Page 59 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why do you care?”

“I want to make sure she’s all right. Given everything.”

Connor scowls, then smooths out his features. He hasn’t charmed a thousand women by letting people know what he thought about them. “Come out, love.”

The bathroom door opens, and Isabella steps out dressed in creamy linen pants and a sleeveless shirt covered in pink flowers. Her red hair’s in two braids, and she looks all of eighteen. “Here I am. Safe and sound.”

Oliver growls, then stands and checks himself for injuries. He seems fine, though I suspect his pride is more than a little injured.

“You went along with this?” I ask.

“Seemed harmless.”

“Piece of advice—nothing he does is harmless.”

She shrugs, unconcerned. Which is on her at this point, I guess. I have bigger fish to fry.

“Why did you do it, Connor? The real reason.”

“I thought I’d beat whoever’s trying to kill me to the punch.”

“You wanted to smoke them out?”

He nods slowly.

“And?”

“I’ve narrowed down my suspects.” He stares at Guy. “You’re number one.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“You should consider yourself warned.”

“Care to share with the class?” I say.

Connor blows out a breath. “What do you care? You want me dead anyway.”

“Not actually dead.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I exist in print; therefore I am?” Oliver says.

Nailed it.

“Regardless,” I say, “that was ridiculous and cruel, Connor. You should apologize.”

“To you?”

“To Harper.”

Connor’s eyes are as mocking as his voice. “You want me to apologize, Harper?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she says. Her color is high, but she seems more in control. “We’ve wasted enough time on this. Everyone needs to be on the bus by seven thirty. Let’s get a move on.”

“Feel free to miss it,” I say to Connor.

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