Every Little Thing

Hmm. That still left them with the matter of his suite. Nearly every lamp in the room was destroyed. The television screen was cracked where something had been thrown at it. And there was a hole in the plaster work near the door.

“They must have been making some racket.” Vaughn looked around. The place was a mess. There was a wine stain on the cream carpet in the sitting room; the bedclothes were tossed across the room, as were all the pillows and throw cushions. A curtain was half hanging off the rail.

What the hell had they been doing in here?

“Why wasn’t I called? Why weren’t the police called?”

His supervisor, Graham, stepped into the room from the hall. “We didn’t realize the extent of the situation, sir, or we would have.”

“Well we need to call the police now and file an incident report with them. After that’s done I want a tally of everything that needs to be fixed or replaced. Is this room booked out today?”

“Yes,” Graham said. “I’ve already looked and a sea-view upgrade of this suite is available for the guest.”

“Upgrade them. As for the neighbors who complained about the noise, I want them compensated. Take last night’s stay off their bill and give them a complimentary meal in the restaurant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jannette.” Vaughn turned to her. “Once the police have come by, and you’ve worked out what needs to be done in here, talk to Ailsa. She can order whatever we need for in here. I want this room presentable as quickly as possible.” It was one of his most popular rooms. “Give the information you’ve gathered to Graham as well. Graham, I want you to deal with the police and charging the couple for damages.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a curt nod, Vaughn strode past his employees and out into the hall. Rarely did he have to deal with situations like that in one of his establishments, but sometimes there came someone or someones who had no respect for other people’s property.

Irritated he marched around the corner, heading for the elevators, and came to an abrupt stop. Vaughn quickly stepped back around the corner out of sight. Feeling like a schoolboy, he peeked his head around the wall to make sure he’d seen what he’d thought he’d seen.

Fumbling with a key card to get into a standard room was Vanessa Hartwell. And kissing her and making her falter in her progress was none other than Jack Devlin.

Her laughter floated down the hall toward him. “That coffee you got me made me all jittery!” she squealed when he bit her earlobe.

Vaughn couldn’t hear what Jack said in response but whatever it was made Vanessa break into peals of scandalized giggles. She got the key card to work and the door swung open. She whirled around to throw herself up into Jack’s arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers curled in his hair as they dirty kissed all the way into the room.

The door slammed shut in their wake and Vaughn stepped out from hiding.

Anger froze him in place for a moment as his suspicions overcame him.

It hit him immediately:

The Devlins hadn’t stopped in their plans to get Bailey’s inn from her. They were just being smarter about it. Of course, Jack could just be interested in Vanessa for sex but somehow Vaughn doubted it.

The sex was just a bonus.

The payoff was Bailey’s inn.

“Mr. Tremaine.” Graham caught up with him. “I was hoping we could discuss that promotion we talked about.”

“What?” Vaughn frowned up at him, his mind on one thing and one thing only.

“The promotion. To daytime manager. I feel like I would be doing what I do already but with more authority and perhaps a salary increase. If—”

Vaughn held up his hand to cut him off. “I need to be somewhere right now. We’ll sit down later to discuss the particulars of your promotion.”

“So I am getting promoted?”

“Yes. We’ll talk later,” he called, hurrying toward the elevators. “I need to go out. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“Yes, sir!” Graham called back.

Five minutes later he pulled up outside Ian Devlin’s office building in his dark blue Aston Martin Vanquish. The car barely slid into place behind Devlin’s black Cadillac CTS-V when Vaughn swung out of it and marched on a mission into the building. He burst onto Devlin’s floor, startling the pretty receptionist behind her desk.

Her eyes widened when she saw Vaughn and she jumped to her feet when he spotted the door with the plaque that had Devlin’s name on it. He started to stride past her toward it and she cried, “Excuse me! You don’t have an appointment!”

“I don’t need an appointment.” He grabbed the handle on the door and thrust it open.

Ian Devlin shot to his feet from behind his desk at the interruption. “What is the goddamn meaning of this?”

Vaughn slammed the door in the receptionist’s face and stared the older man down.

Devlin, much like his own father, looked good for his age. Distinguished, well-dressed, and fit. But that was where the similarities between the two men ended. There was a chilling hardness in Ian Devlin’s eyes, an oily slickness to his smile and manner.

From the moment he met Devlin, Vaughn had not trusted him.

And for good reason it would seem.

This was a man who was trying to hurt Bailey; trying to take everything she’d worked so hard for away from her. He thought he was some kind of kingpin, that he was immune because he had all this power in a small town.