Page 61 of What Doesn't Kill You…

Soft, clever lips.

She sighed into their kiss.

Her nieces made loud whooping calls and the moment shattered. Violet broke the kiss, mortified that her cheeks were heating. She glared at the teens before catching her grandmother's eye. Lian cocked her head, unimpressed.

Of course that hadn't been enough to convince her. Violet wondered if coming clean and begging for her silence might be the better strategy. It was hard to say. Lian had her own code of honor and Violet wasn't sure if her reasoning would meet her grandmother's standard. And if it didn't, she wouldn't keep their secret.

It was one more problem to add to her growing list.

On the other side of the pool, Violet saw a murmur pass through the guests like a weird Mexican wave. Faces showed shock. Voices became hushed and urgent. People turned to each other with questions. It was a ripple she'd seen before—on the outskirts of a crime scene.

"Something's happened," she said to Rodrigo.

He looked over to the other side of the pool. "Yeah," he said, sounding worried. "Can't be your tussle with the guard. That news wouldn't affect the guests."

"Must be something else," Violet said.

They watched as guest turned to guest, and faces showed shock. At last, someone beside Violet's mother raised her voice.

"Did you hear?" she said, sounding both excited and horrified. "Someone's been killed. They found a body out behind the little shops. They're saying it was one of the security guards."

Her mother gasped as Violet's eyes flew to Rodrigo. "I left him alive," she whispered furiously, praying he believed her.

Max put a hand on her knee, gently rubbing. Strangely, she found his touch comforting.

"Are they talking about the guy who harassed you?" he said quietly. "What's going on? You only hurt his arm."

She almost thanked him for believing her. But before she could say anything at all, a waiter approached with a tray. On it was a glass filled with ice and an unopened can of Irn Bru. The waiter smiled as he handed her a folded piece of paper.

"The gentleman at the bar sent this over," he said.

Violet spun around, but there was no one sitting at the bar. She turned back to the waiter who was about to decant the glass and can to the table in front of her.

"Would you mind leaving it on the tray?" she said quickly, thinking there might be fingerprints on the can that could prove useful.

He was confused at the request, but did as she asked, placing the tray on the table before leaving. Violet stared at the drink, famous in Scotland but entirely out of place in the Caribbean.

"I didn't know they sold Irn Bru here," Poppy called with some excitement. Obviously, the news she could get Scotland's other national drink in the resort was far more interesting than gossip about a dead man.

To her surprise, it was Max who replied, obviously realizing something was very wrong.

"You can't," he said, affecting a sheepish air. "I brought this as a surprise for Violet."

Violet cast him a look of gratitude as the women in her family turned to mush and made matching 'awing' sounds.

"Read the note," her mother prompted eagerly. "This is so romantic." She beamed at her husband with clear approval. He was unmoved.

Beside Violet, both Max and Rodrigo were tense and alert, although no one else seemed to notice. With everyone watching, Violet slowly and carefully unfolded the piece of paper and read the words inside. There were only two.

Your welcome.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Max watched waves ripple on the cool blue water as the ferry from Wedding Island made its way to St. Patrice. The note had changed their plans for the day. Instead of showing her wedding dress to her family, Violet was with Rodrigo and Max on their way to meet up with the rest of Benson Security. Even Abasi had managed to get away for the afternoon to join them, although he had to pretend he didn't know them until they reached the safe house. Rodrigo worried Damien was having them tailed.

They were on the top deck of the boat, sitting on one of the blue painted benches fixed to the deck. Violet was quiet, occupied with her thoughts. It didn't take a genius IQ to understand the weird soda gift and note were directly connected to the dead guard. Max just wasn't sure how—yet. The only thing he knew for sure was that Violet was deeply concerned. So much so, she appeared to have shut down entirely. And he couldn't have that.

He turned toward her, angling a leg behind her back so she was cradled in the V of his legs. Cocooned by him. He pulled her gently against his chest and held her, letting the rhythm of the boat soothe them. All the while aware that Damien’s guy could be watching.