"Are you enjoying yourself?" Richard asked.
"Uh, sure. Yeah," Tyke said. "Can't beat the open bar, right?"
Richard and Claire exchanged a look and let out a forced chuckle.
"Anyway," Tyke said, spotting the person who vacated his current seat heading back to the table. "I wanted to ask you about your watch."
Claire's smile evaporated, and Richard threw a possessive arm around his wife's shoulders.
"What about it?" Richard asked in a curt tone.
"I overheard you talking about it earlier," Tyke said. "I wasn't eavesdropping. Just heard as I was passing by. I didn't give much thought to it actually. But you said it's missing. Can you tell me if you noticed anything out of the ordinary when you saw that it was gone?"
Richard and Claire mirrored each other's reaction, eyebrows furrowed and a confused tightening to their lips.
"Like what?" Richard asked.
Tyke made eye contact with the person whose seat he was in. The sixty-something stout man with graying hair looked around for a moment as if debating whether he should ask Tyke to get up. He voted for delaying and went back toward the bar.
"Well," Bryan said to the couple. "Things happen. Thieves target people who're on vacation because they tend to be living out of suitcases and don't have a good handle on what they brought. It's easy to pick up and walk away with items. Especially if they're small."
Claire clutched the diamond seahorse pendant hanging from her neck. "Thieves? You're suggesting it was stolen?"
Tyke lifted one shoulder. "Just trying to rule out all possibilities."
"Possibilities of what?" Richard asked, eyes widening. "A burglary?"
When a few people at their table looked up, Tyke leaned closer to the couple and lowered his voice. "Maybe. Did you notice anything odd? Anyone you remember that might've seemed suspicious?"
"No. No one." Clare shook her head. "I mean, I'm not sure. I didn't know the watch was missing until recently. Maybe we saw someone or something and didn't realize it."
As her words went on, her voice climbed three octaves. Her husband placed his hand over hers and soothed her with shhh sounds. "It's okay. We're going to find it."
"I hope so." Claire dropped her head on her husband's shoulder with a soft sob.
Tyke's chest squeezed at the woman's emotions. The honest fear and despair in her voice made it tough to pull another breath.
"Sorry for bugging you," Tyke said, getting to his feet. "If you think of anything, let me know. Enjoy the, uh, wedding and stuff."
He headed straight back to the bar. He slapped his hand onto the shoulder of the guy whose seat he'd taken. "Seat's all yours, man. Sorry for the delay."
"Huh? Oh. Thanks."
As the man shuffled past, digging his sandals into the sand, a female voice sounded from Tyke's other side.
"Anything yet?" she asked.
He turned to Kenna, who held a plate and fork, eating small bites of the already bite-size dessert. He watched her cut off a small corner with her utensil, slip the tiny piece into her mouth, and chew. Then she cut off another piece small enough for a mouse and repeated the motion.
"Why the hell don't you just shove the whole thing in?" he asked. "I know for a fact your mouth can take bigger."
Her fork froze on its way to her lips, suspended in midair. She stared at him, pissy-ness growing with each silent second that passed. After a moment, she lowered her fork, resting it on the plate, and then set the entire thing on the bar behind her.
"If we're going to get through this week without me killing you," she started, "and more importantly, if we're going to find the ring in time, I strongly encourage you not to bring up anything about our past. That includes memories of your small prick getting near my mouth. Capiche?"
Wait, what?
I know your mouth can take bigger.
Oh, shit.
"Fuck, Kenna. I wasn't even thinking-I was saying-I just-"
Then of course he couldn't do anything but think about her mouth all over him.
"Just tell me if you found something," she said bluntly.
He cleared his throat, ignoring the tightness in his lower stomach. "No."
"What did you say?"
"No," he repeated a little stronger. "You go first."
She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why do I have to go first?"
"Because … " He wasn't going to tell her he needed a few more seconds to get his head back in working order after his other head was imagining some one-on-one time. He wanted to live long enough to solve this case. "I wanna know what you found out so I can piece this thing together."
"You always work best alone, don't you, Bryan? It's not like you need my help on anything, right?"
Tyke massaged his screaming temples. Where had that come from? Ken Griffey wouldn't have been able to snatch that out of left field even with a head start. "What are you talking about?"
She grunted. "Never mind. Just tell me what you know."
Out of spite, he wasn't going to give in. "Did you notice anything else about the guy in the hallway? Anything beyond average height and dark hair? Any identifying marks?"
She squeezed her lips together and turned away.
Jesus, she was stubborn. "You wanna stand here all night with your arms crossed not talking?"
She didn't respond or turn back to him.
For shit's sake. Fine. "There's a couple who said they're missing something valuable."
That got her attention. She spun with eager eyes. "Do you think the same guy did it?"
Tyke shrugged. "They didn't see anyone. But she brought a watch that was her mother's on the trip, and now she can't find it."
"Another family heirloom," Kenna reflected to herself, then addressed him. "You think it's related? It has to be, right? It's too similar to my mother's ring."
It was definitely too similar. Even if he didn't want to admit it. But who at this resort would know how important Kenna's ring and Claire's watch were to them?
Who could know Claire and Kenna both well enough? Kenna was Samantha's friend; Claire was a teacher friend from Cassandra's school. The only connection he could think of right now was Baltimore. It's where Sam and Cassandra both worked and lived.
"This sounds like a pattern," she said in a strained voice. "What if the guy strikes again? What's next? Sam's wedding dress?"
"What's wrong with my wedding dress?" Sam appeared at Kenna's other side.
Kenna shrieked. "What? Who?" She smoothed her already smooth hair and forced a chuckle. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with your dress. Why would you think there's something wrong with your dress? Or my mom's ring. There's nothing wrong at all!"
Smooth. Real smooth. Remind me to take her on my next undercover op.
Sam's puzzled look bounced from Kenna to Tyke. "Uh, okay. Glad that's cleared up. I wanted to check on you two to make sure you're getting along. Actually, I'm surprised to see you together. I thought you were going to avoid each other all week."
"We were," Kenna said, then shook herself. "We are."
Sam paused, again passing another look between them.
Tyke shrugged and stayed silent to spare his life. Kenna seemed to be fucking it up just fine on her own. No sense for him to contribute.
"Well, that's good, then." Sam reached her hand out for Kenna. When Kenna reciprocated, Sam placed her other one on top. "I'm so happy you're here. Really. I can't believe this is happening. I'm getting married!"
Kenna smiled, but it only lightly touched her eyes. Tyke had to look away to get his emotions under wraps. Kenna deserved a beautiful wedding like this. She deserved to be just as happy as Sam. Tyke hoped like hell once this shit with the ring was sorted out, she'd find someone and settle down. If she hadn't already.
Shit, he hadn't thought about that. She could be with someone. The guy could be here right now, and Tyke hadn't realized it. Tyke would've seen him hanging around with her somewhere, though. What about at home? Maybe the guy couldn't travel for whatever reason.
Tyke hated the idea of another man touching her, protecting her, loving her, but it was best. He'd had more than a decade to come to terms with it, and it's what he wanted for her, but it still didn't hurt any less to think about her with someone else. In fact, it felt suspiciously like that bullet he'd taken in Iraq.
"I can't believe it, either," Kenna said, ripping Tyke out of that unpleasant memory. "I'm so happy for you." If her tone was any indication, she meant it.
"You're sure about your mom's ring? I mean, I know you said it was okay for me to wear it, but if you don't want me to because it would be too weird or it would remind you too much of her or … " Sam's gaze skirted to Tyke, then went back to Kenna. "Of other stuff, I won't. I swear. I can find something else that's blue. I'll go get a blue umbrella from one of those fruity drinks and stick it in my hair or something."