“She’s shot?” asked Angelina.
Mason scowled. “What? No.”
No wonder Angelina looked so panicked.
He climbed out of the boat. “I said we were shot at. She hit her head and fell into the water.” He thrust his chin in Shee’s direction and increased his volume to be sure she could hear him. “Because she didn’t stay seated like I told her to.”
“That doesn’t sound like her at all,” said Angelina, looking relieved.
Shee glared at him. “You drive like a lunatic. You could have given me a heads up before you slammed on the brakes—Ow.”
The man Mason didn’t know inspected Shee’s cut and she jerked her head away from him.
“Don’t touch it. I’m fine.”
“He’s Mick’s doctor. Let him look and stop being such a baby,” scolded Angelina.
Glowering, Shee submitted.
Mason swallowed a smile and jerked his attention from her.
“We’re going to need more security,” he said to Angelina.
“Yep. Already on it. Pulling staff from other duties.”
Standing at Angelina’s side, Bracco nodded.
The doctor straightened and offered his diagnosis. “Couple of stitches wouldn’t hurt.”
Shee grimaced. “Since when?”
Angelina motioned from Bracco to Shee. “Bring her inside.”
“Whoa whoa whoa.” Shee wobbled toward her feet like a new-born calf. “I can walk.”
She tilted to her right and Bracco stepped forward to serve as a wall on which she could steady herself.
“Thank you,” she mumbled before squinting at the stranger.
The doctor held out his hand. “Hi. I’ll be the one stitching your scalp back together. Cough, Retired Naval Surgeon.”
Shee shook it. “Cough?”
He smiled. “Like turn your head and... Your dad gave me that nickname.”
Shee glanced at Mason. “Sounds like Dad.”
She smiled, as if to assure him she was all right, and he offered a tight smile in return.
“Well, let’s not operate on the lawn. We’ll scare the guests,” said Angelina, heading back up the path to the hotel.
Bracco walked beside Shee as they followed Angelina.
Mason lengthened his stride to catch up with them.
“You’re feeling okay? Not hallucinating about sea turtles anymore?” he asked.
She side-eyed him, still holding the towel to her head with the arm not gripping Bracco’s.
“I did see turtles.”
“Sure.”
She sighed, her face pointed toward the ground in front of her. “And I’m fine. Except I can feel my heartbeat in my scalp. I don’t think that’s normal.” She looked at him. “She got away.”
He nodded. “We’ll find her.”
She paused and he stopped to meet her gaze.
“Thanks, for saving my life, if I didn’t say it earlier,” she said.
He shrugged. “I figured Mick would be pissed if I left you out there.”
She chuckled and mounted the stairs.
Angelina held open the door and led Shee and Cough to her room to use it as an operating theatre.
Mason lowered himself onto the leather sofa in the lobby to wait.
A fiftyish-year-old man with a goatee and a middle-aged woman in a housekeeping uniform entered through the front door. The man eyed Mason and then turned to Croix.
“Where’s Angelina?”
Croix pointed down the hall. “She’s with Shee and Doc Cough—”
Angelina appeared where Croix pointed, scowling when she spotted the blond.
“What’s up, William?” she asked.
“There was a guy in the woods.”
Mason looked up. “Doing what?”
William scowled at him.
Angelina motioned to Mason. “It’s okay. He’s Shee’s, uh...friend.”
William directed his answer toward Angelina. “He said he was looking to buy a lot.”
“Any reason to be worried?”
William shrugged. “Rental car. Didn’t look like a guy who could afford it, but who can tell nowadays?”
“I got his plate,” said the housekeeper.
Mason studied the housekeeper with new eyes. Her squat, taut frame, her thick neck, the way she held herself... If she spent half her day cleaning rooms, it looked as though she dedicated the other half training for the local Ultimate Fighting Championship.
Angelina nodded. “You two come with me. We’re going to mix things up a bit.”
Angelina motioned for Bracco to join her and the four of them moved into the breakfast room.
Mason turned his attention to Croix typing on her laptop at the reception desk.
“You’re not part of the defense meeting?” he asked.
Croix’s gaze didn’t rise from the screen. “I’m doing more right now than they’ll do all night.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Care to share?”
Croix huffed. “I’m tech. I run the cameras. I helped Mick set up the security system.”
“Ah.” Mason tapped his knee with his finger. All the extra walking had his stump aching. “What does your tech tell you about Martisha?”
She grunted. “Not much.”
Mason chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I can tell you she didn’t seem very nurse-like shooting at us.”
Croix shrugged. “So weird. She always seemed so nice.”
“Could she have set Mick up? Could she have wanted to be his nurse?”
Croix put her elbows on the counter and plopped her chin into her hands. “Like she hired someone to shoot him in the head but not kill him? Hoping we’d move her from Captain to Mick? That’s crazy.”
“How did Captain die?”
Croix’s eyes widened. “He died after Mick showed up. Right when we were thinking about getting a second nurse... I wonder if—” She straightened. “We’re going to have to dig him up again.”
Mason scowled. “Again?”
Croix nodded. “We buried him with his wife the other night. Your girlfriend helped.”
“My—” Mason grit his teeth. “Funny, she didn’t mention that.”
Croix ignored him, still seemingly lost in her own thoughts. “Thing I can’t figure out is, why didn’t she kill him weeks ago if that was her plan?” She slapped the counter. “We should check her room.”
Mason stood. “Yep.”
She squinted at him as she rounded the desk. “I meant me.”
He followed her. “Many hands lighten the load.”
“Many—?” She hit the elevator button and turned to face him. “Where do you
