"Stop staring."
Kenna brought her attention back to Bryan. "So what do we do now? Should we talk to him?"
"Not unless we want to blow the investigation. First, we watch him. See what he does. Who he talks to."
She sent another look the man's way, her anxiousness making her heart race. One of these men was their guy. They were so close. She could feel it.
"Stop looking at him," Tyke growled.
"Okay, okay." She turned, keeping the man at her back so she wouldn't be tempted to keep staring.
"If you're so adamant about doing something," Bear said, "then let's find out what Estelle knows."
Good idea.
Kenna wormed her way through the row of tables, dodging chairs and people, in the direction of where her aunt sat. She lowered into the chair next to Estelle. Tyke pulled one from the next table over, keeping it facing the opposite direction, and sat backward with legs wide.
"Aunt Estelle," Kenna said. "I hope you don't mind, but I said something to Bryan about your missing brooch. In addition to Mom's ring, he heard about another couple at the wedding who are missing something, too."
Her eyes widened, and her voice went up an octave. "He did?"
"Yeah, it was a couple days ago," he said. "We're trying to see if all this is related.
"Do you remember anything out of the ordinary when you got back to your room?"
Estelle's forehead wrinkled. "Not that I can think of."
"Did you see anyone? A dark-haired guy, maybe?" Kenna asked.
"A what?" Estelle perked up. "Now that you mention it, yeah. I do remember seein' a dark-haired guy."
"What was he wearing?" Kenna asked, eager. Come on. Something specific.
Estelle's lips squeezed in thought. "I don't remember."
Kenna wilted in her chair. Damn.
Without attire, it was tough to choose which one to target first. If Estelle had seen someone with a uniform, then they'd know it was a hotel worker. Plain clothes could suggest a wedding guest.
Kenna glanced across the area at the suspect, and she was about to ask Aunt Estelle if the man looked similar to that suspect, but when she opened her mouth, Bear cut her off.
He shook his head once. Not now, he seemed to say.
"Was anything else in your room disturbed?" he asked, his expression serious. It was crazy to see this side of him. She'd never seen him in action. The no-nonsense demeanor was a welcome change. He obviously took other people's safety seriously.
"Uh." Estelle's features went thoughtful, like she was thinking back to when she walked into her room. "Nothin'."
"Anything about the guy you can point out? Other than dark hair? Did he talk a certain way? Act a certain way?"
She shook her head. "Nah. Can't think of anything."
Bryan blew out a breath, his frustration rolling off him. "Okay. Thanks, Estelle." He shot from his chair and ate up the distance to the bar.
"Why didn't you want me to ask her about the guy at the other table?" Kenna asked once she met him back at the bar.
"Too soon."
"But if she saw him, maybe she can identify him."
"Or it could draw attention to someone who has nothing to do with the investigation. It would draw attention to what we're doing. We don't need Estelle blabbing to everyone that Sam and Cass invited a thief to their wedding."
"Oh. Good point," she said, lounging against the bar. "So what now?"
His attention was focused on the stage, where a handful of tanned-skin men and women wearing grass skirts were lighting batons on fire.
"Now we wait for the fireworks to start."
"Be serious," she said. "What should we do?"
"What I said." He gestured with his chin to the man at eleven o'clock. "We wait."
Chapter Ten
The hula dancers performed for about thirty minutes and not one of them managed to catch on fire. Shame. Tyke half hoped it would happen-just a tiny flame-to make this event more entertaining. When they were done, a DJ came out and started playing Top 40, suck-ass pop music. The DJ said a kid named Justin Beeby or Justin Baby was singing, and for as high as his voice sounded, that's exactly what he could've been. The crowd loved it, though. Nearly everyone was on their feet, moving and grooving to the terrible, electronic beat.
Even Kenna was out there, shaking her ass and smiling. She danced with a few different people-Estelle, Sam, and Tracy. Kenna was the most vibrant one out there. With that shiny red hair and those curves, she looked like a fire goddess.
When she saw him watching her, she waved him over.
Nah. He shook his head. He wasn't a dancer. With arms and legs as long as his, it was tough to move in a coordinated manner. Plus, he'd much rather stand back and watch her.
That tune ended, and then it happened.
The DJ changed course and played a slow song.
Their song.
The one she'd picked for their wedding. The wedding that never happened.
Out of all the songs over the last five decades, how in the hell could the DJ pick that one?
The first few bars played, and it was like an emotional shock into their past. In that moment, Tyke must've been dying-or at least at death's door-because everything he'd ever experienced with Kenna flashed before his eyes. The first time she smiled at him. Their first date at that ice cream shop. The time they'd made out in the parking lot instead of going into the movie theater. The night he'd slid her mother's sapphire ring on her finger when she agreed to marry him. The next morning, at the airport in his fatigues shipping off to basic training. The accident in Iraq. The irreversible prognosis from the doctor. Kenna's beautiful, angelic face coming into his mind when he realized he wouldn't be able to go home to her.
Her gaze was still on him, and when the music registered, her smile lengthened and a look of longing set in. Goddamn, when she looked at him like that … he'd do anything for her. Anything.
Some people on the dance floor paired off. Those without partners moved to stand on the outside, watching. Kenna stayed where she was, smack in the middle of the dance floor, her eyes pleading with him.
It would be so easy to go to her. To hold her in his arms and not let go. To imagine what their future could hold. They could have a fresh start.
But like the pussy he was, he couldn't do it. He couldn't give her what she wanted. He never could.
"Fuck. I can't do this." He turned away, not bothering to picture her broken expression. He'd envisioned it enough over the last twelve years that it was ingrained in his brain forever.
He flew away from the dance floor, brushing right past a waiter with a beer in his outstretched arm. Tyke reached the tables where a few people were still seated. Of course he met Estelle's questioning face first. "Bryan?"
He ignored her and kept going.
"You okay, man?" Ash jogged next to him.
"I'm good. Just gotta go."
His friend gripped Tyke's arm, forcing him to a stop.
"Let. Me. Go."
Cooper's face got up in Tyke's. "Stop and think for a second. You sure you wanna do this?"
Tyke shrugged out of Ash's hold.
"You better be one hundred percent certain when you leave this time." Ash had a purposeful set to his jaw as he turned his head to look back at the dance floor.
"Fuck you, man." He followed his friend's gaze. "I'm sure-"
Kenna was in someone else's arms. Another man was holding her close and singing into her ear. She swayed in sync with his body to the song she should be sharing with Tyke.
And that other man was suspect number two.
…
Tyke went back to the bar, his gaze locked on Kenna. She was smiling, seeming to enjoy herself, and he told himself he could do it. He could keep his eyes on her and not feel anything.
It was complete and utter bullshit.
He wanted nothing more than to pounce on the man, rip him away from Kenna, and then drag her back to Tyke's room like the barbarian he was. But what would be an amazing night of sex would only lead to disappointment later on.
She'd want more. Something permanent. A stable family. A house full of kids. And he couldn't give her that. After his accident, he was half the man he used to be. Half the man she deserved. He wasn't going to give her false hope of a future she'd only hate him for later on.
So he continued to stare at her.
The man she danced with was Michael Tucker. Some advertising executive friend of Cassandra's. Truthfully, he looked like a wiener. Pressed shirt tucked into his khaki shorts. Leather slip-on shoes. Dark hair perfectly gelled. He stood erect like someone jammed a fishing pole up his ass. Guy probably waxed his balls, too.
"So you decided to stay," Ash said next to him.
"Yeah, so?" Tyke said, not bothering to face his friend.
"Seems significant, that's all."
That made Bryan swing a look at Ash. "Significant? Who the fuck are you? Dr. Phil? What's significant about me coming to the bar and getting another drink?"