wound on her first night in Mexico.
A protective arm at Natalie’s back, Luke quickly led the way up the beach and onto the sandy path back to the Riu de Sueños Hotel. Coconut palms and sea-grape trees lined the path, offering plenty of cover for anyone who might want to lie in wait for unsuspecting tourists.
Was that what the assailant had been? An opportunist? Someone who’d seen an easy mark and acted?
Luke studied the shadows, looking for signs that they weren’t alone, but he saw no one. The ocean’s rush mingled with a whisper of wind through the treetops and the quiet murmur of conversation from hotel guests who stood on balconies and patios.
A normal evening along the Riviera.
Except that Natalie was hurt, her attacker on the loose, her belongings stolen.
Lively music echoed from the hotel, the sound of voices beckoning the pair to safety. He picked up the pace, and Natalie had no trouble keeping up.
As soon as the glass doors slid open and Natalie and Luke stepped inside, he discreetly led her to the front desk and asked for hotel security.
The desk attendant glanced at the pair with curiosity, but with Natalie’s wound covered, her injury wasn’t apparent.
“One moment, sir,” the woman said, and picked up her radio to contact security.
Several long minutes later, a lone security officer walked casually toward them, his polished dress shoes knocking along the tile floor.
“I am Officer Canto. How may I help you?” he asked, his English as perfect as his tailored navy uniform. A young guy, new to security, Luke judged.
“This woman was attacked at knifepoint on the beach,” Luke responded. “She’s injured. Her attacker dropped the weapon and ran off with her purse.”
The security officer’s attention shifted to Natalie, his bland expression unchanged. “You are injured?” he asked, as if requiring proof.
Natalie lifted the towel from her shoulder, and Officer Canto’s eyes widened at the bloodstained fabric. “Please, follow me,” he said, his voice urgent now. He walked at a clipped pace, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into his radio as they followed.
Luke wasn’t impressed. If the mere sight of a little blood was all it took to send the guy into panic mode, Luke didn’t plan to entrust their safety to him or his team. But they would have to follow protocol and file a report, at least, so he didn’t see any other option but to follow him as the officer ushered them down the hall behind the lobby. He finally opened a door into a small office with a single desk and three padded folding chairs. No windows.
“Please, sit. I will get a fresh towel.” The officer left the room, shutting the door behind him. Natalie sat, but Luke remained standing, fighting the urge to open the door to the hallway. Some people felt safer in enclosed spaces. Luke felt trapped.
If a first-grade teacher hadn’t cared enough to push for answers, Luke might have died in the closet his mother’s boyfriend had locked him in years ago. Four days alone in the dark with no food and barely any water? That did a number on a person. He eyed the door. He wasn’t a scrawny seven-year-old anymore. He pushed the unwanted memory away and focused on Natalie.
“Let me take a look at that,” Luke said, gently taking the towel from her and pushing the bloodstained T-shirt away from her shoulder.
She winced, her face devoid of color, amber eyes flashing pain.
“It’s pretty deep. Better keep pressure on it,” he said, setting the towel back in place. “I’m no doctor, but it looks like you’ll need some stitches.”
“I should have stayed home,” she muttered.
“You couldn’t have known you’d be attacked on the beach,” Luke pointed out, but could see his words didn’t have much effect, her eyes sad. A light spattering of freckles made her look younger than her twenty-nine years. Her near-white blond hair was short and wavy, a delicate pearl hair pin askew over one ear. He’d been informed about her fiancé standing her up at the altar. She’d decided to go on her honeymoon anyway, and by all rights, she should have been able to enjoy a few quiet evenings on a beach after something like that.
Natalie was eyeing him curiously. “Thank you for coming to my rescue... It’s a good thing you were there. I’m Natalie Harper, by the way... But then, you knew that already.”
“Luke Everett,” he introduced himself, knowing that after calling out her name on the beach earlier, he couldn’t exactly keep his identity from her. “I’m with Shield. Your dad hired me to watch out for you on this trip.”
“Of course he did.” She didn’t look surprised. She looked resigned.
“You don’t look happy about it.”
She shrugged, flashing a half-hearted smile. “My father is overprotective. It gets a little old. Tonight, though, I’m thankful for it.”
Her dad’s borderline obsession with his family’s security was well respected within Shield. Almost twenty years ago, the Harpers had lost their only son in a tragic abduction that had ended in the little boy’s murder. Natalie and her twin sister had been eight or nine at the time. Luke could see how growing up under the watchful eye of an always-present security team could feel suffocating and intrusive.
The office door opened and the officer reentered, handing a fresh towel to Natalie. Then he skirted the small desk and typed on the computer keyboard as Natalie folded the stained towel into her lap and applied the new one to the wound.
“First, what is your name, miss?” the officer asked.
“Natalie Harper,” she stated. “Room 112.”
Officer Canto used only his two index fingers to type, his data entry excruciatingly slow. Luke groaned inwardly, but then Natalie glanced his way, a comical eyebrow raised in camaraderie, and he almost laughed. Forcing himself to relax, he leaned against the wall, settling in for what looked like would be a lengthy interview.
Luke listened and watched as Natalie recounted the details of the attack with precision and a surprising calm. The only visible sign of stress he’d caught was the slight tremor in her hand when she pushed her hair behind her ear.
But then, Natalie had grown up in the public eye. She was also a PR exec at a prestigious firm in downtown Baltimore, definitely not a person who would easily collapse under pressure.
“Can you describe the assailant?” the officer asked.
“He was taller than me by several inches,” she answered. “Not quite six feet. Medium build, but muscular. Wearing all black. Gloves. A bandanna. I couldn’t really see his face.”
“Tattoos? Scars? Hair color?” the officer prompted.
“His hair was dark. Brown or black. Straight, short. I didn’t see any tattoos or scars.” She looked at Luke. “Did you?”
He shook his head, pushing off from the wall and grabbing a tissue from a box on the desk. “No. But this is his knife.” Using the tissue, he retrieved the knife from his pocket and set it on the desk.
The officer’s eyes narrowed in on Luke. “Are you two traveling together?”
“I’m part of her private security team.” No need for anyone to know the rest of the team was back in the States.
“Most people do not bring private security to our resort.”
“Considering what happened tonight,” Luke said, “perhaps they should.”
The officer scowled, but didn’t respond. Instead, he slowly clicked a few more keys on his keyboard and then turned his attention back to them. “I am very sorry for your experience,” he said—with questionable sincerity. “We will investigate the matter.” He pulled open a drawer and handed Luke his business card before crossing the tight room and opening the door