Sunset Sail

by Shannyn Leah

  Her heart raced, envisioning this man pulling shut the curtains of the cabana and stripping down naked. She felt the adrenaline pumping at the possible thrill of being caught entwined in the hot tub, or on a lounger, or their loud moans of pleasure being overheard by other guests. Naughty and taboo. The prospect turned her on.

  Why hadn’t she broken this rule earlier? Because no man had ever given her reason to.

  Her enchanting daydream was short-lived as she watched him mount a device, so small she couldn’t make it out, to a tree trunk. His head tilted in the direction of her suite, and in the direction of the wing housing her family’s individual suites.

  Cold chills ran up her spine and anger rooted in the pit of her stomach. She could guess exactly the deceit on this man’s agenda. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her older sister, Emma.

  Emma had recently fallen head-over-heels in love with billionaire playboy, Grayson Cohen, whose picture frequented social media more than Izzy’s. Emma didn’t splash her personal life across social media, though, and the new couple had been evading all outlets for weeks. Now, this son of a bitch newspaper reporter thought he could set up a surveillance system to spy on them?

  Over her dead body.

  Emma and Grayson’s relationship had been rockier than a mountain slope and they didn’t need extra negativity from the press.

  Izzy straightened as the mysterious man dodged back into the brush. Slipping on a pair of teal flip flops, she considered calling security—the wise and easy solution—but something urged her outside.

  Fury? Curiosity? Desire?

  She didn’t debate it, didn’t care, but she planned on breaking every last camera that selfish prick hung up. Then she’d give this courageous reporter a swift kick between the legs. Ruining other people’s lives for a story didn’t sit well with Izzy, especially when it involved her family.

  On the way across the yard, she snatched her nephew’s baseball bat, halting at the edge of the brush. A wave of anxiety strived to overtake her, but she remained rooted, forcing herself to check the trees and confirm his intention: Cameras. Check.

  She stepped back, lifted the bat in the air and brought the wood slamming down against the mechanical piece. It smashed on contact, giving her a satisfying rush, and encouraging her to backtrack along the brush. Each camera she located mimicked the destructive sound.

  When she finished, she wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead, and stood back to relish in her triumphs. One, she hadn’t panicked and two, she’d protected her family. No one messed with her family. Three, she’d call security and have them circle the area for the piece of scum. She pulled out her cell phone and rested the bat against her thigh. Suddenly, a voice sounded, scaring her nearly to death.

  “You’ll regret that, la signora.”

  Izzy jumped at the thick Italian accent which had crept up unknowingly behind her. The bat slipped out of her reach as she spun around, twisting off a sandal, her heel sliding on the grass.

  “Mi dispiace. I’m sorry.” Another man stared at her with unfriendly, grave black eyes looking straight through her, not as though he didn’t see her, but rather like he saw past the barriers and the face she wore for strangers. Those eyes. Familiarity danced through her mind, peeking into all the areas of her memory, assessing why this could be. Nothing triggered.

  “Who are you? How did you get in here?” she demanded, wiggling her foot back into her sandal while reaching for the bat and never taking her eyes off the man. He stood close to her, less than two feet away, and didn’t seem fazed by the closeness.

  Another reporter?

  She swallowed the gag reflex traveling up her throat at his old cigar-scent. Her sharp inhale burned her nostrils.

  “You must be il bellissimo, Izzy...”

  She crossed her arms. “You must be trespassing.”

  A low chuckle turned into a coughing spell, shooting his alcohol-tainted breath at her. This old geezer was a good example why they had a cash bar opposed to an all-inclusive one: to prevent drunks from wandering the grounds. Or was he a reporter? He looked too old to be a reporter. Didn’t he? His outfit was a drab pair of brown slacks and a button up shirt which looked two sizes too big. But she gave him credit for his plaid jacket—a cute touch. He needed to fire whomever had cut and styled his grey, frizzy mop of a hair. He looked like a man you’d find behind a desk. Possibly an assistant to the man who’d mounted the cameras. Or possibly a distraction. Either way, he didn’t come off as a threat. In any case, she’d deactivated the situation, smashing every last camera and preventing these scheming men from getting a story on anyone in her family.

  Izzy took a brave step toward him. “You have exactly five minutes to leave the same way you came before security arrives and escorts you and your associate off the property. Understood?”

  His lips rose in a dry smirk.

  Her skin crawled.

  Bad vibes bounced off him. Creepy vibes. A know-it-all vibe Izzy didn’t like, nor did she plan to stick around to explore further.

  “Five minutes.” With her last warning, she headed back toward her suite. She didn’t fight the urge to look back at him as she walked away. In fact, she turned right around to face him, walking backward and making motions on her wrist as she indicated his time was ticking by. Then she held her cell phone out reminding him of her threat before pointing at the gate where she fully expected him to retreat.

  But he stood rooted.

  Why? Was he waiting for the tall, dark, handsome and missing stranger? Who were these people?

  She pulled her phone out and dialed Marc’s cell, getting his voicemail.

  “Marc, there are two strange men lingering by our wing, mounting cameras to the trees. I’m calling security to have them removed and check into their background. I want to know who they are and exactly who they work for because after I’m done with them they won’t have a job.”

  Sunset Flare Excerpt Chapter Two

  GUNNER MANN TAPPED his finger on the fuzzy grey screen of his laptop.

  What the hell had gone wrong?

  One tap, two, then a rapid number of unsteady drumming followed, as if the action would wiggle a loose wire back into place and his failed surveillance would resume its live streaming.

  Instinct over expectations.

  Rapping the screen was pointless. But, there he stood, hunched over the desk, giving his finger a workout while completely baffled at the broken connection. His mind raced to figure out what had gone wrong from the time he’d confirmed the crystal clear visual to the less than half hour it took him to mount the other cameras.

  Crystal clear. And now, nothing.

  Sitting down, he rolled the office chair closer to the desk, tucking himself underneath. He scrubbed frustrated hands over his face, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling deeply.

  Shit. He didn’t have time for this right now.

  Cursing his bad luck, he initiated a search to determine the setback. Suddenly being dragged to The Caliendo Resort to assist in decoding ancient files from a well-known Italian mafia family seemed like the least of his worries. If these cameras weren’t up and running, he might as well put a bullseye over his chest because he would be a walking target.

  The thick woods surrounding the resort worked as a veil, hiding Gunner, but also concealed those who didn’t want to be seen, people who could wander from the woods and aim the scope of their gun directly on him. Anton might have promised this family had no ties with the Caliendo mob in Italy, but Gunner knew words didn’t guarantee shit. Countries apart didn’t change the fact they all shared the same last name.

  He trusted Anton with his life, but the deception of Gunner’s past left him broken and wary. Hell, it left him untrusting, bitter and full of rage, too. And these Caliendos weren’t living a reserved, quiet life out of the spotlight, either. Quite the opposite. They’d made a name for themselves owning a chain of luxury resorts, which brought a slew of attention in their d
irection. For all Gunner, or they, knew, they had a target on their backs, too.

  Anton claimed he’d taken control, but his nephews were as malicious as their dead father. Under no circumstances would Gunner stay here without surveillance.

  Eyes fixated on the hazy screen, he slammed his fists on the desk. “Damn it!”

  Any moment now Anton would be pounding on the suite door demanding his presence at the unnecessary meeting a meeting Gunner had made clear he wouldn’t be attending. Remaining at a distance from the Caliendo clan was in his best interests and putting up surveillance better suited his time and survival.

  Distance and cameras would keep him alive. Not meetings about codes he already knew how to decode or about liabilities he already understood.

  Rewinding the short recorded footage, he discovered exactly what—or who—had broken the connection.

  He immediately recognized the youngest Caliendo sibling.

  His hands balled into fists watching the notoriously hot-headed Izzy Caliendo walk straight to his camera and raise a baseball bat to the screen before it vaporized into gray. Her flawlessly styled waves of blonde hair sprinkled down her ivory-colored skin, and even through the camera her brown eyes were the deepest, most alluring gems he’d ever encountered. After extensively researching the entire family in preparation of this week, plus a search for any signs of mafia connections, the vision of this woman had stuck in his head...like a blood-sucking leech.

  Filthy rich, pampered, and spoiled, she displayed her life like a reality television show. Her social media outlets were flooded with tweets and hashtags of the bars she hit up, the endless parties she attended and the random trips around the world she enjoyed in her family’s chartered plane. Not to mention the endless pictures of her daily attire, meal choices and narcissistic selfies. She thrived on attention.

  Gunner loathed women like her, knew women like her, and didn’t want a thing to do with her kind.

  His teeth grated tighter together watching Izzy carelessly eliminate each camera.

  He could strangle her. Or spill a drink on her perfectly pressed, white blouse. Ruining her shirt might rouse more of a reaction from her.

  Pushing away from the desk, he groaned and cursed at the same time. He stood, knocking the chair over with a clatter.

  The cameras were destroyed. Now what? Find the local electronics store and pick up a whole new camera system? What were the odds any store in Willow Valley carried surveillance systems when everyone in this small tourist town likely knew each other? Or, at the very least, simply relied on the local gossip chain for their updates.

  He was screwed.

  He might as well hit up the meeting now. What difference did it make? With no cameras, why not get nice and cozy with this family.

  Unless...was this a set up?

  His suspicion wasn’t unwarranted. He’d been set up before and it had landed him in jail with a target on his back. An expensive target which had involved inmates bringing weapons to his cell, and security guards turning their backs. He’d almost died. But Anton had saved him. He should trust him.

  Shit.

  He did trust him. Being cooped up in his cabin for so long had messed with his mind, but it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

  Abandoning the cameras, his only sense of security for the last few years, he exited the suite, and cringed at the sun glistening through the skylights across the smooth, clear water of the indoor pool.

  Who had an indoor tropical paradise in their backyard? The Caliendos, that’s who.

  He did an eye roll at the over-the-top rocks cascading down beside a slide and the jungle of foliage which disgusted him. He ignored the ginormous pool, and how enough loungers sat under the cabana to fit twenty-plus people. He certainly overlooked the top-of-the-line barbecue in the stone kitchen chalet. He’d always been a griller and that bad boy would grill up a delicious steak. He could almost taste the tender meat after an all-day marinade in his secret sauce.

  He’d been envisioning his quaint cabin porch, and realizing for the first time, that after this week, he could finally leave. It was surreal. He didn’t have to leave, but he wouldn’t be forced to stay either.

  All his somewhat positive thoughts stopped short at the sight of Izzy stepping around the boulder slide. Head down, not noticing him, she tapped manicured fingernails on her cell phone screen. White french nails matching her white chiffon, sleeveless blouse. His eyes dropped to where her teal shorts revealed damned sexy long, toned legs. His lack of control irritated him and he snapped his eyes back up to her face.

  “Hey! You!” His loud shout echoed off the brick walls.

  She looked up. A movie of emotions crossed her face—confusion, annoyance, shock and finally, anger. What the hell did she have to be angry about? She’d been the careless lunatic who’d destroyed his means of sleep. How the hell would he get through an hour without being able to rewind the outdoor activity?

  Picking up her pace, she pointed a finger at him. “How the hell did you get in here? This is a private wing of the resort and installing cameras is unacceptable!” She sternly shouted at him. “But that’s nothing in comparison to breaking and entering the premises. How did you get in here? And don’t lie to me you son of a bitch. I won’t tolerate lies.”

  They stopped at arm’s length away from each other, both huffing and angry as hell.

  “You smashed my cameras.” He barely got the words out before she continued shouting at him.

  “Prohibited cameras. You’re lucky I didn’t smash the area between your legs. God knows you deserve it.” She let out a humourless laugh. “You deserve so much more. Like handcuffs, arrest, and having to stand in front of a judge to confess your guilt.”

  His anger amplified with each condescending, know-it-all word that came out of her mouth. She’d probably never owned up to a single illegal thing she’d ever done. She deserved handcuffs. And a gag. A gag would come in handy right about now.

  “I’m calling security.” She waved her cell phone at him.

  “I am security.” Sort of. He was his own security.

  “You’ve breached security. I’m getting the name of your employer and, before you leave here, you’ll be without a job.” Her fingers worked away at the screen of her cell phone. “Prepare to go to jail, you criminal!”

  Jail? Never again. Even if the resort’s security showed up, he’d been paid a pretty penny to be here and by her brother to boot. Security wouldn’t be handcuffing him. If they tried he’d have them pinned to the floor before they laid a finger on him. He didn’t really feel like causing a scene, but she evoked the urge to strangle her.

  So, instead, he grabbed her cell phone from her busy fingers and tossed it in the pool.

  She gasped. He’d never seen eyes widen so round and shapely and beautifully shocked at the same time.

  What the hell was that?

  He needed to be thrown in the pool. Being away from society had confused his thoughts. Caliendos were the worst. Off limits. No feelings. No anything.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Each word passed by her open mouth in a painfully slow manner.

  Wasn’t it obvious? He had tossed her weapon into the pool. Point for him.

  He said nothing.

  “You threw my cell phone in the water.” Her sharp shriek rang in his ears. She looked up at him, and repeated, “You threw my cell phone in the water!”

  “You smashed my cameras and, let me tell you, they’re worth a helluva lot more than your little phone.”

  “Little phone? My life is on that phone.”

  “That’s just sad. You’re so self absorbed you think your entire life is on a little electronic box.”

  “Oh my god, but it is. Everything.” She paused. “Everything. I can’t believe this. I. Can’t. Believe. This.”

  “You can come back to reality where everything doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart. Do you understand the capacity of what you’ve done?”


  Her shocked stare fell on him. “Ruined your next viral story? Cost you money because now you owe cameras to whatever magazine or newspaper you’re writing for? Good. You deserve it. And now I’m going to have your ass on a platter for ruining my cell phone. You threw it in the water. You actually threw my phone in the water!”

  Gunner couldn’t say exactly what came over him in the next moment. It could have been spending the last few years alone or the fact this woman had the spitting attitude of his ex-wife, or it could just be because he didn’t really like her. At all. But his next move hadn’t been anticipated, or planned and, quite frankly, the only reason for doing so was for the sole intention of shutting her up. Lord, did she ever stop talking?

  Gunner reached out and pushed Izzy into the pool.

  ~End of Sneak Peek~

  To continue reading, pick up the next THE CALIENDO RESORT release:

  SUNSET FLARE, The Caliendo Resort Book #4

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  Did you love Sunset Sail? Then you should read Sunset Flare by Shannyn Leah!