Page 24 of The All-Inclusive

“That’s fine,” Holyfield says. “I thought I knew Trent well, but maybe not since he went AWOL on Sara. I trust you’ll assess things better than I could.”

“Thank you, sir.” I can’t help shooting a triumphant look at Frogman. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thank you, Logan. I’ll text security and let Sara know you’ll deliver Trent to the private dining space at Halcyon.”

“I’ll have him there at eighteen-hundred hours.” I hang up the phone and nod to the guards. “I’ll take him from here. Holyfield’s sending you a text.”

Their pagers all ping at the same time and the guards glance down at the screens.

I look at Frogman. “Let’s go.”

He darts a grim look at the guards. “Any chance you can un-cuff me first?”

“Nope.” I grab hold of his arm, which feels like wrapping my hand around a tree trunk. I’m a big guy, and Frogman’s about thesame build. “Not until I know our guests and the staff are safe from you flipping your lid.”

He grumbles a little but allows me to lead him down the walkway and past the pool deck to the oceanfront room where I meet three times a week with consorts from various branches of the military. We’ve got SAS guys from England, a paratrooper from Poland, even a badass female helo pilot from the Rwanda Defense Force.

I shove open the door and a cool blast of a/c hits us both in the face. Frogman scans the room like he’s checking for landmines. I watch as his smooth forehead furrows. “This is The Hole?”

“Yep.” I nudge him toward the big conference table, letting the door slam shut behind us. “I’d offer you a drink, but I’d rather not take off the cuffs just yet.”

“Fair enough,” he mutters. He stares at my face for a second, his gaze zooming in on my mouth. “Could I at least get you to, uh?—”

“Wipe your girlfriend off my chin?” Goddammit, that was gauche. This guy brings it out in me. “Yeah, gimme a sec.”

I scrub up at the sink in the corner as Frogman chooses a chair with a view of the door. I do the same after drying my hands and checking to make sure the handcuffs are secure. Most Special Forces guys are trained to pick locks, and it’s not like these cuffs are top-notch. They’re the same ones we use for our bondage enchantments, so each consort has their own key. We don’t see a whole lot of crime on this island.

“So.” Folding my arms on the table, I stare down the dickhead at the other end.

He stares right back, unruffled and dead in the eyes. “Is Logan your real name?”

“Yes.” I don’t love that he’s asking questions. “You’re Trent James?”

“Yep.” His rugged jaw clenches. He’s clearly been trained to handle himself in an interrogation.

So have I. Aside from being my team’s demolition guy, I specialized in counterintelligence and elicitation techniques. While I don’t plan to rough up this dickhead, I do intend to get information.

“How did you find Sara?”

“Educated guess.” There’s the tiniest tick at the edge of his jaw. “Her best friends both came here and enjoyed their experience.”

Pretty sure he’s lying, or at least leaving something out. But that’s not my biggest concern. “Why did you come here?”

“To see Sara.”

I can’t help poking the bear just a little. “Did you get the eyeful you expected?”

He doesn’t react. Just sits there in stone-cold silence.

I wait him out, meeting his stare with a blank one of my own. I’m almost surprised when the dickhead caves first.

“I’m no danger to Sara,” he says. “I’ve known her since we were kids.”

“With all due respect, women don’t generally come here unless somebody hurt them somehow.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen the man flinch. He lets out a long, ragged breath, dropping his eyes to the table. “I know I fucked up,” he says softly. “But I never meant for things to happen like this.”

What the hell does that mean? “What did you expect? And you still haven’t said why you’re here.”

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