The Man I Want to Be Page 11

  “They both fit the description. But, get this, one of them works at the hotel.”

  Tyke’s adrenaline ramped up, climbing to unhealthy levels.

  “He’d be able to obtain keys for all the hotel rooms,” Tyke said, his mind going immediately to the vision of the thief inserting a card into Kenna’s door and waltzing in.

  Reese pulled his glasses off to wipe the lenses with a cloth from his pocket. When he slid them back on, he looked directly at Tyke. “Yes, he would.”

  “But he doesn’t have a connection to the wedding guests. Not that we can tell. So why were Claire and Kenna targeted?”

  “It does seem odd that only those two ladies are missing items. Which is why I took particular interest in the second suspect. He’s here.”

  “Right now?”

  Reese turned his head, gazing over the tables of people. Tyke followed, noticing that Reese stopped on a table in the front corner, next to the stage. “Eleven o’clock, facing us.”

  “Got him.”

  Tyke stared at the dark-haired guy in a collared shirt and shorts, chatting with one of Sam’s bridesmaids. That bubbly blond one again. Tracy. Suspect number two had a finger looped under a gold bracelet around her wrist and seemed to be complimenting her on it.

  “Son of a bitch.” Tyke turned back to Reese with his blood pounding in his ears. “If that’s our guy…”

  “If,” Reese said. “You know how this goes. We need more intelligence before moving in, so I contacted Giles and requested he run our suspects through the system.”

  Giles was a computer tech guy at the DEA who often aided the team in compiling intel on their missions.

  “What came back?” Tyke asked.

  “Giles said the man who works at the hotel has prior records of robbery and also owes money to some unscrupulous people.”

  Keeping his attention on the second suspect, whose name and room number were on their list from Davis, therefore Tyke knew exactly where to find him when needed, he asked, “Where can I find the hotel worker?”

  “He lives in a villa on the private side of the beach. I’ll send the address to your phone.”

  “Thanks, man,” Tyke said. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day.”

  Get ready, assholes. I’m coming for you.

  …

  “We have a problem,” Kenna said as she approached the bar where Bear stood. He’d been holding the thing up all night, not walking away even to sit and watch the entertainment.

  His expression was serious and calculated as he stared at the beer in his hand. “Which is?”

  “Aunt Estelle said her brooch is gone. It’s a family heirloom from her mother.”

  His head snapped up. “When?”

  “Today. Just before dinner. She said she left it out on her bed when she went for a walk with Rose and Celia, and when she came back, it was gone.”

  He brought the bottle up to his mouth, threw his head back, and his throat worked as he drank. After a few seconds, he slammed the bottle onto the bar, making Kenna jump. “What did she say? Please tell me she saw the motherfucker.”

  “I haven’t asked yet. Figured you’d want to be there when I talk to her.”

  He paused, surprise blanketing his face. “Yeah, I would. Thanks.”

  “Sure.” She started to walk away, but he rested a hand on her arm.

  Stopping, she faced him.

  “Since, uh…you know, you did something nice for me…I’ll tell you something I found out, too.”

  Her expression warmed. “Okay.”

  “Reese found two suspects on his list. A guy who works at this hotel and owes a lot of people money, and a guest here at the wedding.”

  Her eyes were already scanning the crowd. “Where are they?”

  “Reese is sending me the address for the first. He’s got a place on the other side of the island.”

  “And the one here?”

  Tyke lowered his voice. “Don’t stare. But look at the table that would be considered eleven o’clock. He’s facing us talking with Tracy.”

  She found him and glanced at the woman next to him.

  Holy crap. Why hadn’t she seen him before? He fit the profile. At least enough that they should check him out. He was a little broader across his shoulders than she remembered. And his hair was a touch longer. Like he was a few weeks late for a haircut. The man she saw walking down the hall was well-groomed and didn’t seem like the type to ever miss a hair-trimming appointment. Then again, she’d only seen him for a few seconds, and the security video wasn’t close enough for that kind of detail. He was definitely a viable possibility.

  “Stop staring.”

  Kenna brought her attention back to Bryan. “So what do we do now? Should we talk to him?”

  “Not unless we want to blow the investigation. First, we watch him. See what he does. Who he talks to.”

  She sent another look the man’s way, her anxiousness making her heart race. One of these men was their guy. They were so close. She could feel it.

  “Stop looking at him,” Tyke growled.

  “Okay, okay.” She turned, keeping the man at her back so she wouldn’t be tempted to keep staring.

  “If you’re so adamant about doing something,” Bear said, “then let’s find out what Estelle knows.”

  Good idea.

  Kenna wormed her way through the row of tables, dodging chairs and people, in the direction of where her aunt sat. She lowered into the chair next to Estelle. Tyke pulled one from the next table over, keeping it facing the opposite direction, and sat backward with legs wide.

  “Aunt Estelle,” Kenna said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I said something to Bryan about your missing brooch. In addition to Mom’s ring, he heard about another couple at the wedding who are missing something, too.”

  Her eyes widened, and her voice went up an octave. “He did?”

  “Yeah, it was a couple days ago,” he said. “We’re trying to see if all this is related.

  “Do you remember anything out of the ordinary when you got back to your room?”

  Estelle’s forehead wrinkled. “Not that I can think of.”

  “Did you see anyone? A dark-haired guy, maybe?” Kenna asked.

  “A what?” Estelle perked up. “Now that you mention it, yeah. I do remember seein’ a dark-haired guy.”

  “What was he wearing?” Kenna asked, eager. Come on. Something specific.

  Estelle’s lips squeezed in thought. “I don’t remember.”

  Kenna wilted in her chair. Damn.

  Without attire, it was tough to choose which one to target first. If Estelle had seen someone with a uniform, then they’d know it was a hotel worker. Plain clothes could suggest a wedding guest.

  Kenna glanced across the area at the suspect, and she was about to ask Aunt Estelle if the man looked similar to that suspect, but when she opened her mouth, Bear cut her off.

  He shook his head once. Not now, he seemed to say.

  “Was anything else in your room disturbed?” he asked, his expression serious. It was crazy to see this side of him. She’d never seen him in action. The no-nonsense demeanor was a welcome change. He obviously took other people’s safety seriously.

  “Uh.” Estelle’s features went thoughtful, like she was thinking back to when she walked into her room. “Nothin’.”

  “Anything about the guy you can point out? Other than dark hair? Did he talk a certain way? Act a certain way?”

  She shook her head. “Nah. Can’t think of anything.”

  Bryan blew out a breath, his frustration rolling off him. “Okay. Thanks, Estelle.” He shot from his chair and ate up the distance to the bar.

  “Why didn’t you want me to ask her about the guy at the other table?” Kenna asked once she met him back at the bar.

  “Too soon.”

  “But if she saw him, maybe she can identify him.”

  “Or it could draw attention to someone who has nothing to do with the investigatio
n. It would draw attention to what we’re doing. We don’t need Estelle blabbing to everyone that Sam and Cass invited a thief to their wedding.”

  “Oh. Good point,” she said, lounging against the bar. “So what now?”

  His attention was focused on the stage, where a handful of tanned-skin men and women wearing grass skirts were lighting batons on fire.

  “Now we wait for the fireworks to start.”

  “Be serious,” she said. “What should we do?”

  “What I said.” He gestured with his chin to the man at eleven o’clock. “We wait.”

  Chapter Ten

  The hula dancers performed for about thirty minutes and not one of them managed to catch on fire. Shame. Tyke half hoped it would happen—just a tiny flame—to make this event more entertaining. When they were done, a DJ came out and started playing Top 40, suck-ass pop music. The DJ said a kid named Justin Beeby or Justin Baby was singing, and for as high as his voice sounded, that’s exactly what he could’ve been. The crowd loved it, though. Nearly everyone was on their feet, moving and grooving to the terrible, electronic beat.

  Even Kenna was out there, shaking her ass and smiling. She danced with a few different people—Estelle, Sam, and Tracy. Kenna was the most vibrant one out there. With that shiny red hair and those curves, she looked like a fire goddess.

  When she saw him watching her, she waved him over.

  Nah. He shook his head. He wasn’t a dancer. With arms and legs as long as his, it was tough to move in a coordinated manner. Plus, he’d much rather stand back and watch her.

  That tune ended, and then it happened.

  The DJ changed course and played a slow song.

  Their song.

  The one she’d picked for their wedding. The wedding that never happened.

  Out of all the songs over the last five decades, how in the hell could the DJ pick that one?

  The first few bars played, and it was like an emotional shock into their past. In that moment, Tyke must’ve been dying—or at least at death’s door—because everything he’d ever experienced with Kenna flashed before his eyes. The first time she smiled at him. Their first date at that ice cream shop. The time they’d made out in the parking lot instead of going into the movie theater. The night he’d slid her mother’s sapphire ring on her finger when she agreed to marry him. The next morning, at the airport in his fatigues shipping off to basic training. The accident in Iraq. The irreversible prognosis from the doctor. Kenna’s beautiful, angelic face coming into his mind when he realized he wouldn’t be able to go home to her.

  Her gaze was still on him, and when the music registered, her smile lengthened and a look of longing set in. Goddamn, when she looked at him like that…he’d do anything for her. Anything.

  Some people on the dance floor paired off. Those without partners moved to stand on the outside, watching. Kenna stayed where she was, smack in the middle of the dance floor, her eyes pleading with him.

  It would be so easy to go to her. To hold her in his arms and not let go. To imagine what their future could hold. They could have a fresh start.

  But like the pussy he was, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He never could.

  “Fuck. I can’t do this.” He turned away, not bothering to picture her broken expression. He’d envisioned it enough over the last twelve years that it was ingrained in his brain forever.

  He flew away from the dance floor, brushing right past a waiter with a beer in his outstretched arm. Tyke reached the tables where a few people were still seated. Of course he met Estelle’s questioning face first. “Bryan?”

  He ignored her and kept going.

  “You okay, man?” Ash jogged next to him.

  “I’m good. Just gotta go.”

  His friend gripped Tyke’s arm, forcing him to a stop.

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  Cooper’s face got up in Tyke’s. “Stop and think for a second. You sure you wanna do this?”

  Tyke shrugged out of Ash’s hold.

  “You better be one hundred percent certain when you leave this time.” Ash had a purposeful set to his jaw as he turned his head to look back at the dance floor.

  “Fuck you, man.” He followed his friend’s gaze. “I’m sure—”

  Kenna was in someone else’s arms. Another man was holding her close and singing into her ear. She swayed in sync with his body to the song she should be sharing with Tyke.

  And that other man was suspect number two.

  …

  Tyke went back to the bar, his gaze locked on Kenna. She was smiling, seeming to enjoy herself, and he told himself he could do it. He could keep his eyes on her and not feel anything.

  It was complete and utter bullshit.

  He wanted nothing more than to pounce on the man, rip him away from Kenna, and then drag her back to Tyke’s room like the barbarian he was. But what would be an amazing night of sex would only lead to disappointment later on.

  She’d want more. Something permanent. A stable family. A house full of kids. And he couldn’t give her that. After his accident, he was half the man he used to be. Half the man she deserved. He wasn’t going to give her false hope of a future she’d only hate him for later on.

  So he continued to stare at her.

  The man she danced with was Michael Tucker. Some advertising executive friend of Cassandra’s. Truthfully, he looked like a wiener. Pressed shirt tucked into his khaki shorts. Leather slip-on shoes. Dark hair perfectly gelled. He stood erect like someone jammed a fishing pole up his ass. Guy probably waxed his balls, too.

  “So you decided to stay,” Ash said next to him.

  “Yeah, so?” Tyke said, not bothering to face his friend.

  “Seems significant, that’s all.”

  That made Bryan swing a look at Ash. “Significant? Who the fuck are you? Dr. Phil? What’s significant about me coming to the bar and getting another drink?”

  Ash glanced at him sidelong. “You can drink in your room.”

  True. But then his mind would wander into dangerous territory.

  Without giving much of a shit, he slid a look back at Kenna. Michael was leaning in to whisper into her ear. She threw her head back and laughed at whatever the pinhead said. His hands inched from her waist down to her hips. His mouth traveled back to her ear again, where he said something else. When the guy pulled back, whatever he said made Kenna’s eyes glitter and lips curl.

  Tyke’s fist tightened around his beer bottle. He brought his attention back to Ash, and his friend’s raised eyebrows suggested he’d come to some sort of conclusion.

  “What?” Tyke barked.

  Ash’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not really sure why you’re being such a pussy right now.”

  “And I’m not sure why you’re over here spouting bullshit at me when you should be over there with your fiancée.”

  Ash drank a large guzzle from his beer. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not like you’ll listen to common sense anyway, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

  “Son of a—” Tyke sputtered. “There’s more going on here than you realize.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

  “I don’t think you are, Coop.”

  “Nah,” his friend said. “I am. Loud and clear. Enjoy holding up this bar by yourself tonight while the rest of us go back to our rooms with someone.”

  Before Tyke could go back at him, Ash spun and cut across the sand toward Samantha.

  Like the masochist that he was, Tyke looked at Kenna. She and Michael were closer together, his hands moving up and down her back, each time getting lower and lower, hovering just above the swell of her ass. She didn’t seem bothered by Michael’s touch. In fact, based on the way she swayed her hips against him, she seemed to enjoy it.

  But she couldn’t. Could she? Michael wasn’t her type. She liked men who were rough around the edges. This one was too slick. Too rehearsed. Too generic in his advances.

  Kenna liked a ma
n who took control. Possessed her. Pushed her body beyond its limits.

  Yeah, she didn’t want that guy. She was just getting back at Tyke for his dick move with their song. Plus, she was trying to see if Michael was their thief. Yeah, two birds with one stone kinda thing. ’Cause if she was attracted to this douche, then Tyke was going to put a stop to that shit pronto.

  Michael Tucker could be dangerous. That was all. Tyke just didn’t want her getting too close to a potential psychopath.

  The dance ended, and they held hands back to Michael’s table. On the way, Michael flipped a twenty between two fingers to a passing waiter. A few moments later, the waiter came back with a low glass of amber liquid and a tall glass of white wine.

  Ha. First mistake, dick weed. At least let the woman order her own drink.

  Kenna hated white wine. She used to say wine wasn’t worth drinking unless it was red, dry, and full-bodied.

  Just as Tyke expected, she gave a half-assed smile as she took the glass from Michael. Lifting it to her mouth, she sipped before giving a small, unenthused nod of approval.

  Michael was back at her ear again, probably whispering some played-out crap about how hot she was and how bad he wanted to take her back to his room.

  She placed the glass on the table in front of her and nodded more enthusiastically. Even batted her eyelashes. Her eyelashes. Michael’s expression said he’d just won the lottery without buying a ticket.

  Hand in hand, the pair turned from the table and maneuvered toward the exit.

  Oh, hell no.

  Tyke dropped his bottle onto the bar, leaving it half full, and headed in their direction. He caught up to them in seconds, staying close enough to hear what they said without tipping off that they had a tail.

  “So where’s your room?” Michael asked in a rough bedroom voice that made Tyke’s insides clench so hard he almost seized.

  She told him she overlooked the pool, which was a load of bull. She faced the ocean. She always requested it when they’d go on vacation. She loved opening the windows and letting the breeze drift in. She used to say it helped her sleep better. Tyke, on the other hand, slept for shit because he sweated all night from the hot, salty fucking air.