Island Holiday (Brookwell Island #4)

Chapter 4

Though things were suddenly moving fast, and in an unexpected direction, Sonya had enjoyed the short flight. Once she put the actual destination out of her mind. She’d never flown on anything other than a normal commercial flight. Chartered flights were an incredible new discovery.

According to Connor, the private jet was some sort of lease agreement, arranged as a perk through one of Gamble and Swann’s big clients. It had boggled her mind, from the two of them seated in a cabin that oozed luxury from the leather seats and sofa, to the staff and food service.

And exiting the plane without the jostling through the aisle was the best. A moment made even better when she saw the car waiting for them. In record time, they were loaded up and Connor was driving away from the airport.

Which was when all the ghosts of her past started sounding off in the back of her mind. She ruthlessly shut that down before the lingering happy vibes of the private flight were ruined. Loads of people had to go back to the places where they grew up. It wasn’t the least bit significant and was completely unrelated to their purpose here. She only needed to focus.

“You ready?” Connor asked as the navigation announced they’d reached the destination. He followed the posted signs to the parking area.

“Sure.” It wasn’t as if her nerves would go away if she admitted she was jumpy. “I only hope we find something useful.”

The rental property was in a condo, one of many in the building, most likely. She’d looked up the listing while they’d waited for the flight. Two bedrooms with full bathrooms attached, a full kitchen, and excellent city views of the city. The current photos showed the space was decorated for the holiday season. Would’ve made a lovely, romantic getaway for the right couple.

Which they were not.

Maybe they’d be in and out and the place would get rented again for Christmas. And why did it matter to her?

She wasn’t clear on how long they’d be staying. Together. In the suite. In town. On the case. She had to be okay with not knowing. Because they had one singular priority: learning where Zimmer had sent those girls. “When we’re inside, I want to dive right into the financials,” she said before they got out of the car. “There might be something new that sheds a light on this mess.”

“Fine by me.” He parked and immediately went around to pop the back hatch of the mid-sized SUV. “I’ll need to update the tracking report, look for any new posts.”

She took a breath and went around to help with the luggage. Did he know she’d grown up here? Well, not this specific area. Felt weird to bring it up out of the blue. Hey, did you know I grew up in a ratty little neighborhood a few miles away? As if that mattered for much. It wasn’t as if they were here socially. This was a case and it wasn’t about her, it was about Zimmer and pulling back the veil on his questionable operation.

Besides, none of the people she’d alienated before leaving for college would be around. They were either in jail or tucked away plotting some scam that would eventually land them in jail. Bottom line, those people weren’t her problem anymore. Hadn’t been for some time. Still, she felt uneasy being in the vicinity. Probably always would. Best to get the job done so she could leave as soon as possible.

They entered the condo building and took the elevator to their floor. “Did you know I grew up in Charlotte?” She wanted to sink through the floor. Where was her self-control?

“Did you?” His gaze remained on his phone. “We should have a text for the door code,” he muttered absently.

She was notoriously bad at reading people, yet something about his response tipped her off. “You knew.” She groaned. “Hannah told you everything.”

“No.” His gaze met hers. “Does Hannah even know everything about you?”

The question surprised her. Him too, based on how his eyes widened. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a blurting problem today.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. The elevator stopped and he held the door. “To the left.”

“Mm-hm.” She’d checked the layout earlier. Plus, the sign on the wall was quite clear. Her nerves hit an all-time high as they walked in strained silence to the condo. He held his phone where she could see it and let her enter the code. “Thanks.”

True gratitude was low on her list right now. The moment the door closed, she rounded on him. “What the hell did you mean?” She didn’t shout, but it was a near thing.

“Can we unpack first?”

She folded her arms and stared him down. “There’s plenty to unpack right here. Start explaining yourself.”

“I’m not a stalker.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected. She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Well, don’t stop there.”

He set down the bags and shoved a hand through his hair. “I was the researcher when you blew the whistle on your boss,” he said in a rush. “Hannah was too close to the situation, according to Gamble and Swann.”

“Obviously.” Sonya was tempted to let him off the hook, but after the stalker comment, she wanted all the details. “She’s told me her side of that whole thing,” Sonya said. “She didn’t mention you.” Well, she had, but only in passing. It wasn’t until over a year later, when Sonya worked her first case with Connor, that she really gained an appreciation for his skills.

“Of course she didn’t. She knows you and loves you. My name was irrelevant.”

“Go on.” She ignored that little hitch near her heart that he understood that core dynamic between her and her friends. They shared what was important, and above all, honored the boundaries and limits for each other. It would’ve bothered Sonya immensely back then if she’d known how many people had been involved with rescuing her from her former boss.

“You went off the radar, even once things were clear,” Connor was saying. “The bosses had me search for you.”

True. Overwhelmed, even after the case was closed, she’d accepted Harper’s offer to lay low, far from the public eye, at a smaller Ellington property in Georgia. She’d trusted Harper not to share her location with anyone, only to offer assurances that Sonya was safe. “Harper wouldn’t have broken her promise,” she murmured.

“She didn’t,” he said. “Neither did Hannah. She insisted you were safe.”

“But Gamble and Swann wanted evidence?”

He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t claim to know the motive—”

She snorted at that nonsense. “They were already hoping to recruit me.”

“That’s a safe bet.” He bent and picked up the bags. “Can we setup now?”

“Almost. Finding me then doesn’t explain how you know my past.”

“Oh.” To his credit, he maintained eye contact.

“Connor, I’m a private person for a reason. I don’t volunteer information about myself before college.”

“I’m not asking you to do that,” he said. “I know how to mind the fences.”

“Pardon?”

“The boundaries,” he clarified. With a sigh, the bags hit the floor again. “Gamble and Swann were concerned, so I dug in. Per my orders. Harper knew what she was doing with hiding you, because my first pass through all the expected places came up empty. So I dug deeper. Yes, I confess that rabbit hole led me to your family and where you grew up.”

“My only family is—”

“Hannah and Harper,” he finished for her. “I get it, believe me.”

There was something sad in his eyes that made her want to comfort him. She resisted. Somehow. She needed to know if what he’d found colored his expectations of her. No, not her. She couldn’t care about his personal opinion. She did, however, need to know that he’d respect her skills on this case.

“I’m sorry, Sonya. If it makes a difference, that information is a footnote in a file, secure on the Guardian Agency servers. I didn’t share any details. Not even with the bosses. They wanted you, in the present. When it was clear you didn’t come home or connect with any old fr—acquaintances—I shifted my focus.”

“And eventually found me.”

“Eventually, yes.” He rocked back on his heels. “And since then…” His voice trailed off as he shrugged. “Well, I kind of developed a habit of keeping tabs on you.”

She folded her arms. “Which sounds like a stalker.”

“No.” He sighed. “Maybe. It comes down to intent. I kept track out of concern. Once you ventured out of hiding and joined the agency, you moved around all the time.”

She could hardly argue with that. Since the debacle with her former boss, she hadn’t wanted to put down roots. Being in one place and falling into a routine felt dangerous. The idea gave her chills and she rubbed her arms. Relaxing and developing predictable habits would make it too easy for anyone to find her. She didn’t see herself ever shaking off her new-found vigilance or the compulsion to keep moving around.

“You can understand that, right?” he asked.

Her answer was basically irrelevant. This wasn’t about her. They were working together and—at least in her head—the clock was ticking. “Yes,” she said. “We’d better get to it.”

She picked up her bag and moved into the suite. Best to focus on the business at hand, but it was a tough ask with Connor right behind her. Tall, handsome, smart, and a tracking genius. Her mind kept flitting back to the elevator. What had he meant about her sisters not knowing her?

They knew everything they needed to know. Her childhood sucked. She’d gotten herself into and through college. Her first job had ended in a legal disaster when she turned into a whistleblower.

The person she was now was the person who mattered. Harper and Hannah accepted her, didn’t push her to share ugly details from her past. Hell, they helped her celebrate who she was these days. No, she didn’t own a home. Didn’t need to. Yes, her permanent address was the resort in South Carolina.

The two of them were her family. She’d done everything but legally adopt herself into the Ellington clan. When one of them called, she answered. And the reverse was true, as well. They knew all the important details from her weakness for hazelnut truffles to her fear of horror movies to her fondness for fried green tomatoes. Hannah and Harper were the only people she’d confided in about wanting to spend a month in Paris.

Those were the important things, the facets that made her unique. Connor couldn’t possibly have learned all of that by watching her cell phone signal bop from place to place.

She looked around the suite, assessing the workstation options. There was plenty of space at the countertop that divided the kitchen from the living area. In addition to the dining table, there were several comfy seating choices from the roomy sectional to a couple of wingback chairs grouped around the big screen television. She worked best on a couch, with her paper notebook at hand. Did Connor know that?

“Any preferences?” she queried.

“I’m happier at the table or counter.”

She thought sitting on a bar stool would be torture after a couple of hours, but she didn’t judge him. “There’s a desk, too.” She tipped her head toward the antique secretary in one corner, currently decorated with holiday greenery and figurines behind the glass fronted doors.

He gave it a long look. “I’d rather have the table, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine by me. I’ll take this corner of the couch.” She set down the backpack that served as a mobile office where she intended to sit.

“You choose the bedroom,” he said, moving to set his messenger bag in a chair at the table.

Having reviewed the layout online earlier, she moved directly toward the suite she preferred. He followed her to the door, then rolled her suitcase over the threshold.

With a thank you, she took the suitcase and explored a little, turning on lights and taking stock of the space. A sparkling ceramic Christmas tree was staged on the dresser, next to a smaller television. Walking to the window, she admired the city before pulling the sheers closed. The view was gorgeous, Charlotte gleamed in the afternoon light, but even up here, she felt too exposed.

She unzipped her suitcase and pulled out her toiletries case. That’s as far as she ever unpacked. Maybe Connor was right to be concerned about her. Living out of a suitcase probably wasn’t the healthiest of mindsets.

But she liked it. Didn’t she?

Tugging on her lip, she moved back to the windows. Did she really thrive on all the travel, or had she only fooled herself into believing she was the adventuring, wanderlust type? Not the point, she scolded herself as she returned to the main room to get back to work.

Her eye caught on the tree as she walked by. Noticing the cord, she flipped the switch. The sparkle turned into pure holiday magic as the tree turned, the tiny lights on the branches tossing colors throughout the room like confetti.

Something inside her went soft with nostalgia. The decoration made her think of the Ellington aunts and all the beautiful items and treasures they displayed during the holidays. Some were true heirlooms, others filled with fond memories. Any interest or comment would spark stories of family antics that had become legends.

She marched out of the bedroom and found Connor setting up his laptop at the table. “Why are you available to do this?”

“Is this location relevant to any of the women Zimmer recruited?”

His question collided with hers and as he studied her, she grappled with just how far off her focus had wandered.

“Um.” She swallowed. “No.” His question was actually relevant. “I can only assume they wanted someone to take the suitcase through the Charlotte airport.”

“You’re the only one with ties to this city?”

“As far as I know. Although Zimmer doesn’t know I exist.”

One of Connor’s eyebrows arched. “He shouldn’t know.”

“Right. That.” She straightened, relieved that he was ignoring her query. “I don’t know how he could. Yes, I’ve been rooting through his finances, but that’s all behind the scenes.” She’d been careful not to leave any technology breadcrumbs behind.

“Good.”

She felt herself wanting to babble and made a hasty exit. All the way across the room to the couch. She had her own setting up to do and new searches to launch. So why did she keep checking him out? He was the same man she’d shared a plane with. The same man she’d worked with a couple of times.

As he’d said, face to face was different.

The crisp fragrance of the Carolina coast lingered on his clothing, hers too. But it smelled better on him. His personal chemistry supercharged the scent. Like adding salt brought out the flavor of food. She felt almost dizzy, in a delightful way that was impractical in the extreme right now. Maybe salt air had a similar effect. Making her reaction to his presence less about an untimely infatuation and more likely some mysterious aromatic physics.

That was easier to live with.

She had everything nearly ready to get started when he walked up behind her.

“Water or pop?”

She turned, noticed he was offering her a Diet Coke. “Pop?” She took the bottle and set it on a coaster on the end table.

“Blame the Midwest.”

“Fair enough.” She sat down, got comfortable, and reached for her laptop. “I’ll worm my way into his credit card history and see if I can find any hints there.”

“Sounds good.” The chair scraped across the tile as he sat down at the table. “I don’t do family holidays anymore.”

She twisted around to face him. “What?”

“You asked why I was available,” he said, keeping his gaze on his laptop. “It’s because I’m on my own. There isn’t any family waiting for me to come home and join the festivities.”

“Oh.” What tragedy had he endured? “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he murmured. “On the flip side, it means I’m in this with you one hundred percent.”

“Okay.” That was good news for the young women they were trying to locate. “Thanks.”

A thousand new questions, all of them intrusive, raced through her mind. She wouldn’t ask a single one. Not now. And though she had the internet at her fingertips and above-average skills with background checks, she wouldn’t overstep.

If he wanted to share more, she’d listen. She put her mind on the task, but her curiosity about Connor kept running in the back of her mind. A big shiny distraction she had to resist.

Had to.

Yes, he was compelling. But she was sure if she went snooping where she didn’t belong, he’d know. A person didn’t get a reputation like Connor’s at the Guardian Agency without a good reason and superb performance.

Was it the family tragedy that drove him into his tech-centric career? Better to bond with the algorithms than people? Except she’d seen him work. The man anticipated what people would do. He could read the clues in body language. Again, where had those skills developed?

It was strange how much she suddenly wanted his story and hoped he’d tell her everything. Maybe she could lean into his admission about tracking her and turn that around on him. Get his whole story and balance the scales.

Focus.

She needed to stay in her lane or call the office and admit she couldn’t do the job.

She let the idea of balanced scales simmer in the back of her mind while she continued the financial investigation. Something was bound to show up as she combed the credit card activity for clues and searched for the real names behind the shell companies that protected Zimmer and his consulting gig.

And there was more than a little comfort in the team-effort of Connor’s presence. What she didn’t find, he surely would.