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Mason lifted his hands in the air and peeked at Lucy’s suitcase on the ground by her booted feet. He snatched it from Lucy’s reaching hand before appeasing Charley with a contrite, “Consider me her chauffeur and protector only, ma’am.”
“She’s overprotective. Sorry.” Lucy elbowed Charley in the side, which Charley ignored, continuing her death stare at Mason like he was enemy number one.
Better him than me for now. “We need to get your leg looked at,” I reminded her, anxious to get her inside our new quarters and have the wound treated before we had more problems.
But then a creeping sensation shot up my spine, and it wasn’t from my lack of shirt. Someone was watching us. Not on camera, either.
I had no clue when I’d let Charley in on the fact we were potentially being watched by a psychopath as they picked their next victim—I needed to run it by my team first—but I could keep her from being a sitting duck out there in the open.
I scanned our surroundings, wishing that someone watching us from the jungle was Gray, but he wouldn’t be in until tomorrow. And with any luck, Carter’s quick call to rally reinforcements would mean Gray had an entire team at his disposal upon his arrival.
“Watch your back out there,” I blurted to Mason, forgetting myself for a second. But damn that bad gut feeling.
“Because of snakes? Jaguars?” A nervous little smile crossed Lucy’s lips.
I frowned. “Yeah, of course.”
Charley gave Mason one last if-looks-could-kill glance, then she hugged her sister and waved her hand at Mason, dismissing him.
Once Mason and Lucy were out of sight, Charley turned her attention on me. I had a feeling I was next on her radar for a list of dos and don’ts. Probably about sharing not only a room with her, but a bed.
At least the uncomfortable feeling of being watched had gone away, but my relief would be short-lived given we were expected to sleep together with cameras on us.
“She has bad taste in men,” Charley said in a tight, semi-defensive voice, like she felt the need to explain her lecture. “She basically collects red flags like souvenirs.”
I did my best not to smile at what was probably more of a sad reality than a joke. But then that cute little dimple I had loved seeing in Cape Town popped into view, and my heart thwacked against my chest. The grin I tried so hard to suppress broke through. Yup, I was a goner.
“Not funny, I know.” She brushed her fingers across her lips as if guilty for the almost-smile she’d given me. All it did was make me want to replace her fingertips with my mouth. “Anyway, falling for assholes is like an art form for her, so I have to watch out for her.”
“I get it. I’d do anything for the people I care about, too.” I cleared my throat and motioned for her to head inside. “You’re soaked, and you were hurt. We should get you undressed and washed up.”
“Undressed, hmm?”
“You know what I mean,” I teasingly grumbled, then waited for her to walk ahead of me. I turned to check the jungle area once more, hoping it was just an animal that’d been lurking on us.
I shook my head, hating our situation, but never more thankful that Gwen and Mya had assembled our team at the last minute. Otherwise, Charley and her sister would be there alone, without protection or insider information of what to look out for.
Once inside, I hung back by the doorway to look around the place. “So much for pretending we’re on a tropical vacation.”
Our room was one large space with three full-sized beds as the only furniture. The beds were all lined up in a row along one wall, and there wasn’t much walking room between or around them. If all we’d be doing was getting rack time in there, I supposed it wasn’t that bad. I’d seen worse. Our bags were already waiting for us on our designated beds, and Mya and Oliver wasted no time arguing about the sleeping arrangements.
“Pillows between us or you sleep on the floor,” Mya snapped. She’d been a great actress earlier, but Oliver tended to get under her skin, and she was losing the plot now. Forgetting she wasn’t supposed to know Oliver enough to already dislike him.
“Damn. I’ve heard of insta-love, but your insta-hate game is pretty strong,” I tossed out, trying to remind them they were on camera.
“He has one of those faces you just want to punch, I guess,” Mya said, then chucked a pillow at him.
Before it hit him, Oliver snatched it with one hand and cocked his head as if challenging, That the best you got, buttercup?
“Where’s Carter and Gwen?” I asked as Charley went to our bed and quietly busied herself with unzipping her gray suitcase. “And I thought the medic would be waiting for us.”
“Medic’s still a no-show. And Carter and Gwen are showering,” Oliver said while placing the pillow in the middle of the bed creating a do-not-cross zone. “Not together,” he quickly added.
Before I had a chance to inquire about the bathroom and shower situation, the medic finally appeared. “Who needs help?” His Jersey-esq accent pinned him as another American.
“Something bit or scratched her in the water when we took an unexpected plunge. Not sure what,” I explained to the medic, gesturing to Charley.
She grabbed a shirt from her bag and took a seat, then draped it over her lap, probably to prevent the medic from getting an eyeful beneath her torn dress.
