by Zara Chase
“I was looking for clues that might lead me to my sister.”
“Your sister?” they asked together.
“Yes, Sonia Foster.”
Peyton and Clyde shared a loaded glance. “The girl who had your job before you?” She nodded. “She was your sister?”
“Yes.”
“You have different names,” Clyde said.
“She’s actually my half sister. My mum and dad split when I was three. Mum remarried, and Sonia came along a year later.”
“What happened to her?” Clyde asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Her gaze rested first on Clyde, then Peyton. “Our parents—well my mum and Sonia’s dad—I think of him as my dad, too, since he’s the only dad I’ve ever known.” She swallowed several times. “Anyway, they were killed in a car crash six months ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Peyton reached across to touch her hand. It was obvious that talking about the accident upset her badly. “Was that in England?”
“No, here in Spain. They lived ten minutes from here, on the Montgó.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “We don’t know. The guardia don’t know. It was broad daylight, no rain or anything to make the road slippery. Dad was driving but hadn’t been drinking. He knew the road well and wasn’t speeding.” She gulped. “It happened on a dangerous bend, but Dad knew that and was always careful. The car simply went off the road and down a ravine. No other vehicles were involved, apparently, and it’s been written off as driver inattention.”
Clyde hoisted a brow. “But you don’t buy that?”
“Sonia didn’t. The police seem to think he might have fallen asleep at the wheel, but that wouldn’t have happened. Mum would have given him a prod if he did start to nod.” Fabia shook her head. “I guess the guardia needed to say something to get it off their books. You know how things are out here.” Both men nodded. Peyton had certainly had more than his fair share of run-ins with authority for various reasons. “Anyway, that was the easy answer.”
“I think I read about it in the paper at the time,” Clyde said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, it’s been a tough six months.”
“And now you’ve lost your sister as well.”
“She’s not dead,” Fabia said almost aggressively. “I’d know it if she was. She’s just gotten herself into something she can’t handle.”
“You and Sonia were brought up in Spain?” Peyton asked.
“Yes. I was seven when Mum and Dad moved here. Sonia and I both went to a Spanish school but went back to England to go to university and got jobs there afterward. We both played tennis for our colleges and took coaching exams as back-up careers.” Her expression closed down. “I became an interior designer and never thought I’d use my coaching skills professionally.”
“So why did you?”
“Sonia and I came over after the accident, obviously, to make funeral arrangements and everything.” Both men nodded encouragement when her words stalled. “Then we started going through the house, clearing out personal stuff. Neither of us wanted to live here, so it had to be sold. That’s when we found it.”
“Found what?”
“Dad’s diary. He was an architect and—”
“Of course!” Peyton bashed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I should have recognized the name. He did a lot of the planning for this place.”
“Yes.” Fabia sat forward. “Did you know him?”
“I met him a few times. Nice guy.”
“Yes, he was.” Tears rimmed her eyes but didn’t fall. “The thing is, he still came up here a lot. He had a small shareholding in the parent company that he took as part of his salary. He played a lot of golf, too.” She paused, presumably to gain her composure. “Anyway, we found his diaries, and he had a lot of concerns about the way this place was being run.”
Both men sat a little straighter. “What sort of concerns?”
“He didn’t spell them out exactly, but he seemed to think it wasn’t being run properly.” She lifted her shoulders. “After that meeting today, I tend to agree with him.”
“And so Sonia came to work here to see what she could find out?” Peyton frowned. “Not a smart move.”
“That’s what I tried to tell her, but she’s as stubborn as me when she sets her mind on a particular course of action.” Fabia managed a weak smile. “Both of us must have inherited that trait from our mother. Anyway, when they could find no reason for Dad’s car crash and then we found his diaries, she became convinced that someone had killed them to shut Dad up. She reckoned the answer lay in Tosca Brava, and so she took that damned job.”
“Did she find anything out?” Peyton asked in a neutral tone.
“No, not really.” Fabia paused. “Well, nothing she shared with me, anyway.”
Clyde smiled at her. “Did your dad name names in his diary?”
“If only it had been that easy.”
“If there was something going on and she started asking questions, presumably the guilty parties would have recognized her name.” Peyton articulated his thoughts with brutal honesty. “That could have been dangerous.”
“No, she didn’t mention her connection to Dad, and her qualification comes from England.” Fabia shrugged. “Foster’s a common-enough name. Sonia didn’t think anyone joined the dots.”
“They probably didn’t,” Clyde said.
“I thought it was a wild-goose chase but understood it was something she needed to do to make sense of it all. I went back to England but made her promise to either ring or e-mail me every day, which she did. We’re very close. She said she was getting to know people and had started asking questions. Then just over two weeks ago the calls and e-mails abruptly stopped. I tried to reach her, but she never replied.”
“So you came over yourself?” Clyde asked.
“Yes, I couldn’t leave it, so two days after she stopped calling, I hopped on a plane. She wasn’t living here at Tosca Brava. She stayed at Mum’s place. I thought she might be ill or something and no one had found her. Clutching at straws, I know, but I couldn’t take another loss. She’s all the family I have left.”
“You’re not staying at your mum’s place?”
“No, I thought that would set alarm bells ringing. Two assistant tennis coaches staying at the same place, I mean.”
“It probably would have,” Peyton agreed.
“I’m in the staff block behind the hotel here.” She took another sip of her drink. “Anyway, there’s no sign of Sonia, and nothing’s missing from Mum’s house as far as I can tell, excepting her handbag and cell phone. Even her laptop’s still there.”
Peyton frowned. This didn’t look good. If Sonia had voluntarily taken off somewhere, or with someone, she would at least have taken her computer with her. Fabia obviously knew it, so he kept his big mouth shut.
“Do you know the password for her e-mail?” he asked instead. “Perhaps there’s something in it that will give you a few hints.”
“Yes, I’ve already been through it. Apart from a barrage from me after she stopped communicating and a few to do with her work in England, there’s nothing at all to lend a clue.” She looked at each of them in turn, silver-gray eyes alight with worry. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and I’m convinced now that she was right. She’s been snatched, and it’s something to do with this place.”
Chapter Four
“That still doesn’t explain what you were doing in here earlier,” Peyton reminded her.
Fabia nodded, well aware of that. “Sonia’s last few communications said she was talking to you guys,” she said uneasily. “She was really excited about that because she thought you knew something.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Fabia sensed that Clyde had been about to say something, but Peyton spoke first. “We saw her about the place but didn’t really know her.”
Fabia couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh, but I was so sure.”
/>
“You thought we had her locked away in here somewhere?”
Clyde seemed easygoing, but he wasn’t laughing now, and Fabia didn’t blame him. She’d made it sound as though she suspected them of something sinister, which she had at one point.
“Sorry, but put yourself in my place. What would you think?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“She never came up here, then?”
“No,” they said together.
“How long did she work at Tosca Brava?” Peyton asked.
“About six weeks before she disappeared.”
“Well, from memory, we were in Seville for the first of those six weeks, here for two and then away again, so there wasn’t much time for our paths to cross.”
“She did corner us in the bar a couple of times,” Clyde said. “She asked all sorts of questions about the place before Tosca Brava was built. Wanted to know if we were around and how come the flying school became part of the development.”
“Nothing sinister about that,” Peyton added. “We were already here. Not much else was. Just a bar, a small shop, and a few rundown houses. No proper road, more a dirt track, which kind of put potential clients off. No proper runway either, just a scrubby grass strip. The development started when times were still good. If you grew up in Spain you’ll know that property sold faster than it could be built before the credit crunch hit.” Fabia nodded. “We could see what a good deal it would be for us if the school was part of the development, and so instead of selling out, we decided to stay.”
“Did the developers mind?”
“Not really. They needed the school here and didn’t much care who ran it. We even got them to fork out for a new runway. Houses were selling to the rich and needy faster than they could count the money.”
“That was five years ago,” Clyde added. “Different story now. Those who bought are staying because they don’t need the money, but there’s still a lot of property unsold.”
“Which makes me wonder how the resort can be doing so well,” Fabia said pensively. “All those figures I heard in the meeting this morning were pretty impressive.”
“Time to eat,” Clyde said hastily.
He disappeared inside, leaving Fabia to wonder why he didn’t want to talk about that. Peyton remained with her, making small talk but not referring to the development again, or Sonia’s disappearance. A short time later, Clyde brought out plates of food and set them on the terrace table.
“Help yourself,” he said to Fabia, holding a chair out for her. “My own version of lasagne.”
“It smells lovely,” she said. “I missed lunch today.”
Peyton filled their glasses with a crisp chardonnay as Fabia tasted the food.
“This is good,” she said, smiling at Clyde. “A gardener and a chef. Perhaps I’ll propose.”
He grinned at her. “What sort of proposition did you have in mind?”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve finished my dinner,” she said, loading salad onto her side plate and helping herself to garlic bread. “Truth to tell, my appetite’s been a bit off recently.”
“Hardly surprising,” Peyton remarked.
“Well, at least I’ve dropped a few pounds. That’s one bonus.”
“You don’t need to lose weight,” Clyde said, winking at her. “You look good with a little meat on you. All in the right places, too.”
“No woman can be too thin or too rich,” she said. “Not much danger of the latter in my case, but one out of two ain’t bad.”
“Except you’re losing weight for all the wrong reasons.”
“Yeah, well, there’s not much I can do about that, is there?”
“I guess not.”
“Tell me how you two came to be in partnership,” she said. “A Yank and a Scott. Not a very likely duo.”
“No mystery about it,” Peyton said, refilling their glasses. “I grew up in Montana. My old man made a living flying crop dusters, so I guess I was into flying almost as soon as I could walk. It’s kinda in the blood, but spraying crops for a living didn’t excite me. So, I took my instructor’s exams and then bummed around the world for a bit, picking up jobs wherever the fancy took me.”
“He pitched up in Scotland at the same school I worked at,” Clyde added. “We hit it off, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“We took this place on about seven years ago. It was dirt cheap because it was rundown and isolated. Then Tosca Brava came along and saved us from going under.” Peyton shrugged. “I guess it was a case of right place, right time.”
It all sounded very trite and reasonable, but Fabia wondered if it was just a little too simplistic. Hell, when did she get to be so suspicious?
“Seconds?” Clyde asked, glancing with amusement at Fabia’s empty plate.
“No, thanks. It was lovely, but I’m full.” She felt guilt creep up on her. She hadn’t given Sonia a second thought while she sat here being fed and entertained by these two hunks. What sort of sister did that make her?
“Relax,” Peyton said as Clyde cleared the table. “Worrying all the time won’t help any.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
He winked at her. “Mind reading’s a pastime of mine.”
“You guys be good now and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Clyde said, poking his head round the door to the terrace.
“Where’s he going?”
“Lesson.”
“At this time?”
“Lots of people prefer to fly early evening at this time of year. It’s hot as hell in those tiny cockpits during the day.”
“I suppose.” Fabia stood up. “Anyway, I’d better be off, too.”
“No need to go yet.”
“I should.”
He regarded her steadily. “But you don’t want to, do you?”
Fabia didn’t have it in her to lie. “No,” she said softly, “I don’t want to.”
She glanced up at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this, but his expression was unreadable. Less difficult to define was the aura of sexual tension that hovered between them, overwhelming both her senses and her ability to think. If she stayed and he made a pass, she already knew that she wouldn’t turn him down. She’d been so alone since she arrived at Tosca Brava, and the relief at being able to speak about Sonia was palpable. Eating a decent meal hadn’t made any difference to her sister’s situation. Nor would letting this Adonis fuck her. It’s all she’d been thinking about since first setting eyes on the pair of them. She just hadn’t been ready to admit it.
“Then what do you want?”
He led her back to the swing, refilled their glasses, and this time sat beside her, rocking the seat gently back and forth.
“It helped,” she said, “talking about Sonia, I mean, but it hasn’t gotten me any further forward.”
“You’ve had a hell of a lot on your plate,” he said, arresting the progress of a tear that had trickled down her cheek with his forefinger.
“Yes, but I never cry,” she said determinedly, sniffing rather inelegantly. “I can’t afford to weaken.”
He quirked a brow. “The big sister who’ll do anything to protect her sibling?”
“I didn’t do such a good job though, did I? Otherwise Sonia wouldn’t be missing.”
“Shush, stop being brave and take a moment to be yourself.”
He removed the glass from between her slack fingers and placed it on a table. He’d kiss her now, Fabia was sure that he would.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he slipped an arm round her shoulders and pulled her head onto his chest. It felt damned good resting it there, and she felt a little of the tension that had been building over the past weeks drain out of her. And then, to her mortification, the tears flowed in earnest. It was as though the floodgates had opened and there was bugger all she could do to close them again.
“Sorry,” she said, when she was finally able to speak. “That was dumb. I didn’t
cry like this when Mum and Dad passed, and I haven’t shed a single tear over Sonia. Until now.”
“Hey, no problem. You needed to let it out.”
“I guess.” She sat up, rummaged in her bag for a tissue, and blew her nose.
“Feel any better?”
“Yes, I think so.” She reached for her glass, unable to meet his eye, and took a healthy swig.
“What happened to the guy you were with?” he asked.
Fabia shot him a surprised look. It was the last question she’d been expecting. “He became too controlling.”
“In what way?”
“He wanted to introduce another woman into our relationship, and I don’t go for women. When I refused, he became abusive and tried to force me, so I walked out.”
“Good girl. I think you said you hadn’t been with anyone since?”
“No, Mum and Dad died just after that, so I had other priorities.”
“It must have taken courage to walk out on a man who controlled you as comprehensively as he did.”
“How do you know he did?”
“Trust me, I know. I can read the signs.”
“I think if he’d pursued me it would have been a lot harder. But I came out here to deal with all that terrible stuff and—”
“And the bastard didn’t come over and give you moral support.” Fabia nodded. “Then you’re better off without him.”
“Yeah, no question.”
He ran a hand gently down her arm. He almost wasn’t touching her, but it was still enough to make her gut churn and her pussy leak. “You realize that Clyde and I share everything.”
“Yes, I got that.”
“It would include you. Does that bother you?”
She shook her head. “Call me selfish, but I don’t want to share a man with another woman, but—”
“But you don’t mind sharing yourself between two men,” he finished for her.
“Precisely.”