Bonnie’s expression cycled through confusion and alarm and finally landed on professional denial. “Mr. Rivers, I understand the dive was frightening, but the crew inspected the equipment. These things happen. Manufacturing defects, saltwater corrosion?—”
“The tank was tampered with.”
“The crew said it was wear and?—”
“I know what the crew said.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “And I know what a deliberate cut looks like versus natural wear. Someone sabotaged her equipment.”
Bonnie stared at him. The professional smile had vanished entirely, replaced by something more complicated—fear, maybe. The dawning realization that this wasn’t a complaint she could smooth over with exclamation points and complimentary wine.
“That’s . . . that’s crazy,” she said finally. “Why would anyone?—”
“I don’t know yet. But we’re staying on the tour.”
“You’re—” She blinked. “You want to stay? After?—”
“Whoever did this is probably on this tour. Best way to find them is to stay close.” And the best way to protect Jayden was to keep her close. If they left the tour, he didn’t have a reason to keep her close, in his eyeshot—whatever. He didn’t say that part. “We haven’t found our bag yet anyway. We’re coming with you to the next location.”
Bonnie’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth—then seemed to think better of it, reaching for security, or her supervisor, or possibly a therapist. But something in Dakota’s expression must have convinced her that resistance was futile.
“Fine,” she said, and the word came out slightly strangled. “We’re flying to Newcastle tomorrow morning, then taking a private vintage train to the Hunter Valley. Wine country. Be in the lobby at six a.m.”
“We’ll be there.”
He left her standing in the lobby, looking pale, and went to find Jayden.
He spotted her on the pool patio.
Her hair was down.
That was the first thing Dakota noticed when he stepped outside—dark waves falling around her shoulders, catching the string lights like they were made for each other. She’d changed since the dive, traded the practical swimwear for a simple black sundress, that locket around her neck, and she was laughing at something Gerald the bird-watcher had said.
The sound of it unlocked the fist in Dakota’s chest, let him breathe. She was safe, alive.
And not going anywhere without him.
Long tables bordered the pool, the purple-blue pool lights casting their ethereal glow across everything. A guitarist in the corner played surf rock. The night pressed in with the scent of the ocean and native frangipani.
Tourists from the group talked in conversation huddles. The Novaks were dancing near the pool, Gerald was holding court at one of the tables, gesturing expansively while Sandra the travel writer took notes. Mags Winston was deep in conversation with someone from the hotel staff, her daughter Lily at the edge of the patio, feet in the water, shoulders tight with tension.
Any of them could be the threat. Any of them could have tampered with Jayden’s equipment while the dive crew was distracted.
Aw, who was he kidding? This group seemed as dangerous as a group of penguins.
Still, her equipment had been tampered with.
Jayden had moved from Gerald to a cluster of other guests, gesturing as she talked, and the people around her were laughing. She looked relaxed. Happy. And some kind of signal in him ached with the need to keep her that way.
He crossed the patio toward her. The guitarist had shifted to something slower, a song that made the dancing couples sway closer together. The pool lights rippled purple and blue across the water’s surface.
Jayden saw him coming, and her expression warmed, a smile on her face.
And it simply unknotted the remaining tension in his chest.
“There you are.” She met him halfway. “I was starting to think you’d disappeared.”
“Had to talk to Bonnie. Tour logistics. We’re set for the Hunter Valley tomorrow.”
“Wine country.” Her smile returned. “That sounds civilized. No near-death experiences required.”
