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“Y our stepmother made bail.”

Laura nodded slowly. “We knew she would.”

“You should prepare for whatever else she’s planning,” Noah cautioned. “I know her type. She’s a schemer—a wrench in the system. She’ll make trouble for Mariposa and your family again. I guarantee it.”

Laura’s brow furrowed. “I think you might be right.”

“Fulton believes he has enough to close Allison’s case by the end of the week.”

Laura frowned. “How can he? There’s not enough evidence to convict anyone. Is there?”

“No,” he said.

“Then why the urgency?” she asked.

Noah shifted uncomfortably as the laughter from the open doors of Annabeth spilled out into the afternoon air. “I told you he was looking hard at Roger Ferraday. While I was at the station, I looked closer at his background and his son’s.” He showed her the folder in his hand. “Roger Ferraday has one DWI on his record. There were others that’ve been expunged because he’s got money and power and he’s got a high-priced lawyer who plays racquetball with judges and prosecutors alike.” He opened the folder and angled it toward her. “This is his son’s rap sheet.”

Her hand touched her mouth as she read the felonies and misdemeanors. “How is he free to come and go as he pleases with a record like this?”

“Papa Ferraday flew his bouncing baby boy to Arizona on their private jet because whispers of date rape and drug abuse are getting the attention of people who don’t care who he or his lawyer are,” Noah revealed. “There’s talk of locking Dayton Ferraday up for good.”

“How does this tie back to Allison?” she asked.

Noah didn’t want to spell it out for her. “Dayton has used fentanyl at least once in a case of date rape. The victim was a minor and charges were dropped, thanks to Roger’s influence. But the connection’s there.”

She stared at him, distress painting her. “You think Allison’s death had something to do with...rape?”

“Fentanyl is a date rape drug,” he confirmed. “Come on, Laura. Think. For what other reason would her killer inject her?”

This time, both hands rose to cover her face. She stood still for a moment. Then her shoulders shuddered.

Noah wanted to take it all away. The likeliest truth was too ugly for him to process. He didn’t want her to have to do so as well. “Hey,” he said, sliding his palm over her shoulder. When she didn’t raise her head, he rubbed circles over her back. “Hey, it’s okay.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Nothing about this was okay. But he needed her to be. If she broke down, he didn’t know what he would do. The confluence of rage and violence he felt for whoever had hurt his sister didn’t mix well with a lack of self-control.

Laura had to know, he reminded himself. If there was a rapist at Mariposa, no one was safe. Not the maids. Not the concierges, front desk clerks, masseuses... Most especially not its queen bee, who drew playboys like flies and slept alone a heartbeat away from where Allison was killed.

The need to protect her whistled in his ears. He wanted to get her out of there, away from the resort. The danger was too close to her.

Sweeping the soft strands of her hair aside, he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck. His anger and torment over Allison lived shoulder to shoulder with his panic over what he felt for Laura, his need for her. He felt too small to contain everything inside him. Something was going to have to give soon or he would explode.

“I can’t believe...” She took several shallow breaths, trying to get the words out. “...someone would do that to her...take advantage of her like that... Did he mean to kill her or did he just...want to have his way with her?”

“Either way, the son of a bitch is going to spend a long time behind bars. Unless Fulton rushes it, screws it up, and the guy gets off on a technicality. I have to make this right.”

Even as her eyes flashed with tears, her voice was firm. “We both do.”

He’d denied it for the better part of the day. He’d held himself back from the truth of what he felt. But he felt himself fumbling over that blind, terrifying cliff again. He felt himself go over the edge. Fear chased him, but he couldn’t not see her. He couldn’t stop feeling what he felt. In what he hoped was a perfunctory motion, he lifted his hand to her face to wipe the tears with his thumb.

Her eyes went soft, and he knew he’d failed. “Thank you for the coffee and omelet this morning.”

“It was nothing,” he lied.

“You fed my cat.”

He had. “I didn’t want him to wake you.”

“You were trying to sneak out?”

“I told you. I got called into the station.”

“Adam knows about us. About last night.”

“You told him?” he asked incredulously.

“Josh did. He saw you leaving my bungalow this morning.”

He rocked back on his heels. “I’m surprised I made it through the gate.”

“Do you still want to talk to CJ Knight?”

He nodded. “Someone needs to.”

“He’s returning to Mariposa on the sixteenth,” she told him. “Looks like you’re going to get your shot.”

“What’s he booked for—spa, golf, excursions?”

“I’ll have to check with the front desk,” she replied.

“Find me an in,” he told her, “and I’ll find out if he’s Allison’s killer.”

“I will,” she promised. She looked across the grounds, past the pool to the tumble of rocks on the far horizon. The sun was low. It fanned across her lashes, and he saw they were still wet. Something inside him constricted. “Do you want me to keep Bungalow Fifteen available for you?” she asked.

She could smell the distance he was trying to erect between them. “Yes,” he said, hating that he was too spineless to spend the night in her bed...too terror-struck to put himself at her mercy again.

He’d be a fool to let her play with his heart again.

“Very well,” she said stiffly.

Before she could veer back through the doors to the restaurant, he took her by the elbow. Without thinking, he pulled her in.

As always, he went a step further. He kissed her. Her arms linked underneath his. They fanned across his back, and she made a noise that flipped his restraint like a wrestler’s hold.

He opened his mouth to hers, recapturing the heat from last night. He let it coil around him. It was as if he’d never left.

He tipped his head up and away from hers. Her nails scraped across his scalp, making his mind go dangerously blank.

“Last night, you left a path of little reminders across my skin,” she told him. “I’ve spent the whole day hating you for it.”

Last night, she’d drawn little maps across his soul in carbon black. He’d spent the better part of the day trying to come up with enough elbow grease to erase them. He’d failed miserably.

“Hate me, Laura,” he invited. “It’s better for both of us.” He touched her shoulders and held her away from him. “I’ll see you.”

Her expression folded, but her eyes glinted with promise. “Yes, you will.”

Between the wedding and resort operations, Laura stayed busy. Too busy to think about the man in Bungalow Fifteen or the path between his bungalow and hers that, as promised, remained scant on foot traffic over the next few days. No one questioned why they didn’t spend Valentine’s Day together. The wedding was an all-day spectacle that had her limping back to her house well after hours on Saturday. She found Sebastian waiting for her there alone, demanding Fancy Feast and cuddles on his terms. Just like a man , she thought as she juggled a martini and Sebastian’s large, round form in her favorite corner on the couch.

She ran into Roger Ferraday a handful of times on Sunday and struggled to maintain her demeanor. She skirted Adam, his warnings and assumptions.

Most of which she had to admit were true. She had gotten carried away by the illusion of her and Noah. But not rock star Noah. The real Noah—the one she’d thought she knew. And maybe she was setting herself up to get hurt.

Maybe she was her mother’s daughter. Maybe she sought the one person she knew would never let her stand beside him without pretense.

When Tallulah tapped on the open door of Laura’s office in L Building on Monday morning, Laura couldn’t have been more relieved to see her. She closed the proposal Adam had prepared for her about a new line of more efficient bulk washing machines he wanted to splurge on for housekeeping. “Right on time, as always,” she greeted her.

Tallulah stepped into the office and closed the door. “Were you expecting me?”

“No,” Laura said, propping her chin on her hands as she watched Tallulah settle into one of the faux cowhide chairs across the desk. “But your visits are always welcome.”

“You look tired, Laura,” Tallulah murmured, studying her.

“Things have been busy,” Laura said by way of excuse.

“Yes, they have,” Tallulah agreed.

“Do you want to have coffee with me?” Laura asked, already reaching for the Keurig she’d tucked lovingly into the corner with mugs with the Mariposa logo.

“I would,” Tallulah admitted, “but I have something I need to speak with you about.”

“I’m all ears,” Laura said, easing back into her chair.

Tallulah folded her hands carefully in her lap. “It’s about Bella.”

“The maid?”

“Yes,” Tallulah said. “She came to me this morning in tears and handed in her resignation.”

Laura blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So was I,” Tallulah stated. “She’s wonderful at her job, and she’s a good girl.”

“Did she give you a reason for leaving?” Laura asked.

“Not at first,” Tallulah said. Her dark eyes flickered. “But when pressed, the story came out.”

“‘Story’?” That didn’t sound good.

“She says she was assaulted,” Tallulah said quickly, as if in a hurry to get the words out. “By a guest.”

Laura stiffened. “Assaulted?”

“Yes,” Tallulah replied. “It happened Friday, and she didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t tell me.”

Laura wrapped her hand over the edge of the desk. “Tallulah, what kind of assault was it? Did she say?”

Tallulah’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Laura. She said she was manhandled, sexually. She was cleaning Bungalow Three because she thought the guests there were out for the day and she was attacked.”

“Bungalow Three.” Laura bit down on the urge to scream. “That’s where—”

“The Ferradays,” Tallulah confirmed with a nod.

“Which one?” Laura asked and heard her voice drop low where anger coiled.

“The younger,” Tallulah answered. “And after what she told me, I’m in a mind to march down there and pour boiling water over his head.”

Laura pushed back from the desk. She stood. “We need to report this.”

“She doesn’t want to involve police,” Tallulah said. “I could hardly get her to talk to me.”

“You don’t understand,” Laura said as she picked up her phone and dialed Noah’s number. “This has happened before.”

“With the maids?” Tallulah asked, shocked.

“No,” Laura said. “Back in Connecticut, where the Ferradays live when they’re not here.”

“You knew this?” Tallulah stared at her, aghast.

Laura hated herself for it. “He’s already under investigation. That’s why his father brought him here. Probably in hopes that things would quiet in his absence.” She swallowed hard. “Tallulah. I didn’t think he’d do something like this. I’m so sorry.”

Tallulah nodded in a vague, distracted motion.

Laura wrestled with her guilt. The call went to voicemail and she redialed. “Come on, Noah. Pick up.”

“Why are you calling him?” Tallulah queried.

Laura knew she couldn’t explain. She waited through a second procession of rings, then all but growled when it went to voicemail. “Noah. It’s Laura. I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. It’s urgent.” She dropped the phone back to the cradle. “Where is Bella now?”

“I had Mato drive her home,” Tallulah admitted. “She was too upset to drive herself.”

“We’ll need her to make a statement,” Laura said. “She’s already told her story to you. Do you think she’ll do so again if you’re there with her?”

“Maybe,” Tallulah offered after a moment’s thought. “But she was adamant, Laura. No police.”

“She may not have a choice.” Laura headed toward the door. “Can you call Roland and have him meet me at Bungalow Three? I’m going to have a word with Roger Ferraday.”

“Ms. Colton.” Roger Ferraday grinned winningly when he found Laura on his doorstep. “This is a surprise.”

“Mr. Ferraday,” she greeted him. Roland hadn’t arrived yet, but she’d knocked on the door of Bungalow Three regardless. “Is your son here?”

“Dayton?” Roger gave her a puzzled look. “Why?”

“There’s been a security breach. We’re just checking to make sure all guests are present and accounted for.”

“Security breach?” Roger’s smile tapered. “Should I be concerned?”

“We don’t believe so,” she blurted. “If you could assure me your son is in residence, please...”

“He is,” Roger assured her. “I think he’s still in bed.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Laura asked.

“You’re scaring me, Ms. Colton,” Roger said, visibly paling.

“Have you checked on him this morning?” she asked. “Are you sure he’s in his bedroom?”

“I’ll go check,” Roger said, and he left the door open as he fumbled away. He called his son’s name, rushing.

Laura took the open door as an invitation and stepped inside the bungalow. She smelled men’s cologne and takeout. The table was crowded with to-go containers, and she spied a pile of wet towels through the door to the pool deck. Housekeeping hadn’t come through yet.

Thank goodness , she thought.

“Here he is,” Roger announced with obvious relief as he returned to the living area with his son. “He was sleeping in, just as I told you.”

Laura eyed the slouch-framed boy with a messy lid of black curls. He peered at her, unhappy to have been roused from sleep.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked in a baritone. He was of medium height, skinny, but she saw deceptive strength in the long arms that hung from the sleeves of his oversized Ed Hardy T-shirt.

If she searched his room, would she find fentanyl?

Had he killed Allison?

She unscrewed her jaw so that she could speak. Fury tried to bite down on the words. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay here.”

“Me? What did I do?”

She glared at him. “You know exactly what you did.”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Betrayal and disbelief worked across Roger’s features. “You...tricked me?”

“Our security team will be here any moment,” she stated. “They’ll take your son into their custody and await police.”

“Dayton didn’t do anything,” Roger said with an expansive gesture. “Listen, Ms. Colton. I’m sure there’s something I can do, some arrangement we can come to—”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Ferraday,” she said with a shake of her head. Where was Roland?

“In that case, I’d like to speak with your brother,” Roger requested. She could see sweat forming on his upper lip. She noted how he’d planted himself between her and Dayton. “Adam, isn’t it?”

“You’re lucky I’m the one handling this matter,” she informed him. “Neither of my brothers would wait for Security to haul your son out.”

“You know.” Dayton spoke up, inspecting Laura. His pupils were as black as water beetle wings. “You’re a smart-mouthed bitch.”

“Shut up, Dayton!” Roger snapped. “I’m handling this!”

“No,” Laura said, staring back at Dayton. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Dayton said, and his shoulders squared. “You’re a big, loud, smart-mouthed bitch and you’re going to eat your words. Just like the rest of them.”

She took a step forward, drawing herself up to her full height. “You’re right about one thing, Dayton. I’m a really big, really loud, really smart bitch. And I’m going to make sure you never hurt another woman again.”

Roger held his hands up. “Ms. Colton, please. I’m sure we can solve this unfortunate matter together. There’s no need to involve Security or the police. Dayton and I will leave your resort quietly. Just name your price.”

“Bribery won’t work here,” she told him.

He had the nerve to smile. “Only because I haven’t named the right price.”

“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear,” Laura said, raising her voice. “Your son is a rapist and, possibly, a murderer, and he’s leaving Mariposa in handcuffs.”

“A murderer?” Roger repeated, smile fleeing. His face reddened, and he advanced on her. “That’s a lie!”

“Yeah,” Dayton spit. “What the hell?”

“Get out!” Roger shouted at her.

She heard the knock on the door. “Ms. Colton?” Roland called as he stepped into the open entryway. “Are you all right?”

Roger Ferraday’s arm snaked out, hooking her around the throat. The other pinned her arms to her sides.

“What are you doing?” she cried out.

“Back off!” Roger warned Roland. “Back the hell off or I’ll hurt her!”

Roland’s Taser was already in hand. He didn’t back away. “Mr. Ferraday,” he said, focused on the face next to Laura’s. “You’re making a big mistake here. The police are right behind me. If they see you’ve taken Ms. Colton hostage, you’ll be charged with holding her against her will. And the accommodations at the state penitentiary lack the luxury you’re accustomed to.”

Laura could smell the fear and sweat pouring off Roger. It dampened his shirt and hers as he pressed his front to her back. It slicked across her ear as his cheek buffered against it. Holding herself still, she kept calm, knowing her fright might encourage him to carry this through.

The tension shattered when the glass sliding door exploded. Glass rained, skidding across the floor, and a dark figure darted through the opening, gun between his hands. “Hands in the air!” he yelled.

Laura barely had time to register the lethal focus on Noah’s face before Roger shoved her aside. Her boot heel slid across a loose piece of glass, and she went flying. She reached out to grab the table’s edge, but she was going too fast. Her head arced down to meet it and she was helpless to stop her momentum.

Little white lights broke across her vision. Then the world came rushing back to her as she met the floor, little glass shards poking through her blouse. She reached for her head as pain split her temples.

When she pulled her hand away, blood smeared her fingers.