Take It Down. Kira Sinclair
Zane turned to leave. He was halfway out before Simon’s voice stopped him.
“Let me know if you find any red lace panties. I could use a little distraction right now. That woman is quite a firecracker, and I wouldn’t mind getting a little singed.”
Zane’s hands wrapped into fists as he spun on his heel. Simon lounged against the bar, a taunting half smile and a twinkle in his eye. Zane relaxed his body again.
“Bastard.”
The man had always known which buttons to push.
ELLE RUMMAGED FRANTICALLY through her luggage, looking for the picture she’d torn from the magazine. She’d been staring at it every night for the past two months and now that she couldn’t find it, panic began to rise in her chest. She needed that picture. It held the only clues she had to finding her grandmother’s painting.
She tore into her suitcase, flinging clothing every which way, hoping that she’d simply missed it the first time.
She never should have let them touch her things!
A warm wave of relief flooded through her. There, placed neatly at the very bottom of her suitcase sat what she was looking for. Picking it up, Elle ran the pad of her thumb across the glossy image. How had she missed it the first time?
The picture was fairly large, taking up most of the space on the page.
She had to admit, the ad had done its job. She’d wanted to come to Escape even before she’d noticed the painting hanging on the wall in the background.
The vista the camera lens let the audience into was just as breathtaking as the lush tropical surroundings that stood outside the walls. The angle the photographer had chosen accentuated the perspective, elongating the lines of the comfortable living room, through what she assumed was a bedroom and out the floor-to-ceiling windows to the ocean beyond.
All of the furniture was heavy wood, looking as if the pieces had stood there through years of love and use. Tranquil blues and greens decorated the walls and dotted every surface. And in between two towering bookshelves hung the painting of her grandmother, somehow even more lavish surrounded by the tropical beauty outside.
The artist in Elle could appreciate the composition and structure of the photograph. The way the photographer had staged the shot to convey a feeling of lush peace and beauty. The little girl she’d never really got to be wanted the only memento of her grandmother back so desperately her lungs tightened with the need to run screaming through the place, ripping doors open until she found what she’d come for.
But that would just land her back inside the dank, cramped space with Officer Zane standing over her, asking questions she really didn’t want to answer.
Instead, she concentrated on trying to find some clue within the picture. A clue she hadn’t found the hundreds of times she’d stared at it before.
The entire resort had a sort of lived-in feel, as if you were vacationing with a long-lost aunt who just happened to be a billionaire. Each of the guest rooms that occupied the French plantation house was decorated differently…which should have made her search easier, but so far hadn’t. Yes, she’d been able to glance into each of the rooms she’d seen and know whether or not it was the one. But there were so many of them and she had no way to narrow down her search. Not to mention that once she had searched the rooms inside, she had to cover all of the bungalows reserved exclusively for couples, the common areas and the restricted spaces.
She hadn’t gotten into nearly enough rooms today. And to make matters worse, she had no doubt that Zane had been telling the truth and would be watching her every move now.
Elle sighed, mentally rearranging her schedule in her head. She had a couple of commissioned paintings she should be working on, but both clients could be put off for a little while. An Atlanta gallery had expressed interest in a showing. But that was months away. Really, there were worse places on the planet to be stuck than an exotic Caribbean island.
The place was stunning. And her upgraded room had a killer view.
Unfortunately, it didn’t contain her grandmother’s painting, either. That would have made her life too easy.
Flopping back onto the bed, she let her body sink into the luxurious comforter. She stared up at the beautiful crown molding that ringed the ceiling and, for the first time, admitted she hadn’t exactly planned. She could hear her dad’s voice in her head now. “You went off half-cocked again, didn’t you, girl?” Even in her own brain, the stern voice couldn’t disguise the indulgent humor beneath.
So, she was guilty of rushing into things, of responding passionately to a situation before she’d fully thought out the consequences. There were certainly worse ways to interact with the world. She could have a stick up her ass like Officer Zane. She’d bet he thought out every angle for absolutely every decision before he took a single step.
Mind-blowing.
A vision of him standing over her flitted through her mind. Unwanted warmth snaked through her body to pool between her thighs. So he was…ruggedly handsome. That didn’t give him the right to push her around the way he had. Well, okay, maybe he did have the right, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. She forced the image of his towering body and tight jaw out of her mind. She didn’t have time to indulge in pointless yearnings.
What she needed was a plan.
And in the absence of one, a margarita. Or five. The answer would come to her. It always did.
“YOU SHOULD TAKE A break.”
“No.” Zane didn’t even bother turning around to look at Marcy. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him and the woman who currently filled it.
She’d been sitting at the bar for the past two hours. Alone. Sipping on several frothy drinks and ignoring the several men who had tried to pick her up.
“She isn’t going anywhere, Zane. The last ferry has run for the day.”
“I promised I’d be watching her and I intend to do just that.”
“Who’d you promise? We both know Simon didn’t ask you to do this. Leave the poor woman alone.”
Poor woman, his left nut. The screen might have washed everything to varying shades of gray and white, but his mind remembered the vivid color of her hair and the unsettling combination of her gray eyes. They were so pale. So piercing. And they hid a secret he was determined to figure out.
“Don’t make me put you on administrative leave for the next forty-eight hours.”
His head whipped around to look at the compact fireball of a woman standing behind him. No doubt about it, Marcy was small but she packed a hell of a punch. And they both knew she didn’t bluff worth a damn. If she said it, she meant it.
Zane thought about threatening her with Simon, but decided not to. Technically Simon might own the place, but everyone knew that Marcy ran it. He had no desire to get on her bad side by throwing his friendship with their boss in her face. Besides, he wasn’t entirely certain that Simon would choose him over Marcy. After all, he could find another head of security tomorrow, but Marcy…she’d be damn hard to replace.
He was curious, though. “Why would you do that?”
“So that my week doesn’t go to hell because you’re bored and can’t admit that you miss your old life.”
“I do not miss my old life.” Rather, there were things about his old life that he didn’t miss, such as seeing murdered bodies or chasing terrorists and drug dealers and rapists. And knowing that for every bad guy they caught, another was ready to step up and take his place.
The guilt of knowing he’d failed Felicity, his fiancée, had been the last straw. Her death was entirely his fault and there was nothing he could do to change it.
“It does not escape my notice that you didn’t protest being bored. I’m sending