“That’s a different twist on it, isn’t it?You work fast. Huh.”
“Yeah. There’s never been a reference to her personal life before.”
“I wonder why?”
“Hell if I know, Viv. But the asshole is down here. The place is small enough that it has to be like shooting a fish in a barrel, right?”
“Yeah.” She let out a long breath. “Screenshot the pic and text. Make sure I can see the phone number. Send it to me, and we’llkick it to the profilers. Let me know your location, and Dean will see if he can find security footage or trace the phone number. It sucks, but it’s a bold move and, maybe, a stupid mistake.”
He nodded. “Amateur hour.”
“If we can end this entire headache because we can pinpoint his location on a tiny island, then the vacation will be worth all the heartache she’s dealing with. How’s she holding up anyway?”
Jules hadn’t shed a single tear. “She’s resilient.”
“Guess she has to be. Screw Mason Marlow.”
Vivian wasn’t a hearts-and-flowers kind of woman. She’d probably understand the arranged marriage more than Jules would have guessed, but it wasn’t Rhys’s secret to share. “Screw him,” he agreed.
“You ready for Operation Money Shot?” Vivian asked.
He choked. “Give me a break.”
“It was either that or Operation Kissy Face. Scar likes Kissy Face so long as she gets to make kissy faces when she says it.”
“Viv,” Rhys growled. “Don’t make me fly up there and strangle you all.”
“I’d like to see you try. Scarlett hasn’t had this much fun in… hell, ever. It’s actually worrying me how much our favorite gothy emo hacker girl is into celebrity gossip. If she loses her edge because of you and Jules, I’m going to hold you responsible.”
“Anyone named Scar can’t lose their edge.”
“She and Sloane scoped romantic moonlit photo spots. Don’t be too sure, brother.”
He groaned—even as anticipation skipped down his spine. “You tell everyone to keep their eyes to themselves.”
Vivian snorted. “You’re about to be on every celebrity gossip site in the world. I’d check on that thick skin of yours and toughen up.”
“Let me know if the profiler or Dean finds anything worth a damn.”
He ended the call, shook off the tension tying knots in his shoulders, and returned to the table.
Drinks and appetizers had arrived. Jules and Abigail had bent their heads in conversation. Laughter bubbled between the sisters. The creepy text message wasn’t a distant memory, but Jules had moved it to the back burner. This wasn’t the first time a stalker had shown up unexpectedly. It came with the job, and as creepy, aggravating, and invasive as that picture and text message had been, it would be forgotten by the end of the vacation. She didn’t worry about her safety. That was his job.
“Who’d you talk to?” Jules dipped a shrimp into cocktail sauce.
“Vivian.”
Abigail rubbed her hands together. “Super-duper boss lady. I love when she gets into the action.”
Vivian’s reputation preceded her. Neither Jules nor Abigail had met her, and both had loved hearing stories about her over the years.
“What’d she say?” Jules plucked another shrimp from the dish. “Abs, eat some before I finish all of them.”
“I don’t want any, actually. The smell’s bothering me.” Abigail wrinkled her nose. “Did Viv get all loud and bossy or quiet and deadly?”
“Neither.”
Both of their faces fell.
