Blood in the Water

by Cleo Peitsche

  The storm was going to be nasty, and Monroe didn’t need to be on a boat. She was tired of it anyway, and he couldn’t blame her.

  He inhaled. He smelled Darius, faintly, but nothing of Victoria.

  It had been almost two days since his run-in with them. A quick phone call the previous afternoon had revealed that the judges were still weighing appropriate punishments for Victoria, and for Darius as well.

  He’d also learned that Victoria wasn’t even allowed to leave until her punishment was settled.

  Darius was motivated to make this go away. It might also be a trap, but it might not. Monroe was right. It was worth a try.

  Jaw set firmly, he crossed the parking lot and walked into Darius’s office. There wasn’t anyone there—Koenraad could smell that immediately—but the scene gave him a feeling of déjà vu. These were the circumstances under which he’d accidentally seen the file on Bamboo Menendez, the shifter who had kidnapped Monroe.

  Rather than go look for Darius elsewhere, Koenraad decided to help himself to the files on the desk. There was nothing useful there. Then he took a stroll down the hallway, poking his head into various rooms.

  He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. Proof that Darius knew more about the sick in the water than he was letting on, perhaps. Evidence of a grand conspiracy? If it existed, it wasn’t going to be conveniently spelled out in a note.

  Koenraad couldn’t get too disappointed about it. In the grand scheme of things, the sick wasn’t the most pressing problem on his plate. He left the office.

  He supposed he’d find Darius deeper in the compound. Walking past the familiar buildings filled Koenraad with anger. So much had happened here. In one short night, he’d learned that his years of service counted for nothing.

  He caught Darius’s scent and tracked the shifter to a lounge on the top floor of the library. There was a dolphin shifter there as well, sitting near the window.

  Darius sat up a little straighter as Koenraad approached.

  “I’ve been thinking about your offer,” Koenraad said.

  Darius nodded, but his gaze flickered to the dolphin. “Clint, could you finish that up somewhere else?”

  The dolphin surged to his feet, gathered his papers and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Darius motioned for Koenraad to sit. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Koenraad decided he’d feel more comfortable on his feet.

  “I suppose that’s my fault,” Darius said when Koenraad didn’t sit. “You have to understand that we were trying to lock you up for your own good.”

  “That’s not what I’m here about.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have come down here simply to tell me to take my offer and shove it,” Darius said with a smile.

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because you have my word. If you agree to talk to Kendra, Victoria will leave for Brazil as soon as the other judges give permission. There’s no reason for her to return to Tureygua.”

  “I’m less interested in her reasons and more concerned with the safety of my mate. Your word means nothing if Victoria does something irreversible.”

  Darius nodded. “Of course. You’re right to be distrustful of us.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “She’ll be meeting me at my office in about fifteen minutes. You can ask her yourself.”

  “I’ll do that,” Koenraad said. He turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Darius called out. But Koenraad didn’t answer. He couldn’t stand to be alone in the room with Darius a moment longer, and he regretted not ripping the bastard’s throat out when he’d had the chance.

  If only he’d known Victoria would show up. He could have killed them both, one after the other.

  All his problems would have been solved. Funny how simple it was now.

  And how simple it could be again. All he needed was an opportunity.

  Maybe he needed to create that opportunity himself.

  Rather than wait inside Darius’s office, Koenraad sat near one of the compound’s exits. The position would allow him to watch Victoria for several moments before she saw him. Maybe he’d get a clue as to her true feelings, some indication that she was or wasn’t scheming.

  The minutes ticked by. Koenraad wondered how Monroe was doing, if she’d been able to reach her mother on the phone. The matter of her previous life needed to be solved, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything.

  He’d already covered the rent on her New York apartment for the next six months, which was far more time than they would need to clear it out. But what about after that? Where would they settle, long term? What would she want to do as a career?

  They hadn’t talked about it, and Koenraad knew that wasn’t an accident.

  A police cruiser pulled into the lot and parked in front of Darius’s office. Two uniformed officers got out, leaving the engine running.

  They were humans.

  They knocked at the door.

  When no one answered, they had a conversation that Koenraad couldn’t quite hear because he was too far away. All he caught was shark.

  Already a bitter feeling was washing over his tongue. As far as humans were aware, this was a center for research.

  Policemen came out here for one reason only.

  He jogged over, catching up with the officers as they were heading back toward their car.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re looking for Darius,” the younger of the men said. He had bushy red hair and splotchy freckles.

  “He’s busy at the moment, but I work here.” A lie, but a minor one; Koenraad had put in plenty of hours over the last couple of years.

  “There was a shark attack at Eden Underwater,” the older officer said, a question in his voice. “Never worked one of these, but I was told to get a…”

  “A marine incident slip. Do you have your report written?”

  “More or less,” the younger officer said. “As much as we’ll get done until the storm passes, in any event.” He opened the cruiser door and pulled out a folder. He seemed not to want to hand it over.

  “Is there a problem?”

  The officer cleared his throat. “I don’t have a copy for our records,” he said. “I’d hate to start from scratch.”

  “We’ll take care of that,” Koenraad said confidently. “We’ll file the whole thing, actually. You don’t need to do anything.” He was gambling on the officers not being sure of the correct procedure, and it paid off. The man handed over the folder.

  “Take care,” Koenraad said.

  He didn’t even wait until they were in the car before he ducked into the office.

  There was a bathroom toward the rear, and he headed right for it. Even as he locked the door, he kept telling himself that it was a coincidence; just because he’d last found traces of Brady near the reef didn’t mean there was a connection.

  After all, sharks attacked swimmers where they were in the water, and swimmers tended to congregate at the reefs.

  The report was only a third completed, but it was enough. The swimmer had lost a leg and had been pulled onto the boat while unconscious. He’d been in a coma before surgery started.

  The attack had taken place two hours earlier.

  If all this shit hadn’t happened, if the fake murder charges hadn’t been brought, Koenraad would still have been patrolling Tureygua’s coasts and the attack might have been prevented.

  But was it Brady? It had been two days. Brady could be a hundred miles away by now.

  Koenraad scoured the report, looking for clues. The witnesses hadn’t given much detail. That a shark had attacked the man was clear. Multiple people had seen it happen. As far as the police were concerned, that was more than enough information.

  Closing up the folder, Koenraad debated what to do next. Shark attacks were rare; there hadn’t been a serious one on the island in quite some time.

  Except for when Brad
y attacked Monroe.

  In Brady’s defense, he hadn’t actually been at Eden Underwater while Koenraad was there, and Brady surely would have been avoiding him, so Koenraad found it unlikely that his son would return there.

  It couldn’t have been Brady.

  Koenraad took a deep, calming breath and ran his fingers through his hair. The last few weeks had done a real number on his sanity.

  After dropping the report on the desk, he headed back outside.

  Victoria was walking toward him. She smiled wearily. “What do you want?”

  Koenraad had seen Victoria in a lot of different situations, but he’d never seen her look defeated before. Eying her skeptically, he said, “I thought we should talk about the deal your uncle offered.”

  A flash of anger passed through her eyes, then it was gone. She jerked her hand impatiently. “So talk.”

  “You’ll go back to Brazil, leave me alone.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And you’ll leave my mate alone?”

  Her head snapped up. “You are so fucking stupid. But yes, I’ll leave that pathetic creature alone. You know how I found your secret hideaway? I smelled you on her, and I followed you. She’s stupid and blind, but what’s your excuse?”

  Koenraad ignored her outburst. “And you won’t come back?”

  “What fucking reason would I have to come back here?”

  Koenraad could have pointed out that she hadn’t needed a reason before, but he’d gotten what he wanted. He didn’t believe her when she said she wouldn’t come back, but at least he knew what he was dealing with. He wondered what else had happened to make her act like this.

  Darius came strolling down the path toward them.

  “We have a deal,” Koenraad said.

  “I thought we might,” Darius said with a tight little smile.

  “I’m warning you. If either of you crosses me—”

  “No one is going to cross anyone,” Darius said. “Go on, now.”

  Koenraad jabbed his thumb at the closed office door. “The cops dropped off a report—shark attack—earlier today,” he said as he walked past Darius.

  “Another one?” Darius murmured.

  “Excuse me?” Koenraad swiveled to face the shifter.

  “It’s the second one this week. We’re keeping it quiet. Things are already strange enough.”

  “Keeping it quiet? In other words, there’s a killer in the water, and instead of alerting people, you’re hushing it up?”

  “Hindsight is always 20/20,” Darius said. He wasn’t the least bit upset. “It’s probably a shark getting desperate. All the shifters here, helping with the contaminant in the water… It’s not easy on the local wildlife. But the shifters are all leaving in the next few days, and I’ll deal with the animal then.”

  Heart pounding, Koenraad followed Darius into his office. He was vaguely aware of Victoria behind him, but she kept her distance, which Koenraad appreciated greatly.

  “I want to see the first report,” he said.

  “Why?” Victoria asked, mocking. “You’re done with us.”

  “I patrolled these waters. Believe it or not, I care.” Koenraad didn’t wait for Darius to give him permission; he knew where the files were kept.

  But as he reached for the drawer, Darius stepped into the way. “I’ll get it,” he said.

  That set off alarms. Darius wasn’t the type to get anything himself, not if there was someone around to do it for him.

  The office was quiet as Darius pawed through the files. Finally he took one out and handed it over.

  Koenraad opened the report. Unlike the one he’d gotten, this one was completely filled out.

  The attack had happened on a remote beach that had been okayed for swimming. One of the locals had been there at dawn, trying to catch some waves before going to work.

  The shark had taken a chunk out of the surfer’s calf. There was a photo. One glance at the bite marks and Koenraad was pretty sure it had been inflicted by a great white. Not a large one.

  He clamped down on his emotions. Whatever Darius and Victoria noticed would be ascribed to anger. He hoped.

  Darius had sent out three shifters but they hadn’t found a trace of the attacker. The surfer himself had been questioned, but he had very little recollection of the attack itself.

  There were other photos of the surfer, a smiling, dark-skinned man who sported a mohawk, the tips bleached and dyed light blue.

  On the last page was an update: the surgeons hadn’t even needed to amputate. So it was a bite, but not one intended to be fatal; a human on a surfboard would be dead if the shark wanted him dead.

  Koenraad was disgusted that he felt relief at that. An attack was an attack. If it was the same shark, he’d certainly stepped things up.

  If it was Brady…

  Koenraad shoved the thought out of his mind as he handed the file back to Darius. Victoria intercepted it.

  “Your curiosity satisfied?” Darius asked, amused.

  Furious, Koenraad jabbed his finger at the older shifter. “You need to warn people.”

  “Oh, the second one will be on the news,” Darius said. “All those tourists as witnesses? We won’t need to do anything.”

  Disgusted, Koenraad headed back outside.

  The sky wasn’t much different from when he’d first arrived at the compound, but he could feel the pressure dropping. He was willing to bet that even the meteorologists would be changing their forecasts before the hour was out.

  If he wanted to investigate the scene of the attack before the storm hit, he needed to get moving.

  Chapter 8

  The house smelled musty. There was no doubt about it.

  Monroe walked from room to room, opening windows, turning on lights, pulling dust-covered plastic off the furniture.

  The place was larger than she’d guessed when she first saw it, but it still wasn’t huge. Definitely a tight fit for four adults, though if the bodyguards continued to insist on staying outside, it might not be a problem after all.

  She found some clean rags and a bucket under the kitchen sink, as well as a bottle of dish soap. Dedicated cleaning products would have been preferable, but she’d work with what she had.

  The inside of the refrigerator was clean, though the stale odor of plastic burned her nose. She wiped down the interior, then found the cord behind it and plugged it into the wall. It came to life with a low hum.

  She washed the ice cube trays and filled them with water before setting them in the freezer.

  Next she turned her attention to the cupboards.

  Not a bite of food, just as Koenraad had warned her, but at least there were plenty of dishes and pans. Everything had been well protected by the cupboards, but she rinsed anything that would be used for cooking or eating, just because.

  It took her a good thirty minutes to get the kitchen clean enough for her standards.

  One room down, three to go.

  Three ended up being four. There were two bathrooms; she’d missed the smaller one on her first pass because she’d thought it was a closet. It was tiny, more like someone had installed a toilet and a sink into a broom closet. There wasn’t even a mirror.

  She wiped away the dust and noted the lack of towels and toilet paper.

  After attacking the larger bathroom, she’d had just about enough. Really, did it matter if there was a layer of dust on the window ledges?

  But the bedding needed washing. Sure, it was clean and folded neatly, but it was a little stale. One problem, though: no detergent in the laundry closet.

  So instead she vacuumed, then took a quick shower. To dry herself off, she used a cleanish towel that had come from the yacht with their other stuff.

  After brushing her damp hair into a ponytail, she found the Tureyguan guilders Koenraad had stuffed in her suitcase. Her phone had a semi-reliable signal but wasn’t getting internet, so she dropped it into her purse, thinking she’d check her messages while she ran errands.
/>   Three seconds after she opened the front door, the bodyguards were there, about fifteen feet away. They looked at her attentively, their large pupils almost indistinguishable from their dark irises.

  It was kinda creepy.

  “I need to go into town to buy some things,” she said uncertainly.

  “We’ll drive you,” the older one said. He’d been chewing on the end of a stick, and he lobbed it into the bushes.

  She followed them to a pickup truck, the kind with a full back seat even though it only had two doors. With its oversized, knobby tires, it was the sort of vehicle she associated with Montana ranches, not Caribbean islands.

  One of the bodyguards got into the back. Monroe sat in the front, the purse in her lap.

  The road was even bumpier than she’d remembered, and she had to fold her arms over her chest to stop her breasts from bouncing painfully. When they finally reached paved road, she heaved a sigh of relief.

  She tried to call her mother again but only got voicemail.

  “How did you fellas get into the bodyguard thing?” she asked. “Are you ex-military?”

  “Family business,” the driver said.

  She twisted to address the man in the back. “And you?”

  “Family business.”

  She looked from one to the other. Now that she thought about it, they did look awfully alike other than having two completely different skin tones and hair colors.

  “You’re related?” she asked.

  “Brothers,” said the driver. He wasn’t rude, but he acted like words were expensive and he didn’t want to overdraw his account.

  Monroe sighed.

  “You have to understand, ma’am,” the man in the back said, “that we need to stay alert. No disrespect intended.”

  “Of course,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm. All her other questions—how long they’d been hired for, if there would be other bodyguards and if they worked in shifts, if they would skedaddle when Koenraad was around—would have to remain unanswered. For the time being; she wasn’t ready to concede total defeat.

  When they neared town, the driver asked her where she wanted to go.

  “A big grocery store,” she said. “Or a small one. I just need staples, I guess. Not the office supplies…” she said with a laugh that no one shared.