some things. But that’s not your fault, and I’m sorry if I offended you.”
Earlier, in Gus’s suite, Jason was almost sure he saw a warmth in her eyes when she looked at him.
Now, he was certain he saw that warmth returning.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you trust me.
” Why was he fighting the urge to hold her?
“I’ve experienced more than a few . . . stressful situations in my life.
Occupational hazard. I’ve learned it helps to talk to someone.
” Not that he took that advice very often. But he did believe it.
“I know.” She nodded. “I have a therapist.” She retrieved a pair of sandals from beside the bed and slid them into her suitcase. “And that’s something else Leland doesn’t need to know.”
“You two keep a lot of things from each other.”
Her eyes returned to his. “That sounds bad, I know. I’m not embarrassed about seeing a therapist. I think everyone should. But I don’t want Leland worrying about . . .”
The sadness in her eyes dropped a heavy weight on his chest. He held up a hand. “I understand. You don’t have to explain.”
How was she eliciting so much emotion from him?
He dealt with people who were hurting, frightened, and distraught all the time.
It was his job. He rescued kidnapping victims, tracked down stalkers, hunted drug dealers and the occasional terrorist. He’d seen pain before.
Why did her pain twist his insides? He hadn’t felt like this since . . . Leah.
He needed to clear his head. “Are you ready to go back?” he asked.
She lifted her bag. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Here,” he said, taking the bag from her, “I’ve got it.
” He opened the door for her. As she brushed past him, he could smell hints of vanilla and coconut.
He first noticed the faint scents when they were at the cottage, when she was in his arms. And that memory sent his thoughts hurtling in another direction—a direction he’d avoided for years.