Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
The least I can do for now is snap a few pics and send them over. I’ve barely kicked off my shoes and sat on the plush outdoor chaise before my phone chimes.
Jenn: How’s Lanai treating you? World’s sexiest room aside, I mean.
Piper: It’s magical. Thank you so much again!
Jenn: LOL. If my overworked ass had the PTO, I’d be there with you. But at least I can live through your photos...
Piper: You’re definitely coming on the next trip.
Jenn: Like I’ll be able to leave the office for a week anytime this century. But go have a drink on the balcony and Instagram the proof so I can pretend I’m there in spirit.
Piper: Yes, ma’am.
Oh, I do plan to enjoy this balcony, but the jet lag from the seven-hour connecting flights makes my legs feel like lead.
After another twenty minutes pass by watching the glowing sun slip toward the ocean, I head inside and collapse on that cloud of a bed, hugging a puffy white body pillow as I drift off to sleep.
I’m out cold for a few hours.
I vaguely remember waking up from snuggling into the thick, lush white duvet and noticing I’m still completely dressed.
It’s night now. The brightest stars ever replace the sun through the glass, suspended over the ocean and pristine beach like glinting diamonds.
I throw my pants off and change into a t-shirt before rearranging myself in my nest.
As soon as I close my eyes, I’m out again.
I’m floating on a small boat.
It’s just like the kind of weathered fishing workhorses Dad used to bring us on years ago when he was in his prime. His laugh was so infectious every time he’d haul a new batch of fish up on the deck, their silvery scales reflecting like tinsel.
Except it’s not the cool, grey Washington coast that’s so familiar.
No laughing Dad or squealing little sister or floppy fish about to be someone’s supper.
I smile.
It’s sunny and warm here. I want to soak up every bit of tropical sun beaming down from above. I just hope I’ve brought enough sunscreen and start looking for my purse when—
Thud!
Heart, meet throat.
What the heck was that?
It sounded like something big hitting the bottom of my boat. My eyes dart around frantically, checking to see if I’ve sprung a leak, but—
Thud!
Again, I’m clutching my chest.
It’s coming from the tiny bathroom in the cabin, I think. Maybe there’s a problem with the plumbing. I start closing in for a better look.
Just as I step inside, it happens.
Thud, thud, thud!
The noise hurts my ears and the whole world spins with a hiss like rushing water.
Yep, we’re sinking, and all I can do is scream but I never get the chance.
Instead, I bolt upright, my brow drenched in sweat.
It’s dark as hell when my eyes open.
Where am I again?
Oh, right.
No sinking ship, but this giant marshmallow of a bed.
I reach for my phone, tapping the screen for light. Using the glow, I scan the room slowly, letting my brain catch up to my surroundings.
“Just a dream. Jesus.” I sigh, wiping my brow. That jet lag slammed me harder than I thought.
I’m still in this beautiful hotel room and I probably have a few more precious hours before my alarm goes off to start the day.
I grin at my own stupidity.
No one ever said I lacked imagination.
My throat feels dry, though. I swing my legs over the bed to grab a drink of water and—
Thud!
Again?
What the actual hell?
Am I still dreaming? I pinch my thigh to find out and wince.
Ouch. Okay, it’s real.
Thud!
Definitely real.
And I’m wide awake now with the awful realization that banging isn’t just in my head.
There’s someone moving around in my suite.
Who? Why? What the hell?
I hold my breath and wait.
The banging stops, but there are smaller noises. They’re muffled, like someone moving heavy stuff around and trying to be very quiet.
Not good.
Who’d be intruding in the middle of the night in a premier room? And how?
I always lock the door and I’m sure I didn’t miss it this time...right?
I swallow the nervous lump in my throat.
If you’re traveling, you always make sure your door is locked. Dad drilled that into me from the time I was twelve and going on my first skiing trip.
It must be someone who works here with a messed up maintenance schedule—or a deranged serial killer.
No other options.
With my breath shaking, I imagine a ring of bright funeral flowers in a halo around my Instagram profile picture and three pink bubble words. Rest In Peace.
Good God.
It’s just my luck that I’d snag the best room in Lanai, only to wind up hacked into stew meat.
My eyes flit through the darkness, better adjusted now.
Well, if this guy wants a piece of me, I’m not going down easy. Mr. Psycho Intruder will at least have to look me in the eye before he paints the room with my blood.