Flawless Danger (The Spencer & Sione #1) (23 page)

“Excuse us,” John said, then put his hand on the back of his cousin’s neck, and pushed him. Only David didn’t budge and John had to struggle to force him, cursing and protesting, out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Jumping up from the bed, Spencer tiptoed to the door and peeked out into the hall. John and his cousin headed back into the living area of the condo. Spencer dashed down the hall, as quietly as possible, then stopped near the opening into the living room, and listened.

“Take it easy on her,” John was saying.

“Take it easy on her?” David said, his tone incredulous. “Do I have to remind you—”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“And everything she’s been through,” David said, “I’m sure she brought on herself.”

Spencer rolled her eyes. She hadn’t brought anything on herself. She hadn’t invited death and violence into her life. On second thought, maybe John’s cousin was right. Technically, her past mistakes had led her to this condo where she’d discovered a bloody hand and had nearly been killed herself. But she didn’t like David’s accusatory attitude.

“Will you just cut her some slack?”

“What is it with you and this woman?” David asked.

Spencer waited to hear John’s answer.

“What the hell are you talking about?” John asked. “There’s nothing with me and her. I just don’t think she’s in any shape to be interrogated.”

“That’s why you didn’t call the cops?”

“I was actually about to call them when you showed up.”

“Yeah, right,” David said and then laughed softly. “But it’s probably good you didn’t. We don’t need both of you lying to the cops.”

“What would I lie to the cops about?”

“Maybe about what you’re doing here,” David said. “You can’t tell the cops that because then she’ll know—”

“Yeah, I know,” John said.

She’ll know … what? Spencer wondered. What was David going to say?

“What did you tell her when she asked why you were here?”

He didn’t.

“I didn’t tell her anything,” John said. “I sort of evaded the question.”

Ignored the question was more like it.

“You’re not going to be able to duck and dodge forever,” David said. “She’s going to want to know what you were doing here.”

“I’ll come up with something,” John said.

So, he’s going to lie to me.

“So, you’re going to lie to her like she lied to you,” David said. “Nice way to start a relationship.”

“What relationship?” John asked. “I’m not getting involved with this woman.”

Spencer frowned, worried. She was supposed to get close to the resort owner, but not too close. If he didn’t want to get involved with her, his reluctance might affect her ability to do the favor for Ben.

But they could get close without getting involved.

And she wasn’t supposed to get involved with the resort owner.
Close, but not too close
, those had been Ben’s instructions. Spencer didn’t even want to get involved with John so who the hell cared if he didn’t want to get involved with her?

“I hope you don’t get involved with her,” David said. “I get the feeling she’s a ho you don’t need to bother saving, Captain.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort

“I think you should stay with me,” John announced.

Puzzled and wary, Spencer glanced up at him as they walked along the gravel-and-stone path through the resort. “Stay with you?” Spencer was confused, suspicious. “You mean ... in your casita?”

“There’s more than enough room,” he said. “The owner’s casita is actually the original hotel my uncle bought. It was just a small boutique place with five suites. A few years later, he began building the casitas, and he converted this place into his residence. It’s got seven bedrooms, so ...”

Two hours had passed since the strange, terrible events in San Pedro. It was close to three in the afternoon, and they were now back in San Ignacio, courtesy of the spacious, luxurious Belizean Banyan water taxi, which had taken them across the turquoise waters to the ferry, where a resort shuttle was waiting to drive them back to the resort.

The cloudy skies of Ambergris Caye had been left behind. The sun was out in San Ignacio, warm and bright, and the air was fragrant with allspice, roses, and dense, rich vegetation. It was a perfectly beautiful lazy afternoon, but Spencer couldn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in Maxine Porter’s condo.

Her thoughts flickered and skipped from the bloody hand on the floor in the closet to Tommy Fong’s vicious attack to John’s confusing presence at the condo and then looped back to the hand on the closet floor.

There were too many questions. Hardly any answers. Where the hell was Maxine Porter? Was that her hand in the closet? Was her dead body buried somewhere?

Had Tommy Fong followed her to the condo? Did Fong’s attack have something to do with the animosity between him and Ben?

Why had John shown up at the condo? He hadn’t answered her question.

Spencer had overheard him talking to his cousin, and she didn’t think John would be honest with her.

Why had John called his cousin instead of the police? And why did she get the feeling John and his cousin knew more about her than they were admitting?

“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spencer said, cutting her eyes up at him. “I think I should go back to the honeymoon casita.”

John shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Spencer asked. “I’m not afraid to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” he said, guiding her down a path near the forest, between clusters of oleander and hibiscus bushes which provided a tropical cocoon for the casitas hidden behind their vibrant flowers and verdant leaves. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be by yourself tonight. The son of a bitch with the snake on his face got away.”

“You think he might be waiting for me at the honeymoon casita?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” John said. “The guy has come after you twice. He seems determined to hurt you for some reason.”

Spencer looked away, wary of the insinuation in John’s tone, wondering if he suspected she knew why Tommy Fong had targeted her but wasn’t admitting it.

“I just think it would be safer for you if you stayed with me tonight.”

“I don’t need you to rush in and save me, okay?” She said, hoping her belligerence would distract him from any further inquiries about Fong’s reasons for attacking her. “I don’t need you to keep me safe from harm. I don’t need a hero.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “Because I’m not exactly a hero.”
 

“I figured you weren’t,” she snipped, even though she was sort of touched by and grateful for his offer to take care of her. He seemed sincere, and though she wouldn’t admit it, there was something nice about him doing something for her out of the goodness of his heart.

And, of course, staying with him in his casita could help her complete
Step Two
.

“Besides, I want to have security check out the honeymoon casita,” he said. “And I want to have more cameras installed around the perimeter. Most of all, I just want you to be okay. You’ve been through a lot today, and I know it was rough for you. I want you to be safe and trust me and let me help you.”

His words shocked her. She wasn’t surprised at his sentiment and sympathy. She was astounded because he’d said something she had never thought she would hear someone tell her. She’d never believed anyone would be there for her when she needed it the most.

Spencer felt close to tears, which was ridiculous; tears didn’t matter.

She knew, from experience, you could cry all night, and still no one would come—not for her—no one had ever shown up to wipe the tears away. It was pointless to play the victim or complain or be upset about being neglected and abandoned by the people she’d counted on the most.

She was hesitant, nervous, and reluctant to take advantage of John’s selfless hospitality; she wanted to be suspicious of his gracious offer, wanted to keep her guard up. Spencer didn’t want to get too comfortable in his surroundings. She didn’t want to start thinking she could rely on him to keep his word, even though she had a feeling he would.

Somehow, his trustworthiness didn’t put her mind at ease.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” she said. “But just for one night.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita

Sione stood in the office casita, staring at his desk. It was cluttered with things he hadn’t gotten around to doing. Mundane administrative things. Invoices. Proposals. Payroll. There was plenty to do, but he couldn’t concentrate. The burden of what had happened in condo 309 at Estrella Estates weighed heavily on his mind. The burden of knowing the truth about the severed hand.

At least, Sione thought he knew the truth. He had a pretty good idea who had chopped it off, but he hoped he was wrong because if he wasn’t, then …
 

Then he would have to tell the cops.

Sione sat and grabbed an invoice as the leather seat creaked beneath his weight. If he avoided finding out the truth about whoever had left the severed hand behind, then he wouldn’t be forced to reveal it. Which was cowardly, he knew. Rubbing his jaw, Sione focused on the invoice, hoping to use it as another distraction.

After he and Ms. Edwards had returned to the resort two hours ago, around three o’clock in the afternoon, Sione had been distracted by the focus of taking care of her. She’d been through hell; the severed hand and the attack on her life had taken a toll. Fatigue and mental anguish had made her apprehensive and distrustful. Worried about her state of mind, Sione had insisted she return to the owner’s casita so she could rest. And so he could watch her. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her again.

Sione didn’t think the guy with the snake tattoo would be stupid enough to come back a third time, but, just in case, he didn’t want Spencer in the honeymoon casita, where the guy would most likely look for her.

Once he’d gotten Spencer settled in one of the guest rooms, he’d struggled to find something to take his mind off the day’s strange, tragic events. Without the distraction of making sure Spencer was comfortable and felt safe, he’d turned to work to take his mind away from the events in San Pedro. And now, all of sudden, for whatever reason, his cousin Peter had slipped into his head.

Sione tossed the invoice back on the desk. When D.J. had told him Peter’s name was on the list of Moana’s visitors, Sione hadn’t known what to think. When the hell had Peter gone to see her? Why wouldn’t Peter tell him about visiting Moana?

Why the hell was he sitting there speculating?

Rubbing his eyes, Sione sighed. He needed answers. He needed to talk to Peter.

San Ignacio, Belize

Belmopan

“I need to talk to you.” Sione stared down at Peter Rios, who was sitting on an overturned wooden crate beneath a large allspice tree.

His fingers wrapped around a long-necked bottle of Bud Light, Peter looked up and gave Sione a baleful sneer.

“Did you hear me?” Sione said. “I said I need to talk to you.”

Peter took a swig of beer and looked toward the house, which wasn’t much more than a shack constructed of mostly rotting wood. Sione followed the sullen teenager’s laconic gaze to an older woman sitting on the crumbling concrete porch step, braiding several strips of leather into something she probably planned to sell at a roadside flea market.

Frustrated, Sione sighed. He could think of a dozen things he could be doing right now, and a visit to his ambivalent, apathetic cousin was not one of them. But he needed distraction from thoughts about the bloody hand found in Maxine Porter’s condo. And he wanted to know why the hell Peter had visited Moana in prison.

Sione stared at Peter, who appeared to be concerned only with the malted hops in his long-necked bottle. Sione suspected it was all an act, though—a defense mechanism against the frustration of unemployment and boredom.

“Why did you visit Moana in prison?”

Peter’s lip curled in derision and then he took a sip of beer. “I don’t know what you talking about.”

“The hell you don’t,” Sione said. “You went to visit her. Why did you do that?”

Peter frowned. “Who told you I went to see Moana?”

“Tell me why you went to see her,” Sione said.

“I don’t know who told you that, but I didn’t go to see her.” Peter took a few more furtive sips of the Bud Light. “Somebody must have gave you the wrong information.”

Sione snatched the beer bottle away from Peter, then clamped his hand around his cousin’s neck, and yanked the lying punk to his feet. Protesting and cursing, Peter tried to pull Sione’s hand away, but it was no use. Sione forced him around the side of the house, away from the old woman watching them, and then threw his cousin against the rotting plywood, pinning him there.

“Tell me why you went to see her,” Sione demanded.

“Man, get off me.” Peter struggled to push Sione’s arm back. “I told you, I ain’t—”

“Peter, if I wanted to, I could crush your throat.” Pressing his forearm against his cousin’s Adam’s apple, Sione stared down at him. “But I need you to tell me why you went to visit Moana, so I’m going to spare you the pain.”

Eyes bugged, Peter trembled.

“Now, I’m going to take my arm away,” Sione said. “And when I do, I want you to tell me why you went to see Moana, and I don’t want to hear any more lies about how you didn’t go to see her, because that will really piss me off, and I will have to hurt you, do you understand?”

Sweat broke out on his cousin’s forehead as he nodded slowly.

Removing his arm, Sione stepped back, disappointed that he’d allowed those violent tendencies from his past to guide his actions.

Swallowing, rubbing his throat, Peter finally said, “I went to see her.”

“I know you did,” Sione told him. “What I don’t know is why?”

“She called me and said she wanted me to come see her,” Peter said. “So, I did.”