Chapter 14
Storm Front
Lena plodded up the wooden steps to her cottage: feet sandy, pockets lined with broken bits of shell and sea glass, fingers sore from clenching them as she walked miles of beach trying to settle her nerves.
She hadn’t expected clarity from the ocean, exactly—but it had helped.
The rhythm of the waves, the caress of the wind, the quiet companionship of salt and silence.
She had needed that. After lunch with Kate, after the truth she’d let slip, Lena had craved the peace only the sea and solitude offered.
She couldn’t deny that telling Kate the story, and the guys before that, had helped a bit, as if each retelling removed a pound of sorrow from her shoulders. It definitely helped that they all believed her. Believed in her.
The steps creaked under her weight, echoing the slow thump of her heart.
She studied the sun-bleached grain of the planks, as if the wood might rewrite the remembrance of yesterday’s awkward exchange with David.
She didn’t want things to stay like this—tight and tense and uncertain.
Kate had been right. She needed to talk to him. Clear the air.
She reached the landing and stopped short.
A package sat in front of her door.
Wrapped in slick black paper and tied with a glossy black ribbon, it looked more like something delivered by a mortician than by a florist. It gleamed in the sunlight, its crisp edges and perfect bow stark against the weathered wood.
Lena’s breath caught.
No one received deliveries at the cottages. Resort protocol was airtight—mail and packages were routed through the main building, signed for, logged, verified.
But this… this had come straight to her. To her home.
And it waited on her doorstep.
Goosebumps prickled on her arms.
She scanned the secluded clearing around her, the soft rustle of palmetto fronds the only sound. Her fingers trembled on her phone.
Flashes of memory came unbidden—intense, disjointed:
Dead flowers, edges blackened, petals wilted and curling in on themselves. Thorns cutting where there shouldn’t have been any.
Shattered seashells, her favorite thing to collect, crushed and left as a message.
The phone calls—first silent, then heavier, breath on the line like someone standing too close.
Yesterday... her name whispered. A quiet laugh. The click of the call ending.
A twinge of nausea crawled up her throat.
She sat on the top step, the wood still warm from the afternoon sun. She couldn’t take her eyes off the ominous package. She needed to report this. The security breach, at least.
Who should she call? Walter was off today too, and she couldn’t bother him at home. Emma was out of town. She didn’t know any of the other managers or supervisors yet.
David… Her thumb hovered over his name, heart tugging at the echo of his tone in her mind: sharp and cold. No. Not him. Not now. Not until they cleared the air.
She inhaled and pressed Zach’s contact. He picked up on the first ring. “Is there a problem, Lena?” His voice rumbled as deeply as ever, but sounded tinged with something softer. Concern, maybe?
Right. Caller ID. “I don’t know. I’m probably being silly, or paranoid,” she winced at the words. “I didn’t know who to call—”
“What’s going on?”
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “There’s a package on my porch.
A gift, I guess. Black wrapping paper, black bow.
I don’t get mail here. I haven’t ordered anything.
It’s… peculiar. Especially with what’s been happening lately.
I don’t want to open it alone.” She shouldn’t have called him. He must think she’s an idiot.
The silence on the phone stretched for a beat.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t move it. Don’t go inside.
Better yet, head back toward the hotel. I’ll meet you en route, and you can follow me back.
” The line went dead before she could protest, although she didn’t want to.
The box was giving her the heebie-jeebies.
Heart pounding, she stood and backed away from it. Zach was coming himself. If he thought this deserved his personal attention—that changed everything. No brushing it off now.
Whatever, she knew better than to disobey an order from Zach. He’d probably make her run ten miles or do a thousand pushups. She smirked at that thought and got back into her golf cart, buzzing down the narrow path.
As she rounded the first corner, she heard the thrum of a motorcycle and saw Zach’s black bike emerging from between the trees, sunlight glinting off metal.
She swerved aside and turned around. He passed her with a nod, then peeled off toward her cottage.
By the time she arrived, he was crouched by the steps, focused on the sinister little box.
“I left before noon to meet Kate for lunch, then took a walk on the beach. I came back and found that here,” Lena said.
He rose with slow deliberation as she joined him. “Tell me what else has happened.”
She wrapped her arms around herself even though the humid air surrounded her like a heavy blanket.
Her voice came out quiet, brittle. “Nothing big. I’ve been getting prank calls on my cell and my desk phone.
Breathing, mostly. Sometimes muted clicking.
On the last one, I thought I heard a laugh as the call disconnected.
Wednesday, someone left dead flowers on the porch.
Before that, it was seashells—broken ones. ”
It still sounded kind of silly to her. Well, not silly, but not earthshaking.
Zach’s expression darkened. “You’re only now telling me about this?”
She flinched under the weight of his disapproval and hugged herself tighter. “I dismissed them as pranks.”
“What else? Anything small. Anything that made your stomach twist, even if it didn’t make sense?”
“Um, you think this is serious?” she whispered, gut clenching.
“Yes,” he said, tone flat and unwavering. “You are describing classic stalker behavior. Think, Lena. I need everything.”
Zach paced to the edge of the porch and inspected the package again, nudging it with his boot, as if testing for snakes. “Before I open it, you go inside. I want you out of range in case this is something worse.”
He stepped up to her door and tried the doorknob.
Locked, of course. Using his access card, he let himself in and prowled through the rooms with fluid, confident precision, checking each room quickly, decisively, leaving no shadow unseen.
The soft sound of doors opening and closing felt out of place in her cozy, solo haven.
Tires crunched on gravel, and she snapped her head around to see David’s golf cart bouncing up the path. Her heart lurched. She hadn’t expected to see him tonight—not with the way he left yesterday.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked as she struggled to hide her surprise.
“Zach called. Said you had an issue.”
Oh, her unease dissolved. He wasn’t angry. He was worried. About her.
Behind her, Zach moved onto the porch and leveled them with the same grim stare. “She may have a stalker. She’s been getting gifts,” Zach said the word like it offended him, “and she was about to tell me what else happened in the past several days.”
Lena threw up her hands in surrender. “I’ll have to think about it. I’d dismissed all of this as my imagination or stupid pranks until tonight.” Her voice shook. “What about this box?”
Zach turned to David. “Take her inside. I’ll open it. Stay behind the door.”
David nudged Lena’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s move.” His steady voice was grounding, and she followed him in without protest. He closed the door, save for a thin crack.
From her limited view, she watched Zach pull a scary-looking knife from somewhere and slice through the bow, then the gleaming paper, exposing a simple cardboard box.
He cut the tape with the point of his knife, like a surgeon, before nudging the top off.
Lena held her breath so tightly her lungs quivered.
Zach cocked his head at the contents, gaze unreadable.
“Well?” she blurted, then flinched. You didn’t make demands of Zach, not if you wished to live to see another day.
A quick glance from his ever-serious eyes. “You definitely have a stalker.” He lifted the box and turned toward the door. “Let’s finish this inside. I don’t want anyone watching to see your reaction.”
Lena recoiled, a cold sweat trickling between her shoulder blades.
Zach closed the door behind him and set the box on her coffee table. “Ready?”
“I guess.” He took the cover off for her. She leaned forward, peeking in. Her breath stuttered in her throat, and nausea grabbed her tight.
A delicate porcelain doll lay nestled in black tissue paper. Pale skin, blond hair, a bright fuchsia suit. Just like the one Lena wore two days ago. Its head had been removed.
The bile turned her stomach inside out.
She recoiled from the box and dropped back onto the couch, staring upwards blankly, trying to stem the rising tide of horror. Her heart thundered. The room faded out for a few moments until David and Zach’s composed presences grounded her again.
“I wore a suit that color two days ago.”
They were watching her, unmoving. Expressions carved with tension—but there was empathy, too. Zach’s granite expression had cracked enough to let a little concern show through.
“You have two choices.” Zach growled, “either David wires this place top to bottom with full surveillance, or you move to our guest suite. Preferably the latter. It’s safer.”
Her mouth opened, but no argument came. She stared at the vase sitting innocently atop her bookcase.
The vase that hadn’t been there this morning.
“Um, Zach,” she murmured, voice barely audible over the rushing in her ears. “Maybe that’s a good idea.” She pointed, fingers trembling. “That vase wasn’t there this morning. It’s not mine.”
David stepped in front of her protectively, eyes pinned to the offending object. His expression hardened. “That’s it. You’re packing. Now.”
She nodded, brushing hair out of her face. “Okay… but I’m not leaving Minx.”
A plaintive meow answered her statement, and a bundle of fluff prowled into the room, tail high like a banner. The kitten sprang into her lap, blinking up at the men.
“Ah, meet my roommate. This is Minx. She kind of moved in the same day I did.” Lena cuddled the kitten close.
“I think she must have lost her mom because she just wandered in and refused to leave.” She narrowed her eyes.
“She’s not staying behind.” She scooped the kitten up, clinging to her like a security blanket.
David’s smile was slow and warm. “Your fur baby comes too. Obviously.”
“Minx is not a baby,” she scowled at David. “She’s a ferocious tiger. Just you wait until she finds your pillow.”
The moment passed with a breath of shared humor. Lena headed to the bedroom and gathered her clothes and toiletries in hurried handfuls. She scanned every corner, now suspicious of even the mundane.
On the way out, she grabbed Minx’s favorite chew pillow.
When she returned, dragging a suitcase behind her, David stood by the counter holding a plastic bin with the kitten’s supplies. Zach reached for her bag and shouldered it without effort. “I’ll load this into the cart. David has your kitty supplies. Anything you’re forgetting?”
“What about my food? It’ll spoil.”
David lifted a hand in reassurance. “Room Service can move it in the morning. Tonight Marguerite is making tacos. You’ll eat with us.”
Lena smiled despite herself, stomach rumbling insistently. “I don’t want to intrude, but if tacos are involved, I’m absolutely going to intrude.”
David chuckled. Zach gave a tiny, approving nod. The three of them walked out into the twilight. The air was thick with salt and suspense. In the trees, a bird called—the sound low and plaintive.
“Let’s go,” Zach said, tone commanding, eyes watchful. “David, take point. I’ve got our six.” He strode toward his bike, and Lena hastened to her golf cart. Follow David. Protected by Zach.
Well. That was a first. But the knot in her stomach made her think it wouldn’t be the last time.