What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(71)

She slammed through the metal door and found herself surrounded by hydraulic lifts, air compressors, welders, tire storage and enough steel tool cabinets to supply Lockheed. She took a deep breath of tire-and grease-scented air and wandered back toward one of the resort’s tour buses, where five legs protruded from beneath the chassis; Temo didn’t have his prosthesis on.

“We’ll be with you in a minute,” he called.

She squatted down and put her hand on his ankle. “I can wait...Cuauhtemo.”

At the sound of her voice and his real name, the three mechanics’ creepers shot out from under the tour bus.

Temo grabbed her first, hugged her hard.

CUAUHTEMO (TEMO) IGLASIAS:
MALE. 5'7", 150 LBS, FIT. HISPANIC-AMERICAN/SECOND GENERATION. BLACK HAIR, BROWN EYES, SPANISH SPEAKER. MILITARY VETERAN. PROSTHETIC LEG. MECHANIC, HANDYMAN. BROTHER TO YOUNGER SISTER, REGINA. LEADER. FRIEND.
He loosened his grip and asked, “Are you healed?” From last winter and her encounter with Mara Philippi, he meant.

“I’m fine.” Except for the stitches in her arm and the bump on her head, but those weren’t worth mentioning to a man who had lost his leg in action.

Birdie Haynes rolled over on her creeper and the two hugged, long and hard. Then she punched Kellen hard in the shoulder. “You scared me to death! You couldn’t even text?”

“Somebody stole my phone.”

“Stole your phone? That’s funny!” Birdie wasn’t laughing. Her brown eyes swam with tears.

The two women fell into each other’s arms again.

“Are they crying?” Max had made it inside, and he was doing the smarmy superior man thing.

“Looks like it.” Carson Lennex stood up off his creeper and wiped his hands on a grease rag, then shook hands with Max.

Birdie and Temo: Kellen had expected to see them in maintenance. But Carson Lennex?

CARSON LENNEX:
MALE, 65, IRISH/HISPANIC ANCESTRY, 6'3", 200 LBS, IRON GRAY HAIR, HAZEL EYES, TANNED, ACTOR, MOVIE STAR, FORMER ACTION-ADVENTURE HERO. LIVES ALONE IN ONE OF THE TOWER SUITES FOR MOST OF THE YEAR. RETIRED. ALOOF.
And one more thing—he was violently in love with Birdie.

“What are you doing under there?” Max asked.

“Every time they drive this old bus up a steep incline, there’s a burning odor. We’re trying to figure out where it’s coming from. It makes the tourists nervous.” Carson managed to make it sound like he knew what he was talking about. Did he? Or was he that good an actor?

“Have you checked the radiator overflow?” Max asked. “If there’s a leak in one spot in one hose onto a hot spot, it could cause the smell.”

“That’s a thought.” Temo lay down on the creeper and disappeared underneath the bus.

Carson followed suit.

“May I?” Max offered his hand to Birdie.

She took it and let him help her stand.

He used her creeper to join the other guys, and the three men started thumping, clinking and consulting.

“I suggested the hose theory myself,” Birdie said between clenched teeth. “No one listened.”

“What do you know? You’re merely the head mechanic.” Kellen hugged her again. “Anyway, who cares? Let them fix it. Where’s Adrian?”

Adrian was the last of the guys Kellen had hired at Yearning Sands, loudmouthed, obnoxious and a good guy.

“Temo’s sister has started accompanying some of the Olympic tours as an assistant. The tour is winding up, and Adrian’s gone to pick her up.”

Kellen grinned. “He’s a good mother.”

“I’m starting to think so. He’s such a screwup, but he really cares for that kid, and Regina is blossoming here at Yearning Sands.”

“I never saw any of that coming.”

“Me, neither.” Birdie didn’t take a breath. “What are you in trouble about now?”

“Nothing! Why would you think that? Well, a little something.” Kellen headed for the little old slope-shouldered refrigerator. “I’d kill for an iced cappuccino.”

“Get me one, too.” Birdie sank onto a chair beside the battered kitchen table. “What’s up?”

Kellen brought two bottles of cappuccino and seated herself opposite Birdie. “Have you or the guys had any suspicious incidents lately?”

“By suspicious you mean...?”

“Snipers shooting at you?”

“You have snipers shooting at you?”

“Among other things.” Kellen rolled up her sleeve and showed Birdie the healing gunshot wound and the stitches. “Also a few more eccentric attempts on my life.”

“What is it about you, Kellen Adams, that so many people try to kill you?” Birdie sounded as if she was joking, but she wasn’t smiling.

“It’s my charming personality.” Kellen took a long swig of the drink. “It did occur to us—me and Max—to wonder if someone from the war zone had it out for veterans.”

Birdie shook her head. “Since you left, it’s been real quiet around here. The worst thing that happened was when that dumbass texting tourist drove over Russell and into the lobby. He broke Russell’s pelvis and sent him to the hospital.”

“Russell is better?”

“Better. Yes. But not good. Not like he was before. That texting limp prick is wandering around, still texting and killing people.” Birdie had a moment when she realized this wasn’t the subject. “Nothing happening around here to us veterans. It’s been blessedly quiet.”