Page 81 of Royal Flush

Brains.

Chips of bone.

They were the things nightmares were made of. Right? They were supposed to be out of movies, not real life. For all the moments of danger my father had told me we’d been in over the years, other than our family driver speeding along the interstate, there’d been few times we were in harm’s way.

Maybe I’d just been oblivious or hadn’t cared enough. I’d experienced fear twice that I could remember. One was when my car had been driven off the road prior to me leaving for college by some unknown bad driver. I’d heard Dugger had followed him, beating the crap out of the man.

The second time had been when shots had been fired outside a restaurant. Now that I looked back on the experience, it seemed as surreal as what I’d been through not once but twice.

But being fourteen at the time, I’d managed to funnel out the level of danger, only one nightmare afterwards. How I wasn’t certain. It certainly wasn’t from being coddled by my parents. There’d been law enforcement officers and reporters who’d camped out on the grounds, yet I’d been secured in a wing of my parents’ estate. Come to think of it, the two months after the shooting had felt more like being a prisoner than a family member.

I’d been so used to being cooped up and alone that the entire situation had seemed almost normal. God, I’d been sheltered back then, so much so I was surprised I’d managed to fly to a new country to spend the better part of four years.

Braxton had taken the time to question me once again, asking me about Maggie and what I knew about this Jameson Bishop he’d mentioned on several occasions. I’d had enough difficulty remembering Maggie’s last name and anything personal about her let alone someone my father had known. He’d almost seemed perturbed but had suggested I take the sleeping medication the resort doctor had prescribed.

Not a chance in hell.

Sleeping pills were what nightmares were made of. I knew that well, my father slipping them into my ice cream to keep me quiet while guests had been downstairs.

It had resulted in another near tragedy, something I hadn’t talked about since I was seven or eight. Or ten. Time meant nothing when you did your best to block out an event. Now it was plaguing the front of my mind.

I placed one hand on my arm, holding a glass of wine with the other as a light chill coursed through me. The moon was bright in the sky, pulling at the gentle waves. The giant orb seemed brighter than I’d ever seen, the shimmering reflection of light on the water’s surface breathtaking. As I breathed in the salt air, I was shocked how relaxing the location was.

Paradise.

The term did indeed describe both islands, but I had to admit the one near St. Martin was my favorite and I’d yet to see the resort in all its glorious detail. I’d expected we’d be staying in another gorgeous yet sterile suite in the main resort, which was similar yet more tropical than the one near St. Thomas. I was glad to see I was wrong.

I’d never been to a place like this, the private villa the kind all the travel magazines took photographs of, highlighting the Caribbean blue waters and tiki-style building.

The promise was always the same, blissful romance, forgetting both life and all your sins.

That wasn’t possible at this moment. Just being here was a stark reminder my fairytale had jagged edges, many of them icepick sharp. But… That didn’t mean I wasn’t breathless from the view, the warmth, the light breeze drifting the scents of various tropical plants and flowers, and the incredible luxury of what should be a rustic environment. And yes, the company.

Even the flight, as nervous as I’d been since I hated small planes, had added to the surreal moment of luxury. Champagne, brie cheese as well as others, fresh fruit and fabulous meats had lured me into enjoying myself. My stomach had been in knots the entire time, but Braxton had done everything possible to provide anything I needed.

The long flight had allowed me to close my eyes, which was shocking on several levels. I was sleepy yet antsy, angry and still fearful. And I missed him. Braxton had secured me away in the fabulous series of buildings on stilts, insuring I had everything I’d needed before recommending I rest.

As if that was possible.

Three huge men had accompanied us, the same ones I’d managed to escape from at the hotel. I sensed they were leery of me, the largest man named Jack eyeing me as if I was the enemy. Okay, I’d shown up the skills it was obvious he and his men had, but I was the last person they needed to worry about.

While I’d relaxed, or tried to, Braxton had alternated between making phone calls and having discussions with Jack and his team. After a few minutes of hearing them discussing danger and keeping a secure watch on the island, I’d tuned out the conversations altogether. Being lost in my own world of pretend suited me much better. Even though it was a falsehood.

The events of a few hours before seemed as surreal as the first abduction attempt. To me, the memories and images floating in my mind were like watching one of my favorite thriller movies. While the bump on my head hadn’t been concussive, there was a slight ache that still remained right behind my eyes.

After all the time, hours and hours since the attack, I still felt cold inside. Numb. Maybe that was better than the panic that had nearly driven me into a catatonic state. Some of the details I couldn’t remember, which I had a feeling was good. However, there were fleeting visions, two men, one of them dragging me into the back of the SUV.

And the fact one had gotten his brains blown out.

I hadn’t realized it until Braxton had helped me change shirts on the airplane.

He’d remained as disheveled as I’d felt, some of the stone edges he’d encased around himself cracking.

Exhaling, I took one more look at the ocean as I rubbed my arms before heading back inside to the luxurious bed I’d been provided. He’d acted as if I wasn’t required to stay with him, which was somewhat of a surprise.

But his words had been so clear.

Keeping me safe was his main objective, which meant we weren’t on a romantic getaway. I knew that. I’d finally accepted the fact my father’s world had placed my life in danger. But still. This was paradise after all.

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