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And yeah, I’d rather take my chances with the jaguars in the jungle than small talk with a bunch of guys.
From what I could tell as they walked toward us, most were already armed with drinks. That could be an advantage for us. After tending bar for so many years, I was often able to read a person based on their go-to drink.
A muscle-y guy with arms about to tear the sleeves of his polo walked several paces ahead of the pack. He had a beer in hand, his eyes laser-focused on the women like they were targets and he’d do anything to land a bullseye.
Not my type. Not even close. Then again, did I have a type? Sure, sure. Guys who gave me fake names, made me laugh, and carried a handgun. Gah, I had to stop thinking about—
No. Flipping. Way.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the same time my thoughts fell straight through the cracks to Hell—a place I had apparently been transported to as well. Because HE was there.
As if in slow motion, his glass tumbler fell to the pavers by his loafers and the liquid sloshed onto some other guy’s jeans next to him. He kept his eyes laser-focused on me, and I’d swear he’d had the same reaction Lucy had the day she’d seen Mom’s car accident on the news. Frozen in shock.
“It’s him,” I whispered. “Jack London.”
“Wait, what?” she shrieked in a low voice.
“The one who dropped his glass.”
“The guy staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost?” She tugged me closer, hooking her arm around my waist so I didn’t take off.
“How’d he find us?” And why was he still standing there like a statue of fucking gorgeousness while the others maneuvered around him to get to the cluster of women?
“He looks stunned to see you,” Lucy stated the obvious, but maybe it was an act? The man fooled me before. What was his game plan now?
“It can’t be a coincidence. No way.” I stepped back, and my sister went with me, unwilling to release her death grip on my forearm.
“He’s still not moving,” she pointed out.
Oh, I was aware, since I was staring right back at him. Jack, or whatever his real name was, looked like a movie star—(with an action hero vibe)—standing there in his khaki linen pants and white linen shirt. Sleeves rolled to the elbows. Top few buttons undone. Hair artfully styled in a messy way. His golden-tan throat bobbed from a swallow I managed to clock from twenty feet away. Okay, I probably made that up, but in my head, there was definitely a gulp.
And if he was that hard-swallow shocked . . . what’d that mean? Was my sister right? A wild accident we were both there?
No, no. Nothing is ever that accidental. He’s undercover. Just like in Cape Town. But how in the world would he have found us?
“What are we doing?” Lucy finally let go of me.
Jack STILL wasn’t moving. His arm was finally down at his side, though.
The woman from the lodge who’d provided our tour came to his side and started to crouch for the glass that somehow hadn’t broken when it’d connected with the hard ground. And it was only then that Jack finally budged.
He bent forward and snatched the glass before she could, and I read the apology to her on his lips. Another skill I had. Lipreading. It came in handy, especially reading men from across the bar before they made an ass of themselves toward one of my female patrons.
When he was upright again, he focused on one of the other guys who happened to be looking his way. The man’s brows were pinched tight. He was the only guy there in black slacks, a black dress shirt, and tie. His attire matched his dark hair, eyes, and his energy.
I caught a subtle nod from Jack his way. They knew each other, didn’t they?
“There are two of them. They’ve got to be here for us. No clue how, but this is a trap.” I went over to a nearby bar-top table and discarded my drink, ready to grab my sister and make a run for it. But there were no roads in and out of the place. Boat ride or helicopter exit only, and I didn’t have a captain or pilot on standby. Shit. Before I could come up with a game plan, the host walked out to greet everyone.
“Good evening.” The man’s voice boomed as he clapped his hands together. “Now that we’re all here together, let’s get started.” Based on the research I’d done, he was American. Born and raised in Kentucky, but I didn’t detect an accent. He wore jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt. His blond hair and green eyes completed his pretty-boy look. Mid-forties maybe. “As many of you already know, I’m your host, Stephen.”
“We can’t run now. How would we even leave?” Lucy whispered even though we were in a safe-from-a-microphone zone. “If they’re really here for us, they won’t make a scene and just snatch us, either,” she continued in a low voice while the host went on about the lodge and its amenities. I was doing my best to focus on Jack, along with his dark-haired friend, instead of paying attention to Stephen’s commentary.
“They could have an exit planned, though. Unlike us,” I hissed, angry at myself for ever agreeing to this trip in the first place.
When the host began motioning us all over to join him by the pool, it took my sister pinching me to remind me to move.
Was I really doing this? Were we not running? My entire body was taut. Every nerve ending fired up as I finally did as instructed.
