The assistant hurried in behind them, tripped, and bumped into Jason. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, before she remembered she was perturbed with him. Then she righted herself and glared at him before addressing her boss. “Mr. Drakos, they just barged in. I tried to—”
“It’s alright, Mrs. Catterwell. I’ll see them now. Thank you.”
Mrs. Catterwell exited in a huff, and Jason focused on Drakos. “We need to talk.”
Drakos sat behind his polished wood desk, eyeing Tayla. “And this is . . .?”
Tayla looked like she didn’t know if she was supposed to respond.
“This is Tayla. She’s with me. She’s not what we need to talk about.”
His eyebrows inched up. “You sound concerned. Did you learn something?”
“Why did you send the kids from the orphanage to Morghana City this week?”
His brows hiked up further. “Why ask me about that?”
“Does the timing of their trip have anything to do with what you’re storing in their basement?”
The resort owner’s eyes danced with appreciation. Leaning back in his tan desk chair, he smoothed his mustache and almost smiled. “I believe I underestimated you, Mr. Bridger.”
Jason kept his anger in check. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Why, may I ask, is the orphanage basement relevant?”
He leaned on the desk with both fists, inching into Drakos’ personal space. “Because we found Gus Branch at the orphanage. He’s dead.”
Color fled Drakos’ face. His fingers twitched and tugged at his mustache in double time. “Dead?”
Jason felt Tayla stiffen next to him. She already knew about Gus, but she probably wasn’t prepared for his curt exchange with Drakos. He glanced at her. The moisture in her eyes contradicted her stiff posture and set jaw. She was holding it together, for now.
“Dead?” Drakos repeated.
“Yes, sir.” Jason stood to his full height. “Gus sent a brief message saying he was going to the orphanage to observe a meeting. When we found him, he’d been shot, and shoved off a cliff, yards away from the house.” He realized—moments too late—his bluntness had shattered Tayla’s resolve.
Her hand flew to her face. “Excuse me,” she said, rushing out of the room.
He glanced back to Drakos. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” He jogged out of the office. And noted Mrs. Catterwell staring daggers at him while pointing down the hall, clearly holding him responsible for Tayla’s emotional state. Whichwaspartially his fault.
He slowed his jog when he found her standing outside the second-story administration area. She stared at a tropical flower garden below, gripping the walkway railing as if she needed its support to keep from collapsing.
He approached in silence.
When she sensed him, she raised her head and faced him. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t ready to hear that.”
Guilt raked across his insides. “I should have prepared you on the way to his office. I could’ve worded it more delicately . . .” He ran out of words. “I’m sorry.”
Her tears shifted something inside him, awaking dormant emotions he wasn’t comfortable with. He wanted to hold her. But a list of reasons why he shouldn’t smothered that urge.
She wiped the last tear from her face and straightened her shoulders. A new clarity shone in her eyes. “Do you know who killed Gus?”
The abrupt question surprised him. “No. Not yet. But I’ll find out.”
“And I’m holding you back. I’m sorry. Let’s go. You obviously think Drakos knows something.” She turned to leave.
“Hold on.” He gripped her forearm and pivoted her to face him again. “Just hang on a second. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. We should go.”
