Chapter 3
After changing into her workout gear, including a pink tank top and black stretch shorts, she carefully brushed her hair into a high ponytail and went outside. Four bikes, which all looked barely used, were lined up on a metal rack.
Koenraad had dragged the whole thing out from wherever he stored them.
She chose the smallest of the four, which was still way too big for her. Being a few inches taller than the average woman didn’t stop her from feeling small and delicate in Koenraad’s world.
The bike itself was a glossy dark blue. It had knobby tires yet still weighed nothing; she could lift it with one hand. It was a pro bike, the frame alone probably costing thousands of dollars. The seat was a little narrow for comfort. Made for an athletic man with a tight, muscular ass, not a woman with some meat on her, but it would have to do.
It took her forty minutes to reach town because she took her time, enjoying the warm air blowing across her skin, the sun caressing her face and arms.
She hopped off the bike and walked it onto the sidewalk. When she’d gone shopping in town, it wasn’t at this end, which was less touristy. Hardly any pedestrians at all. She glanced in the window of a hair salon. Three apron-clad women sat in the clients’ chairs. Staticky music sputtered from hidden speakers. A lizard, the color and texture of dust, darted across the clean floor.
“Excuse me!”
Monroe jumped. “I’m sorry.”
The woman she’d nearly flattened gave her a long look, then accepted the apology with a nod and walked into the salon. Monroe gripped the handlebars tighter. Maybe coming into town wasn’t such a good idea. The bike took up too much room on the narrow sidewalk, and it would only get worse as she got closer to the resorts.
She was turning around when she noticed a real estate agency on the other side of the street, descriptions of properties for sale taped inside the window.
Curiosity won out. She hurried across the street and leaned the bike against the building.
She looked through the notices on one side of the window. They were mostly undeveloped lots with views of the ocean in the background. More photos were taped on the far side of the window. As she walked over, she glanced into the office itself and saw a familiar head of long, brownish-orange dreadlocks.
Even without seeing his face, she knew it was Ralph. There really weren’t that many people with dreads in the Caribbean, or at least not on Tureygua. And Ralph had a peculiar build, short and wide. Compact. As she thought about it, she decided he was built like a small mountain troll. An assessment to keep to herself.
The last time she’d seen him was two days earlier, as he and Sosie left her with Koenraad. He’d been dressed casually for working the boat. Now he wore a white dress shirt. Short-sleeved, but she bet he considered it formal. He was talking to a couple in their late thirties.
Monroe decided to go in. She moved the bike over so it would still be visible and entered the small shop. Ralph looked up, and his face creased into what had to be the most enthusiastic smile Monroe had ever received.
“Monroe!” he said.
She smiled, feeling a bit shy. “I thought I recognized you.”
“Maybe you can help us reach a decision,” he said. “The Garcias are about to desert me for a kitesurfing lesson, but they’ve got a decision to make. What sounds better? A cramped time share”—he made a sour face—“or a spacious, sunny condo that they’ll own alone.” He smiled and threw out his arms expansively. “In your unbiased opinion, which do you think they should do?”
The man and woman laughed.
“Where are you from?” Monroe asked them.
“Austin,” the woman said.
“Texas?” Monroe asked. When the woman nodded, Monroe perched on the edge of a chair across from them, next to Ralph. “Do you have kids?”
They shook their heads, but Monroe noted a brief pause before they did so.
“What about pets?”
“A dog,” the man said, and she couldn’t help but notice the affection in his voice.
“It’s a Pekinese we rescued. He’s blind in one eye and gets anxious when we leave,” the woman said.
“Small enough for carryon luggage,” Monroe said thoughtfully. She looked them in the eye. “I’d buy. If you can afford it. And I’m being completely unbiased. Time shares aren’t great for pets, and Texas is a short flight. Since you don’t have kids, you’ll be able to come down for a spontaneous weekend whenever you want. You can bring your dog…” She trailed off with a shrug, realizing she’d gone on way too long.
“No problem to bring a pet back and forth? With quarantine?” the man asked Ralph.
“Quarantine isn’t necessary so long as all the vaccinations are current,” Ralph said.
“Really? I never would have guessed. That’s perfect,” the woman said. “Honestly, that changes everything.” She looked at her husband, and Monroe could see that the woman’s heart was stretched to breaking. She wondered what their story was.
The man nodded at his wife. “I agree. Let’s see what our accountant says.” He rose and extended his hand to Ralph, then to Monroe. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”
“Happy kitesurfing,” Ralph said. After the couple left, Ralph studied Monroe. He looked equal parts shocked and impressed. “Woman, you have a gift. I could kiss you,” he said.
“What are you doing working here, anyway?” Monroe asked.
“Money,” Ralph said. “I’m a hustler.”
That made her laugh because Ralph was the exact opposite of how she imagined a hustler. He was too forthright, for starters.
“Want a job?” he asked suddenly.
“While I’m on vacation? Uh, no, but thanks. Very temping.”
“Eh. It’s just as well. I don’t have the power to hire anyone.” Grinning impishly, he dipped into a drawer and pulled out a grimy business card, which he wiped on his pants before handing to Monroe. “Sorry. We’re waiting for more from the printer. But if you ever want to buy a place, give me a call.”
“Let’s hope you’re still working here in thirty years, ’cause that’s about when I’ll be able to afford a place.”
“Give that back,” he demanded. Monroe rolled her eyes in fake exasperation and relinquished the card. She was surprised when he scribbled a name on the back and returned it to her.
“What’s this?”
“If you ever need a job, that’s the manager. It’s commission only, but I think you’d clean up.”
“But I have a job. In New York.”
“Hey, you never know. And if you win the lotto up there and decide you want a nice island mansion, remember who tried to hook you up with a job when you were penniless.” He pointed at himself.
“Hustler,” she said with a smirk.
Ralph’s smile disappeared. “Those your wheels?” he asked, looking past her.
Monroe turned to see three beachy blond frat boy types in baggy denim shorts and flip-flops checking out Koenraad’s bike.
“Damn. See you.” She ran out. The frat boys moved aside when she burst out the door, though only just. She could feel the shift in attention turning from the expensive bike to the woman wearing short, tight workout gear.
“Nice ride,” one of the guys said, and he was so clearly not talking about the super-expensive bicycle.
She ignored him, flung her leg over the seat and rolled into the street. She had just enough time to wave goodbye to Ralph, then she was pedaling down the road, the wind pulling hair loose from her ponytail.
Within a few seconds, she was well clear of the town. Her lungs were bursting with fresh air, the cloudless sky seemed limitless, and the only sound was the quiet hum of her wheels on the well-maintained road.
She’d forgotten how great it felt to do the real estate dance. She’d never been an agent, and she knew she had an idealized version of what the job was really like. Still, at the moment she felt indestructible, like she could tackle anything and win.
; When she returned to the mansion, Koenraad still wasn’t back. She showered and dressed quickly, then went outside to lounge by the enormous pool. Koenraad had made it very clear she was to stay out of the ocean, but she couldn’t help but keep glancing at the inlet where she’d seen the smaller shark the day before.
Had it been a shark or a shifter? The way it had interacted with her, following her movements… that wasn’t very sharky. She didn’t think so, at least.
Well, she wasn’t going to jump into the water and find out. Anyway, she still had a phone call to make, and after the bike ride, she actually felt strong enough to face the potential bad news.
Tara answered on the first ring, a television blaring in the background. “One second,” she said.
Monroe was surprised at the quick response. Tara, along with Monroe’s other friends, was also on Tureygua, adding vacation to the end of Linda’s destination wedding. Women who were happily vacationing didn’t watch television and answer their phones.
“Are you ok?” Tara asked.
“Uh, yeah. I was about to ask you the same thing,” Monroe said. She sat up and settled the sunglasses that Koenraad had given her over her eyes. Immediately, the painfully bright morning turned mellow.
“I called you about a hundred times.”
“Oh, I’ve been busy,” Monroe said, and even though Tara couldn’t see it, she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Your local guy is seriously hot,” Tara said. “I’d be busy, too. But I’m getting off subject. Two things. First, Thomas is here.”
“Shit,” Monroe said. Even though she’d been expecting this, she’d hoped he wasn’t crazy enough to get on that plane. Now unexpected feelings flooded her… anxiety, embarrassment, guilt. Guilt? But she did feel guilty. For not telling Koenraad. For having replaced Thomas so quickly. For possibly making Koenraad feel like a rebound. And for somehow, despite her obviously-not-best efforts, allowing Thomas to believe there was a snowball’s chance in the Caribbean that he could ever change her mind. “Shit,” she said again.
“Yeah. He’s staying at that super fancy hotel across the street, but he’s been hanging out here since he got in last night. Looking for you.”
“I told him not to come.”
“He mentioned that. We talked for about twenty minutes, and I almost feel sorry for him. He’s acting like you’re the love of his life, and if he doesn’t get you back, he’ll die.”
“If that’s the case, I’d better buy a funeral-appropriate black dress,” Monroe said.
“He’s still a dick,” Tara said. “A very sad dick. Wilted, you know? The thing is…”
“What? Don’t tell me you changed your mind about him.”
“No. No way. But when I pointed out that you’re amazing and that he took you for granted, he said he knows.”
“What did you do that for?”
“So he can learn from this experience,” Tara said primly and like she was talking to a child. “And he looked so heartbroken, Monroe. It’s kinda hard to despise someone who accepts the blame. All that to say… maybe you should talk to him.”
“Seriously?” Monroe slumped back and nervously chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. Meeting with Thomas was the absolute last thing she wanted to do.
“I think he lacks… closure. He says he’s not leaving until he sees you.”
“He’s being manipulative,” Monroe said with a sigh. “If he pops up again, tell him I’m exploring other islands today. Try to make him understand that we have nothing left to say to each other. After that fight—”
“He apologized for that.”
“Am I supposed to be glad he’s groveling to you?”
“It’s only because you won’t see him. He said he just wants to talk, that he’ll respect what you want, but that you owe him an exit interview.”
Monroe wrinkled her nose. “Like I’m an employee or something.”
“Hey, we knew he was work-obsessed. Again, he wouldn’t have been my first or even last choice for you,” Tara said. “The second thing. Ok, I know this isn’t exciting, so I don’t know why my voice is getting all girly, but it is a little exciting in a really bad way, I guess. One of the guests staying here drowned this morning.”
Monroe was stunned into momentary speechlessness. She’d probably never even seen the victim, but it still felt close to home. “That’s… Oh my gosh, Tara, did you see?”
“No, it didn’t happen in the pool. He and his girlfriend got up early to watch the sunrise, and they went swimming in the ocean, not far from the hotel. And he drowned.”
“And the girlfriend, too?”
“No, she’s fine. Well, maybe fine isn’t the right word. The police were talking to her in one of the hotel conference rooms. Nya and I happened to be in the bathroom and we could hear everything.”
“You’re so—”
“I’m curious, not nosy, and actually it was Nya’s idea to eavesdrop. Anyway, that couple just got engaged last night. How heartbreaking is that? And they were still kinda drunk, and they were high, so you have to take this next bit with a grain of salt.” Tara lowered her voice. “The girlfriend says that when they were in the water, he said it felt weird, like his body was trying to turn inside out, then he just started convulsing. She said it was like he was possessed or something.”
A lump formed in Monroe’s throat. “Creepy.”
“I know! Nya and I are not going back in the water, which is why I’m on the phone with you instead of on the beach with everyone else.”
“Where’s Nya?”
“Using her feminine wiles to keep Jerry in the hotel room. My wiles didn’t work on Lee. Is that normal? We’ve only been married a year.” Tara sounded so disappointed that Monroe had to stifle a laugh.
“A few weeks ago you were complaining that Lee wants it all the time. Make up your mind!”
“I haven’t decided which is worse,” Tara said. “So tell me about lover boy. Who is this man who brought out your adventurous streak? He looks like a pro athlete.”
“I’m adventurous,” Monroe said, but she didn’t even try to sell it. She wasn’t, and Tara knew that better than anyone. “I wonder if the other two people who drowned were drinking, too,” Monroe said.
“What other two people?”
“There were three drownings this morning. It was on the radio.”
“No way,” Tara said.
“Well, it is an island, and tourists come here and get crazy drunk.”
“Still. What are the odds of that happening? They were all this morning?”
“I think so.” Monroe heard a sound, and she looked over to see Koenraad coming down the stone pathway. The first thought that went through her mind was He’s mine, and I’m his. Which made no sense because she barely knew the guy. “I have to go,” she said.
“Call me later. You are bringing this guy to dinner before we leave.”
Monroe made a noncommittal sound and hung up.
Chapter 4
Koenraad’s irritation melted when he saw Monroe lounging next to his pool. She wore a virginal white dress of crushed fabric that made him want to pull her into the sand.
The bottom of the dress was gathered over her knees. Long, tanned legs draped across the chair, her bare, arched feet resting on the pool deck. The pose was a teasing invitation. She had gorgeous legs. Feminine. Strong enough to wrap around his lower back while he rode her.
His morning had been a disaster. Victoria had called, saying she was coming over. Of course she didn’t know he’d purchased and moved into the seaside mansion. No one knew, and he didn’t want Victoria in particular to find out. That meant he couldn’t have her snooping around the other mansion, looking for him.
When he’d gotten out of his car, she was already waiting, her stiletto sandals punching holes into his lawn. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“The same human?” she asked with a condescending flip of her glossy dark hair. The movement happened to thrust her chest out. He could
almost hear the fabric of her shirt straining under the pressure. “Who is she?”
“A tourist in town for a week,” he said casually, as if Monroe were nothing to him, and he felt a little guilty even though it wasn’t a betrayal. The last thing he needed was for Victoria to decide that Monroe was the only thing standing between her and Koenraad. Never mind that he hadn’t touched Victoria since the night Brady was conceived; she was capable of any manner of deranged thinking. She could disregard years of history when it suited her.
Victoria’s lip curled. “You and your humans. It’s disgusting.”
Koenraad didn’t bother to react. He knew Victoria’s feelings on the matter and he didn’t give a damn.
“You know you can dip your dicks in whatever you like,” she said. Her eyes widened. “Oh, but they probably don’t know about the dicks, do they? You keep things nice and normal down there?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond, which was fine because he had nothing to say. “When it comes time to breed, you need to do it with a shifter of pure lineage.”
A sharp laugh tore from Koenraad’s throat. “A pure shifter like you? That didn’t stop our son from turning shark and disappearing into the ocean, did it?”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not my lineage that’s flawed. It’s yours, which is all the more reason you should be careful who you fuck.”
“I wish someone had told me that before I fucked you,” Koenraad snapped.
They’d had this conversation many, many times, both before and after Brady’s disappearance two years earlier.
Brady had been a disappointment to Victoria, and she hadn’t hid her feelings about that. Even though she’d been a terrible mother, she’d wanted to try again, to have a “normal” son, but Koenraad was unwilling. Her attitude toward Brady disgusted him. She’d fought for custody, forcing Koenraad to see her four times a month. He’d appealed every year, but all Koenraad’s money couldn’t compete with the power that Darius, Victoria’s uncle, wielded on the Council.
Master of the Deep Page 3
