Georgette grabbed Jake’s arm as he stood beside her. “What do you think? Is he going to die?”
Taking her hand, Jake turned from the scene on the patio and dipped his head toward hers. “He still has a pulse, but it’s weak. Did you hear anything from the other guests?”
“Not much.” Georgette pressed a hand against her belly. “Nobody seemed to see him enter the pool. Of course, this late in the day, there are more people in the hot tub than the pool. A couple went in to paddle around, and Jean-Claude’s body came floating out from the direction of the pool’s waterfall.”
Jake scratched his chin. “I didn’t see any wounds on his body.”
“Wounds?” Georgette’s hand turned into a fist as her belly fluttered. “Why would he have wounds?”
“If someone injured him before pushing him into the pool, or if someone held him under and he tried to fight back, there would be some signs of that.” Jake pointed over her shoulder. “I’m sure our crack constable will get right on it.”
Still in her skimpy bikini, Georgette wrapped her arms around her body as a sudden chill flashed across her skin. “You’ve implied before that Clive is worthless.”
“Two women have disappeared, a local and a tourist.” Jake held up two fingers. “The local woman’s husband is now dead, and the tourist’s boyfriend is clinging to life. It would appear that Palumba has a crime wave, but I’m not sure Clive or his department is equipped to handle it.”
“Because he doesn’t believe the disappearances and the death are crimes. Has anyone heard anything about Fiso LaCroix’s autopsy results?”
“This is Palumba. Law enforcement won’t have that report for weeks, maybe months.” Jake touched her shoulder and nudged her to the side so he could talk to the approaching constable. “Clive, was anyone able to tell you anything about what happened to Jean-Claude?”
“Not much, but since you were the one performing CPR on him, you must’ve smelled the alcohol on him. The EMTs commented to me that he reeks of it.” Clive spread his hands. “He could’ve stumbled into the pool while intoxicated and drowned.”
“Is he dead?” Georgette crossed her hands over her chest.
Clive’s gaze dropped to her breasts...and lower, where she still felt the stickiness between her thighs of her torrid coupling with Jake in his office.
She pressed her legs together, and Clive dragged his attention back to her face. “Almost drowned. He still had a pulse when the EMTs loaded him into the ambulance.”
“And nothing on Fiso?” Jake had moved closer to Georgette during Clive’s exploration and put his arm around her.
“Fiso?” Clive’s eyes widened. “That’s most assuredly a drug overdose. The man had been slowly killing himself ever since Hallie left him. You’re not connecting Fiso LaCroix with this man, are you?”
“Both of their significant others disappeared.”
Clive licked his lips. “You lost me, Jake.”
“The man tonight,” Jake jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “was involved with the tourist who went missing.”
“Went missing?” Clive brushed off his khaki shorts. “Nobody has reported that woman as missing. Does somebody want to?”
Georgette’s back stiffened. Was it time to come clean with Clive now? Almost everyone at the resort knew of her relationship to Jamie. If the constable was worth his job title, he’d know by now, too.
“Not that I know of.” Jake had made the decision for her.
They chatted with Clive for a few more minutes, and then he wandered off to question some of the other guests.
Jake rubbed a circle on her back. “Are you cold? Where’s your cover-up?”
She flung her arm behind her. “I left it on the chaise lounge where I was sitting before I followed you into your office.”
“And I’m glad you did.” He smoothed a lock of hair back from her face and kissed her cheek. “I’ll get your wrap for you.”
Georgette watched as the looky-loos wandered back to the bar or back to their rooms to change for dinner. Why shouldn’t they? A near-drowning wasn’t going to put a damper on their holiday.
Jake returned, her black pool cover-up bunched in one hand. As he pressed it into her hands, he asked, “What are you doing for dinner tonight? Do you want to join me in my room for some room service?”
“I’d love to.” She shook out her wrap and slipped her arms into the bell sleeves. “But I’m joining Nicole and Gunther for dinner.”
“Still intent on causing a stir, huh?” He brushed his thumb against her lower lip. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make sure Nigel spreads the word about finding me bare-ass naked between your legs in my office.”
The memory of getting caught in the act with Jake caused a flood of heat to course through her veins. She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Maybe you should.”
Her fingers curled around a piece of paper, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Squinting at it in the dark, she said, “This wasn’t here before.”
“What is it?” Jake took her elbow and steered her toward a torch among those that bordered the pool area.
She unfolded the paper and held it under the flickering light. She gasped and crumpled the note in her fist.
“It’s a note from Jean-Claude.”
***
Dread thumped in Jake’s chest. “What does it say?”
“He wrote that he wanted to meet me.” She uncurled her fingers and held the ball of paper out to him, balanced in the middle of her palm. “He wrote that it was all Jamie’s fault.”
“Jamie’s fault? Her disappearance?” Jake snatched the note from her hand and spread it open. He read the words Jean-Claude apparently had written before he went into the pool. “What’s he trying to do, blame the victim?”
“Is she a victim? Did Jean-Claude leave because of Jamie? Did she get the two of them in trouble somehow?” Georgette plunged her hands in her pockets and pulled her wrap around her body.
“That’s kind of harsh.” Jake raised an eyebrow. He understood that the relationship between the sisters was tense. Georgette had made that clear from the get-go when she’d suspected him of sleeping with Jamie. The twins couldn’t be more different. Jamie was a user, and she’d probably taken advantage of Georgette more than anyone. But Jake hadn’t expected Georgette to turn on Jamie and accuse her of causing her own disappearance.
Georgette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not implying Jamie asked to be harmed or...anything else, but I could totally see Jamie sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.”
“In that way,” he chucked her under the chin, “you and your sister are exactly alike.”
Her eyelids flew open. “Different motives.”
“Whatever.” He tugged on the strings at the neck of her pool cover-up. “I’m walking you back to your room, and I may put a guard at your door while you shower.”
She raised her gaze to his, and her eye twitched at the corner. “Or you could join me in the shower, and we can finish what we started in your office. I don’t think you...”
“I didn’t.” He kissed her forehead and took her arm to walk her to her room. “And I’d take you up on your offer, but I have work to do. I want to check on Jean-Claude’s condition, and as the owner of this place, I have to get to the bottom of what happened. My insurance company is going to be interested.”
She tripped. “I didn’t even think about that. Do you think this is going to hurt business?”
“If it was an accident, no, but if someone on Palumba is murdering tourists, or trying to, we have a problem.”
“It’s not just tourists, though, is it? What about Hallie and Fiso LaCroix? How are they tied to all of this? Unless this is really Palarosa, and Fiso and Jean-Claude were targeted because of their relationships with the women.”
“I’m still not buying the Palarosa angle.” Jake stood behind Georgette while she unlocked her door, his muscles tense, his senses on high alert.
As she st
epped into the room, he wedged a foot against the door. “Throw the latch at the top and do not open this door for anyone—household staff, room service, another guest. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I’m just going to shower, change, and go down for dinner.”
“If Gunther and Nicole suggest a restaurant in town or at another hotel, don’t go, and I’m not saying that to keep your business here.”
“I understand.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you think anyone else saw him slip me that note? Is that why Jean-Claude was killed? To keep him quiet?”
“I don’t know, Georgette, but I’m not taking any chances with your life—not now, not ever.” He sealed that promise with a kiss so fiery it awakened the lust he’d had to tamp down earlier when Nigel had surprised them.
She moved her hips against his erection, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and set her away from him. “Later.”
“I-I’m sorry. I...ugh, and with Jean-Claude lying in the hospital near death.” She covered her face with her hands.
He kissed her again, this time chastely on the back of her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You did not misread me or my signs, and we’re both in a heightened emotional state, but I want to look after your safety right now, and a roll between the sheets, no matter how badly I want that, isn’t the right move.”
She split her fingers and peeked at him. “So, I didn’t make a fool out of myself?”
“Impossible in my eyes.” He tapped on the door. “Now get going and lock this door.”
She nodded as she shut the door, and he listened outside for the latch before pivoting away from her room and returning to his office.
He walked across the pool deck and lifted a hand to Nigel, closing up the bar.
“Uh, boss.”
“Yeah?” Jake didn’t turn around. He knew what was coming.
“I’m sorry about barging into your office. I never would’ve done that if it hadn’t been an emergency.”
Jake pressed his lips into a smile. “I know that. Don’t worry about it.”
“If it matters, I’m happy for you. I like Georgette.”
“So do I.”
Jake strode to his office and closed the door behind him, locking it this time. He surveyed the mess, and his smile broadened. Where had Georgette gotten the impression he wanted to be dominated in the sack? Maybe that was what she was into, and if she was, he’d give it a try for her sake.
He crouched down and gathered the papers and files strewn across the floor. Then he sat back on his heels and said, “Naw.”
Georgette had seemed very nervous and shy about making the suggestion that she tie him up, and she’d totally gotten off on his domination of her. As a take-charge kind of woman, the feeling was probably foreign to her.
He shrugged. Maybe she’d seen the dominatrix stuff in a movie and figured she should try something new with him. She didn’t have to do anything special to arouse him. She could stand there with her braid and her prim, slightly condescending smile, and he’d turn into a raging caveman, ready to throw her over his shoulder.
He’d shown amazing and incredible restraint just now in her room. Maybe he’d learned something after all these years of having women throw themselves at him.
After straightening his desk, he sat behind the computer and brought up the info about Jean-Claude’s room at the resort. He was in one of the fares on stilts over the water.
The police hadn’t requested access to Jean-Claude’s room yet. They wouldn’t if they figured his plunge into the pool had been an accident caused by too much alcohol. So, he had a chance to get in there before they did.
He unlocked his desk drawer and took out a master keycard.
He picked up the phone and called the hospital. Jean-Claude was still alive but on a ventilator. Things didn’t sound good for the poor bastard. What had he wanted to tell Georgette?
When he ended the call to the island’s lone hospital, he called the hotel kitchen.
Florence answered on the first ring. “What can we get you, boss?”
“Steak, fries, and a salad with vinaigrette. I’ll take it in my room.”
“Nice bottle of Cab with that?”
“Sounds good, Flo, but I have work to do.”
He gathered some papers and tucked them into a briefcase. He crossed the pool deck where a few guests still lingered, nursing drinks while waiting for their tables in the restaurant. Jean-Claude’s unfortunate dip in the pool hadn’t put the brakes on anyone’s holiday plans. And why should it? As far as most of these tourists knew, an inebriated man had fallen into the pool.
But after Georgette had found the note from Jean-Claude in her pocket, that story seemed unlikely.
On the way to his room, he swung by the kitchen to add a loaf of the island’s French bread to his order.
Florence patted his arm. “We’ve got you covered, boss. I wouldn’t send a meal up to your room without some bread to go with it.”
“You know me too well, Flo.” He waved to Phillipe, the chef he’d lured from a top restaurant in Paris. “Busy night, Chef?”
“As always.” Phillipe jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he scurried past him.
Jake grabbed a bottle of water from the staff fridge and then ducked down to peek through a small window that looked out on the main dining room.
His pulse ticked up a notch or two when he spotted the leggy brunette laughing it up with a large table of bronzed tourists. The men seemed to hang on every word uttered from Georgette’s luscious lips. One lucky dude had the pleasure of feeding Georgette a succulent scallop and then had the audacity to dab his fingertip against her chin, presumably to nab a drop of butter on her face.
She hadn’t given up on her ridiculous...and dangerous...plan to tempt the Palarosa gods, or whoever the hell was playing these games.
He gulped down some water and then twisted the cap back on the bottle.
He couldn’t stop her from taking this course of action, but if one of these guys tried to follow through with the flirtation, he’d... What would he do? He had no claims on her—yet.
He said good night to the kitchen staff and left the restaurant through the back door. He tromped down a path that bordered the beach and headed back toward a group of buildings that housed his suite. He kept the entire third floor of this building for his private quarters. The life suited him.
When he entered the suite, he crossed the living room and threw open the French doors to the balcony. He stepped outside into the warm evening and rested his forearms against the railing. He gazed at the calm sea, a deep indigo except for the whitecaps that drew horizontal lines across the glassy surface of the water.
This had been his life for ten years, but a restlessness stirred in his gut...or maybe that restlessness was stirring lower than that.
Had he been mistaking his animal attraction to Georgette for some deeper longing for hearth and home? He’d had plenty of beautiful women come and go in his life and some great sex.
The ache he felt for Georgette had more to it than just his throbbing cock every time he saw her. He felt some echo in his heart, definitely in his brain.
He pushed away from the balcony. She had a home and a life in North Dakota—books and art and conversation with people at the university. Hell, he’d never even finished college—dropped out of Yale despite—or maybe because of—his father’s protestations.
He didn’t have much to offer Georgette except for a perpetual playground—oiled bodies, tropical drinks, fun in the sun. As soon as she found out what happened to her flaky sister, she’d be out of here and back in the real world.
The knock on the door jerked him back to the real world, and he stepped into the room. He swung open the door for Zander, who wheeled in a cart laden with more food than he’d ordered, including a bottle of wine.
As Zander began to whip the covers off the plates, Jake held out a hand. “That’s all right, Zander. I’ll take it from here.”
He slipped the young man almost as much cash as the meal was worth and waved him off.
He settled on the sofa in front of his tray, his file folders and spreadsheets on the table next to his food.
For the next few hours, he ate and worked, leaving the wine untouched. He still planned to make a late-night visit to Jean-Claude’s fare, and he wanted a clear head for the assignment.
He put his work aside, showered and dressed in a pair of black gym shorts. He paired them with a black T-shirt—might as well blend in with the night as much as possible.
He stuffed a small flashlight in the zippered pocket of his shorts, along with the master keycard, and slipped out of his suite.
He had to pass by the pool to get to the path that led to the beach and the fares, so he took the walkway farthest from the bar and the hot tub, where most people gathered afterhours.
Including Georgette. He nearly stumbled over a tree root when he spied her sitting on the edge of the hot tub, dangling her feet in the bubbling water. Her laugh bubbled along with the water as some asshole rubbed her back, bare in her halter dress.
He hunched his shoulders and continued down the pathway. She had her mission, and he had his.
The tide was starting to come in, so Jake had to slosh through fast-rising, ankle-deep water to get to Jean-Claude’s bungalow. He climbed the steps to the room and slid the key in the slot. He eased open the door and clicked on his flashlight.
The bungalows at Palumba Falls didn’t feature electricity, but each room contained a kerosene lamp. These rooms attracted mostly honeymooners who craved the isolation, or guests who enjoyed diving or snorkeling in Palumba’s crystal-clear waters. The fares also suited tourists who, like Jean-Claude, spent most of their nights in the bar or in the clubs at other hotels.
Jake swept his flashlight across Jean-Claude’s belongings, still packed up in his suitcases. He must’ve checked in, dropped his stuff, and headed for the bar—and Georgette. Who had told Jean-Claude about Georgette and her relationship to Jamie?
Last Ticket to Paradise Page 11