A Deadly Reunion (27 page)

“Wow, that sounds unforgettable,” he mouthed
as he kissed my head again.

“The secret to the perfect relationship is
the perfect first date, I’m told.”

“Then a shitty sandwich on damp motel grass
it is.”

I pulled him into a proper kiss.

His cheek was warm against mine, his lips
firm as he nuzzled into me.

Breaking away reluctantly, I suddenly got a
devilish idea: “or we could drive to the back of the high school
car park and snog behind the gym. I’ve always wanted to do that
with Denver Scott,” I actually giggled.

He looked thoughtful.

“Okay, let’s do that instead,” he joked.

“Or we could stay here,” I breathed.

“Then we’ll stay here,” he murmured into my
ear.

Before we became carried away, I coughed
lightly. “You’re injured,” I felt obliged to remind him.

“And you’re observant. But why are you
pointing that out?”

“
Because... um, it might not be a good
idea—”

“I thought we could stay inside, play cards,
and exchange stories about high school. I have no intention of
sleeping with you, Patti.”

I hit him ever so lightly on the
shoulder.

Looking up into his eyes, I waited for
another playful joke.

“I’m fine,” he said seriously. “And thank
you.”

He kissed me.

We stayed inside that afternoon, and not
long after, we finally left Wetlake for good.

I’ve been wrong about many things in
life.

But sometimes all you need is to be right
once and about the right person.

Denver Scott sure as heck was a complex
guy.

But my teenage dreams had come true.

He was the one for me.

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Read on for an excerpt from

Room 89

It’s meant to be a holiday, and holidays are
meant to be relaxing. Yet when Mae arrives at the Red Resort,
luxury gives way to murder. When an international criminal mistakes
her for another woman, Mae is plunged into a terrible adventure.
With two men vying for her affections, she must figure out which
one is evil before it is too late.

Continue reading for an excerpt from the
novel.

I stared up at the resort with a peaceful
smile spreading my lips.

I had earned this holiday, by god had I
earned it.

My year had been a particularly unlucky one,
and it was time to erase that memory with the golden sands of a
tropical beach.

Chuckling to myself, I dragged my suitcase
forward, letting the mid afternoon sunshine warm me through my thin
blouse and swimsuit underneath.

I had every intention of dumping my luggage
in my room and then retiring to the side of the pool with a
cocktail in hand. In fact, I had every intention of spending my
entire two weeks here doing just that.

When I’d won this holiday in a competition,
I’d been beside myself. My first scrap of luck in several months of
misfortune that had seen me lose my apartment, my job, and my
dog.

But now I could put all of that behind me
and snuggle up in a lounger beneath the warm sunshine of the
tropics.

As I walked through the great, glass, front
doors of the hotel, I looked around at the other guests milling
about.

Each and every one of them looked wealthy.
Not just rich, but exceedingly well off.

I saw pearls; I saw the finest silk; I saw
real gold watches; I saw sodding great diamond tennis
bracelets.

Money, money, money.

A part of me felt like a fraud; the rest of
me just wanted to get to the free buffet before all those scrawny
old ladies did.

Trundling up to reception, I waited behind a
couple asking directions to the tennis court before they wandered
off, no doubt laughing about their bonuses and stock returns as
they did.

Smiling at the old man behind the counter, I
fumbled in my bag until I brought out my passport.

I needn’t have bothered; with a wide smile,
he tapped something on the computer in front of him. “Aha, you must
be Georgie Kaplan. Oh wait, no, I apologize,” clearing his throat,
he appeared to take a longer look at me. “Miss Mae Weathers,
correct?” He fixed me with a questioning expression.

I nodded, shooting him a smile. “Damn,
you’re quick. Do you have me up on a most wanted poster or
something?”

It wasn’t a funny joke, but thankfully the
man didn’t call security to have me escorted out. “Not at all. Here
at the Red Resort, we are always prepared. Congratulations on
winning this holiday, Miss Weathers. And I hope that you have a
deservedly good time with us.” He offered me a low, polite nod and
handed me my keys.

A deservedly good time...? Now wasn’t that
a rather strange expression?

Pushing it from my mind, I offered him
another polite grin, grabbed the keys, and turned around for one
last look at the glorious atrium around and above me before I
wandered off to the elevators.

The Red Resort was enormous. Of course it
was. You wouldn’t attract this much money if you were a little
caravan on a nasty cobblestone beach in the middle of nowhere.

Oh no, this place was incredible. And it was
way, way above my pay grade. Even if I worked the rest of my life
and saved industriously, I would never be able to afford a place
like this.

Thank God for mail out competitions in
national magazines, ay?

Smiling to myself as I walked up to the
elevators, I made a quick mental note to pluck out my camera and
take photos of absolutely everything so I could send them quick
smart to my jealous sister. Up in Canada and enduring a
particularly wintry spring, she’d no doubt blow a gasket at my
luck.

Thumbing number eleven on the elevator
panel, I straightened my bag on my shoulder and waited for the
doors to close.

Before they could, something unusual
happened.

Somebody stuck their boot in the bottom of
the doors, and there was a thump as the metal closed around it,
then a courteous beep as the doors opened quickly, as if
embarrassed.

Looking out, I had to stop myself from
giving a quick splutter.

The boot that had stopped the doors belonged
to a man that could stop a heart.

Wow... just wow.

The monstrosity of a broad-chested fellow
who now walked in looked like he was fresh out of the Roman
Legion.

He had tanned, almost leathery skin that had
a delightful olive tinge to it. Dark stubble covered his chin and
top lip, and his hair was a short, rugged black.

He also stood a good foot and a half taller
than me.

In a gray polo shirt and beige chinos, he
didn’t exactly look like a million bucks, especially when you
factored in the rather regulation look of his simple, scuffed,
brown boots. But damn, I would have taken him at any price.

I probably stared at him entirely too long,
and certainly longer than the quick, calculating look he shot me.
From my feet to the tip of my head, he looked me up and down and
then muscled himself into the corner of the elevator.

Then a sweet looking old man and old woman
walked in behind him. Now, they were dressed like a million bucks –
no, scratch that, try two million. If I were any judge, the solid
diamond necklace dangling off the old nana’s throat had to be worth
$500,000 on its own. You didn’t get diamonds that large every other
day, and I really doubted, considering how expensive this resort
was, that it was a set of cubic zirconias.

Trying not to look like I was staring at
everybody, even though I totally was, I shimmied right into the
corner until one of my shoulders touched the cool metal panel of
the wall. Staring at my hands, I flicked my pass-key around and
around, letting the sound of it clinking against my nails distract
me.

“That’s a very nice blouse, dear,” the old
woman said.

Startled, I actually looked at the other two
men in the elevator first to check she wasn’t talking to them. They
were both wearing polo shirts; so no, she was clearly talking to
me.

Blushing a little, I muttered a “thank
you.”

“Where did you get it from? Paris? Milan? Is
it a Casay design?”

It took me a moment, then my addled brain
reminded me Casay was perhaps the most famous couture brand in
Paris.

I gave an extremely undignified and
unladylike snort, which I tried to cover up by planting my hand
over my mouth and coughing politely. “No, it’s from...” I looked
for a discrete way to say it was from the supermarket, but nothing
came to mind. So, after a long pause, I answered, “a
shop.”

Yes, a shop.

Well of course it was from a shop.

Rather than look at me strangely, the old
woman offered a polite smile. “Do you come here often? This is my
fourth time, and I must say, the midnight cocktails are
sublime.”

“I’ve never been here before, but thank you
for the tip,” I managed as the doors pinged open. Then I maneuvered
myself forward, gave a polite if silly and unnecessary wave, and
walked on out, blushing as I did.

I wasn’t usually the kind of girl who cared
about status and money. I didn’t covet the stuff, and if someone
was a hell of a lot richer than me – which wasn’t hard – I tended
not to care.

So why hadn’t I answered truthfully in the
elevator? I should have told the woman I’d won this holiday, and
I’d never shopped in Paris because I couldn’t afford a ticket on
the train, let alone a trans-Atlantic flight?

Putting it behind me, I finally rolled my
suitcase down the long corridor until I found my room.

As I opened up the door, I was struck with
how strikingly beautiful everything was.

Resting my suitcase down on the exceedingly
soft and expensive carpet, I pressed the door closed behind me and
then let an enormous grin reach wide across my lips and high into
my eyes.

“Holy crap,” I said in a whisper, and
started to laugh in a much louder voice.

If anyone had been listening in, they would
have assumed I was some evil overlord or just an unstable lady who
enjoyed soft carpet far too much.

Racing over to the enormous bed with
beautiful silk blankets and cushions on top, I unceremoniously
flopped onto my back. Kicking my shoes off my feet, I brought my
legs up and hugged them to my chest.

Then I laughed some more.

Once I was done laughing, I checked out the
room in full.

It had beautiful, wide French doors that led
out onto a balcony with a small seating area and a view of the
ocean beyond. It also had a bathroom replete with a spa bath, an
enormous shower, and every little bottle of lotion and shampoo you
could think of.

Wandering back into the main room, I started
to unpack my bags by flinging all of my clothes onto the wide,
white leather couch that sat directed at the view.

Once I was done chuckling about how lucky I
was, I finally pulled off my pants, tugged on a nice blue sarong,
and marched out of my room, with every intention of grabbing a
midnight cocktail and lounging right in front of the pool.

Walking down the hall, initially I aimed for
the elevators, then figured I really needed to stretch my legs,
considering I’d been on a plane and now fully intended to spend the
afternoon eating, drinking, and sunbathing.

Turning around, I quickly spied the
stairwell at the end of the corridor, and made my way towards
it.

As I did, I heard a thump.

A heavy, loud one.

Looking concerned, I turned towards the door
several feet in front of me. Slowing down as I passed it, I heard
another thump. This one was louder and also accompanied with a
shaking sound that reminded me of furniture rattling after a tremor
or quake.

I frowned. Deeply. It sounded like there was
a troupe of elephants wandering around the room.

Then the shouting began. Loud, angry,
insistent.

I froze.

Right outside the door.

For a second, I didn’t know what to do. Then
I heard another thump.

Taking a jolting step away from the door, I
realized I had to go and get management.

Because it really didn’t sound as if this
argument was going to end on a good note.

Shit.

I turned sharply on my foot.

That’s when I saw the two men walking
purposefully my way.

I say men; I meant tanks. They were
enormous, and more than that, they were completely battle scarred.
They had nicks and cuts and wounds over their faces, some fresh,
and some healed over with white slashes of scar tissue.

“There are some men fighting in that room,”
I said quickly, pointing at the door rather desperately, “I think
we should get management. It sounds,” I began.

Then the two men reached me.

The tallest – who had hawk-like eyes and a
sharp, pointed nose with a long scar running across his chin –
weighed a hand heavily into my shoulder.

I hadn’t been expecting it, and I looked up
sharply into his eyes, my lips dropping open in surprise.

“
There is nothing going on here. You can
walk away now,” with that, he pushed me. Hard.