Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

He was up immediately. She seemed on the verge of flight, as if those cops might be there for her. “I’ll go down with you.”

“It’s after midnight, why would they come at this hour?” She sounded scared.

Malichai put his arm around her and pulled her in close as they made their way to the door leading back inside. The steps were narrow, so he moved in front of her, leading the way down from the attic, his larger frame protecting her. She slipped her fingers into his back pocket as they stepped into the hall, keeping a connection between them.

“We’ll find out. There’s no use in speculating.”

She didn’t move up beside him, and he didn’t insist. They went down the next flight of stairs to the main floor. Marie stood at the front door with two men in suits and an officer in a uniform. She turned toward them, relief immediate on her face.

“Oh, good. Malichai. Amaryllis. Something terrible has happened to two of our guests.”

“I’m Detective Duncan,” the taller of the two men in suits said. “This is Detective Brady. We have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Malichai could see that Marie was very distraught. He swept his arm around her. “Why don’t you come in, gentlemen. I’m Malichai Fortunes. This is Amaryllis.”

He kept his body angled slightly to provide cover for the woman he considered his. Amaryllis was strangely nervous around the cops. Even if she was one of Whitney’s orphans, she shouldn’t have to worry—unless she didn’t have the proper paperwork. He hadn’t thought of that. And he had refused to send her name to his team. They had her photograph and Ezekiel had asked for more information on her, which meant she wasn’t in the facial recognition program.

He stepped back from the door and allowed all three men into the building. Marie immediately led the way down the hall to her private sitting room.

“Please sit down,” she invited. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? I do have a coffee cake if you’d like something with it.”

Both detectives asked for coffee. The officer asked for both. No one took milk or sugar. Amaryllis jumped up to go fill the orders. Marie almost protested but then she settled in her chair.

“Where do you fit in?” Duncan asked, turning toward Malichai.

Malichai shrugged. “I’m actually here on vacation, a forced leave. Took a hit in my leg during a mission and was sent to relax somewhere. I’m dating Amaryllis and I do the dishes for them and help out however I can.”

Duncan’s eyebrow nearly went through his scalp. “You’re on vacation but you’re working for the owner?”

Malichai shook his head, wanting to be very clear. “No money exchanges hands. We’re friends. She needs help, I help her. It’s that simple. I can give you my unit and commander. They’ll verify I’m here at the moment on forced leave.”

Malichai spotted Amaryllis with a tray and he immediately went to her and took it from her. “You okay, baby?” he asked softly.

She took a deep breath and nodded. He didn’t believe her for a second, but he was willing to let it slide because there was no other choice. After the cops left, he was going to have to ask some hard questions. He didn’t want to. He wanted to spend time with her like a normal man with a woman he enjoyed being around.

He watched her settle into one of the chairs across from the detectives as he gave each man his coffee order. The chair was the only one large enough to hold both of them. He sank into the space beside her and instantly she snuggled closer to him—as if for protection. He had that distinct impression and hoped the cops didn’t get the same one.

“Which guests?” Marie asked, one hand going defensively to her throat. “And did you say it was an accident?”

“Anna and Bryon Cooper.”

Amaryllis shook her head and caught at Malichai’s wrist. She was trembling. Marie let out a small cry, cut off in midstream.

“That can’t be. They were here for dinner. They always walk on the beach before retiring for the night and they went out as they’ve done every night,” Marie said. “Amaryllis, you talked to them right before they left.”

The detectives turned their gazes to Amaryllis and noted the way she was holding on to Malichai as if her life depended on it.

“I didn’t catch your last name,” Duncan said, leaning a little toward Amaryllis.

“It’s Johnson. Amaryllis Johnson.”

“What do you do here?”

“Whatever Marie needs me to do. I do a lot of housekeeping. Dishes. Cooking. That sort of thing.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“About a year.”

“Tell me everything you remember about Anna and Bryon. Especially tonight. What went on tonight? Were they upset about anything? What did they say or do?”

Malichai didn’t watch Duncan; instead, he turned his attention to Detective Brady, who had his phone out. Recording. Taking photographs. Making certain they were who they said they were. Whatever had happened to Anna and Bryon Cooper hadn’t been an accident.