Chapter 8
EIGHT
Someone had tried to kill Jayden.
Dakota couldn’t prove it. The dive crew had checked the equipment, called it a malfunction, logged the incident, and moved on. “These things happen,” they’d said. Regulator issues. Manufacturing defects. Bad luck.
But Dakota had seen the tiny cut in the o-ring that the crew dismissed as wear and tear. He’d felt the cold certainty settle into his bones as he helped her onto the dive platform.
Funny, she hadn’t been as rattled as he’d expected her to be. But it could have been adrenaline. His own adrenaline had turned hot when he’d realized it wasn’t an accident.
Yeah, someone on this tour wanted her dead. And Dakota was going to find out who.
So after he showered and changed back at the hotel, he found the tour director, Bonnie, in the lobby. She was checking something on her tablet when Dakota approached, and her professional smile flickered when she saw his expression.
“Mr. Rivers! How was the—”
“Someone tried to kill her today.”
She froze, her voice dropping. “I’m sorry—what?”
“On the dive. Jayden’s oxygen ran out.” Dakota kept his voice low, controlled, even though his pulse thundered. “That wasn’t an accident.”
Bonnie’s expression cycled through confusion and alarm and finally landed on professional denial. “Mr. Rivers, I understand the dive was frightening, but the crew inspected the equipment. These things happen. Manufacturing defects, saltwater corrosion—”
“The tank was tampered with.”
“The crew said it was wear and—”
“I know what the crew said.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “And I know what a deliberate cut looks like versus natural wear. Someone sabotaged her equipment.”
Bonnie stared at him. The professional smile had vanished entirely, replaced by something more complicated—fear, maybe. The dawning realization that this wasn’t a complaint she could smooth over with exclamation points and complimentary wine.
“That’s . . . that’s crazy,” she said finally. “Why would anyone—”
“I don’t know yet. But we’re staying on the tour.”
“You’re—” She blinked. “You want to stay? After—”
“Whoever did this is probably on this tour. Best way to find them is to stay close.” And the best way to protect Jayden was to keep her close.
If they left the tour, he didn’t have a reason to keep her close, in his eyeshot—whatever.
He didn’t say that part. “We haven’t found our bag yet anyway.
We’re coming with you to the next location. ”
Bonnie’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth—then seemed to think better of it, reaching for security, or her supervisor, or possibly a therapist. But something in Dakota’s expression must have convinced her that resistance was futile.
“Fine,” she said, and the word came out slightly strangled. “We’re flying to Newcastle tomorrow morning, then taking a private vintage train to the Hunter Valley. Wine country. Be in the lobby at six a.m.”
“We’ll be there.”
He left her standing in the lobby, looking pale, and went to find Jayden.
He spotted her on the pool patio.
Her hair was down.
That was the first thing Dakota noticed when he stepped outside—dark waves falling around her shoulders, catching the string lights like they were made for each other.
She’d changed since the dive, traded the practical swimwear for a simple black sundress, that locket around her neck, and she was laughing at something Gerald the bird-watcher had said.
The sound of it unlocked the fist in Dakota’s chest, let him breathe. She was safe, alive.
And not going anywhere without him.
Long tables bordered the pool, the purple-blue pool lights casting their ethereal glow across everything. A guitarist in the corner played surf rock. The night pressed in with the scent of the ocean and native frangipani.
Tourists from the group talked in conversation huddles.
The Novaks were dancing near the pool, Gerald was holding court at one of the tables, gesturing expansively while Sandra the travel writer took notes.
Mags Winston was deep in conversation with someone from the hotel staff, her daughter Lily at the edge of the patio, feet in the water, shoulders tight with tension.
Any of them could be the threat. Any of them could have tampered with Jayden’s equipment while the dive crew was distracted.
Aw, who was he kidding? This group seemed as dangerous as a group of penguins.
Still, her equipment had been tampered with.
Jayden had moved from Gerald to a cluster of other guests, gesturing as she talked, and the people around her were laughing. She looked relaxed. Happy. And some kind of signal in him ached with the need to keep her that way.
He crossed the patio toward her. The guitarist had shifted to something slower, a song that made the dancing couples sway closer together. The pool lights rippled purple and blue across the water’s surface.
Jayden saw him coming, and her expression warmed, a smile on her face.
And it simply unknotted the remaining tension in his chest.
“There you are.” She met him halfway. “I was starting to think you’d disappeared.”
“Had to talk to Bonnie. Tour logistics. We’re set for the Hunter Valley tomorrow.”
“Wine country.” Her smile returned. “That sounds civilized. No near-death experiences required.”
The joke landed wrong. Too close to the truth. Dakota saw it register in her face—the flicker of something darker beneath the charm.
“Jayden—”
“I’m fine.” She said it too quickly. “Really. Equipment fails. It happens. The crew said—”
“I know what the crew said.”
Something passed between them. An acknowledgment that neither of them fully believed the official story.
The music shifted to something slow and sultry, and couples drifted toward the makeshift dance floor by the pool.
“Dance with me,” Dakota said.
Her eyebrows rose, surprise, clear and genuine, flickering across those striking whiskey-brown eyes. “What?”
“Dance with me.” He held out his hand. “Unless you’d rather keep making small talk about luggage disasters.”
“Yeah, well, my so-called small talk hasn’t exactly netted me my missing suitcase. I practically have a whole new wardrobe.” She looked at his proffered hand for a moment, then smiled and took it.
Her hand fit like it belonged there.
“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” she said as he led her toward the pool.
“I’m not.” He turned to face her, one hand finding her waist, the other still holding hers. “But I’m making an exception.”
They began to move. Nothing fancy—just swaying to the music, the purple-blue light playing across her face, the warm night wrapping around them like a blanket.
Other couples moved nearby as the sense of her swept over him.
The weight of her hand in his. The warmth of her waist beneath his palm.
The way she looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.
“You scared me today,” he said quietly.
Oh—the words came out before he could stop them.
Jayden’s expression softened. “Yeah. That was . . . Well, good thing you were there.”
He blinked at that. And couldn’t stop himself from pulling her closer. Not quite an embrace, but near enough. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Sheesh, he was making all sorts of crazy promises. But the words hung in the air between them.
Jayden looked up, met his eyes, her gaze searching his face.
“I won’t let anything happen to you either,” she said.
Oh.
Something in her tone seemed, well, not playful.
Honest.
As if she really could protect him.
He didn’t know what to do with that. So he nodded and put his cheek on her head, and let the warmth of her seep into him, that terrifying, exhilarating sense of falling into something he couldn’t control.
Then her phone buzzed.
Jayden stiffened. Pulled back slightly, reaching for the phone in some hidden pocket of her dress.
She glanced at the screen. “I need to take this.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just—give me a minute.”
She slipped out of his arms and moved toward the edge of the patio, phone pressed to her ear. Her voice was too low to hear, but her body language had stiffened. Whoever was calling, it wasn’t a casual catch-up.
Maybe her boss, checking in to see why she was off schedule? But Dakota watched and a chill crept into his chest.
Focus! Falling for her wouldn’t help him keep a sane mind to determine whether she might be playing him. Whether the suitcase really belonged to her.
Whether she might be an assassin.
She had secrets. He’d known that from the beginning. But watching her take that call, watching her shoulders tighten and hearing her voice drop, he was reminded that he didn’t actually know who she was. What she was hiding. Why someone might want her dead.
“Young love.”
Dakota turned. Gerald had appeared beside him, wineglass in hand, wearing a benevolent smile.
“I’m sorry?”
“You two.” Gerald nodded toward Jayden, then back to Dakota. “So romantic. The way you look at her—reminds me of my wife and me thirty-seven years ago.” He sighed happily.
Dakota opened his mouth to correct him. Then he stopped.
If the tour group thought they were together, thought they were a unit, maybe whoever was targeting Jayden would think twice. A solo woman was vulnerable. A couple was more complicated. Witnesses. Protection. Someone who would notice if something went wrong.
“Yes,” Dakota heard himself say. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Gerald’s smile widened. “I could tell. The way you danced with her—a man doesn’t hold a woman like that unless he’s completely gone.” He patted Dakota’s arm. “Treasure her, son. The good ones are rare.”
“I know,” Dakota said. And suddenly, weirdly, he meant it more than Gerald could possibly understand.
The older man wandered off toward the bar, and Dakota stood alone by the pool, watching Jayden finish her call.
She hung up and frowned, looking at her phone.
Dakota made a decision.
He crossed to her in three strides, took her hand before she could speak, and pulled her toward the lobby.
“Dakota—what—”
“Come with me.”