Another message, this time from today’s dock attendant.
Camera three kept glitching this afternoon. Who should I report it to?
Emma forwarded it to Maintenance with quick keystrokes, making a mental note to ensure everyone received the updated staff directory.
She closed the tablet, savoring a moment of quiet as she gazed outside. A large arched window framed the marina view. Sunlight glittered on the water, and a small boat coasted past, its white sail cutting cleanly through the blue. A pair of dolphins leaped nearby, drawing laughter from onlookers watching from the beach.
The resort was still in soft launch mode, so the next few weeks would be a whirlwind of adjustments, tempers, and tropical logistics. Emma liked it that way. Order in chaos. Control amid a storm.
Her gaze drifted back to the blinking red name on the board.
Javier Ramos. First day, and already missing. Dropped his bag, said he’d be right back, and didn’t return.
Emma’s fingers tightened around the clipboard. People missed boats. It happened.
A faint thread of unease tugged at her instincts. She’d bring it up with Zach in the morning.
Glancing at her watch, she winced and rushed out the door. Almost time for her welcome speech to today’s newbies. Arriving at the dining room, she strode toward the front of the room.
“Good evening, everyone! Welcome to Isla Nocturna and Ivory Drift Resort. I know most of you arrived today tired, nervous, and wondering what you’ve gotten yourselves into. That’s normal.”
Emma smiled, letting her gaze travel across the group. Some faces brightened with relief; others were still uncertain,shoulders tight with the weight of a fresh beginning. She made a point of meeting their eyes, offering the same steady reassurance she gave every new team.
As she spoke, the rear door opened silently. Zach slipped inside and leaned against the back wall, arms folded over his impressive chest as he listened.
“In a few weeks, this resort will open its doors to the world, and when it does, every guest who walks through those doors will remember how we made them feel. Not the building. Not the views. Us. Each one of you brings something valuable to this resort.”
She paused long enough for the words to settle, scanning the room again, lingering on the tall figure near the door. Zach stood perfectly still, studying the staff the way he studied everything—quiet, watchful, assessing.
Emma resisted the urge to smile. Most people shifted, fidgeted, or tried to blend with the crowd. Zach, with his absolute stillness and massive frame, would never blend. Nothing softened his dangerous look.
Of course he would show up during orientation. Security never missed an opportunity to observe the team.
“Take care of our guests, take care of each other, and we’ll handle anything this island throws at us.”
A few quiet laughs rippled through the room, the tension easing. Emma nodded once, satisfied, her own still twisting in her gut. Javier hadn’t been on the next ferry.
“All right. Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow we start turning this place into the best resort in the Caribbean."
Chairs shifted as the group broke apart, and she studied the new hires, noting who lingered, who relaxed, who still looked uncertain.
When she glanced toward the back of the room again, Zach had slipped out the same silent way he’d entered. Lila was exiting with Carmen, chatting excitedly. Excellent.
Emma tucked her clipboard under her arm and headed for the welcome center, reviewing tomorrow’s schedule in her mind.
If Zach were already evaluating the staff, the morning security briefing should be interesting.
And if Javier didn’t show up by then, it wouldn’t stay an HR problem.
Chapter 2
Redundancy Matters
The humof the seaplane faded into the distance as Zach Steele stepped off the dock and onto the marina’s weathered boardwalk. His boots—well-worn Vibrams with good tread—made no sound on the wood. Deliberate. Noise discipline meant the difference between life and becoming a statistic in an after-action report.
The moment he emerged, heads turned.
Not because of who he was. Most of the construction crew and early-arrival staff didn’t know him by name, and they sure as hell wouldn’t recognize his face. But they instinctively feared how he moved: steady, economical, weight centered. A fluid movement that came from muscle memory of a thousand predawn PT sessions and too many close calls in places where hesitation got you killed.
