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Celia didn’t see anyone around, not even Reed. Where had he gone? She’d been certain he’d headed this way.
Just as she was about to risk stepping out into the open, a movement near the end storage room made her jerk back into cover. She watched as Reed slipped out of his own shadows, looked one way and the other, then bent to examine the lock on the solid-looking door.
She slumped against the wall behind her. It was getting harder all the time to believe that Reed had nothing to do with this, though she was still trying.
What was he doing?
She was trying to get up the nerve to confront him when Reed was suddenly approached from both sides by two men she recognized immediately—Jim Bennett, Damien’s very large bodyguard, and the smaller, olive-skinned man Celia had seen walking on the beach with Mark Chenault. The man Reed had called Perrelli.
Before Reed could react to the men’s sudden presence, and before Celia could decide whether to call out a warning, Jim Bennett brought something down hard on the back of Reed’s head. As Celia watched, horrified, Reed crumpled in a bon
eless heap to the ground.
She gasped, then clamped both hands over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She couldn’t help Reed if she, too, was caught.
Or was Reed in need of her help?
What if Bennett and Perrelli considered themselves justified in the attack on Reed? What if they’d simply apprehended someone who was trying to break into a building that belonged to the resort which employed Bennett in a security capacity? It made sense, she acknowledged reluctantly. For all she knew, the man with Bennett was a cop. And Reed a criminal.
But then, while Perrelli kept guard, Bennett swiftly unlocked the storage room, lifted Reed, and tossed him inside, taking no particular care to keep from reinjuring the already unconscious man. A moment later, he closed and locked the door again.
The very furtiveness of their movements removed any doubts Celia might have had about their honor. She didn’t know what Reed had been doing, how he was mixed up with this, but she knew that Bennett and the other man were up to no good. And she knew without question now that Reed was in danger.
And that she could be, as well, if she wasn’t very careful.
It seemed that Celia waited behind that bush in the darkness for hours, though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before Bennett and Perrelli finally left. They’d spent that time apparently arguing in low voices, hands flying as each had tried to make his point. Celia couldn’t have said who won the argument. They left together, their steps hurried.
Going after the guy in charge, perhaps?
Staring at that locked room, Celia tried not to think that Reed could be seriously injured. Or worse. She couldn’t help him if she panicked. But what should she do? Who could she turn to?
She ran through a mental list of everyone she knew at the resort. It wasn’t very helpful. She had no way of knowing who was involved with Bennett and Novotny, who was innocent. Damien was definitely out. She had to concede, for now, at least, that Damien was probably in on it.
Evan, Maris and Mark were all too loyal to Damien to be of any help to her, even if they weren’t involved. Besides, she couldn’t stand Mark.
Torres? She liked the manager well enough, but again, he was in Damien’s employ.
For some reason, she thought of the waiter she’d befriended, Mike Smith, but the restaurant had been closed for hours, and Smith was probably at home with his wife and kids, wherever that might be. Besides, how could she know he wasn’t involved, too?
She was beginning to feel like everyone at this resort was a part of some nefarious plot!
She had to go for help, she decided. She would head for the nearest telephone away from the resort and call the San Padre Police. It occurred to her that even the police could be in Damien’s pocket, but she brushed that fanciful thought off as being just too paranoid. She was scared—more frightened than she’d ever been in her life, including the aborted attempt at parasailing, but she had to do something. She had to keep her head if she was going to be of any help to Reed.
The thought of Reed, lying alone and injured in that storage room, gave her courage. He had probably stumbled into this mess as blindly as she had, she decided. Maybe he’d been coming back to her room when he’d heard voices, as she had. Maybe he’d thought he was doing his civic duty to investigate. Reed would be the type to think of things like civic duty, she thought anxiously.
Poor Reed. They’d taken him so swiftly, so easily, so utterly unaware. He just wasn’t equipped to deal with men like these.
It occurred to her that she was even less equipped to deal with them, but she bravely pushed that worry aside. It was up to her to help Reed.
There simply wasn’t anyone else to do it. The resort appeared to be more deserted than usual, even for off-season. Every tiptoed step Celia took seemed to echo like sledgehammer blows in the night. She reminded herself that her fear was exaggerating the silence, though of course there was little activity at two in the morning even at a vacation resort.
The shortest and quickest path to the next resort was down the beach. If she went around her building, ran past the fountains and tennis courts and circled the swimming pool, she’d have a straight shot to the beach, and from there to the next hotel. Once she’d found a safe phone, she would decide what to tell the police.
She ducked her head and barreled out of the bushes.
And straight into the arms of Damien’s meaty bodyguard.
Bennett slapped a huge hand over Celia’s mouth before she could scream. “Miss Carson?” he said, looking down at her in disbelief. “What are you doing out here?”
