He chuckled. “I’m right where I want to be.” He held her gaze until she blinked rapidly and looked away. “Let’s stay. How about dessert?”
“But... I...” Cate looked like a trapped rat, squirming to get out of a cage. “I should get back to the resort. I’ve got to do the accounting books today and then talk to Mark.”
“I think you’ve got time for dessert.” Tack nodded toward the waitress, who came over and told them about the dessert options. Tack watched Cate’s face as it momentarily lit up at the mention of some chocolate cheesecake. He ordered that and two forks.
“Cate is a pretty name.” He wanted to know why she kept it. Why she decided it was such a good idea to keep the first name that authorities and her husband would be looking for. Why was that worth the risk?
“It was my mother’s name,” she said, quietly. “She died when I was six, and...well, it’s one of the few things I have from her.”
That information temporarily blindsided Tack.
He’d done his research, sure. He knew her mother was deceased—died suddenly of a rare and aggressive kind of cancer when she was a kid, but it had just been a fact on paper, nothing more. Now, sitting across from her, he realized how the fact affected her in deep ways. How he’d simply dismissed that as a lead he couldn’t follow, instead of imagining the human impact of losing a parent so young.
“When she was alive, Daddy didn’t drink as much. After she went, he was heartbroken.” Cate stared off into space as if remembering an old moment. “I don’t really blame him. I missed her, too. If I could’ve gotten drunk, I would’ve.”
Tack realized how important, how life-changing her mother’s passing had been for her. For him, it had been simply a box he’d checked off on his follow-up list.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning more for just her loss. But also for his callousness.
“She was the best mom,” she said brightly. “So gentle and kind. Always laughing. And bubbly. A bright light lived inside her, you know? She made friends everywhere she went.” She glanced toward the sea, as if wrapped up in a memory. “When she died, Daddy had trouble holding down a job. We were very poor.”
Tack imagined her as a little girl, with a father who couldn’t quite keep it together, all while grieving the loss of her mother and probably going hungry. He felt for that little girl, despite all his best efforts not to.
Still, he could see how Rick Allen would’ve been her lottery ticket—how she would’ve held on to his money as a kind of comfort. A girl who’d known what it was like to be hungry and abandoned might make sure never to feel that way again. If her husband planned to leave her and leave her penniless, then murder might be her only option.
The waitress came with the dessert and plunked it down before them, breaking the somber spell. They both dug into the chocolate cheesecake, and Tack let himself simply focus on her full lips, wishing he could taste them once more. The memory of the kiss on the boat hit him, and he felt a warm flush at the back of his neck. He wanted to do that again. He wanted to do more than that, and he had sense enough to realize that desire had nothing to do with this case and everything to do with the fact that she was damn gorgeous. She took another bite of cheesecake, enjoying a long pull of her fork as she slowly ate the silky dessert. He took a bite for himself.
“Mmm,” she murmured, making his heart speed up a little. The moan was almost the sound she’d made when he kissed her. How he wanted to make her moan like that again. He wanted to make her moan like that all night long.
He realized he’d stopped eating and was staring, because she blinked fast and sat up, swiping at her mouth. “You’re staring,” she said. “Do I have something on my face?” She anxiously patted her chin with a napkin.
“Nothing on your face,” he said, shaking his head. Nothing but the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. And the most kissable lips. “I’m just enjoying watching you.”
She shifted in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Chocolate is my weakness,” she admitted.
“Is it?” He grinned.
The waitress brought the check and he quickly paid it, just as Cate finished up the last bite of cheesecake.
“Thanks for the meal,” she said.
“You’re welcome. Thanks for the company.” He held her gaze for a beat and enjoyed watching the slow blush creep up the side of her cheek. She fidgeted and pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Is that really the time?” she gasped. She popped to her feet, the chair screeching back behind her. “We have to get going. I’ve got another tour later this afternoon.”
“Sure,” Tack said smoothly, standing.
Cate was already making her way to the door. “You go on. I’m going to the bathroom.” He nodded at her, and she scurried out of the restaurant. When he was sure she was gone, he grabbed a Ziploc bag from his pocket and discreetly tucked the fork into it, careful not to add his fingerprints to the handle. Fingerprints could ID her, too. There probably wasn’t enough saliva left for a DNA sample, but the fingerprints might still be there. He gently placed the fork in his pocket.
As Cate headed to the dock, he realized it was about time he focused on why he was really here. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called Allen’s private line.
“I think I have a promising lead,” Tack said before he could change his mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER THEY RETURNED to the resort, Cate pulled the boat to the dock and Tack helped secure it.
“There,” he said. “All set.”
Those were nearly the most words he’d said to her for the entire trip back. He’d gotten moody all of a sudden, though she couldn’t think why. She thought they’d actually connected over lunch, but maybe that had been her imagination.
Cate gathered her gear and made for the back of the boat. Tack was already busy with his own bag, keeping his back to her. It felt oddly...cold.
“Uh...thanks again for lunch.”
“Yep.” Tack glanced at her, the mirrored sunglasses he wore making it impossible to see his eyes. What was with the monosyllables all of a sudden? He also seemed distracted as he glanced at his phone’s face, as if expecting a message. Overhead, the sun beamed down on them, and suddenly, Cate felt sweat trickle down her back.
“Uh, well...I hope you enjoyed the tour,” Cate said, wondering where the attentive man from lunch had gone.
“Uh-huh.” His focus was now entirely on his phone as he tapped a message to someone. A woman? she wondered, and then immediately couldn’t figure out why she cared. She couldn’t let a stranger in, and she wasn’t even sure she could trust him. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. But honestly, what man kissed a woman, took her out for an expensive lunch and then abruptly lost interest?
A man who has a long list of gorgeous women in his phone, at his beck and call.
“Okay, then.” The words came out snippy as she turned away from him and headed quickly to the resort. He didn’t call after her, and when she glanced back once, he was headed away from the dock and to the resort, presumably to his room. His ignoring her irked her, though she couldn’t really explain why.
She ought to be relieved he’d stopped asking her questions. Chicago. He’d asked her over lunch if she was from Chicago. Did that mean something? Was she being paranoid or should she be worried?
Cate couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to Tack than met the eye, though she had no proof Rick had hired him. Besides, why would a man Rick had hired to find her take her to a nice lunch? Or...kiss her?
The memory of the kiss washed over her, and Cate suddenly felt heat rush through her abdomen. The man knew how to kiss. It had been...one of the best kisses she’d ever had, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Maybe the fact that she hadn’t kissed a man in such a long time clouded her judgment.
Cate tried to leave thoughts of Tack behind as she rushed into the resort and headed straight for the upper rooms, where she knew Carol was watching Avery. Sometimes she picked him up from preschool and spent the afternoon playing Legos, usually, or reading books. Mark and Carol’s teenage daughter, Grace, also took turns watching Avery, and between them, they usually managed to keep the resort running and make sure the precocious four-year-old stayed out of trouble.
When she got to her rooms, she swung open the door and called out, but no one was there. Avery’s room was empty. Must be downstairs, outside enjoying this gorgeous day. It was particularly nice weather for St. Anthony’s—breezy, mid-70s and not a cloud in the sky. Sometimes, when the sea breeze died down, the humidity hung in the air like a heavy blanket, but today it was the perfect day to build a sand castle on the beach. But Cate already knew they weren’t there—she’d come from that way. The lawn, she thought, and headed back to the grassy patch on the other side of the resort. In the middle of that lay a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by white tile and reclining lawn chairs.
She looked at the empty pool and sighed. There was a time when the pool teemed with people, gleeful splashing and the low beat of music flowing all afternoon. Now, it looked deserted. She wondered if the visitors would ever come back, but told herself she needed to focus on finding Avery before Carol put him down for an afternoon nap. She saw his preschool backpack on one of the lawn chairs and decided she was close. Cate rounded the corner of the building and saw Carol and Mark near the patio to the resort’s breakfast café, poring over what looked like the evening’s menu. There was no sign of Avery. Grace must be looking after him, Cate thought, and then felt a momentary flash of guilt for how the little boy was shuffled from one person to the next. Of course the Gurdas were amazing people and treated Avery like blood. To the little boy, they were all just one big, happy family.
Carol’s face lit up when she saw Cate. “So? How was it?”
“You mean the Tack trap you set up for me?” Cate still felt sore about it. She knew Carol had somehow managed to finagle the alone time with the ex-marine, and probably at the expense of other paying guests.
“No need to thank me,” Carol said, and grinned as she scooted back her patio chair.
“Tack trap? What’s this about?” Mark murmured, looking puzzled as he glanced from one woman to the other.
“Your wife decided to kick everybody else off the morning tour so that I’d spend four hours with Tack.”
“Everybody else, listen to her!” Carol shrugged. “It was one couple. The other couple already canceled, and besides, I think the honeymooners would be better off taking the tour tomorrow and told them so, when the sea will be calmer.”
“The sea was plenty calm,” Cate fumed.
“Oh? It was? Silly me.” Carol grinned, and Cate let out a frustrated sigh. She was only trying to help. Cate knew that. But if she wanted to die alone and celibate that was her business. “So? Did you two...hit it off?”
Cate thought about the kiss. They did. Maybe too well. Until he rushed off the boat and left without a goodbye. Why do I even care?
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Carol looked puzzled.
Cate shrugged. “He’s okay.”
“He’s more than okay.”
“I’m completely lost,” Mark said, scratching his head. “What’s going on?”
“Your wife is trying to set me up, that’s what.” Cate put her hands on her hips and glared at Carol, but she just grinned unapologetically. “Despite me asking her not to.”
“Well, Carol never takes no for an answer,” Mark said, chuckling a little. “I’ve told her no for twenty years and look where it got me. Nowhere.”
Carol gave Mark a playful shove, but Cate just grinned. Even with all the teasing, those two were head over heels for one another.
“So, where’s Avery?” Cate asked. “With Grace?”
Carol shook her head. “Upstairs, taking a nap in his room. I just ran down here for a quick minute to give Mark the new menu. I was going to run right back up...”
Suddenly, Cate’s blood ran cold. “No, he’s not,” she said. “I was just there. His room was empty.”
Carol frowned, suddenly sitting up straight and putting both hands on the table in front of her. “I only left him a couple of minutes ago. Not even that. Are you sure he wasn’t in your suite somewhere?”
Cate remembered running quickly through every room. “I’m sure.”
Carol looked stricken. “But how did he get out of the room? I swore I locked it.”
“He’s like Houdini,” Cate said. “Remember how he undid his car seat last week and he was crawling all over the back seat before I could stop him?”
Carol nodded.
“Well, he couldn’t have gotten far,” Mark said.
Cate had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wanted to find him. Fast.
* * *
TACK SAT IN his resort room, carefully dusting the fork for fingerprints. He managed to get one partial print that wasn’t enough to do much other than say the print might belong to Cate Allen. Tack felt a surge of disappointment. He knew in his gut she was Cate Allen. Yet he lacked the proof his employer demanded.
Getting a better print would mean spending more time with Cate. As he grabbed his room key and sunglasses, he realized he didn’t mind that at all.
Down in the lobby, he realized it was strangely deserted—no sign of Cate, Mark or Carol. Instantly, his instincts went on high alert. Something wasn’t right. Then he glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grounds and saw most of the staff on the lawn—the cook, a maid and Mark all seemed to be scouring the area for something. Or someone.
Tack felt his stomach tighten. Did Cate bolt? Then he saw her, back to him, blond hair tussled by the sea breeze as she stood near the pool. He headed in that direction. Once outside, the hot sun beat down on his head, causing a single drop of sweat to roll down the back of his neck. He heard a chorus of people calling for Avery.
Cate’s little boy.
He was missing?
Cate was beginning to look frantic as she paced around the pool and searched the small changing cabanas. He got to her just as she came out of the last one. She nearly collided into his chest. He put out his hands to steady her.
“Tack!” she cried, her face as pale as the white pool tile. “I...I’m sorry. I don’t have time...”
Tack ignored the brush-off. “What can I do to help?”
Relief flooded her features. She was too panicked to deny him. “Avery’s missing. He snuck out of his room about fifteen minutes ago.”
Tack glanced around, cataloging all the dangers, his mind awhirl with possibilities. This was where he thrived—in predicting bad outcomes. “Does he like to swim?”
Cate nodded. “He does.”
He saw Carol and her teenage daughter walking along the beach, looking for signs of the boy. He hated to ask this question, but knew he had to do it. “Do you think he’d go in the ocean?”
Cate shook her head. “I don’t think so. Last week he got dunked by a wave, so now he prefers swimming in the pool. Plus, he says the salt water stings his eyes.”
Tack nodded, feeling a little relieved. They both knew if he’d walked in that ocean, he could’ve gotten swept away by the fast-moving current not too far offshore. They might never find him then.
“Does he have anyplace he likes to hide?”
“Here,” Cate said, nodding to the small straw changing cabanas near the pool. “And in the maid’s closet, but we’ve already searched through the hotel. Even the boiler room. He’s not there.”
Tack glanced about the grounds.
“And if he was still here, he’d hear us calling him.” Cate bit her lip in worry.
“What if a guest...” She let the words hang there, the horror of the incomplete sentence dangling between them.
Without thinking, Tack folded Cate in his arms, and she didn’t resist, slipping her hands around his back. He held her for a second, hoping to calm her, when he felt anything but calm. He was always calculating the odds, looking for danger, trying to prepare himself for any contingent. It was that very skill that kept so many of his men alive when they’d served under him. But he was an odds man, and he knew the odds of a random kidnapper snagging Avery in a hotel that wasn’t even half full were long at best. Tack knew a lot about fear, and about how it clouded judgment. Sometimes, soldiers were so afraid of the thing that probably wouldn’t happen that they missed out on the small dangers all around them.
Tack glanced around him, at the many lush and blooming tropical trees on the resort property. The wind blew the petals of the bright white blooming tree above them. It had knotted branches hung low to the ground, and a bright green iguana sat on a tree branch that was just above eye level.
I didn’t know iguanas climbed trees, Tack thought as he glanced at the lizard sitting in the shade. He remembered how he and his brother used to dare each other to climb to the top of the big oak in the front yard, and how they probably would’ve scared a lizard to death scrambling to the top branches.
Then it hit him—what if Avery could hear them? What if he wasn’t on the ground but in a tree?
“You know,” Tack said, releasing Cate. “Is it possible Avery is just hiding from us on purpose?”
“It’s possible,” Cate said. “He loves to play hide-and-seek.”
“Does he ever climb trees?”
“Trees?” Cate asked, surprised. “No! He’s too little.”
“Is he?” Tack remembered the boisterous boy. If he was old enough to run and swim a little, he was definitely old enough to climb trees. “I started at three. My mom had to get me out of a forty-foot pine before I started preschool.”
Shelter in the Tropics Page 7