Ben would love the solitude here, along with the miles upon miles of endless ocean. Not one possible killer gunning for her in sight. She lifted her face to the heavens and let out a heartfelt sigh. The sun shone high, the sky a soft blue with only a wisp of cloud on the horizon. The ocean breezed played over her skin and lifted her brown hair with a gentle flutter at her back.
“Are you okay, Saria? You looked anxious before when Henry arrived.” Dripping water, Luke, Tyler’s youngest brother, eased in beside her in his blue swim trunks. He shook his dark head and sent drops flying. “The lovebirds are finally chilling. You should too.”
“I would if I weren’t so worried about Ben. It’s not easy being separated from someone when you’ve come to rely on them so solidly.”
“The best thing to do is focus on someone or something else for a change.” Luke draped a wet arm around her shoulders. “How about a game of cards? You can focus on trying to beat me.”
“The only card game I know is snap. Not much focus needed there.”
“Then I’ll teach you how to play poker. Mum and Gabriella loved the game. We often play it in memory of them.” Two years ago, his mother and sister-in-law had passed away in a terrible car accident. That had left Tyler’s eldest brother raising his young son alone. The Whitehall family had experienced so much loss of late.
“I’d like that. Although, I have to warn you, Ben tried to teach me how to play. He failed miserably, or I did in learning, however you want to look at it.” It hadn’t helped Ben had always sat so close when he’d been teaching her. Her focus had veered toward him and not the game. Her bodyguard had deep blue eyes she wanted to drown in and a presence of strength that engrossed her.
“We’ll find Dylan, and he can join us. He’s a great teacher.” Luke smiled with big dimples. “He also thinks he’s the best at poker, and I love taking him down.”
“I’m all for some sibling rivalry.” She rolled her shoulders and tried to relax. Lydia was lucky to have such a wonderful new family.
Although they were now hers too.
What her twin gained, so did she.
“Show me the way, Luke. It’s time to unwind.”
Ben shoved his black shirtsleeves to his elbows as he strode into the safe house bedroom he’d shared with Saria for the past two months. The cleaners had stripped the queen-sized bed and the last of her belongings, now boxed, sat on the plush gray-carpeted floor next to his gear.
Saria’s little touches around the room, from the vase of white lilies that graced the nightstand to her favorite vanilla and strawberry scented candles, had infused this space with such sweet elegance. Now, all gone, tossed out with the rubbish or packed away. Her nursing journals no longer lay scattered across the corner desk she’d called her own for the past year.
After shutting the security-latched window the cleaner had left open, he drew the lacy net curtains across, then slid her box on top of his and carried it down the hallway. At the front door with its crooked brass number ten, the ghostlike scent of home baking tickled his nose. If Saria hadn’t been studying for her nursing finals, she’d had her nose buried in a recipe book. Every day she’d cooked, from cakes and cookies to the meals they’d eaten. Caring for others relaxed her, had taken her mind off her fears. None of his foster parents ever cared for him the way she had. Hell, he missed her—a totally unacceptable emotion in his job.
Down the stone path he trudged, then popped the trunk of his Jaguar and arranged their boxes inside. He lugged his cell phone from his pocket and skimmed the buttons. The ship’s sat phone number, emblazoned in his mind as well as programmed into his speed dial, taunted him. Saria had left two days ago, and his fingers twitched to call her. Hearing her sweet voice would ease some of his concerns. Had her fears subsided now she had Lydia back? He hoped so. He longed to see her stand strong and take back the courage and strength she’d lost during the time Lydia had gone through re-identification.
Unable to hold off any longer, he pressed the speed dial number then rapped one foot on the concrete driveway within the quiet Auckland city suburb.
“Tyler Whitehall.”
“It’s Ben.” He stopped rapping as one of his best mate’s voices flowed down the line.
“Hey, I just hung up from Brigs and was about to call you. Sorry about the short notice, but Lydia and I are getting hitched in Fiji, and I need you and Brigs there. Do you feel up to a trip to Resort Island?”
He’d never seen a man more dedicated to the woman he loved. Tyler had even taken bullets for Lydia and nearly died. He’d always have his respect and admiration. “Absolutely. How long do I have to get there?”
The girls’ case, almost tidied away, made his answer an easy one.