“Take as much time as you need.” He would take every second to understand what was happening. “I’ll be outside—”
“Can you stay in here?” She dug through her beach bag without looking up.
She was still unsettled. Not that she’d ever tell him. “Yeah. No problem.”
She grabbed her bag and slipped into the bathroom.
He picked up his phone. Vivian answered on the first ring. “I didn’t expect a call from you so early, Romeo.”
“What? Never mind.” He couldn’t imagine the conversations Vivian, Sloane, and Scarlett had had in the last twenty-four hours. “Have you talked to Dean?”
“Not yet.”
“We have a weird situation, and I sent what I have to Dean.” Rhys explained how he’d walked out of his bungalow—leaving out the part where he’d been irritated that Jules had taken off without telling him—and stumbled upon a man accosting her. “What do you make of it?”
“Nothing until I talk to Dean. I’ll call you back.” Vivian ended the call.
He pushed the squeaky rollaway bed out of the way and dropped onto the couch. What was he missing?
“Actually,” Jules called from the bathroom, “more like twenty minutes.”
“No rush.”
The door shut again, and Rhys stared at his phone until Vivian called back.
“Dean’s here too,” Viv said.
Dean, their OSINT specialist, had an uncanny ability to find electronic minutiae most people never knew existed. They worked well together. Dean could find the small details. Rhys could remember them. Together, they figured out impossible puzzles. “Have enough time to find anything?”
“Eh,” Dean said. “Confirmed what you did with Google.”
“Dean will keep at it,” Vivian said. “But working with what he knows? It doesn’t sound like the guy we call her stalker. Yet…” Rhys imagined his boss scowling and tapping her nails on her desk. “It kind of does.”
“Kinda does, kinda doesn’t.”
“Strange change to his MO,” Dean added. “Why use a surrogate to pull off this kind of stunt? It’s not like I know a lot of celebrity stalkers, but sharing the center of his attention seems to contradict the point of stalking.”
“Yeah,” Rhys said. “And the money.”
Vivian let out a long whistle. “The money. That stunt wasn’t cheap.”
“Von Whatever-His-Name-Is didn’t know what that hell he was getting into. He hadn’t thought it through at all. Just saw a chance to save money and jumped.”
“Scar just walked in,” Dean said. “Rhys and Viv are on the phone.”
“Oh, hey, Rhys. Last night, woohoo, right?”
His cheeks heated. Romeo from Vivian, and a woohoo from Scarlett. Rhys guessed there had definitely been a paparazzowatching them on the beach last night. He’d ignore them. “Any news on the text message from last night?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Burner number. CCTV footage doesn’t give a clear look at the person I think took the photo. Caucasian male. Five feet six to five nine. Round around the middle. Khaki pants. Tommy Bahamas shirt that half the resort residents have in their closet. A fishing hat with floppy sides covering hair and face. Nothing all that useful.”
“Except for excluding Von Charles.” That man was tall and lanky.
“If I pinpointed the right person,” Dean said. “I’m working on a better confirmation.”
They ended the call.
Rhys really wanted that cup of coffee. His phone dinged with a message from Sloane. After Vivian and Scarlett’s side comments, he wasn’t sure he wanted to open anything that reminded him of last night. Yesterday had irrevocably changed the way he saw Jules. One night—one kiss—couldn’t rewrite their history. Yet one kiss had shaken everything he understood about them. Though something had always burned under the surface.
