I laughed. “Bahamas, huh? Well, then he’s going to miss one hell of a time in room 223, where I’ll be waiting for him. In bed.”

The crew glanced at each other, for a moment wondering if I was telling the truth. Room 223 was indeed where Halsey would be checking in—the front desk confirmed it for me five minutes ago. And the boss…well, this probably sounded like something the boss would do.

I was about to take advantage of the confusion and push my way past the crew to look for the little punk when I saw a blurry flutter out of the corner of my eye. Damnit! Fifty feet away, Jamie Halsey was leaping from the boat to the dock and running like hell. The pedigree of my credentials didn’t matter; somebody at the El Conquistador must have tipped him off.

A thick hand grabbed my upper arm at the same moment I started to bolt down the dock. I turned to look at the crew member who’d dared to touch me.

“You really don’t want to do that,” I said, by way of fair warning.

“You leave Mr. Halsey alone, he’s got enough lady trouble.”

Lady trouble, huh? I thought.

I’ll admit it, and I apologize in advance—but the crew really ticked me off.

So maybe I twisted their arms a little harder than I should have, hit those nerve bundles with a little more force than necessary. Once they saw that I was not some silly girl, they started attacking back with serious intent. Hands tried to crush my windpipe. Fists tried hard to shatter the bones in my face.

Within thirty seconds, however, all three of them were writhing around on the deck of the yacht and I was in full pursuit of Halsey.

The kid had hopped on one of the funiculars, which was carrying him up the side of the steep hill to the main hotel. There was a second funicular, but it was still crawling down the side of the hill and wouldn’t reach me for another two and a half years.

So I did the only thing I could—chased after the funicular on foot.

Hell, Matt, you and I have both hauled ass through more treacherous terrain in the army. So after a minute of huffing it I had caught up with the tram. You should have seen the look on the kid’s face when I pried open the door and leaped into the car with him.

But that was nothing compared to the way his features shifted when I slammed him to the floor, hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

“Hi, Jamie,” I said, catching my breath. “Got a minute to talk?”

Chapter 12

KATE (continued)

“I want a lawyer,” the kid said.

They always say that, don’t they, Matt?

“Good for you,” I told him. “But I’m not a cop. And a lawyer wouldn’t do anything other than burn through that fat trust fund one billable hour at a time.”