Scarlett Red: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 2 (In the Shadows) (9 page)

“Actually, be glad he’s here.” Simon waves to Bash, then grabs a laptop from his desk to set it on the round table next to the door. “If we’re going to be looking through security footage, this is the guy you want on your team. He has eagle eyes.”

Just as Simon opens his laptop and queues up a program, his phone rings. Answering it, he says, “I’ll be right there,” then gives me an apologetic smile while tucking his phone away. “I need to go meet the ambulance. Someone is passed out cold in one of the lounge chairs at the pool. Probably too much partying last night.” Nodding to Bash, he continues, “You don’t mind helping Miss Lone out, do you?”

“Not a problem.” Bash reaches up to shut the blinds, and the sun is instantly cut out of the room, leaving only the florescent lights’ hum above our heads. Coming around the desk, he slides his glasses onto the neck of his shirt and nods to Simon. “Hit the lights on your way out, Simon.”

“You’re in good hands, Miss Lone,” the head of security says. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

As soon as I nod, he smiles and turns off the lights. When he closes the door behind him, the room goes completely dark.

A couple seconds later, my eyes adjust to the low glow coming from the laptop screen as Bash approaches. “Why didn’t you tell me someone’s been impersonating you?”

I can barely see his face, but he doesn’t sound happy. I shrug. “It’s not like that kind of thing comes up in regular conversation.”

“You and I haven’t had a regular conversation since we met.”

His dry comment makes me laugh. “Touché,” I say, gesturing to the laptop. “Ready to help me check out this security footage?”

“This isn’t at all how I pictured getting you alone in the dark,” he says, pulling out a chair for me.

His honest comment sends tingles shooting through me, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I sit down and move the mouse to stop the screen saver that has popped up.

Once he pulls his chair close to mine, Bash clicks on the security footage folder. “Is this related to what you wanted to ask Donald about?”

I nod, then quickly explain what I’d discovered about the two readers who’d attended Hawthorne resort in the past year. He doesn’t say a word until I’m done.

“You really should’ve told me.”

The reprimand in his tone puts me on instant defense. “Why? I barely know you. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t trust easily.”

“I think getting you back to the resort safely last night should earn me some trust points,” he says before turning back to the screen. “What date are we looking for?”

And just like that, he’s back to all business. Nodding to acknowledge that he did help me before, I straighten in the chair and give him the date I need.

A couple hours later, we’ve only made it through the noon footage. I close my burning eyes briefly and arch my spine, pushing my fingers against my back. I’m sure it’s sore from crazy pool swimming. “I’ll have to get coffee soon.” My eyes flutter open as I finish one last stretch.

Bash isn’t looking at the screen. His eyes are on my breasts framed by my fitted navy blue halter-top. Lifting an unrepentant gaze to mine, he frowns, “Are you done distracting me?”

Distracting him?
Does he think I’m that desperate for attention? Gritting my teeth, I wave my hand. “By all means, let’s continue.”

He grunts and turns back to the screen. Another hour of footage passes as we watch more people check in. I still haven’t seen any of the front desk employees hand a guest Hawthorne’s distinctive voucher with the red-berried Hawthorne tree crest stamped on it.

A few minutes later, Bash stops the video. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

He clicks the mouse to scroll back a few minutes, then hits the play button. I watch the footage, but don’t see the voucher I’m looking for. “I don’t see anything.”

Bash reverses the same amount of time, then clicks play once more. “Watch.”

This time, he hits a button that makes the video move much slower. When I start to shake my head, he clicks the stop button, freezing the screen on a frame of the tall fern next to the main desk. “There. Do you see it now?”

I stare at the fern for a couple of seconds before my eyes adjust to what I’m seeing. Someone is hiding behind the fern’s fronds. The person can’t be more than five-and-a-half feet tall.

I blink at the screen. “How did you even see that?”

Bash smirks and clicks the start button once I nod and we watch the video move forward together. We never see the person in the video, due to a delivery of a huge bouquet of flowers that blocks our view, but we do see one of the desk clerks move to her computer on that end of the desk to speak to someone. Then the clerk types on the computer screen before handing a voucher to someone who’s completely hidden behind that bouquet.

When Bash closes out of the video clip folder, I sigh in frustration. “Great. The person who bought the voucher is blocked.”

He doesn’t say anything as he opens another folder and checks the camera’s footage outside the hotel. When I see him sliding the fast-forward to the same time of day, I smile. “Ah, we couldn’t catch him inside, but we can catch him entering, huh?”

“Exactly,” he says and freezes the picture on a dark-haired, freckle-faced teen entering the resort.

“He’s just a kid,” I say, surprised. “How are we ever going to track him down?”

Bash shakes his head while clicking through the shut down sequence on the laptop. “We don’t have to. I recognize him.”

“You do?” I glance his way just before the room goes completely dark.

He clasps my hand and pulls me to my feet. I try to ignore the sensation of his hand wrapped around mine and the warmth of his body just an inch away. “And no, I’m not telling you where to find him.”

“Why not?”

He bends close to my ear, his masculine smell wrapping around me like a warm seductive blanket pulling me into his charismatic space. “It’s the only way I can guarantee I’ll get you all to myself.”

“You don’t have me,” I say, annoyed at the huskiness in my voice.
Why has my body decided to betray me whenever he’s near?

His warm breath, smelling of mints and orange juice, slides along my jaw and up my cheek, stopping so close to my mouth, I feel the mint’s coolness on my lips. “I haven’t tried yet, sweetheart.”

Firm fingers settle at the base of my spine, tugging me against his hard body. “Are you ready for me to begin?”

Why haven’t you?
I want to scream as sexual tension roars through me, but instead I quickly step out of his hold and say in an unsteady voice, “Please take me to this kid.”

His low chuckle sounds a few steps away just before he opens the door. “Then let’s go find your impersonator. After you, Miss Lone.”

As he gestures for me to go in front of him, I set my jaw, irritated by the smug satisfaction in his tone and walk past him without a word.

“Nice car,” I say while he pushes the button to fold back the Mustang’s convertible roof.

“Yeah, Trev does all right here.”

Buckled in, I retrieve my sunglasses from my purse and slide them on, enjoying the feel of mid-morning sun on my skin. The weather is perfect. Not too hot or cold. Once we pull away from the resort, I stare up at the few white clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky and inhale the briny smell of ocean permeating the air. “It really is beautiful here. It’s sad that the couple other times I’ve visited I haven’t explored beyond the resort, so thanks for taking me. Where exactly are we going?”

He turns onto the main road and flashes a smile. “We’re going to West Tisbury. I’ve seen the kid trying to sell his caricature drawings to guests outside the resort before Simon ran him off. He’s actually pretty talented. I have a good idea where I can find him keeping himself busy.”

I study his profile, trying to decipher his mood behind his dark sunglasses. “So tell me how you spotted him behind that plant. Simon was right. You do have an eagle eye. I wouldn’t have seen that if you hadn’t slowed it frame by frame.”

“Do you know what Stereograms are?”

“You mean the 3D pictures? I have a really hard time seeing them.”

“A lot of people do. I see them instantly.”

I nod. “Ah, now that makes more sense. It’s like your vision is hyper-focused.”

He lets out a low laugh. “I guess you could say that.”

Tilting my head, I eye him.
Did I detect some self-deprecating sarcasm?
“So what do you do when you’re not filling in for buddies in need of vacation or kicking bar guys’ asses? Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was a kid, so I’ve been in a few fights.”

“Did you join the gang?”

“No.” He glances at me briefly. “What do
you
do when you’re not writing a book?”

“I perform odd swimming techniques and accept rides with complete strangers while on investigative adventures,” I say, offering a wide smile. When he snorts at my non-answer, his mouth twitching upward, I nod. “Your turn.”

Laying his wrist along the steering wheel, he stares at the road. “I own my own asset protection business.”

“Asset protection?” I furrow my brow. “As in finances?”

He shoots me a sideways smile. “Sometimes.”

“That’s not vague at all.”

He shrugs. “That’s pretty much it, asset management. I have a few employees. The business is growing. I’ll expand later, but right now I’m satisfied with the way things are going.”

I open my mouth to ask more about it, but his phone rings.

He glances at the screen. “Sorry, I need to answer it.” Putting the phone to his ear, he smiles and his tone completely lightens. “Hey! How are you doing?”

Who is this person in his life that makes him light up like this?

No sooner did the thought enter my head then I see his hand instantly tighten around the phone. “He’s been in the hospital all of what? Five minutes? Okay fine…two days. Why is she selling it?”

Whoa, that’s a quick change from friendly to cold.

Pausing, he pulls the phone away and glances at the screen, then puts it back to his ear, his tone settling somewhat. “That’s her calling. No, I’m talking to you right now.” A pause. “Should you be doing that? Get the others to help you.” Another pause. “Why don’t you just send it to me at the resort. I’m here for a bit longer.” After he rattles off his room number at the resort’s address, he asks, “Are you feeling okay now? Good. Don’t over do it. Better yet, make your mom do all the work since she’s the one selling. Yeah, yeah, I know how she can be. Just don’t let her push all the work off on you.” Another pause, then he’s back to smiling. “That’s just how I’m wired. Someone has to look out for you. Let’s get together when I’m back in town.”

“Sorry about that,” he says, setting the phone into a slot in the console. “Family stuff.”

“I’m sorry someone is sick.” When he looks at me in confusion, I clarify. “You said someone’s in the hospital.”

“My father just had his appendix removed. He’s fine now, but while he’s out of commission my stepmother has decided to sell the family beach house. My pregnant sister is there clearing stuff out, while I’m sure my stepmother is piling on more work.”

“I don’t detect any bitterness at all,” I say, offering an empathetic smile.

“My stepmother is
not
my favorite person.”

His phone rings again and this time, he swears before he answers. “I figured you’d be calling. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long. Ah, camped out on your lawn, did they?” A devious smile tilts his lips.

I can’t believe the difference in Bash’s tone. A sharp edge of condescension mixed with pure dislike. It must be his stepmother. Obviously she picked the wrong guy to get crossways with.

“Probably because I told my lawyer to take care of it last week, making it a matter of public record. Screw the tabloids. I
signed
the deal three years ago, but I just now got around to filing it. Go ahead, show it to him. I don’t give a damn about the agreement. I never did. Tear it up if you want.”

When he pauses, I cringe at hearing her screech through the phone,
“You’re such a manipulative son-of-a-bitch.
”

Bash calmly speaks over her shouting. “It’s done. You may as well get used to it.” Then he hangs up on her. Two seconds later his phone starts to ring again, but this time he turns off the ringer. A few more seconds pass, and his phone must’ve been set up to read texts out loud, because the automated voice says, “Message from New York area code. ‘You must not care about him at all. He’ll hate you for this.’”

I gasp when Bash grabs the phone and throws it as hard as he can into a field of sunflowers as we zoom past.

When he sets his jaw and continues to drive like he didn’t just chuck a thousand dollar phone into a flower field, I say, “You ah, want to talk about it?”

His aviator-covered gaze swings toward me. “Just family BS. I’m sure you deal with it all the time too.”

I look out at the passing farmer’s fields. “Not phone-tossing worthy.”