Theresa wouldn’t approve, Elle’s conscience was clean.
A picture slammed onto the surface of the rickety table before her, pulling her from her self-righteous anger and making her jump. The handcuffs rattled again, only this time it wasn’t for effect and the jarring sensation jolted up her arms and into her shoulders, making her want to double over—if she’d had the freedom of movement to do so.
It took her a moment to focus her attention on just what was sitting in front of her. Her eyes squinted at the grainy black-and-white image as a coil of unease began to tighten in her chest.
“I do have the right to hold you, considering this photo proves that you were the source of a false fire alarm. The same one you claimed made you disoriented and unable to find your own room.”
Yeah. This was not good.
Elle fought the urge to open her mouth and let words start spilling out. She had no doubt the hard-ass who’d delighted in clamping her to this chair wouldn’t understand why she was here or believe her without the proof her lawyer had pointed out she didn’t have.
He rounded the table to stare across the scored and dirty surface and placed his palms flat onto the center, leaning forward into her space. Her only thought was damn, the man is tall. He was big, too, with broad shoulders and the kind of muscles that clothes couldn’t disguise. Any other time, she’d have enjoyed staring at him.
At this precise moment, not so much.
“Feel free to call your lawyer. You won’t get a damn thing.”
His eyes bored into her and, for the first time since she’d come to the island, she began to squirm. They were a mix of green and gold and gray that shouldn’t have been mesmerizing but somehow was. The expression in them was hard, disconnected almost. She’d seen that expression before, in her dad’s eyes on the nights he’d come home late after working a particularly horrendous murder.
She licked her lips, fighting the urge to reach out to him in the same way she’d always tried to bring the light back into her dad’s face. But this wasn’t the time. And he wasn’t her problem.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the loud bang of the door as it slammed into the wall.
“Zane, what are you doing?”
His mouth pinched before his focus switched to the man who’d just entered.
“Questioning a thief.”
“That’s not what Marcy said. According to her, this woman didn’t take a damn thing and we have no right to hold her.”
“She pulled the fire alarm.”
“I don’t care if she put on a rabbit suit and paraded up and down the halls, pretending she was the Easter bunny. Let her go.”
Elle craned her head around until she could see her would-be savior.
He wasn’t what she’d expected. While the man’s words had certainly been stern enough, his posture was anything but. He lounged against the open doorway, one hand lodged in a pocket at his hip and the other dangling loosely at his side. His shorts were slack around his hips. He had on a Hawaiian shirt, a dark cord of some kind wrapped around his tanned throat.
The man was the picture of laid-back island life. Elle thought it was a lie. A core of steel lurked somewhere deep inside. There was certainly no question he had some level of authority over Hard-Ass. She hoped he was about to use it to her advantage.
“Now, be a good boy and unlock those handcuffs before she calls her lawyer.”
“She’s already threatened to do that.”
She watched as a grimace crossed his face. “I’m sure there’s no reason for that. I apologize for Zane’s behavior. He’s ex-CIA.”
He made the statement as if it explained absolutely everything there was to know about the other man. And dragging her gaze back over to him, she thought it just might.
Hard-Ass’s…no, Zane’s jaw tightened even more as he pulled a key from his pocket. His eyes stared down at it as if he wished for the ability to bend it and render it useless so he’d