Snapshot

by Camryn King

  Also by Camryn King

  Stiletto Justice

  Triple Threat

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  SNAPSHOT

  CAMRYN KING

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  Teaser chapter

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  DAFINA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Camryn King

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0224-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0225-8 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-0225-5 (ebook)

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: January 2020

  1

  The Bahamas. Sun and sea. Gentle breezes. Tasty drinks with floating umbrellas. Paradise. Kennedy Wade thought about the refreshing drink brought by the kind boat captain as she placed her foot on the boat’s gunwale and braced herself against the boat’s gentle rocking to snap a round of pics. She was relieved that the showers from that morning had passed over the island, leaving behind fluffy cumulus clouds floating in a bright blue sky. She looked forward to enjoying her last day on the water, as she’d intended. For the past two days she’d crisscrossed the island, documenting its beauty, and writing up the accompanying article for a spread set to appear in the Chicago Star newspaper’s upcoming Memorial Holiday Sunday edition. But today was for her. As she took in the beauty of the Caribbean, with its pristine white beaches, turquoise waters, and verdant countryside, a rare, philosophical thought assailed her. Kennedy wasn’t necessarily religious, and had no real concept of heaven or hell, but if for whatever reason she landed in the latter, at least she would have caught a glimpse of paradise.

  “What are you doing, girl? You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

  Kennedy smiled. Clinton’s lyrical phrases drifted toward her on the wings of the wind. The boat captain had helped make the time pleasurable during her ten to twelve-hour work days. He regaled her with colorful stories about famous people who’d visited the island and engaged in shenanigans they hoped would stay there—just like Vegas.

  She lowered the camera. “Taking pictures like this is relaxing.” Not like the other days, while waiting for the right light or searching for the perfect shot, then returning to her room to spend another few hours crafting the words that would bring the reader fully into this idyllic world. “Today I can just take in the beauty and capture the magic when it happens.” She looked beyond Clinton and motioned with a nod of her head. “Like that.”

  Raising her camera, Kennedy placed the colorful lines of a perfect rainbow squarely in the middle of her lens. She adjusted her aperture to enhance the color, then engaged her long-range lens for a clearer shot. She took several frames, pulled out a bit to include a small island, and shot a few more. Her finger hovered over the shutter when a flash caught her eye. What was that? Instinctively, she pushed the shutter in rapid succession before lowering the camera, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the sun. They were a good distance away from the island, which was dense with brush and tropical trees. She looked for Clinton, who’d returned to the helm, then back at the rainbow. It had shifted and begun to fade. She joined the captain up front.

  “These smaller islands all around. Are they inhabited?”

  “Some of them, but not these out here.”

  “Are you sure?” She nodded toward the rainbow, now behind them. “What about that one, directly in front of the rainbow?”

  “Someone owns it, but as of right now it’s uninhabited.”

  “I could have sworn I saw a flash while taking pictures.”

  “It could be anything,” Clinton said. “Most likely something reflecting against the sun.”

  “Like what?”

  The captain shrugged as he waved to a tourist boat passing by. “We’ve had hundreds of years for all kinds of things to have washed up on these shores.”

  “That makes sense.” Kennedy spent the better part of an hour photographing the beauty that surrounded her. Satisfied, she sat on a bench facing the water and rested her head back to look at the sky. “This is the life right here, my friend. You are so lucky to call this home.”

  “Easy enough for you to do too, if you want it. Plenty of people want their picture taken. You could set up a little stand on the beach, get a printer, make it work.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Everything’s easy in the Bahamas.”

  Probably true, Kennedy imagined. Not like back in Chicago where freelance photographers and writers outnumbered White Sox fans, making both industries dog-eat-dog. Or where she’d just unraveled herself from a complicated relationship that had continued long past its expiration date. Even in paradise, there was no escaping serial liar/cheater, Will’s incessant texts begging to be given one more chance. She’d blocked his number, but he’d only used a friend’s phone or bought burners to continue his pleas. It would be a hassle to change a number she’d had for more than a decade, but maybe that time had come. Because after too many chances to count, Kennedy was done with the brother named Will. Done with him, and for the moment, done with thinking about him. She reached for the decadent rum punch she’d saved for this moment, settled herself against the bench’s far side, stretched her legs out and allowed the water to rock away the stress of the past few days. She thought of her friend Gwen who worked in advertising for the Star, and had given her the inside info that led to this plum assignment and her being rocked like a baby in the ocean’s arms. She needed to find a gift of thanks before leaving the island.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to go ashore.”

  I went to sleep? Kennedy blinked her eyes against the setting sun as she righted herself on the bench and accepted Clinton’s outstretched hand.

  “I can’t believe I was that tired.”

  “You’ve been working hard, lady.”

  “I know but still . . . I planned to see more on the return trip than the back of my eyelids.”

  “Plus,” he added, with a nod toward the empty glass that set on a table. “You were sipping at sea, and you kno
w what they say?”

  “No, what do they say?”

  “Bahama rum packs a punch.”

  Said with such infectious glee and in that rhythmic accent, Kennedy joined Clinton in laughing out loud. While doing so she noted his pristine white teeth, the dimple peeking through a five o’clock shadow, and the cute little crinkles surrounding his sparkling onyx eyes. To make sure she was healed from Will, she’d sworn off casual dalliances and one-night stands. Was she sure that extracurricular was out?

  His voice dropped an octave as he added, “And rum is not the only thing packing.”

  One thought kept Kennedy’s resistance from breaking. That same type of package is what had kept Will in her life for two years—a year, ten months and two days longer than he should have stayed. Yes, she was sure.

  “Your offer is tempting,” she replied with a smile to not leave his ego bruised, then reached inside her pouch and pulled out a tip.

  He raised his hands. “Oh no, that’s not necessary, beautiful lady. Squiring you around was my pleasure.”

  “And mine, too, especially since you arranged for me to be your only passenger. That cost you sales.”

  “Not really.” Clinton glanced at Kennedy and continued a bit sheepishly. “Today was my off day. So, your lone fare is more than I would have normally made.”

  “Clinton! You shouldn’t have used your free day for me.”

  “Like I said, it was my pleasure.”

  While appreciating the obvious flirtation from the Caribbean cutie, Kennedy knew the teasing was as far as she’d go. She reached into her purse again and pulled out another bill to add to the one in her hand. “I’m greatly appreciative. It was a wonderful ride.” She held out the money. “I insist.”

  “Okay, beautiful lady. Thank you.”

  They stepped on to the landing. Kennedy hugged Clinton, allowed him a selfie and took one of her own, then strolled down the ramp to a line of awaiting taxis. Feeling the captain’s manly muscles reminded her how long it had been since one had been inside her. It heightened her awareness of the island men’s looks. Suddenly, they were all gorgeous, including the dark chocolate bar who smiled and opened his cab door so she could slide inside. Must be that packing punch rum.

  The hotel was only five minutes away. On the ride there, she planned out the rest of her evening—order room service, do a final read through of her article before sending it off to the travel section editor, upload photos to her cloud accounts, enjoy an eight-plus hour date with her pillow. She entered the lobby and walked over to the concierge.

  “Hello, Hank.”

  “Hello, Kennedy. How are you today?”

  “Deliciously tired. I spent the day on a boat.”

  “Ah, the water. A great lover.”

  “The best. A perfect way to enjoy my last day here.”

  “Leaving so soon? You only arrived.”

  “I feel that way, too. I’ll be back.”

  “And staying with us, I hope.”

  “Most likely. You guys are amazing.”

  “What can I do for you this evening?”

  “Recommend something great from the room service menu, or a restaurant nearby that delivers?”

  Hank looked aghast. “On your last night in paradise? Oh, no, my lovely lady. You mustn’t spend this last night all alone in your room. At the very least you should enjoy a delicious meal and glass of wine while taking in a view of all that you’re leaving. I know just the place to recommend, only a short, five-minute walk from our front door.”

  “I’m exhausted, but your suggestion is hard to resist.”

  “You won’t be sorry, I promise you.”

  Kennedy watched as Hank pulled a card from several stacks on his station. She accepted it, gave a wave and headed to her room. After checking off the items on the evening’s to-do list, all except the pillow date, she took a quick shower and donned a striped, cotton mini and flat leather sandals adorned with shells. Simple silver hoops and bangles completed the outfit and a quick shake out of her natural curls, a dash of mascara and a swipe of pure plum lipstick completed the look. She grabbed her pouch, checked for her ID, debit card and cell phone, and after a quick internal discussion decided to leave her digital camera in the room.

  Five minutes later, and Kennedy was glad she’d taken Hank’s advice. The shower had revived her and now a warm breeze caressed her clean skin. The azure blue sky had slid into indigo. Stars twinkled and disappeared as she joined tourists and natives strolling down the paved pathway. As she reached the steps leading to the restaurant on a hill she paused, pulled out her cellphone, and captured the moment. Once inside she was quickly seated on the establishment’s veranda where a row of seats faced the ocean. She ordered the seafood dish Hank had recommended and took the server’s suggestion for a fruity white wine. While eating, she became engrossed with the latest news on social media, DMing friends and posting pictures of the island taken with her cellphone. So much so that she didn’t notice the handsome stranger who had been seated beside her until he spoke.

  “I hate eating alone,” he began without greeting, while looking out on the waves gently crashing against the shore. “But if I have to do it, having a gorgeous woman beside me makes it infinitely more satisfying.”

  Only then did he turn toward her with a smile.

  Well, damn. Kennedy was prepared to be aggravated at the tired line, but the man was gorgeous in a way that was free and unscripted, a face that suggested, “I woke up like this.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was thinking about ordering that dish. Is it good?”

  “It’s delicious. The concierge recommended it and he was spot on.”

  “Where are you staying?” Kennedy told him. “How have I missed seeing you?”

  “You’re staying there, too?”

  “For the past week, though mostly I’ve been down at the beach soaking up the sun. What are you doing here if I may ask, and more importantly, why are you eating alone?”

  Kennedy turned and swept her arm across the occupied tables. “I’m not alone.”

  The stranger smiled, revealing pearly whites that sparkled, just like his eyes, the color of the sky in her earlier photographs. The brilliant shade of blue against tanned skin, combined with a head of thick and curly brunette hair, and Kennedy once again considered ending her penis drought.

  A server arrived, set down a drink, and took the man’s order. Afterwards, he held out his hand. “Jack Sutton.”

  She picked up a linen napkin and wiped her hands. “Kennedy Wade.”

  “Nice meeting you, Kennedy.”

  “Likewise.”

  For the next forty minutes the two casually chatted. Kennedy learned that Jack was an engineer from Rhode Island, recently divorced, taking his first vacation in more than three years. He was intelligent and funny, easy to talk to, and seemed to genuinely listen as Kennedy talked. When he suggested they split a dessert, she agreed. When he offered to pay the tab, she said yes to that, too. When he asked her to join him for an after-dinner drink back at the hotel, Jack was three for three. They sat in the cushy chairs of the lounge in the lobby and swapped tall travel tales. A yawn reminded Kennedy of the next day’s early rising. She finished her decaf caramel coffee and reached for her bag.

  “Thanks for a great evening, the dinner and the conversation. I enjoyed it.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes,” she said, and stood.

  “Then so am I.” Jack also stood and reached for his wallet.

  “Oh, no. You did dinner. I’ve got this one.”

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you into extending the evening? The company is amazing and it’s a beautiful night.”

  “I agree on both counts, but tomorrow’s alarm rings early. I have a plane to catch.”

  They bantered back and forth a bit more, but Kennedy wouldn’t change her mind. After paying the tab, the two walked to the elevator and got in. Jack’s finger hovered over the floor buttons. “Whi
ch one?”

  “Seven.”

  He pushed seven for her floor, and ten for his. Later, when asked, that would be the last thing she remembered that night.

  2

  Bright sun streamed into Kennedy’s room. She stretched, turned her head, and blinked her eyes against its incessant beam. She sat straight up and immediately regretted the quick action. Granted she wasn’t much of a drinker, but she’d only had the rum punch and last night’s glass of wine. Why was there a hammer in her head? Then, another question popped up between the banging.

  What time is it?!?!

  Her mind screamed these questions, but her body refused to perform with the urgency belied by these words. Kennedy closed her eyes, blindly reaching for the cellphone while easing her head to the pillow. Feeling only the nightstand’s bamboo top, she gave her head the slightest turn and took in the table with the one eye opened. No phone.

  Dear God, do I have to move again?

  Kennedy perched herself up on an elbow and eyed the clock. The digital display confirmed what the sun had announced. It was mid-morning. She’d missed her flight. As that misfortune sank in, two observations slammed into her so hard her stomach clenched. One, the ever-present cellphone she’d groped for wasn’t on the nightstand. Two, she was naked. She never slept naked. Ever. Even after having sex she’d at least put her panties back on. A slow sense of dread began to ooze through her body, like poisoned sludge invading the pure waters of peace that yesterday’s boat trip created. She forced herself out of bed, wincing against the relentless throbbing. She pulled the light throw from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her, dazed as she walked around and took in her surroundings. The clothes, strewn across the sofa. Her small purse, open, its contents spilled over her cushions. The laptop from which last night she’d sent off files and uploaded pictures—gone—along with the digital camera she’d left beside it. Her cellphone, nowhere to be found. Images flashed through her mind, blurry, disjointed. A soft, easy smile. Deep blue eyes. Dark, curly tresses. Manicured hands. Steaming cup lifted to tempting lips.