Chapter Ten
The hula dancers performed for about thirty minutes and not one of them managed to catch on fire. Shame. Tyke half hoped it would happen—just a tiny flame—to make this event more entertaining. When they were done, a DJ came out and started playing Top 40, suck-ass pop music. The DJ said a kid named Justin Beeby or Justin Baby was singing, and for as high as his voice sounded, that’s exactly what he could’ve been. The crowd loved it, though. Nearly everyone was on their feet, moving and grooving to the terrible, electronic beat.
Even Kenna was out there, shaking her ass and smiling. She danced with a few different people—Estelle, Sam, and Tracy. Kenna was the most vibrant one out there. With that shiny red hair and those curves, she looked like a fire goddess.
When she saw him watching her, she waved him over.
Nah. He shook his head. He wasn’t a dancer. With arms and legs as long as his, it was tough to move in a coordinated manner. Plus, he’d much rather stand back and watch her.
That tune ended, and then it happened.
The DJ changed course and played a slow song.
Their song.
The one she’d picked for their wedding. The wedding that never happened.
Out of all the songs over the last five decades, how in the hell could the DJ pick that one?
The first few bars played, and it was like an emotional shock into their past. In that moment, Tyke must’ve been dying—or at least at death’s door—because everything he’d ever experienced with Kenna flashed before his eyes. The first time she smiled at him. Their first date at that ice cream shop. The time they’d made out in the parking lot instead of going into the movie theater. The night he’d slid her mother’s sapphire ring on her finger when she agreed to marry him. The next morning, at the airport in his fatigues shipping off to basic training. The accident in Iraq. The irreversible prognosis from the doctor. Kenna’s beautiful, angelic face coming into his mind when he realized he wouldn’t be able to go home to her.
Her gaze was still on him, and when the music registered, her smile lengthened and a look of longing set in. Goddamn, when she looked at him like that…he’d do anything for her. Anything.
Some people on the dance floor paired off. Those without partners moved to stand on the outside, watching. Kenna stayed where she was, smack in the middle of the dance floor, her eyes pleading with him.
It would be so easy to go to her. To hold her in his arms and not let go. To imagine what their future could hold. They could have a fresh start.
But like the pussy he was, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He never could.
“Fuck. I can’t do this.” He turned away, not bothering to picture her broken expression. He’d envisioned it enough over the last twelve years that it was ingrained in his brain forever.
He flew away from the dance floor, brushing right past a waiter with a beer in his outstretched arm. Tyke reached the tables where a few people were still seated. Of course he met Estelle’s questioning face first. “Bryan?”
He ignored her and kept going.
“You okay, man?” Ash jogged next to him.
“I’m good. Just gotta go.”
His friend gripped Tyke’s arm, forcing him to a stop.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Cooper’s face got up in Tyke’s. “Stop and think for a second. You sure you wanna do this?”
Tyke shrugged out of Ash’s hold.
“You better be one hundred percent certain when you leave this time.” Ash had a purposeful set to his jaw as he turned his head to look back at the dance floor.
“Fuck you, man.” He followed his friend’s gaze. “I’m sure—”
Kenna was in someone else’s arms. Another man was holding her close and singing into her ear. She swayed in sync with his body to the song she should be sharing with Tyke.
And that other man was suspect number two.
…
Tyke went back to the bar, his gaze locked on Kenna. She was smiling, seeming to enjoy herself, and he told himself he could do it. He could keep his eyes on her and not feel anything.
It was complete and utter bullshit.
He wanted nothing more than to pounce on the man, rip him away from Kenna, and then drag her back to Tyke’s room like the barbarian he was. But what would be an amazing night of sex would only lead to disappointment later on.
She’d want more. Something permanent. A stable family. A house full of kids. And he couldn’t give her that. After his accident, he was half the man he used to be. Half the man she deserved. He wasn’t going to give her false hope of a future she’d only hate him for later on.
So he continued to stare at her.
The man she danced with was Michael Tucker. Some advertising executive friend of Cassandra’s. Truthfully, he looked like a wiener. Pressed shirt tucked into his khaki shorts. Leather slip-on shoes. Dark hair perfectly gelled. He stood erect like someone jammed a fishing pole up his ass. Guy probably waxed his balls, too.
“So you decided to stay,” Ash said next to him.
“Yeah, so?” Tyke said, not bothering to face his friend.
“Seems significant, that’s all.”
That made Bryan swing a look at Ash. “Significant? Who the fuck are you? Dr. Phil? What’s significant about me coming to the bar and getting another drink?”
Ash glanced at him sidelong. “You can drink in your room.”
True. But then his mind would wander into dangerous territory.
Without giving much of a shit, he slid a look back at Kenna. Michael was leaning in to whisper into her ear. She threw her head back and laughed at whatever the pinhead said. His hands inched from her waist down to her hips. His mouth traveled back to her ear again, where he said something else. When the guy pulled back, whatever he said made Kenna’s eyes glitter and lips curl.
Tyke’s fist tightened around his beer bottle. He brought his attention back to Ash, and his friend’s raised eyebrows suggested he’d come to some sort of conclusion.
“What?” Tyke barked.
Ash’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not really sure why you’re being such a pussy right now.”
“And I’m not sure why you’re over here spouting bullshit at me when you should be over there with your fiancée.”
Ash drank a large guzzle from his beer. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not like you’ll listen to common sense anyway, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
“Son of a—” Tyke sputtered. “There’s more going on here than you realize.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“I don’t think you are, Coop.”
“Nah,” his friend said. “I am. Loud and clear. Enjoy holding up this bar by yourself tonight while the rest of us go back to our rooms with someone.”
Before Tyke could go back at him, Ash spun and cut across the sand toward Samantha.
Like the masochist that he was, Tyke looked at Kenna. She and Michael were closer together, his hands moving up and down her back, each time getting lower and lower, hovering just above the swell of her ass. She didn’t seem bothered by Michael’s touch. In fact, based on the way she swayed her hips against him, she seemed to enjoy it.
But she couldn’t. Could she? Michael wasn’t her type. She liked men who were rough around the edges. This one was too slick. Too rehearsed. Too generic in his advances.
Kenna liked a man who took control. Possessed her. Pushed her body beyond its limits.
Yeah, she didn’t want that guy. She was just getting back at Tyke for his dick move with their song. Plus, she was trying to see if Michael was their thief. Yeah, two birds with one stone kinda thing. ’Cause if she was attracted to this douche, then Tyke was going to put a stop to that shit pronto.
Michael Tucker could be dangerous. That was all. Tyke just didn’t want her getting too close to a potential psychopath.
The dance ended, and they held hands back to Michael’s table. On the way, Michael flipped a twenty between two fingers to a passing waiter. A few moments later, the waiter came back with a low glass of amber liquid and a tall glass of white wine.
Ha. First mistake, dick weed. At least let the woman order her own drink.
Kenna hated white wine. She used to say wine wasn’t worth drinking unless it was red, dry, and full-bodied.
Just as Tyke expected, she gave a half-assed smile as she took the glass from Michael. Lifting it to her mouth, she sipped before giving a small, unenthused nod of approval.
Michael was back at her ear again, probably whispering some played-out crap about how hot she was and how bad he wanted to take her back to his room.
She placed the glass on the table in front of her and nodded more enthusiastically. Even batted her eyelashes. Her eyelashes. Michael’s expression said he’d just won the lottery without buying a ticket.
Hand in hand, the pair turned from the table and maneuvered toward the exit.
Oh, hell no.
Tyke dropped his bottle onto the bar, leaving it half full, and headed in their direction. He caught up to them in seconds, staying close enough to hear what they said without tipping off that they had a tail.
“So where’s your room?” Michael asked in a rough bedroom voice that made Tyke’s insides clench so hard he almost seized.
She told him she overlooked the pool, which was a load of bull. She faced the ocean. She always requested it when they’d go on vacation. She loved opening the windows and letting the breeze drift in. She used to say it helped her sleep better. Tyke, on the other hand, slept for shit because he sweated all night from the hot, salty fucking air.
Ah, the memories.
Tyke crept up the adjacent path, trailing slightly behind them. He overheard her say, “I’d prefer your room, if you don’t mind.” There was an awkward pause where the guy seemed like he might argue, so she said, “You said it has a beautiful view of the garden. I’ve been imagining opening the windows and allowing the soft floral scent to drift over me as I’m lying in bed.”
Oh, what the fuck ever. Now Tyke knew she was playing the guy. She hated plants. All of them. Even flowers that put off “soft floral scents.” She was obviously planning to scope out the guy’s room for the missing items, and Tyke couldn’t let her do that. If Michael was the one who had stolen from wedding guests, and then he realized what Kenna was up to, who knows how he would react. Uh-uh. Not happening.
Tyke picked up his pace, cutting around the fountain to decrease his travel time in half. He entered the lobby and was standing by the bank of elevators with a hotel pamphlet covering his face as they approached.
“Stay right here,” Michael whispered. “I’m going to order something special for us.”
Tyke peered over the paper to see Michael lean in for a kiss, but she turned and gave him her cheek. Probably to ease the blow, she cupped his cheek and said, “Be quick, okay?”
Tyke didn’t bother holding off an eye roll.
Once Michael was a few feet away, chatting with a dark-skinned man in a hotel uniform at the Guest Services desk, Tyke reached around the corner and yanked Kenna to him. He spun so her back was against the wall, and he enveloped her. From his angle no one would be able to see Kenna behind Tyke’s large body.
“What’s the matter with you?” she screeched in a hushed tone. “You’re going to blow my cover!”
“Your cover?” he snapped. “You don’t have a cover!”
“As far as Michael is concerned, I do.”
Nerves grabbed hold of him and bit down with razor-sharp teeth. He couldn’t ever remember a time in his life—maybe once when he first shipped out to basic training—that he felt like this. Fear. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. “I’m not letting you do this.”
“It’s not up to you.” The desperate look she gave cut right through him. “I have to know.”
He leaned in, his stomach brushing her rib cage. His hands landed on the wall behind her, caging her in as he softened his voice. “Look, I know you’re pissed at me for earlier. But please don’t do this.”
“Being pissed at you has nothing to do with getting my mom’s ring back.”
He scrubbed his face. A million possessive thoughts sped through his brain. He knew she wasn’t going to actually sleep with the guy. But even the thought of her in another man’s room made his pulse quicken.
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.
She shrugged as if going back to a potentially dangerous man’s room was no big deal. “I figured I’d wing it once I got in there. I mean, his room can’t be that big. I’ll just look around.”
Tyke was already shaking his head. “You’re not doing this.”
Her gaze hardened. “Try and stop me.”
He chewed on her words, knowing that when Kenna set her mind to something there was no stopping her.
He looked over his shoulder at Michael, who seemed to be finishing up his conversation.
What if he really was their guy? What if they could end this tonight? They could get her mom’s ring back. Claire’s watch. Estelle’s brooch. And make sure the guy never stole anything again.
And you can finally give Kenna what she deserves—an apology. Closure.
“Goddamn it.” Tyke pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Call me. I’ll leave it on so I can hear everything that goes go.” He pulled an extra key to his room out next. “When you’re done, meet me in my room so we can debrief.”
She eyed the phone and key with an unsure expression. “Michael’s door will automatically lock once it’s closed. How would you be able to save me if something happens?”
“Easy. I’ll break the fucking thing down.”