“Your job is to protect the resort. Not micromanage my life.”
“Your life is part of the resort.” Her phone pinged and Zach pocketed his phone. “You’re a senior staff member, Emma. You have access to sensitive hiring information, personnel files, security protocols. If someone is targeting you, it may not be about you. It may be about what you represent.”
That… actually made sense.
Emma hated that it made sense.
“Fine,” she said slowly. “Run your prints. Check your cameras. But I’m not relocating, and I don’t need a security detail.”
“You’re getting one anyway.”
“Zach—”
“Argue all you want.” He moved toward the door. “It won’t change the outcome.” He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at her. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I hope you’re right.”
Emma shook her head. “About what?”
“That this is nothing.” His gaze held hers for a beat longer than necessary. “Because if it isn’t…”
Something in his voice made Emma’s retort die in her throat.
“In my experience,” Zach resumed after a moment. “People who hope for the best usually end up planning funerals.”
Then he was gone.
Emma stood alone in her office, staring at the closed door.
She picked up her phone and pulled up the image of the note Zach sent her. Her fingers trembled as she re-read the words for the third time that day.
You shouldn’t be here.
This island isn’t yours.
I know where you work.
I know where you sleep.
You are not safe.
They hadn’t changed, but somehow they landed heavier now. Like they meant more than she’d first assumed.
Emma’s analytical mind ran through possibilities: disgruntled applicant, misdirected anger, random troublemaker. All plausible. None of them felt right.
Zach’s voice echoed in her head.
Someone knows where you live.
Someone came to your door.
She sat back down at her desk, glancing at the door. At the shadows in the corners of the room.
And wondered… who on the island wanted her gone.
Chapter 8
Threat Assessment
Zach scrubbedthe footage back another thirty seconds, analyzing every pixel.
