Mason returned a minute later with a harnessed puppy on the end of a black nylon leash. Harley jumped to her feet, yapping the alarm, and Angelina scooped her up before she could leap from the desk like an attacking howler monkey.
“She thinks she’s terrifying,” she said.
Mason told Archie to sit. The puppy did, but he didn’t like any part of it. His butt wiggled on the floor, tail wagging. He wanted to say hi to Harley as much as Harley wanted to chew off his toes.
Mason took his room key from Croix and lifted his small duffle bag.
“Can I help you to your room?” asked Croix.
“I’ve got it. Thanks.”
He moved to the elevator and pressed the button. Before the doors opened, he turned to glance back at the two women, as if he could feel their gaze on the back of his neck.
They smiled.
The elevator doors parted and Mason and his furry companion stepped inside to disappear behind a wall of silver, the ladies still grinning their goodbyes.
The moment the doors shut, Angelina plucked her phone from her purse and stood, Harley still dangling in her other palm, her glossy black eyes riveted on the elevator.
“That was a good idea, not to let him too close to Mick. I didn’t think of that,” said Croix.
“Shee sent us a detailed plan.” Angelina handed the girl her phone, and Croix scrolled through the messages.
“Why do I feel like she’s done this before?”
Angelina rolled her eyes. “The insulting part is she’s acting like I haven’t.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We wait until he goes out.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He can’t sit in his room all day. I should have given him the Things to See and Do list. Dammit.” Angelina pounded the counter lightly with the side of her fist.
“You think he’s going to climb to the top of the lighthouse or go watch rescued turtles swim around a tank?”
“He might. Who knows?”
Croix smacked her lips, her gaze locked on the elevator. “I’ll tell you what, for an old guy he—”
Angelina snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face. “Hey. We’ve got a job to do. Leave your daddy issues for the stripper pole. Focus. He’s the enemy until he isn’t.”
Croix smirked. “You’re telling me you don’t think he’s hot?”
Angelina pursed her lips. “Oh I’d ride him hard and put him away wet.”
They burst into giggles.
The elevator dinged and the two women turned laughter into matching frozen grins. Archie trotted through the sliding doors followed by his owner.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” said Angelina, struggling to keep a wriggling Harley quiet.
Mason jingled his car keys in his hand. “Seems I have some time to kill. Do you have some sort of tourist guide or—”
“Absolutely.” Angelina hustled to her desk and pulled the Things to See and Do list from her drawer to the sound of Harley’s staccato barking. “Here you go.”
Mason glanced at it. “You have a lighthouse here? Hm. Ooh, turtles...”
Angelina flashed Croix a smug smile.
“I’ll see you later.” With a quick nod at each of them, Mason left.
Angelina moved to the window to watch Mason’s truck leave the parking lot before returning to the reception desk, palm outstretched. “Give me the key to his room.”
“Way ahead of you.” Croix circled around the desk and headed for the elevator.
“Where are you going? Go start your black web searches.”
“It’s dark web and I think plain old Google will suffice unless he’s selling weapons for Bitcoin. Anyway, that won’t take long. I want to help search his room. I’ve never seen a heel safe before.”
“You’re too young. That was an old Get Smart reference. I need you to stay here and keep an eye out for him.”
Croix hit the elevator call button and motioned to the door. “Tell Bracco.”
Angelina sighed. “Fine. Bracco?”
The big man poked his head through the door.
“Ping my phone if he comes back.”
Bracco nodded. “Whalefish.”
Angelina followed Croix onto the elevator. “Just once I wish you’d listen to me.”
Croix smirked. “Stop it. You’re ruining your Christmas gift.”
The two rode the elevator in silence to the third floor.
“This is exciting,” said Croix as she opened Mason’s door. “It’s been a while since we had some intrigue around here.”
“You spent last night burying a body.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“How does that not count?”
They pushed into the room and Angelina lowered Harley to the floor, where the terrier ran scattershot like a berserker, smelling every place Archie’s paws had touched.
“Archie will be able to smell her, too,” said Croix.
“Shit.” Angelina snatched the dog from the floor.
Croix rolled her eyes, no doubt to be sure Angelina knew how much smarter she was than her.
Young people.
“Let’s do it by sectors,” suggested Croix. “We search one square area at a time until we’re sure there’s nothing, and then move to the next sector.”
“You go sectoring. I’m doing things my way.”
Frowning, Croix moved to the bathroom.
Angelina found the bureau drawers empty, but for one with a pair of shorts, running trunks, a pair of ankle socks and two boxer briefs. Mr. Connolly hadn’t been planning to stay long.
She moved to the small walk-in closet. The room safe remained opened and unused. Three pressed polos hung from the silver bar inside. She checked under the spare pillow and blankets before noticing Mason’s running shoes on the ground beneath the shirts.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this...
She picked up a shoe and pushed and pulled on the heel.
Nothing.
“Stupid,” she muttered, checking the mate.
“Anything?” asked Croix as Angelina moved back into the room.
“No. Though, apparently, there are two kinds of military men. Neat ones and Mick.” She knew the comment wasn’t quite fair. Mick
