Surprise Daddies (#1-4 Box Set)

by London James

“And before you ask, they've also cleared the owners of the other bed-and-breakfasts in Vidalia Isle.”

  “Why would they do that? He's never been there before or reviewed any of the other bed-and-breakfast on the island,” I point out.

  “Exactly. He's never been to the village, and on his very first trip he chooses Hometown Bed And Breakfast rather than any of the other ones. You have to admit there's a lot of potential there for frustrated, jealous competitors.”

  “I don't think so. The other places all do incredible business all year. Hometown Bed And Breakfast has the lowest ongoing occupancy of any of them. It's not like they were hurting for a review to increase business. But what that does mean is that I'm essentially back to the drawing board trying to figure out who might have it out for Mr. Mercer and also have the ability to kill him,” I say.

  “And frame you,” Sebastian adds. “Don't forget that.”

  “I highly doubt I'm going to, but thank you. Alright. What's next?”

  “To wrap up our study on brevity, the third and final piece of news I bring to you. You got another threatening note.”

  “Another threatening note?” I ask. “You're going to need to roll that one back and make it a little less brief.”

  “What do you mean a threatening note?” Owen demands. “What kind of threatening note are you talking about?”

  “Before we left, somebody came by and threw a paper airplane at me. It was just some stupid teenager,” I tell him.

  “What did it say?” he asks.

  “Put me on speaker,” Sebastian tells me. “I want to make sure you tell him the truth.”

  “I'm going to tell him the truth,” I snap but follow his instructions.

  “It was just a black piece of paper that said curse on it,” I say to Owen.

  “And?” Sebastian pushes.

  “And?” Owen follows his lead.

  “And a skull and crossbones. But it was cut out of a magazine or something. It was obviously some sort of sick joke.”

  “A sick joke is something somebody does once to see if they'll get a rise out of you,” Owen says. “Sebastian just said you got another one.”

  “What does this one say?” I ask.

  “You brought the curse back to Vidalia Isle. Accept it,” Sebastian says.

  “That's pleasant,” I say. “It also mentioned that curse again. What is it talking about?”

  “I've been asking around about that,” Sebastian tells me. “It turns out, as much as the people around Vidalia Isle want everyone to think this is the first murder to ever happen on the island, that's not true. Fifty years ago, there was supposedly another very strange death that occurred right before Halloween. The next year, there was another one. Two years later, there were two more. People started calling it a curse.”

  “Did the murders have anything to do with each other?” Owen asks. “Was there any link between them or a reason anybody should think they could have actually been a part of something bigger?”

  “I don't know,” Seb says. “That's about as much as I've been able to get out of anybody.”

  “Did you see who left the note?” I ask.

  “No,” he says. “Shawn found it.”

  “Where?” I ask.

  “In the hammock.”

  I draw in a sharp breath and look at Owen. “In the hammock,” I say. “In the hammock, Owen. That's a message to you as much as it is to me. This is getting seriously creepy.”

  “Which means you need to go to the police,” he says. “You need to talk to them.”

  “No,” I refuse, shaking my head. “You gave me your word. Two weeks to try to figure this out on my own before I have to hand myself over.”

  “The police already have the note,” Sebastian says. “Shawn slipped it into one of those cute little Halloween-themed sandwich bags you had in the kitchen and brought it right over to them.”

  “See?” I say. “They already have it. What good would it do for me to go talk to them about it? Anything they're going to want to know is already right there.”

  “What do they say about the note?” Owen asks.

  “The same thing Avery did,” he answers. “They don't buy into the whole curse thing and think it's just some local teenagers trying to get attention or create some sort of hubbub. Having all these tourists and excitement going on around the island has to be a bit of a thrill for them. That and teenagers are just mean as shit."

  “Listen to the man, Owen,” Avery says. “He knows what he's talking about. The Sheriff and his deputies are going to take something like that seriously. They're doing their jobs and gathering as much evidence and information as they can, but frankly, this is on my head. What they're doing isn't enough until it's over. I know the situation better than anybody. It's not like they're going to slap a star on my chest, give me some spurs, and let me join the posse."

  Avery looks up and continues on with the story. "If I went back there and let them take me in, any good I could possibly do would be over. They listened to what I had to say, but they're not going to understand it the way I do. I wouldn't be a part of the investigation. I would just be a suspect they were interrogating. Look at it this way. The police are always overburdened, and they have time taken away from their families because of having to devote themselves to these investigations, right?”

  “I suppose,” Owen says suspiciously.

  “Then I'm doing them a service. They're putting all the time and energy they can into their own leads. So, let me investigate on the down-low. With any luck, they'll figure it out soon, and everything can go back to normal.”

  “What is it that you want to do next?” Owen asks.

  “We need to go back to Vidalia Isle,” I say.

  “Yay!” Sebastian cheers.

  “Wait, didn't we just establish you can't go to Vidalia Isle?” Owen asks.

  “I can't go back to Vidalia Isle and let the police catch me,” I clarify. “But all the information that we need is there. We're not going to be doing any good out on this island.” Taking both of Owen’s hands in mine, I pull them to me and kiss his knuckles before pressing them to my chest. “It's beautiful here, and I am so grateful to you for bringing me out here and protecting me from all this. It's exactly what I needed to get my mind straight, but this is what I need to do now.”

  Owen stares at me for a few intense seconds, and I expect him to argue, but he lets out a deep breath.

  “I'll start making some phone calls,” he says. “But I swear, the second it looks like something's going wrong, I'm going to pick you up myself and deliver you to the Sheriff. If this note isn't some sort of joke and there's someone out there who's threatening you, I'd much rather you be sitting around in a cage where I'll know you're safe until that person isn't a threat anymore, than to know you're in danger.”

  “Understood,” I say.

  He kisses me before taking his phone and walking out of the room.

  “Did I just hear the sound of a kiss?” Sebastian asks. “Is that what that was?”

  “Thank you for calling, Sebastian. I'll see you soon.”

  “Has there been kissing going on?”

  “Don't tell anybody I'm coming. I'll let you know as soon as we figure things out.”

  “But I want to know about the kissing. How much kissing has there been? When did the kissing start?”

  “See you soon. Bye.”

  I hang up and start throwing together a bag. Heading back to Vidalia Isle might not be the smartest decision I've ever made. To be honest, hiding out on the island in Owen’s summer palace was probably the first ‘not the smartest decision I've ever made’, but there's no turning back now. Everybody else seems to think this is all just a Halloween prank, but I feel like my future is in the balance. I need to get to the bottom of it before my time runs out. Literally and possibly figuratively.

  And if it brings out more of this sexy protective side in Owen, a little bit of danger might just be worth it.

  Chapter T
wenty-Five

  Owen

  “Are you just about ready to go?” I ask Avery later that evening.

  We just finished eating dinner, and I catch her brushing her teeth while dancing to the rhythm of the toothbrush in her mouth in the cute little way she always does. It's one of the things about her that makes me keep falling for her, but also make me worry more about her safety than I've ever worried about anyone or anything else.

  I understand what she's going through. I mean, I've never been accused of murder, but I've seen my fair share of accusations and unfair rumors. She hates feeling like the whole world is staring at her and defining who she is rather than letting her define herself. That's the thing about people no one tells you when you're growing up.

  Every little child has been told a thousand times to be themselves, but they're never warned that even if they try to do that, everyone around them will likely decide that they are someone else, and that's all that will matter. You can be compacted into a completely different person without any control.

  Avery isn't going to settle for that. She's not just going to sit around and expect everything to fall into place the way it should. I admire her for it. I also think she's being incredibly reckless and just a little bit stupid, but those words, I think, would be less effective whispered into her ear. It's not like anything I say will actually make a difference. Like I said, this woman is stubborn and aggravating as hell.

  She'll do what she thinks she needs to do regardless of what anybody else around her says or does. I could make sure she gets caught in the legal process surrounding her, but I would risk her never speaking to me again. Or I could go along with her, protect her, and make sure she gets out of this safely. Despite my best efforts, I can't get enough of her, so my choice is made for me.

  “Ready to go?” she asks me through a mouthful of toothpaste. She spits and stares at me. “I'm packed and everything, but I didn't hear the plane. I didn't think we'd be heading out until tomorrow.”

  “You don't have a whole lot of experience with clandestine missions, do you?” I asked.

  “Not particularly,” she says.

  “Well, the first thing you should know about them is being clandestine, and putting yourself out in the bright sunlight, don't go well together. If we're going to sneak you back into Vidalia Isle without anyone noticing, we need the cover of darkness.”

  “How very super-villainous of you.”

  “I thought we didn't want to be villains,” I say, winking at her.

  We head back into the bedroom where she changes out of her pajamas. That's been her routine recently. This whole situation seems to be choking away at her energy, and by the time we finish dinner, she wants to climb into pajamas and curl up with a book or binge watch a show.

  A couple hours of that gives her enough of a recharge, meaning those pajamas are always on the floor come morning. This time, though, they're folded up and put on the bed after she changes into black jeans and a black sweater.

  “Enough darkness?” she asks.

  “Perfect,” I tell her. “Come on. Let's go.”

  She follows me out of the palace, and I lead her down the stone steps that bring us down to the marina. She pauses before her feet hit the dock.

  “What's going on?” she asks.

  “You didn't hear the plane because I didn't have it come,” I explain. “We're going for subtlety here, Avery. I don't know about you, but I don't have any personal experience tying somebody to a bungee line and carefully lowering them down into the middle of a village without anyone noticing. It might be a good skill to add to my resume later, but now is probably not the wisest time to get started.”

  “So, this is our next best option? Won’t they see us coming from miles away?” she questions as she eyes the boat, then turns back to me. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

  “Of course, it is,” Owen says. “This isn’t the same boat we came here on, obviously, but it is still registered to my family and therefore counts as international waters. We have her registered as a cruise ship in the Bahamas, the Cayman Islands, and Alaska. Nobody can touch you as long as you're on her decks. You could conga, naked, ten feet from the shore screaming 'I did it, I did it,' and they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. I don't personally recommend that… sunburn purposes and all.”

  “As liberating as that image may be, I don't think it works that way,” she tells me.

  I step up behind her and put my hand on her back. “Nobody thinks anything of boats gliding back and forth in the bay. We’ll stay in the cabin, and when there's a chance, we'll get off and sneak up onto land. Unless you have a better suggestion,” I say.

  “Nope,” she says, her lips pressed together and her head shaking slowly. “This is, officially, the best plan for the circumstances. Captain Jacks, take me away.”

  He clicks his heels together and gives a sharp salute. “Come aboard,” he says. Avery takes her bag and climbs onto the boat. “And don't worry,” he tells me in a hushed tone. “As far as anyone else is concerned, I am spending this lovely evening fishing.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “I’ll make sure my parents know it was my idea if they ever find out.”

  "What's that?" Avery asks, pointing to something under his arm.

  Captain Jacks strides over to the flagpole and attaches the hook to the bundle he's holding. "For the occasion," he says.

  The flag reaches the top and unfurls, revealing my country’s flag.

  The trip is fairly uneventful until the last half hour, but by the time the boat glides up to an old dock in a shadowy back portion of the island, Avery seems eager to talk to Sebastian, Skylar, and me about something she figured out.

  We disembark into a small grotto. It's a part of the island I haven't seen, and I glance around curiously. We're standing on a small beach that forms a half-circle directly into the rock. To one side is a hill that leads up onto a cliff, and to the other is a small cave where the water washes in and forms a pool.

  "What is this place?" I ask.

  "It used to be a really popular spot," Avery explains in a hushed voice. "Until the bodies washed up onshore."

  "The bodies?" I ask.

  "See that building over there?" Avery points to the top of the hill and a sagging mansion overlooking the cliff. "That used to be a popular summer resort in the 1920's. One summer, a ship sank a bit offshore. A huge wave picked up the wreckage and smashed it into the rocks out there." She indicates the large boulders sitting in the surf.

  "It was during a terrible storm, and the tide dragged the broken boat back out into the waves. The water around Vidalia Isle is up for a bit of a debate. Where the ferry crosses is considered a bay and there are little inlets and even a lagoon. Out here, though, is the ocean. It may be called something else, but anyone who has been out here in a storm knows that's the sea."

  "What were you saying about bodies?" I encourage.

  "By the next day, the storm had calmed down, and everybody thought the worst had passed. The police had closed off the beach because of some pieces of wood and metal still scattered in the sand, so some young people were sitting at the edge of the cliff looking down here at the grotto, waiting for permission to go down. That's when they noticed the body parts. As the tide came in, bodies were strewn across the beach and lying on the rocks. Some were whole; some were just arms and legs. There was even a head wedged between two rocks with a piece of wood stabbed through it. Miss Ester Miller, the owner of the resort, was so distraught by the whole event she shuttered it without taking anything with her and disappeared that day. This beach has been empty ever since," Avery finishes with a solemn sweep of her gaze across the sand, lit up blue in the moonlight.

  "Holy shit," I say, letting the story sink in. "Were they the people from the ship that crashed?"

  "They were mannequins," she says simply.

  My face falls. "What?" I ask flatly.

  Avery shrugs.

  "Turns out the ship had been
carrying a cargo of mannequins for a dress boutique. When it started taking on water, the crew hopped in their lifeboats and headed onward to land. The crates of mannequins fell out into the water and managed to escape being thrown onto shore, but eventually cracked open so the next day they washed up."

  "What about the resort?" I ask, looking back up toward the silhouette of the house against the night sky.

  "Turns out it wasn't horror at the loss of life that drove Miss Ester into her abandoning the resort and everything in it," she tells me. "It was the bordello in the attic, the gambling pit in the basement, and the rum-running tunnels snaking around under it."

  "Well, damn, Vidalia Isle," I say. I have to admit; I'm impressed by Miss Ester. "Wait. Then why is this beach still empty?"

  "Because it's hard as shit to get to," she says.

  Figures are coming toward us along a path that leads from the cliff overhead.

  "I hate when you tell that story," Sebastian says. "You always put the creepy parts first."

  "At least it's the perfect night for it," Skylar adds.

  They get to the beach and rush forward to gather Avery in a hug.

  "Are you alright?" Seb asks.

  "I'm fine," she tells them. "Shaken up, of course, but holding on. Owen has been taking good care of me."

  My belly jumps at the thought of all the ways I've been taking care of her.

  "I'm sure he has been," Skylar says, eyeing me up and down as if she knows exactly what thoughts are going through my mind.

  "Okay, listen," Avery says. "I think I might have figured something out while we were on our way here."

  "Should we go somewhere else to talk?" Sebastian asks.

  "This is as good a place as any," Skylar says. "Nobody comes down here except teenagers in the summer trying to impress each other with their flagrant disregard for teen pregnancy statistics."

  "Because it's hard as shit to get to," I say.

  Avery points to me and nods.

  "What is it you figured out?" Seb asks.

  "I'm not completely positive," she says. "But it's something to go on. We were hiding in the cabin, and it's a long trip, so we perused the book collection on board."