Perfect, Winter thought as she sobbed over Josh. Some nights she couldn’t seem to get the tears flowing, especially since Josh usually had her laughing before she had to cry, but tonight, she had this.
Edward, another one of the brilliant actors, had her by the shoulders, consoling her and begging her to get away from the body. The chatter and buzz and excitement in the room was palpable, and Winter had to really concentrate on the scene so her giddiness didn’t get the best of her.
Stay in character, please. Don’t mess this up!
A warm and rough and unfamiliar hand grasped her wrist, pulling her upward. Her eyes were blurry as her back fell flush against a body of steel, a strong and firm arm wrapping around her torso and dragging her toward the doors.
Her heart drumrolled in her chest. This wasn’t part of the act, but she kept her head down, going with the improvisation.
“Shhh…” the man said, moving her with ease. His hand came over her mouth, something she definitely wasn’t expecting and didn’t like much, but she kept on acting. Maybe Mel had given someone a new direction and kept it from her to make sure her reactions were authentic. It’d happened before.
The dining hall grew smaller and smaller in the distance as he led her to a side hallway, one she rarely ventured down—only once in a blue moon when she felt like a swim. The shimmering reflection of the sunset on the pool outside lit up the walls, making them wave at her as her captor took her away.
She blinked out her last bit of fake tears, noticing a pair of shoes she’d never seen before. Winter stopped dead in her tracks. What in the world…? Panic filled her stomach, and the hand on her mouth tightened.
“Shhh…” he said again, and her mind reeled, trying to place the voice to a person she knew. The creak of a door filled the hallway, and the man dragged her into the pool supply closet.
He backed them against the door. “Please,” he said, “Winter, please don’t say anything. They can’t hear us.”
Confusion wrinkled her forehead. The voice… the voice was southern. She pried at the fingers over her mouth, pulling them away one by one. “Will? What are you doing?”
The hold around her loosened, and she turned around, ready to release a stream of hellfire, put her self-defense training to good use, or simply kick him straight where it counted, but the soft concern in his worry-stricken face stopped her.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a rush, “I had to get you out. I think… I think y’all in danger.”
She blinked, taking a step back into a rack of life-vests. “What?” she said, her heart rate beating down to a normal pace. She had to get back into character, but she was having a hard time coming up with something.
Will held a finger to his lips and pressed his ear to the door. His eyes focused on the pool cleaner in front of him, but his head looked like it was out in the hall. She’d hate to break it to him, but this place was pretty sound proof.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
His bushy brow furrowed, the corners of his scruff-covered lips turning downward. “Me?”
She nodded and tentatively took a step forward. She was honestly concerned about his mental state, but she wouldn’t dare say that out loud. “What… why did you take me away?” She couldn’t think of a reason. It was all part of the act. Maybe she was a better actress than she’d thought, and he was really concerned about her “losing” her friend.
He turned, his breathing shallow and sharp, pulling his shoulders up and down with every intake. His arm lifted, his hand running through the thick strands of his brown hair, and a faint scent of something spicy and familiar filled the air. Salami? No… pepperoni.
His baby blue eyes suddenly flicked down to her chest, and Winter’s defenses shot right back up as he reached toward her.
She smacked his hand away. “What do you think you’re—?”
“Sorry,” he said, putting his hands up. “So, sorry, Miss. I just… a phone. Do you have a phone?”
His southern accent makes him sound so innocent, she thought and quickly shook it away. Stockholm syndrome was not her style.
She reached into the lining of her dress and pulled her cell out. He held out his hand. “May I?”
She searched his eyes for any danger. For someone so strong, there was this childlike quality to his eyes that she no doubt believed women fell all over themselves for.
“Please,” he said. “I need to call the police. I need to get you safe.”
“The police?” A thunderbolt jabbed her right in the heart, and she moved around him, trying to pry open the door, but he stepped in front of her.
“You can’t go out there.”
The heck she couldn’t. “This is my house, Will—”
“You can’t.” He settled his massive hand on her stomach, nudging her back. His innocent eyes turned intense and serious, concerned and genuine in a nanosecond. “I heard him. Michael. And the way he was looking at you… Winter, I think he’s gonna hurt you.”
Stay in character… “What did he say?” She grabbed his arm. “What did you see?”
“I think someone wants to kill you, ma’am.” His voice became ten times more urgent, no more tip-toeing around, and thank heavens, because Winter finally was able to understand what had happened—and appreciate his southern charm in the way he’d addressed her.
He swiped the phone from her hand and got in two numbers before she stopped him. “Don’t call the police.” She was going to have to break character, if just for an explanation. “Joshua was supposed to be poisoned tonight.”
“You’re in on it?” He backed up into the door. “What in the Sam Hill is going on in this place?”
She bit away her laugh at his adorable curse, but this was definitely not the time for it. “You do know this is a murder mystery stay, right?”
His back straightened, his lips flattening to a thin line. “What?”
“A murder mystery. It’s all an act for the guests. For you.”
A flush ran over his skin, and Winter didn’t need any help holding back her laugh this time; the darkened look in his eyes did the trick.
He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing deep. “Excuse me,” he said as politely as he seemed he could muster.
Then he opened the door and strode down the hall.