Free Then You Hide by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

important.” He was so close that anyone watching would take them for lovers about to kiss. He looked at her mouth as if he was thinking about doing just that.
    What would that feel like? He had a wide, sexy mouth and perfect teeth. Very…kissable.
    “What matters,” he continued, “is that I’m giving you a choice.”
    To kiss or not to kiss. “Which is…”
    “You can sprint on over to that concierge and make some demands that they will ignore and put yourself on their radar as a problematic patron who should be closely watched while on property…or…” He ran a fingertip over her knuckles, a touch as hot as fire. “…you can sit here with me, drink a tonic-free vodka, and get more information out of the extremely observant bartender who knows more about your friend than he’s telling you.”
    She surveyed his face, the thick eyelashes, angular bones, soft lips. All that easy-going Southern charm was a very deceptive mask over some serious brains. She liked that. Even more than his kissable mouth. “How do you know that he’s not telling me everything?”
    “The same way I knew to find the woman in orange to get a lead on where you went.” He shrugged. “I know stuff. And I can help you.”
    He could, damn it. “So, what are you proposing? We suck Henry dry for info, then crack the villa?”
    “I prefer to think of it as friendly interrogation, but yeah, let’s gather some useful intelligence. After that, we’ll thoughtfully plan our next move—a strategy you would do well to learn, by the way. That may or may not include circling the villa, observing the occupants, or having a few quiet conversations with someone in housekeeping. We have options. But first, why don’t we get some food? You haven’t eaten all day.”
    She was starved, and not just for food.
    “Considering the way you’re dressed,” he said, putting a warm hand on her bare knee, “you might be more comfortable with room service.”
    She shivered. “I don’t have a room here.”
    “I do.” He reached into his pocket and set a card key on the bar. “And as luck would have it, it’s on the second floor of the main building.”
    Just the thought sent her pulse spiking. “Why is that lucky?”
    “It overlooks the eastern grounds of the resort—where the Palm Grove villa is.” He lifted his eyebrows. “What do you say?”
    “I know what my father would say.”
    “Run, little bunny, run?”
    She smiled and shook her head. “He’d say, ‘Nessie, bulls have balls. Use ‘em.’”
    That earned her a surprised look. “Was your dad a Marine, by any chance?”
    “Worse. An investment banker.” And a master negotiator. He’d say she hadn’t won this round, but she hadn’t exactly lost, either. As long as she had something to gain, she should stay at the table and barter.
    She signaled the bartender with the slowest, most welcoming smile she could muster.
    “I think I’ll take that drink now,” she said. “Vodka. Rocks.”
    “No lime,” Wade added, winking at her. “‘Cause she’s tart enough.”

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    “THE FIRST THING you need to do,” Wade said after they’d clinked her crystal tumbler of Grey Goose to the long neck of his Kubuli, “is go to the bathroom. He’s more likely to open up to a man.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Jesus. Oh, wait—that comment about my dad being a Marine? Tell me you’re not.”
    He laughed. “You say that like it’s a communicable disease.”
    “I’m a pacifist.”
    “Well, good for you. I’m a realist.” He was actually way worse than that, but something told him that cozying up to her and telling her about his last two kills wasn’t going to get him where he wanted to go.
    “All that Semper Fi and ooh-yah shit gives me the willies.”
    “It’s ooh-rah. And by the way, you swear like some of the guys I fought with,” he said. “Don’t you know that ladies don’t curse?”
    She let out a hearty laugh. “Guess what? We can vote now, own property,