Silence lingered, larger than before, emptier despite Nick’s presence approaching through the undergrowth.
Nick appeared beside David like smoke out of nowhere, his boots whispering across the grass. For someone who spent themajority of his time behind a desk, Nick moved quietly when he wanted to—not Zach-level silent, but better than most.
He stared after the retreating vehicle, then raised a brow to David. The expression was eloquent, conveying volumes without words:Really? They left us here?
Chapter 43
Pressure Drop
“So I guess we’re walking,”Nick drawled, his tone dry enough to start fires.
David quirked an eyebrow, letting the moment stretch. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, smug from knowing something Nick didn’t, from having planned ahead while his brother assumed the worst. “Would I do that to you?”
Nick slanted him a look that needed no words. Years of brotherhood compressed into a single skeptical glance that said, clearer than speech:Yes. Absolutely yes. You’ve done worse.
“Ah,” David smirked, acknowledgment coloring his voice, “right. I definitely would.”
He’d done worse. There was the time in Boston when he convinced Nick the client meeting was casual dress—then arrived in a full suit while Nick wore jeans. Or the rental car debacle in Dubai. The list went on.
Brothers who’d survived what they had earned certain privileges. Light psychological warfare ranked high among them.
He let the moment stretch, savoring the faint twitch at the corner of Nick’s mouth despite his best effort at annoyance. The expression softened him—made him look younger. Morelike the brother David remembered from before corporate responsibility, before sabotage, before Kate had been targeted and everything turned deadly serious.
With a mock-dramatic flourish worthy of a stage magician, David swung open the storage shed’s door. The hinges creaked, protesting the movement, and the odor of oil and rubber and trapped heat rolled out in a wave.
Inside, nestled in toolboxes and battery packs, sat an ATV tricked-out beyond regulation, matte green with knobby terrain tires and a padded roll cage. David’s pride and joy, lovingly maintained and upgraded over the past six months until it could handle anything the island threw at it.
Zach had his motorcycle—sleek and fast and vaguely menacing. David had an ATV—practical, powerful, and completely unnecessary for a resort that had perfectly decent golf carts and well-tended trails.
But where was the fun in perfectly good golf carts?
“However,” David waved a hand at their chariot like a game show host revealing a prize, voice gleeful. “I would not do that tome.”
Nick snorted, something between laughter and exasperation. He caught the keys David tossed with reflexive ease, the metal jingling in his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m prepared,” David corrected, moving toward the passenger seat. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there, though?” Nick slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting it to accommodate his frame. The vehicle dipped under his weight, the suspension compressing with a hydraulic sigh.
“Absolutely. Ridiculous would be installing a sound system.” David sank into the seat, appreciating the way the fabric was still warm from the day’s heat, puffs of dust and synthetic leather rising at once. The memory foam molded to his body, supporting his back in a way that helped his shoulders release some of theirstrain. “I merely ensured we had reliable transportation in all conditions.”
“You installed a sound system last month.”
“That’s different. That’s quality of life.”
The ATV hummed to life under Nick’s hands, the electric engine soundless—David had insisted on the hybrid model, something that could run silent when necessary. The dashboard lit up with soft blue displays, throwing their faces into gentle relief as the vehicle rolled forward over the damp trail.
David leaned back, relishing the night air washing over his face as they picked up speed, cooler now that they were in motion. The breeze cut through the humidity, carrying the fragrance of night-blooming flowers and rich earth. Above them, through gaps in the canopy, stars scattered across the sky like chips of diamond, the Milky Way visible in ways it never is in cities, with light pollution and endless human sprawl.
His tablet rested on his lap, the screen dimmed but active, still humming with that familiar awareness beneath his palm. The resort’s systems continued their tasks—climate control adjusting for the evening hours, security cameras sweeping their programmed arcs, the water management system running smoothly now that the threat had been removed.
Well, one threat. One hired hand. One piece of a much larger puzzle.
The satisfaction that had surged so sharply minutes ago now dulled, complicated by the questions multiplying in his mind. Who did the saboteur work for? How much did betrayal cost? What had they promised him—or threatened him with—to make him desperate enough to take this risk?
More importantly, how many more were there?
The ATV bounced over a root, jarring David’s thoughts back to the present. Nick navigated with easy competence, avoiding the worst of the ruts and rocks, following the path that woundthrough the jungle like a serpent. They’d walked this route in daylight enough times that Nick knew where the treacherous spots lurked, where erosion often undercut the trail, where low-hanging branches reached for unwary drivers.
