“You just got back. You don’t have to come with me, really.”

“We’re coming. Stop arguing.”

Tessa watched Mark and Grace strap into the plush leather seats opposite her. The captain was making final arrangements with air traffic control, and the flight attendant was brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Tessa usually loved the smell. At that moment it made her ill.

“Whatever is going on, Tessa, this isn’t just because of you.” Mark’s face was soft, his expression sympathetic. “Tristan’s default move is to leave. It’s how he copes. It’s how he’s been coping for a really long time. He’s learned how to deal with things on his own, but only because he felt like there was no one else he could count on. And that is as much my fault as anyone’s.” Mark didn’t acknowledge Grace’s deep sigh but accepted her hand when she placed it in his lap.

“I get that you think he left because of you, because of whatever info he thinks Max or Dexter might have gotten by manipulating you. But there’s so much more going on here, Tessa. Tristan’s been dealing with it all by himself for so long. And that ends now. He needs to know that we’re here for him. All of us. Me. Grace. And you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tessa mumbled, tugging her seatbelt tight. She was done arguing. Yes, she felt bad about dragging Mark and Grace away from the hotel only days after they’d returned. Especially since Tristan wasn’t there to oversee things in their absence. But Peter and the other department heads promised they could handle things for a few days. And Tessa was secretly relieved that she’d have back-up when she talked to Tristan. When they found him.

If they found him.

“You think he’ll be there?”

“There’s a solid chance, yes.” Mark tried to sound optimistic, but the tic in his jaw didn’t reassure her.

“Why?”

“When you explained about the cabin on the beach, something struck a chord. I didn’t understand why he’d sleep there, not when he had a luxury suite at his disposal. But then you mentioned the thing he said this morning, during your fight, about a cabin he stayed in when he was sixteen.”

“Yeah.” Tessa nodded. “It was one of the many things he said he didn’t want to talk about. But it stood out, especially since I knew where he was staying on the island.”

“Exactly,” Mark agreed. “It made me think of something. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. But, honestly, I forgot the place even existed. Probably never would’ve remembered if I hadn’t combed through all of my family’s financials when I was pulling together the funds to start Donovan Holdings. It was just a tiny line item on some property taxes, but it stuck enough that talk of the cabin on the beach jogged my memory.

“I don’t think I’ve been there since I was a kid. Maybe since before I was ten? But Tristan must have gone at some point, too. Must’ve remembered and used it as a safe place after….” Mark’s voice cut out. Tessa didn’t doubt that his cousin’s past weighed as heavy on him as it did her.

“You think that’s where he went when he ran away? That Tristan was hiding out in your family’s cabin that whole time? And no one went to find him?”

Mark shrugged. “That’s what I’m guessing. I can’t be one hundred percent sure. Maybe if I’d been there….” He shifted in his seat. “My mom wouldn’t talk about it. I wasn’t talking to my dad. And Tristan’s parents? I just assumed they were searching for him, the same as everyone else. I don’t know. Quite frankly, I don’t understand. There’s a piece missing and I can’t put my finger on it. But it’s as good a shot as any. And we won’t be far from New York City. Only about 150 miles. So, if we don’t find him in the mountains, we’ll go down to the city and start looking again.”

Tessa gripped the seat as the luxurious aircraft began its rush down the runway. Private plane or not, she wasn’t a fan of flying. Particularly not when she had no idea what kind of storm she was hurling herself into head first.

“We’ll find him, Tessa. I promise.” Mark patted her hand from across the aisle. “First thing in the morning, we’ll head to the cabin.”

“My parents’ B&B isn’t far,” Grace said. “Once we land, it’s just a short drive from the local airport. We’ll get a good night’s rest, a good meal, and we’ll be off to find him first thing. It’s going to be okay.”

Tessa wanted to believe her friend. But Grace hadn’t been there to see Tristan’s face, to hear the tremble in his voice when he tore himself inside out, saying out loud things that had been haunting him for years. So much had started to make sense, yet there was still so much Tessa didn’t understand.

“Mark, do you know what he meant about the room key being important?”

Mark and Grace exchanged a grim look. Grace was the one to answer. “You said that the guy, Max’s henchman’s henchman, showed up with just a small bag, right? He took the key and he didn’t stay?

“Yes. Security checked on the room only a few hours later. Said it was empty. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. Tristan was so focused on the key. The key—did he tap into the hotel’s computer system and reprogram it somehow so he could access Tristan’s room?”

“No. The keys don’t work that way. They aren’t connected to the computer system. The locks are all pre-programmed when they are installed, and the key coding machine at the front desk encodes each key with the right info—room number, check-in, check-out—so the door unlocks for the right person at the right time. No computer needed. No, I don’t think it was about the key. It was about the room.”

“What? Why?”

“Those rooms didn’t just need new carpets, paint, and furniture. They were old. Some of the first built on the property. You’re familiar with the building, yes?”

“Not really.” Tessa frowned. “I only went once. That morning.”

“No.” Grace shook her head. “You’ve been way more than once. That’s the same building Tristan’s room is in.”

“No, that’s not right.” Tessa glanced between the two of them. Mark was studying Grace, her friend’s face solemn.

“Yes,” Grace assured her. “But it’s easy to miss. The way it cuts into the side of the mountain behind it, the building curves, and the entrances are broken up specifically so that it feels like a series of much smaller buildings, instead of one large one. To give it the intimate atmosphere everyone comes to expect at a place like the Seven Winds. And, really, you wouldn’t know. Because there are a bunch of old rooms on the lower level—not far from where you were—that have been closed off for ages. Plus the old laundry facility. And, for God knows what reason, the room you requested—well, it’s directly connected to the laundry. It has an old access panel in the bedroom that was supposed to be sealed up and repainted.”

“Except?”

“Except Grant’s crew hasn’t had a chance to do it yet. Not with the delay at the spa. And the hole in the restaurant’s roof. And the hurricane. Since we weren’t planning on opening the rooms up until peak season, it wasn’t a problem. Grant was going to take care of it later.”

“Why, Grace, would access to the laundry rooms be so important?”

“Not the laundry rooms themselves. But Tristan’s room. Above.”

Tessa gaped, the details a jumble. “I don’t understand. Why go to so much trouble just to get access to his room? Why not just get a key? Or break in?”

“And tip his hand?” Mark interjected. “It’s surprisingly difficult to break into a hotel room like that. Each lock is specifically programed to only allow access via certain keys. The guest, housekeeping, maintenance, security, and the Master. Given that Tristan was staying in that room—and his association with me and Grace—there isn’t a single member of staff who would jeopardize their job by just handing their key over to a stranger. Not to any room. And especially not to his. Doesn’t matter what sob story they were told.”

“Then why not just steal one?”

“Staff have to report stolen cards right away. Then the lock codes are reprogrammed, immediately. Specifically to invalidate the lost key. It would be pointless.”

“What about the Master?”

“Same applies, but even worse. All of the room locks on property have to be changed if a Master key gets stolen or goes missing. And how do you prevent the acting General Manager of the hotel from finding out about that? You can’t. Nor any other report of a potential security breach, especially not to his own room.”

“Okay….” Tessa looked between them. With their sudden departure from the island, the swanky private plane, and their current conversation, she felt like she’d fallen into the spy novel Tristan kept beside the cot in the beach cabin. “What about the balcony? If someone wanted access to Tristan’s room that badly, why not just jump onto his balcony and break in that way?”

Mark’s grin was tight. “I’m not sure what kind of acrobatic skills our perpetrator has, but that’s pretty risky. The suite balconies are designed for privacy. They’re all far enough apart that guests can have conversations on them without a fear of being overheard. Which means they’re too far apart to jump from one to the next. Which just leaves scaling the wall. And—”

“And,” Grace cut in, “after Marcus’s attack on us, we’ve stepped up security across the hotel. They’ve been keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Scaling a hotel room wall—one that faces a seriously expensive piece of real estate—definitely counts as suspicious.”

“More suspicious than trying to break into his room via an abandoned laundry room that he accessed through a crawl space that shouldn’t be there anymore? What did he do, drill up through the ceiling?”

“Yes.” Mark nodded. Tessa blinked, totally taken aback. “Depends on what they wanted. But, yes, drilling up through the ceiling could be a possibility. Installing a bug, a camera. Something small that they could get in quickly without making too much of a mess. Then access remotely later when the needed to. Yes.” He nodded again. “It’s completely possible.”

Tessa leaned back into the leather seat. They were airborne, high into the sky. The outlandish scenario Mark and Grace outlined had completely distracted her from the turbulence of takeoff. “But how would Max or Dexter or that man know about Tristan’s room, or the empty rooms beneath? Who else knows they’re there?”

“The list is short,” Grace answered. “Me, Mark, Tristan, Peter. Marcus, the crazed former GM. And….” Her mouth opened in a silent “O.”

“Grant,” Mark finished for her. “Grant knows. He did the renovations, was the one who was supposed to seal up the rooms in the meantime. Not only that, he has the schematics of the building. The original CADs. Max and his band of misfits could definitely have learned everything they needed from Grant.”

“But then, why ask me?” Tessa’s voice was thin. She was exhausted, angry, and more than a little terrified at the depth of deception that seemed to be growing by the minute. “If they could get everything they needed from Grant, why the fuck did they need me?”

“Simple.” Mark collapsed against his seat, every emotion Tessa felt mirrored on his face. “You’re an easy way to keep your dad on the hook. He doesn’t know that Max can access the information another way. He thinks you’re his only option. And Jacob can’t get to you, not on the island. Not easily, at least. And definitely not without Max finding out. So it keeps him off balance. And prevents him from plotting a way to get himself out of the shit hole he’s dug for himself.”

“Dad does always prefer to have someone else clean up his messes. It’s not like he’d push, try to find a way to get me away from Dexter. Not if it meant he’d have to sort shit out himself.”

“There’s that,” Grace agreed, her expression dark. “But we’re forgetting the main reason. Tristan.”

Tessa’s brow furrowed. “How would Max know that I have any association with Tristan? My dad doesn’t know. I haven’t said anything. Tristan sure as hell wouldn’t say anything. Not to his father. Unless you guys…?”

“No!” Mark assured her, Grace nodding emphatically beside him. “We would never. I work very hard to maintain as much distance from my uncle as possible. But I doubt the same goes for Grant.”

“Would he know?” Tessa scanned her memory, trying to figure out what the foreman possibly could have seen. “What could he possibly think he knows?”

“I doubt much,” Mark answered. “But the specifics don’t matter. Max doesn’t care if you’re in a romantic relationship with Tristan or just his friend. As long as you see him on a regular basis, as long as you’re connected in some way, using you works to his advantage.”

“How?” Tessa wished she’d accepted a cup of coffee. Anything to help her chase away the chill that gripped her. “How would he use my relationship with his son—whatever it might be—to his advantage?”

Mark met Tessa’s eyes, his sapphire blue deeper, warmer than his cousin’s, but no less beautiful. And, at that moment, no less haunted. “Of everything you’ve heard about Max, what is the one thing—the one, single thing—you don’t doubt? The one thing that, if given the opportunity, he’ll always do? Especially when and how it’s least expected?”

“Oh, God.” Tessa choked out the words as the realization hit her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. “He used me to hurt Tristan.”

“Fuck,” Grace cursed quietly, the color drained from her face. “You mean…?”

“I mean,” Mark said, his own voice rough, “that if Max found out that Tessa has any connection with Tristan, her involvement became even more perfect. On the surface, the things that Dexter made her do were insignificant. A little bit of information and access to an unused room in an empty wing? It’s so benign it’s almost laughable. Because it wasn’t about getting information. Or getting access to Tristan’s room. It was about making sure Tristan knew—”

“That he couldn’t run away.” The answer came so fast, so hard, Tessa had to wrap her arms around her body. “Escaping his father is the only thing Tristan has wanted to do for years. Since that night. And he thought he finally had. He thought, on the island, he was free. And that, with me, he was safe.” Tessa let the tears burn her cheeks. “And then, this morning, Tristan realized there was no getting away.”

Tessa felt a scream clawing up her lungs. She couldn’t catch her breath. Grace was out of her seat and kneeling beside her while Mark called for the flight attendant. Seconds later, the elegant woman handed over a tray with a bunch of cups. Water. Coffee. What looked like whiskey.

“Grace.” Tessa had to force it out. Dread made her tongue thick, unwieldy. “I told him I would watch him, to make sure he came back. What if he thinks I wasn’t doing it for him, for us? What if he thinks I’ve always been doing it for Max?”