Fierce Shadows: Shadows Landing #4 Page 7

  Dare made his way back to his bike and headed to the ferry. He timed it right and it was loading up after coming back from dropping Harper off. Dare parked his bike and headed to the rail. He watched as they approached Charleston but his mind was on Harper.

  She’d learned more tonight from talking to Rudy than he’d been able to after running a standard background check. He really needed to cut through the shell companies that hid the ownership and find out exactly who was behind Palm Meadows.

  Forty-five minutes after Harper left and as the ferry was about to dock, he got a text from Harper. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and smiled as he read it. I’m home. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe. Damn. He liked this woman. A lot.

  9

  Dare walked into his apartment downtown and pulled a beer from the fridge. It was late, but he wasn’t ready for sleep. He kicked off his shoes and changed into athletic pants before setting down on his couch. He turned on the television, not caring about the sports highlights but simply wanting the background noise as he got to work.

  He opened his laptop and signed onto the web-based site that allowed him to submit encrypted notes to his boss along with accessing several government databases. He filled out a report on the night’s activities, leaving out Harper’s name, referring to her as Asset 1. He finished the report but didn’t send it. He wanted to look into some other things, but first Dare picked up his phone before he went back to work.

  I’m home.

  Short and simple. He didn’t want to wake Harper up if she was asleep and he didn’t actually know what to say. He wasn’t really a talker, although with Harper it did seem easy.

  Glad you managed to get home safely. I was worried you might be beaten up by random strangers and tossed overboard.

  Dare smiled at his phone. He liked the way Harper teased him. Most people didn’t tease him. They saw him as intimidating and never stuck around long enough to get to know him. It was a close call, but I prevailed. I like that you’re worried about me.

  Don’t tell my great-aunt that or Marcy will be setting a wedding date with Reverend Winston.

  What’s her number again? Dare asked as his memory played Harper’s laugh for him and he imagined her lying in bed reading his text.

  I had fun tonight. Thanks, Harper texted back.

  Dare stared at the message from Harper for a moment, taking in the way his heart seemed to fill by reading it. He liked making Harper laugh. He liked dancing with her. He liked talking to her, especially their verbal jousting. He wanted to do more of it. I did too, Harper. Goodnight.

  He watched the bubbles that showed she was going to text something disappear and he set down the phone. He turned back to his computer and ran a search on BGM Resort Distributors.

  The owners popped up after some digging. They were all in Colombia and accessible records were minimal. The Colombian government didn’t share too much with the US to begin with, but even less if it could impact tourism. While Manny was clean, BGM was not. The ATF database had numerous red flags indicating the company was under investigation following reports of illicit alcohol at various resorts that BGM supplied.

  Dare clicked on the latest report out of the South American office. There were complaints from tourists staying along the resort coastline of Colombia of symptoms commonly found in alcohol mixed illegally with methanol. From the report the agent made, it wasn’t proven if BGM or the resorts were responsible, and it wouldn’t be known since the resorts refused to allow an investigation. What was interesting was that BGM distributed to over sixty percent of the resorts with complaints made against them in South America, Mexico, and the Caribbean.

  Dare took note of the resorts and added their names to the report he was writing for his boss. He also asked for his boss to pull rank with the IRS and have them expedite the request for their records. They were notorious for taking up to a month to get things back to government agencies. Dare knew the hotel website didn’t list any employees, so he needed to go wider.

  He pulled up his search engine and typed Palm Meadows Island Resort employee or manager. He rolled his eyes as the searches came in. He had access to the FBI database, yet a generic search got the ball rolling faster. Dare pulled up Brody’s social media page filled with pictures of him trying to look like the cool bartender the ladies loved.

  Dare went back to the results and found a travel review site. Palm Meadows Island Resort ranked at four point seven stars out of five. Great reviews listing Brody, the nightclub, the beach, and the rooms as being the best, but not a single one mentioned the disappearance of a guest or the break-ins guests had reported to law enforcement. That didn’t seem right.

  Dare pulled back up the complaints on the ATF database. Druggings, blackouts, thefts, sexual assaults including rape, and deaths had all been reported to the US government. Many complaints came from the highly popular Malvado Resorts. They were a company with resorts in Colombia, Costa Rica, Mexico, and several Caribbean islands. Dare picked the resort with the most complaints and typed it into the travel review site. Four point six stars. Hmm. That really didn’t seem right. Dare scanned the reviews and even ran a word search. Not a single review listed drugging, sexual assault, or even the deaths of guests.

  Dare went back to the search page and scrolled down. On the fifth page of search results, a headline caught his eye and he clicked it. At first glance it looked like a travel review site, but this one had all the bad reviews. Dare swallowed hard as post after post detailed everything from blackouts to rapes, thefts, and even murder at Malvado Resorts and other resorts around the world.

  He clicked the About section and found that the page was nothing more than a blog started by a woman who had been attacked at a resort. She’d reported it to the resort that did nothing but give her a free dinner. She reported it to the local police who told her to stop drinking so much alcohol. She tried to post a warning on the large travel review site Dare had just looked at. They’d deleted her review. That’s when she started the blog to let people know the dangers of tainted alcohol, even at five-star resorts. The response was sickening: thousands of posts saying they’d experienced theft, unaccounted blackouts, extreme sickness, and assaults. They’d all tried to leave reviews warning others, but the major travel review site took them down. Resorts claimed nothing happened. Police had claimed that the tourists were drunk. Hospitals held them hostage over thousands of dollars for medical care. Over and over again, throughout the world, it was happening. However, the vast majority occurred in the same countries with high illegal alcohol sales.

  Dare narrowed down the search to South Carolina resorts and three came up—all at the Palm Meadows Island Resort. Dr. George Vella told me I’d drunk too much. I’d only had three sips of my second drink when I blacked out.

  Then another post: I woke up in my room with bruises on my neck and with my bikini bottoms missing. I reported the incident to Carson Cruz, head of hotel security. He told me I had too much to drink and injured myself when stumbling back to my room. I only had one drink at the pool. How did I get back to my room and how could I choke myself? Why were my bikini bottoms missing? I refused to go quietly and the manager, Isabella Crowne refunded my money and had me removed from the hotel by security. When my lawyer called, there was a report that they had to remove me from the premises due to a drunken rage in which I had become a danger to others.

  Dare ran his hand over his face. The last post was about a man passing out by the pool only to wake up four hours later with no memory of how he had gotten into his room. The room had been robbed and all of his cash was missing. When he reported the theft to Carson Cruz, he’d been told he was drunk and probably spent it on more alcohol.

  The reports chilled him, but here, in this tiny corner of the Internet on page five of the search results was Dare’s answer. Three names he could move on and investigate. Dare added the names and the link to the complaints to his report and sent the encrypted message to his boss. Now he just neede
d to find a way to get close to Isabella Crowne, Carson Cruz, and possibly Dr. Vella.

  Harper looked at her phone for the tenth time since she’d gotten back. Dare’s text telling her goodnight hadn’t changed. She’d been about to reply with something sassy, but she’d decided against it. Her feelings weren’t under control, so Harper had set her phone down and poured a glass of bourbon.

  She ignored the texts from Edie, Tinsley, and Ellery wanting to know how the date went. It went great. That was part of the problem. Harper pulled a blanket up over her lap as she curled up on the porch swing her cousin Trent had built for her. She looked out over her neighborhood and took a sip of bourbon.

  The night was chilly. Not cold, but cool enough that the fuzzy blanket and flannel pajama bottoms felt cozy. Her neighborhood was dark. Most of her neighbors were in bed. They had to be at work early in the morning, whereas Harper didn’t have to show up to open the bar until almost eleven. The solitude late at night gave her time to think.

  That was until headlights turned down her road. Harper set her drink down on the wobbly table next to her porch swing and watched as the truck drove toward her house. She was the last one on the street, so whoever it was had to be coming for her. Harper noticed how her brain went straight to hoping it was Dare as the truck pulled into her driveway. Even though she knew who it was coming to see her, there was a part of her that hoped Dare stepped out of the cab instead of her cousin Trent.

  “I figured you’d still be awake,” Trent said as he closed his door. He didn’t walk toward her, though. He walked to the bed of his truck first.

  “You know I can’t go to bed before two in the morning. Hazard of the job.” Harper looked at her phone. It was almost one in the morning.

  “You want the answer I was supposed to tell you or the real one?” Trent chuckled and even though Harper couldn’t see his face, she knew her cousin was smiling.

  “Both,” Harper told him. As he approached she saw that he was carrying a new side table.

  “Your table was driving me crazy so I made you a new one. Stop buying things online when I can make you whatever you need.”

  As Trent made his way up the steps, Harper could see his dark brown hair was shoved back from his face and his normal stubble was coming close to turning into a beard. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are for paying clients. I saw the magazine spread featuring TAF Designs. It was beautiful.”

  Wrinkles formed around Trent’s bright green eyes as he smiled at her and set the table down. “Thanks. It was just lucky that the actor being featured and the photographer loved my stuff so much they included a spread on it.”

  “It’s not luck. The top-grossing starlet in Hollywood sought you out to make her dining room set. The photographer was smart enough to see the quality of the second story there, which is why she had the actress pose mostly nude on your table. I’m sure it didn’t hurt that she has a little crush on you,” Harper teased.

  “I never met the photographer. Only talked to him online.”

  Harper rolled her eyes and smacked her cousin’s arm. “Not the photographer. America’s Sweetheart. You know, the one who flew her personal assistant to Shadows Landing to give you a gift basket.”

  Trent shrugged. “She just did that because she heard Aunt Gemma’s latest book is going to be turned into a movie.”

  Harper knew better. Women loved Trent, especially women who were more used to living in a city. Trent was a walking, talking prime example of masculinity. Or so she’d heard women say over and over again at her bar. To her, he was just her talented cousin. “Well, good. I’d hate to have a Hollywood starlet as my cousin-in-law. She sounds very high maintenance,” Harper teased. “Now, what was the real reason you’re here?”

  Trent tossed her old table into the back of his truck before answering and came to sit on the top step as she took her seat back on the swing. “Tinsley called.”

  “Checking up on my date? Wow, that’s a new low for you.” Harper offered him her glass of bourbon but he declined.

  “It’s not like you to go on a second date,” Trent pointed out.

  “True,” Harper acknowledged before taking another sip and curling up under her blanket.

  “Tinsley told me he’s with the ATF and Great-Aunt Marcy set y’all up on a blind date. I tuned out after that but remember something about an investigation.”

  “Do you actually want to know?” Harper asked. Trent was just as bad as she was about talking about private matters. It’s why the two of them were so close. They got each other.

  “Tinsley wasn’t the only one to call,” Trent hedged.

  “Ugh,” Harper let her head fall back. “Let me guess. Ellery was talking to Gavin and Gavin is going all big brother?”

  Trent sighed and turned to face her. He leaned back against a post and nodded. “I told him I’d talk to you because you’d get annoyed if he called.”

  Trent was right. “You can tell Gavin the date was fine.”

  Trent’s eyebrow rose. “It was?”

  This was purely a Trent question. Harper took another sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose as she thought. She wanted advice, and Tinsley would give her fairy tales. Edie would tell her about her husband who’d died much too young. Ellery would tell her about society couples and then about Gavin. Harper didn’t want to know those. She needed someone like her to ask. “I gave you the answer to give to Gavin. Now off the record . . .?”

  Trent made a noise that sounded like a grunt. It was a yes, but a pained one. Harper handed him her glass of bourbon and he tossed it back. “Okay, go,” Trent said finally.

  “I really like him.”

  “Oh.” Trent held the glass out and Harper poured some more in it.

  “We texted tonight. It was flirty and fun.” Harper saw the slight grimace as Trent took a deep, slow sip this time. “And he’s coming to Shadows Landing.”

  Trent blew out a low whistle. “Let me guess. You’re freaking out because for once you actually like a guy and now you’re afraid the family is going to race past any logical conclusions faster than all get-out.”

  “Exactly,” Harper signed with relief. She knew Trent would understand.

  They sat quietly for a moment as Trent took a couple more sips. She and Dare could do the same thing. It wasn’t awkward to sit silently together. It was comfortable and peaceful. There she went again. All thoughts led back to Dare.

  “You’re in a pickle, but there’s nothing to be done. I just wouldn’t mention it to the family and hope he can visit while everyone is busy. At the very least, I hope everyone won’t bombard him at once. I will say, though, if he can’t handle a full family introduction, he’s not the right man for you. You could never respect someone who runs away from a little nosiness.”

  Harper didn’t respond to Trent right away because he was right. She’d think less of Dare if he didn’t fit in with her family, or worse, if he didn’t like them. She needed a man who wasn’t intimidated even if her family was being pushy and had no respect for personal boundaries.

  “You’re right. I need someone I can respect and that means not running from my family or the town.”

  “I’d be more worried about him meeting Gator, Skeeter, and Turtle. Those guys spend more time with you at the bar than all of the family combined. They’re more protective of you than a mother hen of her chicks.”

  Harper laughed at the image of Dare with the guys. She had a feeling Dare would be just as amused as she was by the thought of it.

  10

  Dare woke up the following weekend to the sound of his phone’s text message alert. It was Harper telling him that Manny was stopping by her bar at ten. Dare got up, took a quick shower, and read the encrypted message from his boss, giving him an update that wasn’t much of an update. The IRS was behind schedule and hadn’t gotten their request processed yet. They couldn’t connect the dots between Isabella and Roberto yet. As soon as he finished his coffee he was on the road to Shadows La
nding. It had been six days since he’d seen Harper in person, and he couldn’t wait to see her now. They’d talked and texted in the interval as he surveilled the resort, but that was nothing compared to a face-to-face.

  The city of Charleston gave way to countryside dotted with shipping companies, small towns, palmetto trees, and the scent of pluff mud and saltwater. The road to Shadows Landing went from four lanes down to two narrow and winding lanes that followed the river north.

  A sign welcoming him to Shadows Landing looked a little pirate-like, written with an old style typeface. The road turned into South Cypress Lane as Dare slowed down. He drove past the bank and the library before turning onto Main Street at the Lowcountry Smokehouse. The smell of the smoked meats made him hungry as he slowed to a stop in front of the courthouse.

  He stopped, placing his feet on the pavement and turning off his motorcycle in the middle of the street. What Dare saw couldn’t be real. He took off his black helmet to better see the large man running toward him in overalls, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hat with lettering so large he could read COCKS from where he stood more than two hundred feet away.

  It wasn’t the attire that was the surprise. It was the fact the man was chasing a massive alligator that was waddling down the middle of the street and heading right at Dare.

  “Bubba! Stop or I’ll make you into a pair of boots and give my momma a new alligator purse for her birthday,” the man yelled.

  The alligator didn’t stop.

  Dare’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward as he heard a shrieking woman running behind the man. Dare looked and saw a young woman running with a kid in one arm and one, two, three, four, five, six other kids running behind her.

  “Fuzzy Butt!” the kids were screaming.