“Of course, of course,” a bright, cheery voice replied. “Y’all come right on in.”
Finn opened the door the rest of the way, and the four of us trooped into the office.
Well, now I knew why the rest of the floor didn’t have any Western decorations. Because they were all in here.
Every single thing in the office had some sort of Western vibe to it, from a pair of matching lamps shaped like silver spurs, to a chair that had fake rifles for arms, to a cowboy sculpture made out of lassos that had been, well, lassoed together. Silver studs trimmed all the dark green leather sofas and chairs, while bits of turquoise glimmered in the top of a glass coffee table. Paintings of cattle and cowboys covered the walls, and what looked like a genuine bearskin rug stretched across the floor in front of the fireplace in one corner.
The bear wasn’t the only dead animal in here. A large buffalo head was mounted on the wall above the fireplace, with several smaller deer, elk, and moose heads flanking it. A stuffed red fox snarled on the wide mantel above the fireplace, while a bobcat glared up at it from the floor. Hooked to each animal was a small white tag that featured a location, along with a date. Somebody liked to hunt—and show off their trophies.
A desk stood in the opposite corner of the office, across from the dead-animal shrine that clustered around the fireplace. A phone, a monitor, a laptop, pens, notepads, papers. The desk was the only normal thing in sight.
Because the woman sitting behind it was anything but normal.
She got up and stepped forward, beaming at us. Instead of wearing a typical business suit, the woman was dressed like a cowgirl, from her pink plaid shirt studded with pearl buttons to her tight white jeans to her white boots with silver tips. A saucer-size silver buckle studded with a dazzling array of pink and white rhinestones clung to her white leather belt, along with two white holsters, both of which contained an old-fashioned, pearl-handled revolver. Her long blond hair was done up in two thick braids that trailed down her chest, and her eyes were a light, pretty green. The only thing she was missing was a white Stetson on her head. Oh, wait. There it was, hooked on an antler on another stuffed moose head close to the desk.
“Roxanne Wyatt, at your service, but y’all can call me Roxy,” she chirped, her voice dripping with folksy charm. “Everyone round here does.”
Finn stepped forward and shook her hand. “Roxy, pleased to meet you. These are my friends Bria Coolidge, Owen Grayson, and Gin Blanco.”
Roxy came around the desk and walked down the line of us, nodding and shaking our hands. I was last, and she smiled and reached for my hand.
I felt her Fire magic the second her fingers touched mine.
Her hand was pleasantly warm, but I could sense the hotter, elemental magic that lay just below the surface of her skin. Roxy started to drop my hand, but I wrapped my free hand around both of our joined ones and gave hers another long, vigorous shake, trying to determine exactly how much power she had.
I didn’t sense an explosive, deadly burn, one that could incinerate you on the spot, not like I had with Mab Monroe and Harley Grimes, two other Fire elementals that I’d battled. Oh, Roxy could still light someone up and toast them alive with her magic, but it would take her a while. Her Fire power was moderate, at best.
Roxy gave me a strange look, and I flashed her a smile and finally dropped her hand.
She stared at me a second longer, then gestured over at a large wooden cabinet adorned with bone handles. “Can I offer y’all a drink? You must be thirsty after driving down from Ashland. Water, tea, coffee, something stronger?”
We all asked for waters, and Roxy passed out the bottles before telling us to make ourselves comfortable on the leather sofas.
Roxy plopped down in her desk chair again, cracked open her own water, and took a long swig before setting it aside and looking at Finn. “I was very sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. Please accept my heartfelt condolences on your tragic loss.”
I snorted. Roxy gave me a sideways look, but Finn leaned forward on the sofa, blocking her view of me, and cranked up the wattage on his smile.
“Thank you,” he said. “How well did you know Deirdre?”
Roxy leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers together over her sparkly belt buckle. “Well, Ms. Shaw hired me as the new resort manager about two months ago. I only ever actually met her in person a few times, although I emailed with her frequently about resort matters.”
Finn nodded. “My mother told me that she owned the hotel and theme park, but I have to say that I was surprised to get the deed in the mail. And so quickly.”
“Yes, well, Ms. Shaw called me up about a week before her, um, passing and told me that she was changing her will and leaving you the whole kit and caboodle.” Roxy held her hands out wide. “I want to honor her wishes to the fullest, especially in death.”
“I appreciate that,” Finn murmured.
Roxy gestured at several neat stacks of papers on her desk. “I’ve prepared some information about the hotel and theme park for you, if you’d like to review it now. Or maybe a quick tour of the hotel first? I’ve got to go get ready for the high-noon show soon, but I could show you around for a few minutes right now.”
“Actually, I’d like to see my mother’s room,” Finn said in a smooth voice. “Deirdre told me that there was a suite set aside for her personal use. I’d like to go through it and see her personal effects. And, of course, I’ll be boxing those up and taking them with me when we leave.”
Finn sold it well, and it sounded like a perfectly innocent request from a grieving son, instead of the plan we’d worked out to get access to Deirdre’s suite without attracting any unwanted attention. Finn might own the resort, but this was still new, uncharted territory, and we needed to tread lightly until we knew exactly whom we were dealing with.
Roxy blinked, as if she hadn’t expected Finn to ask for that right off the bat, and for a split second something almost like satisfaction flashed in her green gaze. My eyes narrowed. Why would she be so interested in our looking at Deirdre’s suite?
But the emotion vanished, and she smiled again, her white teeth gleaming almost as big and bright as the rhinestones on her fancy belt buckle. “Sure thing. Just let me text Ira. He has the keys to all of the hotel’s private areas, including Deirdre’s suite. He should have time to show you where it is before he announces the high-noon show.”
She pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and sent a text.
“Who’s Ira?” Bria asked.
Roxy hesitated and wet her lips, as if what she was about to say made her uncomfortable. “Ira Morris was the resort manager before me.”
“Before you?” Owen asked. “And he still works here?”
“You might say that Ira is rather . . . attached to the place. He’s been here for years and is quite the character. Why, I imagine that one day the old codger will drop dead in the middle of the theme park with his boots on.” She let out a laugh, but a harsh, mocking undercurrent rippled through the sound.
“But if this Ira guy cares about the resort so much, then why did Deirdre hire you as the new manager?” Bria asked.
Roxy shrugged. “With the economy the way it’s been the past few years, the hotel and theme park haven’t been doing so well. People have been cutting back, and vacations are often the first things to go when folks are trying to save money. One of the reasons that Ms. Shaw decided to remodel the hotel and turn it into a luxury resort was to attract higher income folks, people who can still afford to spend money on trips, spa services, gourmet food, and the like.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Finn said.
Roxy nodded. “Plus, poor Ira is a bit . . . old-school, shall we say, when it comes to things like marketing and publicity and getting folks to come to Bullet Pointe. He thinks that just putting up billboards along the interstates is advertising eno
ugh, but that just doesn’t cut it in this day and age.” She shook her head. “Ira did the best he could, bless his heart. But Ms. Shaw thought that it was time for some new ideas, new leadership, so that’s why she brought me in.”
Bless his heart? Well, that was the classic Southern insult and put-down. Roxy’s voice practically dripped with sympathy, but I could hear what she wasn’t saying. Ira hadn’t been making enough money for Deirdre’s liking, so she’d demoted him.
“Anyway,” Roxy continued, “if y’all will follow me, I’ll take you down to the lobby and show you where Ira’s office is.”
We all got to our feet. Roxy grabbed her white Stetson and plopped it on top of her head, completing her cowgirl outfit. She gave us all another bright smile and stepped out into the hallway. The others followed her, but I trailed behind, glancing around her office again. I realized something—the window beside her desk overlooked the main hotel entrance.
I went over, pulled back the white curtain, and glanced down. Sure enough, it was the same window and twitching curtain that I’d noticed from down on the ground. Hmm. Perhaps I hadn’t imagined my earlier watcher after all. It made sense that Roxy would have been up here keeping an eye out for Finn, since he was her new boss and she probably wanted to keep her job. Still, the simple explanation didn’t make me feel any better, and that uneasy dread once again bubbled up in my stomach.
“Gin!” Finn called out from the hallway. “Let’s go!”
I could do nothing at the moment to ease my worry, so I let the curtain drop back into place and left the office.
* * *
My friends and I crowded into the elevator with Roxy and rode down to the lobby. Roxy chattered on the whole time about the hotel, the theme park, and the surrounding lake, spouting out so many facts and figures that my eyes quickly glazed over. Finn paid rapt attention, soaking up every single word she said, but I wasn’t so enamored of our hostess. By the time the elevators doors opened less than a minute later, I was seriously considering snatching that white Stetson off her head and shoving the hat into her mouth just to get her to be quiet.
Owen noticed my annoyed expression and grinned and nudged me with his elbow. I rolled my eyes and shrugged at him.
“Of course y’all have seen the lobby already,” Roxy said, stepping out of the elevator. “We have a fully stocked bar here, as well as lots of places where folks can sit and enjoy the decorations, along with the view.”
She gestured at the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the back wall of the lobby. Through the glass, I spotted several paved paths that curved from the hotel down the hill to the theme park below. Neon lights flashed on a variety of rides, including several carousels, a couple of small roller coasters, and the dreaded swing ride that had made me puke my guts out way back when, as Finn had so gleefully reminded me. But the centerpiece of the park was a wide street with wooden storefronts and sidewalks, fashioned to look like something right out of the Old West, although I couldn’t make out all the details from this height.
In the distance, off to the far west side of the park, the surface of Bullet Pointe Lake shimmered and rippled under the steady breeze. A large wooden dock stretched out like a finger into the lake, pointing to the dense woods on the opposite shore. Sleek, modern boats lined either side of the dock, along with a few canoes and kayaks. All the vessels bobbed up and down on the choppy waves, but no one was out on the lake, given how cold it was.
“And of course, our world-class spa is also located on this level,” Roxy chirped again, pointing to a hallway that branched off the left side of the lobby. She looked at Bria and me. “Ladies, feel free to take advantage of any services and packages you like. I made you both standing reservations, so all you have to do is call down and let the spa folks know that you’re coming.”
“Oh, Gin definitely needs a seaweed wrap and some cucumber slices,” Finn said. “At the very least. Maybe that’ll get her to loosen up and relax this weekend.”
Bria and Owen both snickered, while Roxy plastered a neutral smile on her face, not getting his joke. I glared at Finn, but he’d already stuck his hands in his pants pockets and was whistling as he strode away.
Roxy spouted off a few more facts about the hotel’s amenities, and eventually we wound up in the center of the lobby, close to the wooden display case that talked about Sweet Sally Sue and her legendary jewels.
“The treasure hunt seems like a great promotional tool,” Finn said, eyeing the couple who were staring down into the case and using their phones to snap photos of the empty jewelry settings.
Roxy nodded. “Oh, yeah. Attendance at the park and hotel has gone up by ten percent since the treasure hunt started two months ago. It was a brilliant idea on Ms. Shaw’s part.”
“Has anyone actually found the gems yet?” Bria asked.
“Actually, about the treasure hunt . . .” Roxy’s face scrunched up, and she glanced around, as though she didn’t want to be overheard, before focusing on Finn again. “The contest was Ms. Shaw’s idea, and she took care of everything, including hiding the jewels. She didn’t happen to tell you exactly where in the park she might have put them, did she?”
Finn frowned. “No. Why?”
Roxy cast another furtive glance around. “Well, no one else seems to know where they are. And believe me, we’ve looked for them. We’ve all looked for them.” Her voice dropped to a low mutter.
We? Who was we? And the way she said that made me think that Roxy had much more than just a casual interest in the hidden stones.
I studied her again, even more closely than I had up in her office, but I saw the same exact thing as before—someone who seemed to enthusiastically embrace the cowboy theme of Bullet Pointe and was desperately trying to please her new boss.
Still, something about her struck me as inherently fake, like all those shiny rhinestones on her belt buckle. Like my friends and I were just another group of tourists and she was wearing her cowgirl costume and persona and putting on a show just for our benefit. I’d been fooled by Hugh Tucker, thinking that he was nothing more than Deirdre’s lowly personal assistant. I wasn’t going to be fooled again. I’d definitely be keeping an eye on Roxy Wyatt.
“Well, I’m sorry, but Deirdre didn’t tell me anything about the treasure hunt or where she might have hidden the jewels.” Finn winked at Roxy. “If she had, I would already be down in the park, getting them for myself.”
He let out a big belly laugh, which Roxy returned with a giggle of her own, one that was a little too high-pitched and went on far too long to be genuine. Oh, yeah. She was definitely someone to watch.
Roxy glanced at her watch. “Aw, shoot. I’d love to show you guys around some more, but I really do have to get down to the park for the high-noon show. Y’all should come down and check it out. It’s the highlight of the day for the guests and everyone who works in the theme park.”
“Sure,” Finn said. “I was planning on it. We’ll be there. Sounds like fun.”
She flashed him another smile. “Great. Is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime?”
“I still need the key to Deirdre’s suite,” he reminded her.
“Of course. If y’all will go down that hallway all the way to the very end, you’ll see Ira’s office tucked away in the back corner.” Roxy pointed to a hallway that curved around the right side of the lobby. “I’ll see you down at the show. Y’all take care now, ya hear?”
She tipped her white Stetson at us, hooked her thumbs into her jean pockets, and then turned and sauntered away. Seriously, she sauntered, walking with a slow, easy gait as though she were a real cowgirl out for a casual stroll.
“That woman is definitely up to something,” I said.
My friends stared at me.
“Why would you say that?” Owen asked.
“Because no one is that naturally cheerful.”
�
�She probably just wants to keep her job,” Bria said. “I’d be nice to the new boss too, if I were in her shoes, er, boots.”
I looked at Finn, expecting him to agree with the others, but his lips were puckered in thought.
“I’m going to have to go with Gin on this one,” he said. “Roxy was nice, but she wasn’t tripping all over herself, and she didn’t do nearly enough ass-kissing if she was truly concerned about keeping her job. Foxy Roxy is not all that she seems.”
Bria crossed her arms over her chest. “Foxy Roxy? Really?”
“Well, yeah. Did you not see that cowgirl getup she was wearing? And she was wearing it really well.”
Bria glowered at him, but Finn plowed on ahead the way he always did.
“You know, while we’re here, we should get you an outfit like that,” he said in a suave tone.
She smiled sweetly at him. “I am not a cowgirl—I’m the sheriff in this here town. And why don’t we get you an outfit instead? Why, you could dress up like a saloon girl. I think that would be the perfect look for you.”
Finn grinned. “Only if you agree to slap me around with the long arm of the law, Sheriff.”
“You wish.”
“You bet I do.” His grin widened, and he batted his eyes at her. “And I would totally dress up like a saloon girl. Anything for you, Sheriff.”
Bria huffed and jabbed her elbow into his side, but Finn slung his arm around her shoulder, bent down, and whispered something in her ear that made her blush. Owen blanched and shook his head, as if trying to banish the thought of the two of them playing dress-up. Yeah, me too.
Finn and Bria headed toward the hallway to find Ira Morris, with Owen following them. I started in that direction as well, but a group of people chose that exact moment to cross the lobby, separating me from my friends.
Hugh Tucker was one of them.
8
I did a double take.
Black hair, black eyes, black goatee, tall, lean frame, expensive suit. It was the vampire all right, looking exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him at the shipping yard the night he’d kidnapped me. Tucker moved past me in an instant, in the middle of the crowd, but I was sure that it was him.
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