He doesn’t bother to make sure we’re in our cars, but he never does.
“You on tomorrow?” Maria asks.
“Yes, I’m on the next two days.”
“Bummer. I’ll see you next week.” She climbs in her car and drives away.
Unlocking my car door, I climb inside, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and locking the doors—something Ronnie insisted I do as soon as I get inside. Key in the ignition, I turn it, and nothing happens. I try again and still nothing.
“Shit.” I slam my hands against the steering wheel. “Come on, don’t fail me now. Not tonight of all nights.” I try yet again and nothing but a clicking sound, no sign that the engine is going to start up and drive my tired ass home. Peering through the front windshield, I watch as Maria’s taillights disappear. Oliver is long since gone, which leaves me all alone. I don’t have a cell phone—that’s an expense that I can’t afford. I’m barely keeping a roof over my head and food on the table. Exhaling a deep breath, I grab my bag, the keys, and climb out of the car. I lock the door, even though no one would want to steal it. Ronnie has beat it in my head to keep it locked to keep others from hiding in the back seat. I think he watches too many murder mysteries, but I don’t tell him that. I just lock my doors. It’s easy enough, and it makes him smile when he sees that I’ve listened. Linda said she does the same. “Pick your battles,” she once told me. I’m lucky to have them both.
The back parking lot where the employees park is dimly lit, so I keep my hand on my bag, keeping it close, and rush around the front of the building and the main entrance of the hotel. Once we shut the door, we’re locked out for the night, so I’m going to have to ask the front desk to use their phone.
Chapter 3
Owen
I’ve been staying at the Emerald Seaside Resort for a week now. They’re struggling financially, which is why I’m here. That’s what I do. Jase called in a personal favor, and to be honest, getting out of Nashville for a few days sounded like a damn good plan. A few days has turned into a week. I don’t understand where the financial bleed is coming from, but my gut tells me it’s someone, not something that’s causing them to lose money hand over fist. I called Jase last night to give him my thoughts. He asked me to stick around until he can find out why they’re dragging their feet giving me access to the books. It’s been seven days. Their time is up.
So far, nothing glaring has jumped out at me. The hotel is clean, with plenty of staff, and filled with guests. The amenities are on point, and I’m struggling to find out why the owner is requesting a buyout. He claims that he can barely keep the place in the red. That just doesn’t make sense.
Not interested in being holed up in my suite staring at the four walls, I head down to the lobby. The hotel has a nightclub, and by the brochure provided in my suite, last call is not until two in the morning. That gives me two hours to take in the atmosphere, something I’ve yet to do during my stay this past week.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, taking a look around. There are guests milling around, and again there should be no reason that this place is losing money. My eyes scan again, and that’s when I see her.
Layla.
Stunning.
Long blonde hair, tight little body, and striking blue eyes. She’s a tiny thing, several inches shorter than my six foot three. She’s sitting alone on a bench, her elbows resting on her knees, and her hands buried in her hair. I can’t see her face, but I know it’s her. It’s the golden blonde hair. I can almost guarantee that it’s her by her hair alone. I could easily pick her out of a crowd.
“Layla,” I say when I reach her. She sucks in a breath and looks up at me. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks wet from tears. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She hastily wipes her eyes. Standing, she reaches into her purse and pulls out some cash and holds it out for me. “Thank you for your generosity, but it’s too much.”
I stare at