Come on. Where are you staying?
Jeff edged closer but got ready to cross the road if one of them turned or noticed him.
“The museum,” he heard Grace say and groaned inwardly. Great. Just great. No way did he want to loiter. Damn, he wished he’d paid more attention to the plans she’d made for their honeymoon. She’d raved about the deal she’d got and what she’d wanted to do, but he’d ignored her rambling.
All he’d heard was Stewart Island, and he’d blanked because this was not his kind of holiday. Since he’d been in a delicate part of getting his hands on Grace’s money, he hadn’t wanted to cause an argument, and he’d let it go. He’d figured he could wriggle out of the honeymoon or at least seduce Grace into going somewhere more suitable.
More fool him.
He scowled as the couple entered the museum. Now that he’d had a better look at the dude, he recognized him. It was Grace’s neighbor. The one that spent little time at home because of his job. Something to do with the military, Julia had told him. He’d changed the subject because he hadn’t enjoyed the wistful note in Julia’s voice.
She’d wanted this man, and now the bastard had his hands all over Grace.
Jeff wandered past the museum and considered that drink. No, he needed to follow Grace. If they had a place out of town and needed to drive, he’d have a tough time finding the couple again. After glancing around him, Jeff went to the café across the road from the museum. At least he could have a coffee and something to eat while he waited.
One hour later. One bloody excruciatingly long hour later, he spotted Grace and the man exit the museum. His gaze zapped to their clasped hands, and he wanted to curse, but he’d already attracted enough attention by sitting here for so long.
Jeff stood and left the cafe, sauntering and keeping well back.
The man was tall and fit in appearance. He radiated confidence, and Jeff would bet he knew what was happening around him, even though his attention centered on Grace.
He must want Grace’s money. Too late, buddy. I’ve already cleaned her out.
The pair walked past the pub and took the road that led up a steep hill. Jeff groaned. They were the only people in sight, and if they glimpsed him, Grace might recognize him. A sneeze erupted from him, muffled at the last second by a hand slapped over his mouth.
He ducked behind a tree and sneezed again. This is why he stuck to cities. The great outdoors brought out his allergies.
By the time he got himself under control, Grace and the man had disappeared.
“Fuck.” This woman was pissing him off. He increased his pace and strode around the corner, his breath coming in harsh pants. Despite his sneezing and his lack of puff, he forced himself to keep moving. He caught a flash of movement up ahead and darted behind a bush. He waited three long seconds before he risked peeking from his cover.
To his right, a property clung to the crest of the hill. The building was long with a deck. Someone had taken care of the garden, and flowers crowded every available space. He remembered them from his granny’s garden but had no inkling of the names. Some might call them pretty, and he supposed they were, but right now, all he wanted was to get his hands on that statue.
He scanned the area and saw not a single person. He crept forward, caution urging him to go slowly despite his need for haste. His boss would catch up with him eventually, and when he did, Jeff wanted to have the statue in hand to go with his explanation. Even then, he wasn’t certain Matthew wouldn’t have him killed. He swallowed hard at the thought.
That statue belonged to him, and even if Grace didn’t have it with her, she might know where it was. He wouldn’t allow her to fob him off again.
Somewhere above him, a door opened. He froze, trying to decide what to do. His shoulders slumped as he stopped himself from following his instinct to storm up there and slap Grace.
No, softly, softly.
He’d come back later tonight since he had a general idea of where they were staying. He’d skulk under cover of darkness and hopefully get his hands on that gnome.
16
WALKING WITH KIWIS
The wind dropped a fraction, but it was still blustery enough to make the boat trip to the kiwi location rocky. Grace sat beside Cullen, too excited to feel discomfort. Cullen dropped his arm along the back of her seat while they listened to their guides talk about what to expect once they reached the shore.
“First,” Anna, their female guide, said, her attitude as perky as her pigtails. “Remember, these are wild birds. While we will do our best to find a kiwi for you to watch, nature doesn’t perform on cue. I need you to walk behind me in a single file. Make sure you aim your flashlight at the ground, and the second I give the signal, please switch off your torch. Remain silent and walk as quietly as possible so we can hear the kiwi. The kiwi probes the ground with their beak to grab grubs, and the bird makes a snorting sound to clear their nostrils while they’re feeding. We’ll also check for the very distinctive kiwi tracks.” She paused and smiled at her fellow guide, a tall and slender male with dreads.
“I will walk at the front while Steven brings up the rear. We don’t want to lose any of you in the bush.”
“Anna, where will we walk?” a rotund woman called from the rear.
Anna smiled and pointed at a map on the wall. “We’re here.” She pointed with her finger. “Once we’ve disembarked, we’ll walk across here to the sea on the other side. The kiwis sometimes forage for worms on the beach. Now when we encounter a kiwi, I want to remind you to switch off your torches. I will highlight the bird with my special red light. The red light doesn’t bother the kiwi, and he or she will continue to feed. No flash photography. You’ll startle the bird, and it will retreat before everyone has time to see it.” She smiled again. “Did everyone hear that? Repeat after me. No flash photography.”
“No flash photography,” two women at the front of the group chanted, making everyone laugh.
A few questions followed, and then the crew tied up the boat, and it was time to disembark.
Cullen held her right hand, the warmth of his palm against hers bringing a sense of peace to Grace. Cullen liked to touch her, and he did it often. Grace found she enjoyed his physicality and his lovemaking… Wow.
The truth was she was a little sore, but she wouldn’t change this experience for anything.
“Got your camera ready?” Cullen asked.
“I need to turn off my automatic flash,” Grace said, trying to juggle her torch and her camera.
“Let me hold the flashlight,” Cullen said.
“Bossy much?” she murmured as she handed it over to him.
Cullen snorted but aimed the light where she needed it. “Done,” she said. “Let’s hurry. They’re moving out.”
“Don’t panic, cupcake. The group won’t leave without us.”
They were the last to join the line as everyone followed Anna in single file. Steven walked behind them.
“It doesn’t matter where you are in the line,” Steven murmured from behind them. “The kiwis are just as likely to appear next to us.”
“Torches off,” came the quiet command.
Everyone turned off their torches, and the excitement ramped up noticeably. No one spoke. Grace took in the scent of green leaves and the musty dampness of the forest floor. The wind rattled the leaves in the treetops while Grace scanned the area where Anna shone her torch. It bathed the trees and ground in an alien red light.
“Do you see anything?” she whispered to Cullen.
“There is something just to our right,” Cullen said in a low voice to Steven.
Steven switched on his red light, and she saw the kiwi. Awe filled her, and Grace leaned against Cullen, content to watch the bird as it probed the earth with its beak.
“This is the Stewart Island brown kiwi,” Steven said. “It’s a young bird because it’s not huge.”
“I thought you were taking photos,” Cullen whispered.
“Maybe
the next one.”
The kiwi continued feeding, seemingly not bothered by its human audience. Up this close, it was easy to hear the bird clearing its nostrils. It wandered beneath a bushy fern, disappearing. Anna signaled they were moving on again, and they could switch on their torches.
“That was amazing,” Grace said.
“It was,” Cullen agreed, squeezing her shoulder.
He meant every word, and the warm sensation she’d felt in her chest since they’d arrived in Stewart Island grew more prominent and tighter. Even though she’d hoped Jeff would enjoy Stewart Island and participate in the activities she’d wanted to try, she’d known booking here was a mistake. She’d made the reservation anyway, in the hope they’d discover more common ground. It wouldn’t have worked. Looking back now, she could admit this truth. Cullen had made this holiday special, and it wasn’t just the lovemaking. No matter what happened in the future, this was a time she’d remember until her dying day.
That she was falling for Cullen since he’d blasted aside her objections, she tried not to dwell on too much. The age difference…
Best she not count on this being a forever kind of relationship. She and Jeff had recently split, so she should take the time to find herself and to heal. A pang tightened her chest, and she rubbed the achy spot.
She stepped over a stick, her eyes suddenly stinging with unshed tears. That was the moment she admitted her error—this week, she’d toppled into love with Cullen.
Bad, bad mistake.
* * * * *
Jeff huddled in the Oban pub and grunted at the locals, who attempted to engage him in conversation. He yanked his cap over his head, hunched his shoulders, and willed time to pass. It was nine in the evening and too early to search the lodge on the hill. One positive thing about this place was that darkness fell earlier than in the north.
He watched the other customers but didn’t see Grace with her new guy.
God, that pissed him off—that she’d bring another man on their honeymoon.
A snarl escaped him, the sound loud enough to draw curious glances from the couple at the next table. When he glowered at them, they averted their gazes, finished their drinks and left.
To pass the time, since he didn’t want to start his search for another hour, he turned on his phone to check his messages. His phone beeped non-stop for a minute, and when he scanned the missed calls, his right hand trembled. Damn, he’d been afraid of that. He dragged in a breath and tapped the keys necessary to hear his messages.
“Where are you, Jeffie?” His boss’s hoarse rumble had his gut churning. The sharp click indicating the end of the message had Jeff jumping.
The next message played. “Thought you had a few brains. You know this won’t end well for you,” Matthew snarled. “I want my product. You didn’t strike me as a stupid fuck. Bring it to me by Saturday, and I’ll go easier on you.”
Jeff winced since it was Tuesday.
He listened to the rest of the messages and wondered if he should just grab a flight from Queenstown to Melbourne or Sydney and from there disappear into the crowds in the big city. Then his mind turned to Grace, and his back straightened. No way in hell did he intend to let her get away with making him look stupid.
Jeff checked the time and thrust his phone into his hoodie pocket. After draining the last of his beer, he stood.
The main street of Oban, such as it was, appeared empty. Jeff stood outside the pub, allowing his night vision to adjust to the scant light. While lights shone from the buildings near the pub and a few hillside homes, there were large expanses of land lying in darkness.
“Excellent,” he muttered, heavy on the sarcasm, as he headed toward the place where Grace had chosen to stay. Once away from the pub, his vision became problematic. The footpath ended, and he almost face-planted when he failed to see a pothole in the middle of the road.
His arms windmilled, but he remained upright. “Bloody hick town.”
Jeff limped a few steps, the twinge in his back telling him he’d tweaked an old injury. Would nothing go right this week? He pressed his hands into the small of his back and rubbed the achy spot.
A car crawled along the road, prompting Jeff to step behind the bus shelter. It drove past and turned down the next street, not far beyond the school. Jeff’s breath eased out, and his racing heart slowed. This business was stressing the hell out of him.
He continued, sliding through the night and watching for anything or anyone that might cause him problems. At the base of the steep hill, he paused once again.
At this end of the town, the light was scant, and whenever the moon slipped behind the clouds, he blundered like a clumsy man. Finally, he drew his phone out of his pocket and switched on the flashlight app.
It was so quiet. Too quiet, the lack of noise giving him the heebie-jeebies. Give him a busy city with streetlights and masses of people and vehicles. This silence was plain creepy.
A thump from up ahead had him freezing, his pulse jumping like a startled rabbit. A cry escaped him, and the thump became a series of crashes as if something large loitered up ahead. He cursed under his breath, nervous sweat breaking out on his back and torso. What the hell?
He hesitated, every particle of him poised to retreat. Idiot. How would he get his hands on that bloody statue?
“Suck it up, Jeff.” He took a deep breath and proceeded with caution.
The crashes sounded again, but they were retreating now. Some type of animal? He had no idea. As far as he knew, the island had little in the way of livestock. He stopped again to listen, and when he heard nothing out of place, he continued to slog his way up the hill.
Damn, what sort of moron built a place at the top of a hill like this?
If he owned the place, the first thing he’d do would be to put in a lift or cable car to get visitors to the peak of this dirt mound.
Each breath sawed in and out of his lungs. His legs ached. His back complained each step of the way, and he couldn’t see worth a damn. Misery rode him, sweat trickling down his spine. He’d have to switch off his torch soon in case an eagle-eyed local spotted him.
Jeff kept plodding. One foot after the other, hunching his shoulders as he attempted to ignore the pain shooting along his limbs. Finally, finally, he reached the lodge where Grace was staying.
Jeff risked using his torch until he reached the safety of the wooden deck, otherwise he’d trip and likely—given his luck—break his neck.
He caught a floral scent and a trace of green in the air. The leaves in the trees rustled, and the moon peeked from behind a cloud for scant seconds, allowing him to orientate himself better. Ah!
A set of steps. He shone his torch in that direction, checked for witnesses, then traversed the steps as fast as his sore back allowed him.
Winded and hurting, he groaned under his breath and ducked into a deep shadow while he gasped through the darting pain in his back. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve flagged his mission and ordered one of his recruits to toss the rooms and search for his statue. Unfortunately, nothing about this mess was ordinary.
His temper flared, but he tried to tamp it down and focus. From memory, Grace and the neighbor had walked to the right once they hit the stairs, which meant he wouldn’t need to check the rooms on his left. They’d been visible from where he’d stood, and he would’ve seen their destination. Right, it looked as if there were three rooms—no, four—to the right.
The first had the curtains tied back, and from what he could see, it was empty. Three left to check then. He tried the first door he reached. Locked. Jeff hesitated, wondering what to do next.
Perhaps he’d try the other doors. If he found one unlocked, he could enter, and it wouldn’t take him long to rule out if it was Grace’s. He’d know immediately because of her grandma clothes. It had been embarrassing taking her anywhere because she dressed years older than her age. The next door he attempted to open was also locked. Bum. He moved onto the last and found that one barred to h
im.
Jeff hesitated. The curtains were open, which told him no one was at home.
But which one was Grace’s?
He checked the farthest away first and tried the door again before noticing the occupants hadn’t closed the window properly. He inched it open before realizing he wouldn’t gain access that way either since the window had a security latch. Jeff bared his teeth and glared at the door, wishing he’d grabbed a set of tools to help him gain admittance. He ignored the sweat running down his forehead and glanced over his shoulder to check for witnesses.
He was alone.
Jeff sucked in a breath and removed his hoodie. He bundled it up and twisted it around his wrist. A second later, he punched the glass door. It smashed with the force of his blow, and Jeff’s heart beat faster. Seconds later, he stood inside, the broken glass crunching beneath his shoes. He switched on the light, then hurriedly yanked the curtains across the window. A quick search later revealed this was not Grace’s room. It looked as if two men shared this space. His lip twisted as he studied the king bed. Queers.
Jeff shook his hoodie free of glass and stepped onto the deck. The last thing he did was switch off the light. For an instant, he was blind, and the moon disappearing behind the clouds didn’t help. He cursed under his breath but used the subdued outdoor lighting to guide him to the next without tripping over the patio furniture.
Once again, he scanned the vicinity, and not a person or creature stirred. He protected his fist with his hoodie and smashed his way through the door to gain entrance. A quick search of the clothes revealed this one didn’t belong to Grace either. Oh, it was tidy enough to belong to her, but the clothes were way too modern.
He’d just smashed the window of the third room when someone shouted.
“Hey! What the devil are you doing?” A man appeared at the end of the deck, his face pale in the night. “Carol, call the police!”
Jeff’s heart knocked against his ribs, his legs threatening to fail and toss him on his arse. He barreled along the deck, heading straight for a skinny woman who was blocking his escape. Leading with his shoulder, he ran straight at her. She side-stepped and stuck out her foot, the action so fast, Jeff couldn’t keep his feet. He flew forward but caught his weight with his forearms.
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