Sunset Flare

by Shannyn Leah

  What the hell had gone wrong?

  One tap, two, then a rapid number of unsteady drumming followed, as if the action would wiggle a loose wire back into place and his failed surveillance would resume its live streaming.

  Instinct over expectations.

  Rapping the screen was pointless. But, there he stood, hunched over the desk, giving his finger a workout while completely baffled at the broken connection. His mind raced to figure out what had gone wrong from the time he’d confirmed the crystal clear visual to the less than half hour it took him to mount the other cameras.

  Crystal clear. And now, nothing.

  Sitting down, he rolled the office chair closer to the desk, tucking himself underneath. He scrubbed frustrated hands over his face, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling deeply.

  Shit. He didn’t have time for this right now.

  Cursing his bad luck, he initiated a search to determine the setback. Suddenly being dragged to The Caliendo Resort to assist in decoding ancient files from a well-known Italian mafia family seemed like the least of his worries. If these cameras weren’t up and running, he might as well put a bullseye over his chest because he would be a walking target.

  The thick woods surrounding the resort worked as a veil, hiding Gunner, but also concealed those who didn’t want to be seen, people who could wander from the woods and aim the scope of their gun directly on him. Anton might have promised this family had no ties with the Caliendo mob in Italy, but Gunner knew words didn’t guarantee shit. Countries apart didn’t change the fact they all shared the same last name.

  He trusted Anton with his life, but the deception of Gunner’s past left him broken and wary. Hell, it left him untrusting, bitter and full of rage, too. And these Caliendos weren’t living a reserved, quiet life out of the spotlight, either. Quite the opposite. They’d made a name for themselves owning a chain of luxury resorts, which brought a slew of attention in their direction. For all Gunner, or they, knew, they had a target on their backs, too.

  Anton claimed he’d taken control, but his nephews were as malicious as their dead father. Under no circumstances would Gunner stay here without surveillance.

  Eyes fixated on the hazy screen, he slammed his fists on the desk. “Damn it!”

  Any moment now Anton would be pounding on the suite door demanding his presence at the unnecessary meeting a meeting Gunner had made clear he wouldn’t be attending. Remaining at a distance from the Caliendo clan was in his best interests and putting up surveillance better suited his time and survival.

  Distance and cameras would keep him alive. Not meetings about codes he already knew how to decode or about liabilities he already understood.

  Rewinding the short recorded footage, he discovered exactly what—or who—had broken the connection.

  He immediately recognized the youngest Caliendo sibling.

  His hands balled into fists watching the notoriously hot-headed Izzy Caliendo walk straight to his camera and raise a baseball bat to the screen before it vaporized into gray. Her flawlessly styled waves of blonde hair sprinkled down her ivory-colored skin, and even through the camera her brown eyes were the deepest, most alluring gems he’d ever encountered. After extensively researching the entire family in preparation of this week, plus a search for any signs of mafia connections, the vision of this woman had stuck in his head...like a blood-sucking leech.

  Filthy rich, pampered, and spoiled, she displayed her life like a reality television show. Her social media outlets were flooded with tweets and hashtags of the bars she hit up, the endless parties she attended and the random trips around the world she enjoyed in her family’s chartered plane. Not to mention the endless pictures of her daily attire, meal choices and narcissistic selfies. She thrived on attention.

  Gunner loathed women like her, knew women like her, and didn’t want a thing to do with her kind.

  His teeth grated tighter together watching Izzy carelessly eliminate each camera.

  He could strangle her. Or spill a drink on her perfectly pressed, white blouse. Ruining her shirt might rouse more of a reaction from her.

  Pushing away from the desk, he groaned and cursed at the same time. He stood, knocking the chair over with a clatter.

  The cameras were destroyed. Now what? Find the local electronics store and pick up a whole new camera system? What were the odds any store in Willow Valley carried surveillance systems when everyone in this small tourist town likely knew each other? Or, at the very least, simply relied on the local gossip chain for their updates.

  He was screwed.

  He might as well hit up the meeting now. What difference did it make? With no cameras, why not get nice and cozy with this family.

  Unless...was this a set up?

  His suspicion wasn’t unwarranted. He’d been set up before and it had landed him in jail with a target on his back. An expensive target which had involved inmates bringing weapons to his cell, and security guards turning their backs. He’d almost died. But Anton had saved him. He should trust him.

  Shit.

  He did trust him. Being cooped up in his cabin for so long had messed with his mind, but it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

  Abandoning the cameras, his only sense of security for the last few years, he exited the suite, and cringed at the sun glistening through the skylights across the smooth, clear water of the indoor pool.

  Who had an indoor tropical paradise in their backyard? The Caliendos, that’s who.

  He did an eye roll at the over-the-top rocks cascading down beside a slide and the jungle of foliage which disgusted him. He ignored the ginormous pool, and how enough loungers sat under the cabana to fit twenty-plus people. He certainly overlooked the top-of-the-line barbecue in the stone kitchen chalet. He’d always been a griller and that bad boy would grill up a delicious steak. He could almost taste the tender meat after an all-day marinade in his secret sauce.

  He’d been envisioning his quaint cabin porch, and realizing for the first time, that after this week, he could finally leave. It was surreal. He didn’t have to leave, but he wouldn’t be forced to stay either.

  All his somewhat positive thoughts stopped short at the sight of Izzy stepping around the boulder slide. Head down, not noticing him, she tapped manicured fingernails on her cell phone screen. White french nails matching her white chiffon, sleeveless blouse. His eyes dropped to where her teal shorts revealed damned sexy long, toned legs. His lack of control irritated him and he snapped his eyes back up to her face.

  “Hey! You!” His loud shout echoed off the brick walls.

  She looked up. A movie of emotions crossed her face—confusion, annoyance, shock and finally, anger. What the hell did she have to be angry about? She’d been the careless lunatic who’d destroyed his means of sleep. How the hell would he get through an hour without being able to rewind the outdoor activity?

  Picking up her pace, she pointed a finger at him. “How the hell did you get in here? This is a private wing of the resort and installing cameras is unacceptable!” She sternly shouted at him. “But that’s nothing in comparison to breaking and entering the premises. How did you get in here? And don’t lie to me you son of a bitch. I won’t tolerate lies.”

  They stopped at arm’s length away from each other, both huffing and angry as hell.

  “You smashed my cameras.” He barely got the words out before she continued shouting at him.

  “Prohibited cameras. You’re lucky I didn’t smash the area between your legs. God knows you deserve it.” She let out a humourless laugh. “You deserve so much more. Like handcuffs, arrest, and having to stand in front of a judge to confess your guilt.”

  His anger amplified with each condescending, know-it-all word that came out of her mouth. She’d probably never owned up to a single illegal thing she’d ever done. She deserved handcuffs. And a gag. A gag would come in handy right about now.

  “I’m calling security.” She waved her cell phone at him.
/>   “I am security.” Sort of. He was his own security.

  “You’ve breached security. I’m getting the name of your employer and, before you leave here, you’ll be without a job.” Her fingers worked away at the screen of her cell phone. “Prepare to go to jail, you criminal!”

  Jail? Never again. Even if the resort’s security showed up, he’d been paid a pretty penny to be here and by her brother to boot. Security wouldn’t be handcuffing him. If they tried he’d have them pinned to the floor before they laid a finger on him. He didn’t really feel like causing a scene, but she evoked the urge to strangle her.

  So, instead, he grabbed her cell phone from her busy fingers and tossed it in the pool.

  She gasped. He’d never seen eyes widen so round and shapely and beautifully shocked at the same time.

  What the hell was that?

  He needed to be thrown in the pool. Being away from society had confused his thoughts. Caliendos were the worst. Off limits. No feelings. No anything.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Each word passed by her open mouth in a painfully slow manner.

  Wasn’t it obvious? He had tossed her weapon into the pool. Point for him.

  He said nothing.

  “You threw my cell phone in the water.” Her sharp shriek rang in his ears. She looked up at him, and repeated, “You threw my cell phone in the water!”

  “You smashed my cameras and, let me tell you, they’re worth a helluva lot more than your little phone.”

  “Little phone? My life is on that phone.”

  “That’s just sad. You’re so self absorbed you think your entire life is on a little electronic box.”

  “Oh my god, but it is. Everything.” She paused. “Everything. I can’t believe this. I. Can’t. Believe. This.”

  “You can come back to reality where everything doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart. Do you understand the capacity of what you’ve done?”

  Her shocked stare fell on him. “Ruined your next viral story? Cost you money because now you owe cameras to whatever magazine or newspaper you’re writing for? Good. You deserve it. And now I’m going to have your ass on a platter for ruining my cell phone. You threw it in the water. You actually threw my phone in the water!”

  Gunner couldn’t say exactly what came over him in the next moment. It could have been spending the last few years alone or the fact this woman had the spitting attitude of his ex-wife, or it could just be because he didn’t really like her. At all. But his next move hadn’t been anticipated, or planned and, quite frankly, the only reason for doing so was for the sole intention of shutting her up. Lord, did she ever stop talking?

  Gunner reached out and pushed Izzy into the pool.

  Chapter Three

  BREAKING THE SURFACE of the water, Izzy gasped for air. Her nostrils burned, her chest stung, and her body stirred with fury. Inhaling short breaths and exhaling just as quickly, she sculled the water with her arms and pumped her feet, while her mind raced over what had just happened.

  He’d pushed her in.

  This trespassing stranger had not only thrown her phone into the water, breaking it beyond repair in the process, but he’d actually pushed her in, too! She couldn’t wrap her mind around the incident. If she hadn’t been treading in the deep end wearing clothes, she wouldn’t have believed it.

  She considered diving to the bottom of the pool to fetch her electronic lifeline, but didn’t trust the man hovering at the edge of the pool—watching her with grave brown eyes.

  Breathless in disbelief, with a wave of exhaustion rolling through her exerted body, Izzy pushed her shaking arms through the water to the shallow end to stand on unsteady legs. The water supported her while she dunked her head back, washing her hair away from her face, all the while keeping her eyes on the stranger casually strolling alongside the pool.

  When he reached the steps, she held her hand up to him. “You stay there.”

  He stopped, towering before her like a Grecian god, concrete arms folded over his wide torso, a tapered waist and legs spaced perfectly shoulder-width apart.

  Dominate. Powerful. Sexy.

  Stop it.

  Just as the scolding rang in her ear, she looked up to catch him smirking at her. Smirking! A devilishly handsome smirk for a man she wanted to skin alive.

  “I didn’t plan on joining you.” He glanced down at the front of her shirt. “It looks chilly.”

  Izzy sobered at his implication.

  The jerk was checking her out.

  She couldn’t decide if she felt repulsed or enticed by his apparent approval. She didn’t have to look at her top to know the sopping wet chiffon material was see-through. She made a mental note that next time, before rushing out of the house to yell at strangers, she should opt to slip on a bra. She’d been debating going for a swim this morning, never imaging this scenario, and had yet to decide on her day’s outfit. Not that her morning activities were any of this man’s business.

  Keeping her composure, she squared her shoulders and hiked her judgmental eyebrows in the air. If his intention had been to make her uncomfortable, it hadn’t worked. She didn’t cower away, or cross her arms over her chest to hide her breasts. Embarrassment wasn’t her style. Besides, she had a good rack and if he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, it wasn’t her who should be ashamed. Pervert.

  Izzy planted firm hands on her hips, pulling the material of her shirt tighter, not intentionally giving him an enhanced view, but not shying away from knowing she had either.

  “I’m sorry. I’m having a difficult time figuring out exactly who you are. Reporter? Thief? Or pervert?”

  His face sobered. “None of the above.” Why was his voice sexy when fueled with anger?

  Dark sexy. Angry sexy...darn, just plain sexy.

  As his face grew sinister again, his lips thinned, but still looked luscious enough to kiss for hours. And even though he’d irritably narrowed his eyes at her, they let off a bedroom eyes type vibe. Thin slits of lust. And the accent...the same drawl as the other man. Only the old man had a thicker and raspier voice. Italian, she thought.

  Apprehension washed through her body. Who exactly were these two men?

  Her pondering questions came to a halt as two security guards rushed into the room.

  “Arrest him!” Izzy shouted at them, now feeling safe enough to climb out of the pool. A shiver consumed her body. She wondered if she felt safe knowing security planned to apprehend the stranger or safe knowing that with security’s presence she wouldn’t be tempted to sample his luscious lips and savor the delicious flavor they silently offered.

  She stopped directly in front of him, met by his venomous eyes. “For breaking and entering.”

  Security grabbed his arms and yanked him away from Izzy. Now who stood in control, she inwardly snickered.

  “Release him.”

  Her brother, Marc, rushed into the room. “He works for me.”

  “Works for you?” What the hell was her brother talking about? “Marc, he tried to kill me.”

  Marc stopped beside them, first sending Izzy a look to silence her and then nodding at security. “Let him go.”

  They did.

  “Marc!” Unbelievable. Could her brother be so absentminded he didn’t notice her sopping wet outfit? Or the fear in her eyes? Or understand the words that came out of her mouth.

  “This is Gunner Mann—”

  “I don’t care what his name is. He tried to drown me,” she hissed. “In my own pool.” She was two seconds away from disowning him as a sibling.

  Marc’s gaze stayed on the security men who looked between him and Izzy. “We’re fine here, thank you.” He dismissed them and didn’t say another word until they’d left.

  Izzy found herself having a glaring match with this Gunner Mann.

  “Mr. Mann didn’t break and enter. He’s staying in the extra suite with Anton Caliendo.”

  Caliendo? A relative? Oh yikes. The old man outside. Double yikes.

  Izz
y pulled her eyes away from Gunner. “What are you talking about? Why don’t I know this? Don’t you think you should have told me there would be strangers roaming around in our area? Does anyone else know? Violet knows, doesn’t she?” Violet, her oldest sister knew everything first.

  Her brother nodded, naming off all her sisters and their spouses being aware of their guests.

  “So everyone in the family knows except me?” She refused to give their guest the satisfaction of glancing at the condescending look on his face.

  “We discussed it this morning at breakfast,” Marc said.

  “I never go to breakfast. You know that. They know that. Why would you discuss something so important over a meal you all know I don’t attend?”

  “The look” crossed Marc’s face. Why was she not surprised? He didn’t hide his “I told you so” glance, an indirect hit at his disapproval of her lifestyle choice. He frowned upon her sleeping in and choosing not to waste away her life in a mundane job.

  “Plus, I saw you this morning and you brushed me off. You didn’t tell me some lunatic was staying in our wing.” It was Izzy’s turn to shoot Gunner a look. “And you’re a lunatic for throwing a woman you don’t know in the water.”

  She’d swear he snarled or growled at her. Well, she snarled back before looking at Marc. “Not acceptable, Marc. Not acceptable at all. And get me two tickets for Manzedi’s show. Front row.” She turned toward her suite, feeling like a wet cat. A wet cat ready to claw jerk-face Gunner Mann’s eyes out.

  On her way past him, she stopped, contemplated for about half a second before running full-charge at him. She jumped in the air and slammed her body against Gunner, intending to push him in the pool. She bounced off his body like a basketball.

  “Izzy,” Marc scolded.

  She ran again, this time using her hands to shove him.

  Fail.

  At his side, she pushed harder, several times. Short bursts of energy, then long, stretched out thrusts. The man didn’t budge an inch.

  “Lay off the steroids, Schwarzenegger,” she muttered, stalking away, but not without grabbing a beach ball and throwing it at him first. It hit his abdomen and bounced into the pool. Figures.