by Jodie Bailey
Two officers on bikes zoomed on the right sidewalk in their direction. “No need.”
He slowed the boat and stood, waving his arms to get the officers’ attention. As they looked up, he anchored the boat to the side. It wasn’t an official docking point, but it would serve his purpose.
The officer to the right turned his attention to the woman cradling her ankle. “Did you call about someone chasing you?”
“Yes! And one man had a knife. If this garbageman hadn’t pulled over—”
Garbageman? Matt almost objected aloud. He was the director of operations for one of the most successful hotels in the area.
The River Walk had its own cleanup crew and barges, but the hotel owned one to clean up their private nook, closest to its property. They needed the barge to haul the bags from the trash receptacles placed strategically around the grotto. It was especially useful after a conference or party, when litter inevitably made its way into the water. Matt hadn’t wanted to wait for the usual waste-management rounds.
He glanced down at the overalls. He supposed it did look like he was a garbageman. But it was technically his day off, and since Louis had called in sick, Matt didn’t mind filling in for his job. He always did what was best for the hotel. That, and since he had worked his way up to director, Matt had filled in for almost every position. And more important, he’d yet to train a substitute for Louis. Besides, what would he do with a day off? His family would arrive in a couple of days, and he wanted the hotel to look top-notch.
He had been testing the front-desk staff on new efficient task-management strategies earlier that day, which made it extra tempting to unzip the overalls to show he wore a dress shirt and trousers underneath.
The woman stood up and gave her account of the men chasing her. Her animated expression complemented her wide hand gestures. Her brown hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders. The sides were pulled up by a clip, and thick bangs hung down over her eyebrows, the same way...
Matt felt his eyebrows rise. She looked just like Isabelle Barrows, his best friend for seven years in high school. That was, until he’d acted like an idiot. Her dad’s post had moved across the country before they had a chance to reconcile.
But could it really be her? She wore tan dress pants and a white button-up blouse. Not something the Isabelle he knew would wear, but it’d been...what? Eight years? People changed, grew up, in that kind of time. He certainly had.
Before prom, all those years ago, Isabelle had confided an interest in Randy, the star quarterback. Instead of being a good friend, jealousy had reared up. Matt had warned Randy to stay away from Isabelle. But Matt hadn’t stopped there, no. He’d proceeded to list all the reasons dating Isabelle would be a bad idea.
He’d never forget the moment Randy pointed over his shoulder. He turned around and saw Isabelle’s wounded expression. The look of betrayal on her face had morphed into rage, and he never had a chance to explain he’d done it all because he liked her as more than a friend. Matt sighed, reliving the moment. What he’d done had been immature and wrong, but he’d been a kid. He was a different person now.
He turned off the idling motor. The breeze carried her voice, this time unencumbered. Yes, he definitely recognized her now.
The officer nodded. “Okay. Sounds like an attempted mugging. Maybe they saw you earlier take something out of your bag that looked valuable.”
She frowned. “Maybe.”
“We will keep a lookout for them, ma’am. In the meantime, I recommend you stay with other conference attendees.” The officer looked over her head at Matt. “Can you drop her off at her hotel?”
Matt shrugged. “Sure. Where are you staying, Izzy?”
She turned her head around so fast he feared for her neck. Her eyes widened as her gaze connected with his. If he’d seen those eyes at first glance, the color of the deep blue sea, he’d have known immediately. He remembered staring into them while they talked for hours about everything and simultaneously nothing. She could make ironing sound interesting, discussing the cultural impacts the introduction of the iron made on society.
He smirked at the thought. “Hi, Isabelle.”
Her rosy lips parted. “Matthew?”
No one, not even his mother, called him by his full name. Only his tax forms and driver’s license labeled him as such. He had told everyone he much preferred to go by the shorter version, but he’d never told Isabelle. Truthfully, he liked the way she said it. Maybe because it made him feel like they had a special bond.
He blinked away the nonsensical thought as her expression shifted from surprise to hurt. His shoulders dropped. Great. She was remembering the incident.
She recovered quickly, though, as she pulled her shoulders back and smiled. “Wow. Matt.” She nodded, as if processing.
The officer looked between the two of them. “So you know each other? Good. We have your number if we need to get in touch, Miss Barrows. Stay safe.”
Matt made note of the fact she was called “Miss.” Not married yet, then.
Isabelle looked at him with fresh eyes. “Wow. Matt.”
“I’m not a garbageman,” he said, waving at the outfit. “I—”
Her eyes widened, and she raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh. I’m sorry. Garbage person? No, garbage... Waste-management professional?”
He laughed. Same Isabelle, always quick to fix things. “No, I meant I’m director of operations at The Grand River Walk. Where are you staying?”
She told him, and he frowned. “We can’t get there by barge. Let me park this at my hotel, and I’ll take you where you need to go.”
Confusion clouded her features, but she pressed her lips together and nodded. Maybe she didn’t believe him? He tried not to think about it. “Hold on.” He waved at a bar she could hold on to instead of sitting on the barge again.
It didn’t take long to park in the small dock underneath the hotel’s little cove. Isabelle stiffened at the dark atmosphere. “You’re safe now,” he said. He couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through. Though he didn’t really have that much time to start what could be a lengthy conversation. He’d do what he promised, though, and maybe even plan on grabbing a coffee with her sometime.
She followed him silently as he waved the magnetic strip on his badge to open the employee entrance. He escorted her through the glistening hallway to the front desk. “Ask Miranda to get you a hard copy of a map. She’ll show you the safest routes to walk back to your hotel, for future reference.” He placed a hand on her arm. “I’m going to change real quick.”
She nodded mutely. Maybe she was going into shock? He darted into the employee locker room and quickly removed the overalls. From his locker, he pulled out a suit coat and an azure tie.
Not wanting to keep her waiting, Matt strode confidently into the marbled lobby. He smiled expectantly, ready to impress Isabelle, but he spotted only a tourist on one of the couches. “Miranda? I sent a woman here for a map.”
“Oh, yes. I showed her how to get to the Adobe Suites. She left a couple of minutes ago.”
“She wh—” Matt groaned. Could it be she didn’t want to be near him for another second? Although, in his haste, he supposed he hadn’t made it clear he planned to escort her back to her hotel. What kind of jerk did she think he was? “Could you pass me another map? Show me what route you told her.”
Miranda handed it over. The Adobe, one of the cheapest hotels in the area, wasn’t located in what was considered the tourist zone. She’d have to walk through a relatively sketchy area to get to it.
Would she be safe?
Copyright © 2017 by Heather Humrichouse
ISBN-13: 9781488019159
Calculated Vendetta
Copyright © 2017 by Jodie Bailey
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