“See you in a bit?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
“You’re not going to run?”
She snorted a laugh. “No. I promise.”
“Sounds good.”
He didn’t move and Shee found herself wondering if it would be odd for her to hop into one of the little boats bobbing beside the pier and roar off into the sunset.
“I’ll walk you back?” she asked, skinnying past him and turning.
“I might stay out here a second.” Mason moved to the end of the pier, his back turned to her. The hands he’d thrust into his pockets stretched his khakis across his butt tight accentuating the curve—
Cut it out. Go.
“Okay. See you soon.”
She headed for the hotel, trying hard not to bolt. As she approached the back door she saw Angelina and Croix scatter toward the lobby.
Voyeurs.
By the time she entered, the two women had bunched around the reception desk, pretending to be deep in conversation.
“Oh, there you are. We wondered where you two went,” said Angelina.
Shee scowled. “Nice try.”
“Where’s Romeo?” asked Croix.
“He’ll be here to check in soon. I need to know everything about him. Run every search, pick through his suitcase, everything.”
Angelina’s head cocked, and in her arms, Harley’s did as well, as if they were both run by the same puppeteer. “Why? Who is he?”
“He’s someone Dad and I used to know.”
“And this is how you treat old friends? Poking through their luggage?”
“I’m not poking. You are. I have to go.”
“Where?”
Good question.
Shee searched the walls for an answer. “Out. Important stuff.”
Angelina frowned. “Uh huh.”
Croix poked Angelina’s shoulder to get her attention. “I think Romeo has Miss Know-It-All flustered.”
Angelina nodded. “Me, too.”
“Shut up.” Shee glanced behind her to find Mason framed by the screen door, still standing at the end of the dock. Still, she lowered her voice. “It was an old friend who tricked Mick. Remember?”
Croix’s eyes widened. “You think he—”
“I don’t know. That’s the point.”
“Classic honeytrap,” murmured Angelina, staring out the back door.
Shee turned her attention to Croix. “His real name is Mason Connelly. Write that down in case it isn’t what his I.D. says.”
“Like I can’t remember one name.” Croix mumbled. “Like I use pens.”
Shee glanced out the back again and saw Mason heading toward the hotel, his limp more pronounced.
When he doesn’t think I’m looking.
Her heart filled with empathy as she pushed herself toward the front door.
“I have to go.”
Bracco opened the door, and she hustled out, stopping at the top of the stairs.
A black pick-up truck with California license plates sat idling beside Angelina’s Land Rover.
He didn’t turn off his truck?
She looked at Bracco.
“Is that his? The guy who just came in?”
Bracco nodded. “Chilly sat.”
She walked to the truck. As she grew close, a moppy, floppy-eared face popped up to watch her approach.
She put her hand on the window and the pup licked her palms from the opposite side, leaving long wet smears on the glass.
He has a puppy?
Shee frowned.
This has got to be a trap.
&&&
Chapter Twenty-Two
Angelina moved to her desk, dropped Harley onto the fuzzy black bed and tried to look as casual as possible. The back screen door creaked open.
“Hello again,” said Mason, entering the lobby.
“Hello!” chimed Angelina and Croix in unison. They glanced at each other and Angelina could tell they’d shared the same thought.
Take it down a notch.
Croix cleared her throat. “Can I help you with anything, sir?”
Angelina fought an eye roll by glancing down at her phone as it chimed the arrival of a message from Shee:
Put him on a lower floor. Away from Mick.
The phone dinged again.
He has a freaking puppy.
“Do you have a room available?” asked Mason, moving to the reception desk. “And do you accept pets?”
Croix frowned. “No, we—”
“Sure we do,” said Angelina.
Croix continued. “Like I was saying. No, we don’t just take pets, we love pets. You have an alpaca?”
Mason laughed. “Dog. Pretty boring.”
Croix typed something into the system. “Okay. Little predictable but... Let’s see. How about the seventh floor with a nice view of—”
Angelina cleared her throat and Croix glanced at her without moving her head from its lowered angle. Angelina raised her hand to the center of her chest and pointed down.
The girl paused, seemingly confused.
Grimacing, Angelina tapped out a text message.
Lower floor.
A dinosaur roared on Croix’s phone and she glanced at it before moving it to the shelf beneath the desk, far from Mason’s view.
“I’m sorry. I thought that room was open. Will third floor do? Still has a nice view of the Intracoastal Waterway...”
Angelina gave her a thumbs up behind Mason’s back.
He nodded. “Sure. That’s fine.”
Angelina’s phone dinged. Shee again.
A room you can ransack.
Angelina scowled. Who does she think I am?
Another ding.
Check his safe. His luggage. Check unusual places like the heels of his shoes for hidden compartments.
Angelina snorted a laugh.
Drawn by the snort, Mason turned.
Angelina sniffed. “Sorry. Allergies.”
Her phone dinged again.
Check hiding places in the room too. Under drawers, etc.
She’d barely finished reading before it dinged again.
Check—
Angelina stopped reading, turned the sound off on her phone and dropped it into her purse. It vibrated a few more times and then stopped.
Mason handed Croix a credit card. “I’m going to grab Archie while you run that.”
Croix nodded and Mason headed out the front door. She watched him disappear and then looked at Angelina.
“Why the lower floor?” she asked.
“To keep him far away from Mick. Orders from the heir apparent.”
The girl nodded and ran Mason’s card for authorization.
“Well, his credit’s good for the price of a room,”
