Page 78 of Maneater

“I’ll let you guys handle this. I’m going to go back to my—” I interrupt, but Rowan cuts me off.

“You’re staying here. We have to talk.”

I don’t even look at him when I reply; too many conflicting emotions at play. “I don’t think?—”

“Stay. Here. Josephine.”

My body goes still with his words, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Is this it? Is this my cover being blown? That’s never happened before. Maybe this is exactly why we’re not supposed to get involved with someone on a mission.

Rowan turns to her then. “Rory, you can go.”

My veins turn to ice, but she smiles.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything; I was here with them as well. If they need me to give a statement, I’m willing.”

Rowan’s shoulders relax just a hair. It’s almost indiscernible, but it happens all the same, and he nods.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

Nearly an hour later, the woman is off to the hospital for some basic care and monitoring, though she seems okay, and I’m following a tight-jawed Rowan to his office. He hasn’t talked to me since he asked me to stay except to ask me to follow him. I stood in a corner most of the time, panicking about what to say to him and how to talk myself out of this mess. Still, it wasn’t time wasted: I took many mental notes, watching reactions and faces, tracking where eyes diverted. WhileDaniel looked absolutely wrecked at the idea of another guest getting hurt, profusely apologizing not only to the guest but to Rowan as well, Tanya looked distraught in another way. Panicked, almost. With each passing moment and every added piece of evidence that this was not an accident, her face seemed to grow paler, and she kept checking her phone as if waiting for a reply.

Is she involved? Is she our guy? Maybe she went to Daniel to distract him, to make him hard to reach if and when an emergency occurred.

But what would the motivation be?

And why would she continue to use her own department? If she was trying to fuck with the resort as a whole, why would she continue to mess with the spa? I would assume she would have to recognize it would put a target on her head as the issue.

But I can’t think of it any longer when we finally step into Rowan’s office, a gorgeous room with a balcony and a beautiful view of the ocean behind him. Unfortunately, I can’t take it in, not when he’s staring at me like that, as if I am a child who has explaining to do.

“What were you doing there, Josie?” he asks, finally breaking the silence as he leans against his desk and crosses his arms on his chest. His jaw is tight, and the levity that I was starting to see on his face this afternoon is completely gone.

“I told you. I’d just gotten done getting my scrub. We were on our way out?—”

“If I weren’t completely entwined by you, I might have started to wonder if you were behind at least some of the issues plaguing the resort a long time ago.”

Every molecule of blood leaves my face. I knew this was coming. Rowan is smart and attentive. But still, there’s something about hearing the accusation out loud that turns my stomach.

I had convinced myself, I think, that if we could just get past the last few days of this mission, if I could just close the case without any real questions, it would be fine. But that clearly was wishful thinking. It’s a double-edged sword, after all: I’m into Rowan because of howattentive he is, how he notices things…but it’s his attentiveness that is coming back to bite me.

“It wasn’t me, you have to believe me, Rowan. Seriously,” I whisper. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t blink. And when he does move, it’s to speak his next words, low and emotionless. Robotic, even.

“Why were you down there? Your appointment was at three, but when I came, it was nearly six. A scrub is not three hours long, Josie. Why are you at almost all of the locations when something goes wrong? Why do I keep finding you places you shouldn’t be?”

“I—”

He shakes his head like he’s dismayed and doesn’t want to hear my excuses before cutting me off, leaning in a bit.

“You know something. I know it. I don’t know what it is or how you’re involved, but you know something. You know something about what’s going on here, and you’re hiding it.”

I shake my head, wanting to refute it but not able to, but he keeps speaking. “Was meeting you at the bar planned?”

That twists in my heart.

“No,” I say, quickly and firmly. “No, Rowan. It wasn’t. I just happened to be at the bar, and you were there, too.”

He nods like he believes at least that, and relief rushes through me. It’s gone just as quickly as it came.

“And here? What about you being here?”