Chapter One #3
I moved beside him to read the screen. Less than an inch separated our bare arms, and I felt his body heat without touching him.
UNKNOWN:
Cancel Saturday. Jesse Ward deserved the comeback. You took enough from him.
Shane handed the phone back. “It’s the same story in a louder font.”
“It came with a shot of where you’re staying,” Tracy said.
“I saw it.”
“And then you walked toward a public beach.”
“I didn’t post where I was going.”
“You didn’t have to,” I said. “Someone already knows where you’re sleeping.”
Shane faced the patio doors without another joke.
“Can they see inside?”
“I don’t know yet. Until I confirm the angle, stay away from the glass and keep the curtains closed.”
He pushed away from the counter. “Then we should close them.”
I drew the curtains. The room dimmed, and the reflected ocean vanished from the doors.
“What can I do?” Shane asked.
“Follow the routes we clear. Tell me before you change plans. Don’t invite anyone over, and don’t respond to live-location posts.”
“What happens Saturday?”
“You rehearse and perform unless the risk changes enough to make that unsafe.”
Shane faced me. “You’re not here to tell me to cancel.”
“I’m here to get you to the stage without letting anyone get hurt along the way.”
“That includes the fans.”
“It includes everyone in the route.”
Shane released a breath. “Then I can work with your rules.”
“Those are today’s rules. We’ll adjust when the facts change.”
“You negotiate after all.”
“I respond to evidence.”
“That sounded less romantic.”
“It was supposed to.”
Tracy set a paper bag on the counter and pulled out wrapped sandwiches, fruit cups, and small bags of chips. “Before either of you turns this into a competitive sport, eat.”
“I’m not hungry yet,” Shane said.
“You were going swimming on an empty stomach in late-June heat. You need food and water.”
Shane raised his eyebrows. “That sounded like an order.”
“It was nutritional guidance from someone who doesn’t want to drag one hundred and ninety pounds of dehydrated rockstar off the beach.”
“I’m one ninety-two.”
“I’m relieved you identified the important part.”
He took a wrapped turkey sandwich. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m staying hydrated.”
Shane laughed and reached into the refrigerator for water. He handed the first bottle to Tracy and the second to me before opening one for himself.
We ate at the kitchen counter while Rafi checked in through my earpiece.
“No live-location posts have appeared,” he said. “The inn’s access list is clean, and our exterior agent has the approach in view.”
“I understand.”
Shane checked a revised lighting cue on Tracy’s tablet. “Thanks for getting that changed.”
An inn employee arrived with a bowl of cut fruit.
“Thank you,” Tracy said. “You can set it here.”
Shane moved his towel and sunglasses out of the way. “Let me clear that for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hart.”
“I appreciate you bringing it.”
He made room before she had to ask. I took a longer drink of water than I needed.
After lunch, Shane pulled the white T-shirt over his head. The hem caught for a second, showing another strip of hard muscle before dropping into place. Thin cotton covered his chest, stretched across his upper back, and clung to skin still damp from the humidity.
It wasn’t the security improvement I’d hoped for.
Shane caught me looking and gave me a slow grin.
“Do shirts improve security?”
“They improve my chances of moving you through the lobby without starting an incident.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“It was the answer you’re getting.”
Tracy closed her eyes briefly. “I’m going to spend the next three days pretending I can’t hear either of you.”
“You’re the one who hired her,” Shane said.
“I hired the company. Cassidy is an unexpected bonus.”
Before Shane could answer, Rafi’s voice sounded through my earpiece.
“Cassidy, I need you on the secure channel.”
I stepped toward the front window and lowered my voice. “I’m listening.”
“Carlos confirmed the striped patio cushions weren’t set outside until yesterday morning,” Rafi said. “The shot was taken after that, and the camera angle gives a direct view into the main room.”
I tightened my grip on the water bottle.
“Any indication the photographer left the island?”
“No. Until we know otherwise, assume they’re still nearby and still watching.”
“I understand.”
I ended the transmission and turned.
Shane set his water bottle on the counter.
“What changed?” he asked.
“Whoever took the shot could see into the main room.”
Tracy lowered her phone. “So they could’ve been watching inside.”
“Yes.”
I crossed to the glass doors and pulled one curtain edge aside by two inches. Through the narrow gap, I saw the sea-grape hedge, the public beach access, and the opening that matched the camera angle.
From there, the kitchen counter and sitting area were fully visible. Shane stood in the center of that view.
I let the curtain fall and stepped between him and the glass.
“Until we know who took that picture, you don’t leave this cottage without me.”
One corner of Shane’s mouth lifted, but he stayed exactly where I’d put him.
“Then you’d better stay close.”