Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

“In a heartbeat.”

“Urg!” I paced the hardwood floor. How could I convince Amano to let me do this for Dane and keep it on the QT?

I’d be working with the people who constructed the Lux initially. Not exactly the blind leading the blind, right? And if the main building was structurally sound and just the lobby and its close quarters had to be restored it wasn’t as though we’d be working from the ground up on an entire megaresort. Just this one area of it. Everything else was intact, with the exception of the courtyards, gardens, and fountains. Sure, they’d all have to be tended to, because they’d incurred the brunt of the debris, but that wasn’t the end of the world.

The outbuildings were all in excellent condition. The conference center and ballrooms, the aquatic center with its indoor and outdoor pools and restaurants, the spa and bistros, the casitas along the five top-pro-designed golf courses—all in phenomenal shape. Never-used amenities, because the Lux had never even opened.

Hell, even the stunning perimeter fencing and columns were all standing, not the tiniest bit damaged. Of most significance, it was the once breath-stealing lobby that had suffered.

Honestly, it’d been so beautiful that I could cry over the devastation. To ruin something so soul stirring, so stunning. It was inhumane. Sacrilege.

But to resurrect it …

I turned to Kyle, now more determined than ever. “I remember the first time I walked through the doors of the Lux and thought nothing could be more extravagant, more glamorous, more amazing, than that lobby—and the chandeliers. Especially that ginormous one in the center, which you could see all the way out to the stone drive because it literally filled those tall asymmetrical windows.” Emotion welled within me. “I have to get it all back. For Dane. For us. For Kid. Christ, throw out some names already, will you?”

“Dawson, Pacey, Joey, Mitch, Andie—”

“All from Dawson’s Creek. You ass!” I lifted a foam stress ball from my desk and tossed it at him.

Kyle laughed. “What the hell do I know about naming a kid?”

“Clearly as much as the rest of us, so suggestions are welcomed.”

“Maybe ask Amano. I bet he’s got a family full of mysterious people with

mysterious names.”

“Oh, my God. You are so right. I don’t even know his last name.”

“Do you think he has one?” Kyle teased.

“Chances are good he doesn’t. He just showed up on a riverbank somewhere as a baby, GLOCK in hand.”

“Robin Hood reincarnated.”

“Totally.”

“Or maybe—”

“Ah-hem.” I cleared my throat as the dark-haired, six-foot-six-inch bodyguard filled the doorway behind Kyle.

“He was raised by a pack of coyotes in the Sandia Mountains of Albuquerque, where he hunted wild boar with his bare hands and—”

“Ah-hem,” I added with emphasis.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Yep.”

Kyle glanced over his shoulder.

Amano, not looking the least bit amused—though that was nothing new, since he rarely let an expression cross his face—said, “There are no wild boar in the Sandia Mountains.”

“Right.” Kyle slowly nodded his head. “Mule deer, then?”

I bit back a laugh. I swear, it was like poking a hibernating bear—that wasn’t actually hibernating.

Amano tolerated Kyle, though. A hint of amusement actually flashed in Amano’s eyes. So very briefly, but still. A good sign.