Tropical Lion's Legacy (Shifting Sands Resort 9)

Was it a joke? Was he supposed to laugh? Graham felt like he was on the spot, and attempted a chuckle. “Huh. Huh.”

It didn’t sound like a chuckle, and he felt like a fool. He wasn’t even sure why he was trying. She’d made it perfectly clear that she had no interest in anything more than sex, and he should be glad for that.

“You didn’t happen to bring the key?” Alice asked him, not impressed by his terrible attempt to laugh.

Graham shrugged. He’d forgotten the key in the cottage after his shower. “It won’t be locked.” He gave her the towel.

“Great.” Alice turned away dismissively to clean up the mess, and Graham turned and left the bar rather than watch her bend over the way he desperately wanted to.

Jenny caught him as he walked into The Den, excited and bubbling over with news. “We got a lead!” she said, grinning.

Graham stared at her, not sure of the topic or an appropriate response. He was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about Alice.

“Tony was able to get a little more information on Grant Lyons for us,” Jenny explained in answer to his confused glare. “Most of it is in a sealed plea deal, but we found out where he did time, and why.”

Graham’s blood turned to ice. They knew. They knew what Grant Lyons had done.

“Did Scarlet change her mind about trying to find him?” Bastian asked, flipping through the mail on the counter.

Jenny shook her head, dark curls bouncing. “We’re just going to keep looking quietly,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Think about it! What if we could find him? What if he’s still rich and could buy the island? Beehag and his asshole lawyer wouldn’t be able to stop the sale, and we wouldn’t be wondering week to week if they were going to be able to find a way to break the resort lease just to spite Scarlet.”

“What does Benedict Beehag have against Scarlet anyway?” Saina asked, reaching over Bastian to pick a fashion magazine out of the pile.

“Well, Scarlet was there when they broke up the zoo and his uncle died,” Bastian suggested. “Maybe he blames her for his uncle’s death?”

“I never got the idea that Allistair and Benedict were close,” Jenny said thoughtfully. “I just get the feeling that Benedict doesn’t like the resort. Maybe he’s got something against shifters. I mean, his uncle did keep them in cages; maybe the whole family has some grudge against them.”

Graham’s limbs had thawed enough to consider creeping past for his room when Breck and Darla came laughing down the hallway, arms around each other.

“We got more information on Grant Lyons,” Jenny told them, excited, and Graham stalked past, then stopped just far enough down the hallway that he could listen, heart at the bottom of his stomach, but not be seen shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Do tell!” Breck was always up for gossip and news.

“We found out why he was in prison, and where,” Jenny said avidly. “Which gives us more clues about friends from his past who might know where he is.”

Graham leaned against the wall, feeling the tiniest shiver of relief. They wouldn’t have any luck pursuing friends. Grant Lyons didn’t have friends.

“What did he do?” Darla asked softly. “To be put in jail, I mean?”

Any relief Graham had been reveling in vanished into despair at Jenny’s words. “He killed some guy. Most of the details were obscured as part of his plea deal.”

Darla made a little noise of dismay.

Graham closed his eyes against the memories that still kept him awake most nights.

“Are we sure we want a murderer to own the resort?” Bastian asked skeptically.

You don’t, Graham wanted to tell him.

“It sounds like an improvement to me,” Breck said. “Besides, it’s not like all of us have shiny clean slates. Graham was in jail for manslaughter, and we trust him. Laura worked for the mob. Wrench’s hands aren’t particularly clean...”

Graham held his breath, waiting for them to put the pieces together.

He wanted them to, he realized. He wanted them to figure it out, so he didn’t have to tell them or suffocate under the weight of the secret.

Instead, Saina changed the subject, perhaps worried that she would be next in Breck’s list; she had not always been scrupulous about the use of her siren magic. “Amber’s asked us to help throw a bachelorette party for Mary. Should we have it here, or at the bar?”

“Let’s do it here,” Jenny said eagerly. “We can kick the boys out and do daiquiris!”