Page 24 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Kenji muttered, adjusting his position behind a cluster of hibiscus bushes near the north gazebo.

The white wooden structure sat on a bluff overlooking the churning ocean, connected to the main resort by a winding garden path that was now deserted thanks to the approaching storm.

"Trust me. I got this, K-Man." Spencer whispered, fidgeting with his rumpled polo shirt. "Rich people have weird problems, and security chiefs have heard everything."

Kenji could only hope. He could only work with what he had at hand: a wiggy trust-fund baby, and his own tactical smarts. No team. No tech. He'd have to rely on his wits…and Spencer Donovan to go up against a militia-hardened vet who worked for a ruthless trafficker.

No problemo.

The craving hit him suddenly—just being this close to the resort, knowing the casino was mere minutes away, sent his pulse racing with familiar hunger. He could almost hear the whisper of cards, feel the smooth weight of chips in his palm.

Stop.

He gripped the rough bark of a palm tree, using the physical discomfort to ground himself. Not now. Not ever again.

Gray clouds pressed down on the island, and the wind was picking up, sending salt spray from the ocean below and making the palm fronds rustle with increasing agitation. The first drops of rain spattered against the gazebo's roof as Kenji ran through their plan one more time.

So far, Spencer had held his own. He'd reported his "theft" to resort security, demanding Van Der Merwe's personal attention. The man was on his way to meet Spencer now.

It was a solid plan.

So why did he feel like they were about to step into a minefield wearing clown shoes?

Kenji had already scouted the area thoroughly.

The gazebo offered privacy but multiple escape routes through the gardens if things went wrong.

More importantly, he'd located a maintenance shed tucked behind a screen of bamboo, barely fifty yards from the gazebo—isolated enough for a private conversation, close enough to reach quickly.

During his reconnaissance, he'd also "borrowed" a few items from the resort's maintenance areas.

The serrated dive knife from the marina's equipment shed—meant for cutting tangled lines in emergencies—wasn't his preferred weapon, but its worn handle and salt-stained sheath suggested it had seen real use.

The blade was sharp enough to slice through rope with minimal effort, which meant it would be more than convincing pressed against skin.

A coil of zip ties from the groundskeeping supplies would serve as restraints if needed.

"Once Van Der Merwe's engaged with your story, I'll approach from his blind spot," Kenji explained, checking his improvised weapons one final time. "I'll convince him to take a walk to the maintenance shed—somewhere we can have a real conversation."

"Convince him how?" Spencer asked nervously.

Kenji tapped the knife sheathed at his ankle, hidden beneath his pants leg.

"He'll think I'm armed—because I will be.

Close quarters, element of surprise—a blade is universal language for 'cooperate.

' I can control the situation long enough to show him proof that Emma's safe.

Once he understands we have his daughter and we're the good guys, he'll cooperate. "

"And then?"

"Then we convince him to flip. My team extracts him to safety once they reach the island—twelve hours max. He testifies against Vega, gets immunity and witness protection, and Emma stays safe."

He hoped. It was their only play.

The approaching storm had driven most guests indoors, leaving them virtually alone on this section of the resort. Perfect cover for what they were about to attempt.

They positioned themselves strategically—Spencer waiting in the gazebo, Kenji concealed in the nearby gardens where he could monitor approaches and move in when the moment was right.

At exactly ten minutes past the hour, Van Der Merwe appeared on the garden path. Hair cut high and tight, as if he'd just stepped off a parade ground, the man moved like a predator comfortable in his own territory, confident but cautious even for what should have been a routine guest complaint.

A dangerous enemy.

Van Der Merwe climbed the gazebo steps and greeted Spencer with professional courtesy, his voice carrying on the wind. "Mr. Donovan. You mentioned a theft?"

"Yeah, for sure." Spencer shuffled in place, hands stuffed into the pockets of his wrinkled slacks. "It's, uh, kind of embarrassing. Actually, super embarrassing."

Van Der Merwe folded his arms over his chest, spreading his feet wide, expression stoic. And supremely uninterested. Kenji could feel the man's impatience.

Spencer pulled out his phone with shaking hands. "Someone broke into my suite and stole my crypto wallet. My hardware wallet, I mean. The actual device thingy."

Van Der Merwe's expression didn't change, though Kenji caught the slight pause. "Your cryptocurrency wallet."

"Yeah, exactly! It's like this USB thing but special, you know? Anyway, it has like... five Bitcoin on it. Or maybe it was fifty?" Spencer's face reddened. "I'm really bad with numbers when I'm stressed. My therapist says it's totally normal."

Face carefully blank, Van Der Merwe pulled out a small notepad. "And the current value of Bitcoin is...?"

"Oh man, I don't even know. It changes every second, right? But like, a lot. A LOT lot. My dad's gonna freak." Spencer's hands fluttered nervously. "The thing is, whoever took it must have known exactly where I kept it. I had it hidden in my shaving kit. Who looks in a shaving kit?"

"Any signs of forced entry?"

"No, that's what's so weird about it. They had to have a key card or something." Spencer was talking faster now, his nervousness making him babble. "And they left everything else—my Rolex, my laptop, even the cash I had on the nightstand. Just took the crypto wallet."

"You said it was in your shaving kit," Van Der Merwe noted. "Not a safe?"

"I don't trust hotel safes! My buddy got his stuff stolen from a safe in Monaco once. Or was it Monte Carlo? Are those the same place?" Spencer counted on his fingers. "Anyway, I figured the shaving kit was clever. Hidden in plain sight, you know?"

Van Der Merwe's pen stopped moving. "When did you notice it missing?"

"This morning. Actually, wait—I checked at breakfast. Or was it after breakfast?" Spencer's eyes went wide. "Oh man, now I can't remember if I even brought it to the island. But I must have, right? Because I remember checking it... sometime."

The security chief's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Mr. Donovan, do you actually have a crypto wallet?"

"Of course! It's a Ledger. Or a Trezor. One of those." Spencer pulled out his phone again, fumbling with it. "I have a photo somewhere... unless that's my old one..."

Van Der Merwe closed his notepad. "Sir, I'm going to need you to come with me to fill out a proper report. We'll need exact details."

"Oh. Oh no." Spencer's nervousness shifted to something closer to real panic. "But I have this thing about enclosed spaces. And paperwork. My anxiety gets really bad. Can't we just handle it here?"

From his hiding spot, Kenji tensed. Now. Move now. His hand dropped to the pruning shears at his waistband. Van Der Merwe was getting ready to escort Spencer away—this was the moment to approach from behind, take control of the situation, and force him to the maintenance shed.

But just as Kenji started to shift forward, footsteps echoed along the garden path. Steady, rhythmic footsteps that belonged to someone maintaining a jogging pace despite the deteriorating weather.

Xavier Vega rounded the bend in expensive athletic gear. When he spotted Van Der Merwe in the gazebo, he slowed to a stop with what appeared to be genuine surprise.

Kenji froze, watching their carefully orchestrated plan crumble in real time. The window of opportunity slammed shut with Vega's arrival.

"Van Der Merwe," Vega called out, jogging up to the gazebo. "What's going on?"

"Guest complaint, sir," Van Der Merwe replied smoothly. "Mr. Donovan here has reported a theft. Cryptocurrency wallet."

"Oh wow," Spencer said, his voice cracking as he recognized who had just arrived. "You're... you're the owner, right? Mr. Vega? Amazing resort. Five stars. The Wi-Fi is incredible for checking crypto prices?—"

"Thank you," Vega interrupted with a predatory smile. "I’m certain my head of security can handle your problem."

"Actually," Spencer said quickly, clearly sensing danger even if he didn't understand it, "you know what? Maybe I should double-check my room first. Sometimes I panic about stuff and then find it right where I left it. My therapist says it's a coping mechanism for my abandonment issues?—"

"Perhaps that would be wise," Vega said smoothly. "Wouldn't want to waste anyone's time with a false alarm." His gaze shifted to Van Der Merwe. "We need to talk."

Spencer held up both hands, already backing out of the gazebo. "No worries, guys. I mean, sirs. I'll just go look again. Maybe I put it in a different toiletry bag." He squeezed past Vega and practically ran down the stairs. "Crypto's probably tanking anyway," he added as he fled down the path.

The palm bark bit into Kenji's shoulder as he shifted position, the minor pain a perfect punctuation to his anger. Their carefully planned approach to Van Der Merwe was now completely blown.

"Nervous kid," Vega observed.

Van Der Merwe shrugged, but Kenji caught the tension in the man's stance. "Just another of those too rich idiots." The words sounded even harsher in his South African accent.

"Or so he wants you to think."

Van Der Merwe's eyes narrowed. "How do you mean?"

Vega toweled his forehead as he turned to survey the now-empty path. "Crypto wallet in a shaving kit? Even trust fund morons aren't that stupid. And his timing—right when we're dealing with other complications." He eyed the other man again. "You feel it too."

The other man nodded slowly, as if not quite willing to cede the point.

"If he becomes a problem, handle it," Vega said, his voice barely audible over the wind. "I've got something else I want you on for now. Reynolds will take Reagan out of the tournament tonight. After that, he disappears. Permanently."

The casual way he discussed murder made Kenji's skin crawl. Reagan—the final target Cassidy had been trying to eliminate from the tournament just hours ago.

"Tonight?" Van Der Merwe asked.

"Or early tomorrow. Just make sure it’s during the storm. Natural cover for any complications. Make it look like an accident—wealthy man, drinking alone, caught in bad weather. These things happen."

"And the woman?"

"Reynolds has served her purpose. After Reagan is handled, she becomes a liability. Two accidents in one storm—tragic but not impossible."

A jolt of fear speared Kenji. To hear the threat spoken aloud, so casually, as if discussing dinner plans...

"What about that kid?" Van Der Merwe jerked a thumb in the direction Spencer took.

"He's working something. But he's too dumb to be working alone. Find out who sent him and why before you…handle him."

"Understood."

Vega checked his watch. "Storm makes landfall in six hours. Should last through tomorrow night. Let the weather do most of the work, then handle them before it clears. Clean. Efficient. Untraceable."

"What about the tournament?"

"We'll play through tonight, then cancel tomorrow's play due to weather." He affected a sad expression. "But clearly not quickly enough. Very tragic—two participants lost in the storm."

“Understood.”

Vega jogged off without another word. As he disappeared around the bend, Van Der Merwe remained in the gazebo, but his attention wasn't on the gardens where Kenji was hiding.

Instead, the security chief stared down the path where Spencer had fled, his eyes cold and calculating. The expression on Van Der Merwe's weathered face made Kenji's blood run cold.

We didn't just fail to flip him, Kenji realized with growing dread. We put Spencer directly in his crosshairs. And now he knows we're coming.

Van Der Merwe finally scanned the gardens with professional thoroughness, his gaze sweeping past Kenji's hiding spot twice. But even when he headed back toward the resort, Kenji noticed the security chief pulled out his phone and made a brief call.

Probably putting Spence under immediate surveillance.

Kenji gave Van Der Merwe time to reach the building before emerging from the gardens, his mind racing through implications and options, none of them good. He found Spencer waiting at their rendezvous point.

"Dude. That did not go as planned," Spencer whispered.

"No kidding. We need to move. Van Der Merwe knows you're a threat now. He’ll have his people coming for your. Cassidy and that guy, Reagan, too."

"So we bail, right?" Spencer's voice cracked. "We can take the guy, too."

"One crisis at a time," Kenji said, though privately he was calculating impossible odds. "First we get you, Cassidy and Sophia somewhere safe. Then we figure out how to save everyone else Vega's targeted without getting ourselves killed."

As they made their way back through the gardens, the gray clouds had darkened ominously, the first real drops of rain beginning to fall.

The kiss he'd shared with Cassidy on the beach seemed like a lifetime ago now—a moment of beauty before the storm. If Vega had his way, they'd never get another.

Not on my watch.

Time to get creative. Time to turn the failed operation into an advantage.

Time to make sure that sunset kiss wasn't their last.