Page 14 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)
The doorframe caught Cassidy's weight as her knees buckled, her body betraying her as it tried to fold in on itself. The image seared into her retinas—Marcus Holloway sprawled across sheets stained with blood, a hole in his forehead, his eyes filming over with death's flat gaze.
She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the threshold. A muffled scream tore from her throat—not the full-throated shriek of movies, but a wounded animal's whimper.
Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped her phone, Marcus's text still glowing on the screen like a taunt: Please come alone—there are things about Xavier Vega you need to know.
The metallic scent drifting from inside, mixed sickeningly with the resort's signature plumeria. Bile rose hot and acidic in her throat. The elegant heels that had carried her confidently through a thousand tournaments were now anchors, keeping her frozen while her mind screamed for escape.
Running footsteps pounded down the hallway—Kenji Marshall, sprinting toward her. The SEAL from the tournament. The man who'd lost everything at the poker table yesterday.
He reached her in seconds, his hand immediately moving to steady her shoulder.
"Miss Reynolds—" His gaze swept past her to the open door, and his entire demeanor shifted.
In one fluid motion, he positioned himself between her and the room, his body becoming a shield while he peered inside, cataloguing what she'd discovered.
"Step back," he commanded, his voice carrying an authority that made obedience automatic. His grip on her elbow was firm but gentle as he guided her away from the doorway. "Don't touch anything else. Don't lean against the walls. Keep your hands visible."
"I don't understand—" The words came out small, broken.
"This was staged." His professional assessment continued even as he maneuvered her to safety. "Someone wanted you to walk in, wanted your fingerprints here, wanted you to see this."
The implications crashed over her in waves. "But I didn't—I would never?—"
"I know." The certainty in his voice cut through her panic. "But someone wants it to look like you did. The question is why."
She stared at him, really seeing him for the first time.
Yesterday he'd been a desperate gambler with shaking hands and haunted eyes.
Today he was something else entirely competent, protective, dangerous in all the right ways.
The contradiction should have frightened her.
Instead, she found herself leaning into his strength.
"Who was he?" Kenji asked, still scanning the corridor for threats.
"Marcus Holloway." The name stuck in her throat like broken glass. "He sent me a text this morning. Said he had information about—" She stopped, sudden understanding stealing her breath.
"About Vega," Kenji finished. It wasn't a question.
Her legs threatened to give out again as the full horror of her situation crystallized. "Last night—" She stopped, swallowing hard. "Last night Vega gave me an ultimatum."
"Tell me." His amber eyes locked onto hers, steady and sure.
"He wanted me to cheat. To eliminate specific players from the tournament." The words tumbled out in a rush. "Three men. I told him no. I refused." A sob caught in her throat. "Marcus Holloway was one of them."
Something shifted in Kenji's expression—pieces clicking together behind those watchful eyes. "When they find him, you'll be the prime suspect. Recent contact, clear connection to the victim, and..." He gestured to the staged door. "Physical evidence placing you at the scene."
"The other two players," she whispered, horror upon horror. "Petrov and Reagan. Are they?—?"
"We'll deal with that later." He checked his watch. "Right now, we have maybe fifteen minutes before housekeeping finds this. We need to get you somewhere safe and figure out our next move."
Safe. The word had lost all meaning. How could anywhere be safe when Xavier Vega could orchestrate murder as easily as ordering room service?
Her hand rose unconsciously to her cross, fingers tracing its familiar contours.
"Why are you helping me?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
For a moment, his professional mask slipped. She caught a glimpse of something raw and conflicted in his expression. "Because nobody should face this alone. And because?—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "We need to move. Now."