Baddest Bad Boys(87)

Furious, she grabbed the towel and covered herself before striding over to them. “What do you think you’re doing?” she said to the man with the camera. He ignored her, continuing to take photos almost frantically.

Bridgette gave her a malicious smile. “Have you met Guido? He’s under exclusive contract with Hot Life. You’ll probably make the cover, so I’d smile.”

Ellie thrust out her hand to block the lens. “Quit taking my picture,” she demanded. Then she turned on Bridgette. “Max won’t be happy you’re here. I know you are not welcome.”

“Don’t underestimate my pull with Max,” Bridgette said. “We’ve been lovers a long time.”

Ellie started to speak, then stopped. She wasn’t about to stand around and discuss Max with this woman. She turned and made her way into the house. She’d call Max herself and—

But just as she stepped inside, she saw Gerard Warhaven sprint through the front door. Her relief at seeing Max’s security chief was tangible. “Where’s Max?”

“He’s not back yet. But there’s a marine charter at the dock,” he began. “Who came—”

His response confused Ellie. “Wait. If you didn’t come with Max…” She slapped her forehead. The guest houses. Max had avoided showing her those. Now she knew why. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you?”

Gerard didn’t deny it. “Mr. DeLuca will explain later. For now, I need you to go to your room and stay there until I get to the bottom of this.” Dismissing her, he moved past her, having spotted Bridgette and the reporter by the pool.

Furious, Ellie went up the stairs and quickly threw on the first clothes she found. She was a fool to think her so-called deal had really captured Max’s attention. Gerard’s presence was proof that Max had a private agenda, one that he hadn’t shared with her.

From the upstairs window she saw that the boat and its driver were still moored at the dock. Grabbing her briefcase and purse, she made her way down the back staircase. From the hall, she saw Gerard and Bridgette arguing with the photographer.

Silently, Ellie slipped out a side door and hurried to the dock. Right now she wanted to get as far away as possible. The boat driver stood when she approached.

“Where’s that other lady?” he asked. “She owes me fare.”

Ellie climbed in the boat. “They’re staying. And I’ll pay double if we can leave right now.”

“Money is money.” The man shrugged and fired up the engine. In the distance, Ellie heard a shout. She looked up, saw Gerard frantically waving from the house.

“What about him?” the driver asked.

“Get out of here before he makes it to the dock and I’ll make it triple.”

Bridgette St. Regis watched the boat pull away. Scaring Ellie off had been easy. But now she had to think fast. She’d been told the island’s caretaker was old. The young blond dude was a surprise, but she had yet to meet a young blond dude she couldn’t handle.

She tugged her décolletage lower as she pulled a tiny cell phone out and punched in a few numbers.

“She just left. Wait at the docks and follow her so no one sees you. And send that boat back out for me!”

12
Max’s cell phone rang just as he was leaving the attorney’s office in Charleston.

It was Gerard. “We need to talk, boss.”

The news that Bridgette had wormed her way onto the island confirmed Max’s suspicion about an internal leak at DSI. What the bloody hell was going on here? Only two people knew he was at San Regale this week. His personal assistant, Joanne, and his Chief Financial Officer, Tom Breeden. Both Joanne and Tom had been with him for years and he trusted them explicitly.

“Does Ellie know Bridgette’s on the island?”

“Yes. In fact, while I was rounding up the St. Regis woman and the reporter, Ms. DeLuca left,” Gerard said. “She slipped out the back door and took off with the boat driver before I could stop her.”

Max had just climbed into a taxicab. He paused long enough to give the driver a destination. “I’m on my way to the docks now. I’ll try to catch Ellie there.”

“The vessel’s name is Solo Run. It just left minutes ago,” Gerard went on. “What do you want me to do with Ms. St. Regis and the reporter? She’s demanding that I call another boat for her.”

“Put Bridgette on the phone. And throw that damn photographer’s camera in the pool.”

“Max!” Bridgette sobbed his name. “I came here to apologize and this, this, man is treating me like I’m some common criminal.”

“Listen carefully, Bridgette. Because I’m not going to repeat myself. I want to know how you knew Ellie and I were on San Regale. And whom you told. Your answer will determine whether I send another chartered boat for you…or the sheriff’s department boat.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would. Apparently you haven’t spoken with your attorney recently. I had a restraining order drawn up, ready to go before a judge. Your counsel had suggested we could work out a more private deal, to save your father—and the world—from knowing what a menace you are.”

Bridgette made a strangled sound. “You don’t intimidate me, Max. And my father won’t believe you over me.”