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CHAPTER ONE
DURAN
I’d been sent on assignment to much worse places than a resort in Miami. It sat right on the shore, halfway built into the cliff. Looking out over the bluest water I’d ever seen. Ebbing and roaring, depending on the time of day and the weather. Last night the tide had been gentle, but this morning, it crashed angrily against the rocks.
I’d gotten in late this afternoon to find the last available room was the honeymoon suite. Feeling the full irony of the world’s most stubbornly single bachelor in the city staying in a suite meant for honeymooners, I booked it. It wasn’t like a I had another option.
My brother Lucien owned this resort. I recalled when he’d bought it last year and had it fully redone to match his uncommon tastes. I’d made a mental note to go there and check it out sometime, but I’d never had a chance.
Yesterday afternoon, he’d called me out of the blue. I was doing what I did best—trying to recover from a hangover after working the room at an exclusive party all night. I’d left with the information I needed around dawn, passed it on to Lucien, took a quick nap, and headed down to the coffee shop on the corner near my apartment.
When Lucien’s name appeared on my phone, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“Yes, what?” I said, putting the phone to my ear.
“We have a target in Miami,” he said. “We need to meet up with him.”
I glanced up at the chalkboard even though I knew what I was going to order—four shots of espresso shaken with ice and a shot of white chocolate, topped with a half cup of dry foam. Lucien hated it when I ordered it around him. He only drank incredibly masculine cups of black coffee or straight, scorching hot espresso.
“Are we talkingthetarget?”
“We are.” Lucien’s voice was curt.
“Okay,” I said, catching the barista’s eye. She wandered over and popped her gum, giving me the once-over. She was new, which meant I was going to have to either explain my drink or order something simpler. “How soon do you need me to leave?”
“Go pack your things and have my plane take you,” said Lucien.
“Goddamn it,” I sighed, leaning on the counter. I flashed the barista a smile and she arced a brow. “Can I have my usual? It’s four shots, shaken with a shot of white chocolate and half a cup of dry foam.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Lucien in my ear.
She narrowed her eyes as she typed on the register. She scrawled on the cup and passed it to a second barista standing behind the espresso machine.
“It’s Duran,” I said, frowning.
“I know your name,” she said, reaching behind the counter and lifting a tabloid magazine. I cringed at the blurry photo of me, shirtless and hanging over a balcony, in the upper right corner. I wasn’t particularly surprised. A gossip columnist had done a scathing write up of me last month in one of the city’s most popular trash magazines. I’d been recognized a few times since.
“Want me to sign it?” I said, taking my wallet out.
“No, thanks,” she said, tossing it aside and swiping my card. “You fucked my friend, that’s where I really know you from.”
“I probably didn’t,” I said.
I probably had.
“Jesus,” Lucien barked. “Having fun?”
The girl pivoted and I scooped my card up and moved to the back of the shop to wait on my coffee.
“Okay, where are you sending me,” I said, trying to push the uncomfortable interaction out of my brain. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but it was the first time it had me rethinking some of my actions.
“The Aqua River Resort,” said Lucien. “It’s the one I bought last year.”
“How long am I staying?” I said.
“A day or two,” Lucien said. “Not sure yet.”
The barista handed me my cup and I ducked from the shop, stepping out onto the hot pavement. I was halfway down the block when I noticed something on my cup. I lifted it and looked at the bottom and couldn’t bite back a short laugh.
