Just Another Day in Paradise. Justine Davis
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the military men once more. He wondered for a fleeting moment if his clever boss had done this intentionally, so he’d get a firsthand look at the situation on Arethusa. But he discarded the thought; if that were the case, Josh would have sent Draven, or someone else on the security-and-troubleshooting staff, not him. He was strictly a detail man, and hadn’t been this close to serious weaponry since the years spent hunting with his father in the wilds of Montana. He might once have been able to stalk even a wary skunk, but these days boardrooms were as close as he came to throat-slitting violence. And most times, that was close enough for him. He was glad to leave Arethusa behind.
By the time they were approaching Redstone Bay, Rider had his checklist prioritized. First the staff meeting to thank them all for what they’d done so far, then individual meetings. Then he would—
Tess’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re about to land, Mr. Rider.”
Smiling at the formality she always maintained once in the cockpit, Rider pressed the intercom button on the console beside the spacious table. “Thanks.”
He’d asked for a circuit of the island before they landed, so he could see what the place looked like from all approach directions. He had a knack—some called it a brain glitch—for remembering maps and plans, and he could call up the original planned layout at will. So now he studied the view below, nodding slowly.
They’d done a good job, kept the disruption of the landscape to a minimum and the buildings in keeping with the style of this part of the world. Not that there was any lack of luxury, but there was no towering concrete monolith of a hotel here—that wasn’t Redstone’s style. The four-story buildings were arranged around a large courtyard, and were low enough to be masked by the inevitable palm trees. A number of small, elegant and very private bungalows were scattered among the trees. The swimming pool at one edge of the courtyard was also subtle, designed to look more like a natural lagoon and grotto than something built by man.
Even the landing strip, Rider thought as they banked for the last turn, wasn’t a huge scar on the land, but had been landscaped with exquisite care to maintain the most natural look possible.
He sat back in the leather seat, nodding with satisfaction. This, he thought, was going to be smooth sailing.
Paige Cooper turned a page in her leather-bound journal, ran her finger down the center to make it lie flat, and picked up her pen. Then she set it down again, caught unexpectedly by a wave of emotion. She closed the journal and gently touched the cover, tracing the intricate Celtic design on the teal-green leather. Moisture welled up behind her eyelids as she fought down a stab of fierce longing for those days past, when life had been good and her son, Kyle, had loved her enough to save all his allowance for three months to buy this for her birthday.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, she saw Kyle out of the corner of her eye, leaving his room and walking toward the front door of the bungalow they’d been given to live in while she was on the staff. She knew the instant he realized she was there by the way his normal, gangly-fifteen-year-old walk became a slow, dragging shuffle, with his shoulders slumped as if he bore the weight of an unfair world.
She smothered a sigh and tried for a cheerful tone. “Where are you off to?”
He stopped dead. Only his head turned toward her as he gave her a look of such exaggerated incredulity that she winced inwardly. Everything seemed to be over-the-top with him these days.
“Nowhere.” His voice was bitter, acidly so. “Since I’m in the middle of noplace, with no friends and nothing to do, I’m going nowhere.”
She reined in the urge to order him not to use that tone with her. She knew he was having a hard time just now, and tried not to focus on the superficial symptoms of that.
“It must be awful to feel that way,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Especially when lots of people would love to be here.”
It stopped him, but not for long. “Those people would be here by choice. They wouldn’t be dragged away from home, forced to leave all their friends and even their own stuff.”
She’d known when she’d taken the Redstone job last month that this could be a problem. “I told you,” she said patiently, “as soon as we get a little ahead you can have Danny come for a visit.”
“Danny? That little geek?” Kyle sneered.
“He’s your best friend.”
“Maybe when I was seven. You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve grown up, I can’t hang around with those little kids.”
“He’s your age,” Paige pointed out.
“It isn’t the age,” Kyle said haughtily, “it’s the maturity. Danny is still a kid. All he thinks about is school and sports and computers. He doesn’t have a life.”
Paige’s patience ran out abruptly. She stood up, not that it helped much now that Kyle was nearly two inches taller than her five foot four.
“You think it’s more mature to have a police record that will follow you the rest of your life? That your life is best spent playing video games endlessly? That it’s more grown-up to hurt the people that love you the most?”
Kyle flushed. “The one that loved me the most is dead,” he shouted, and ran out the door.
Paige sank back into her chair, blinking rapidly. The truth boiled up inside her, and she was thankful Kyle had gone. She didn’t think she could have held it back this time. But telling him would only hurt him all over again, and he’d been through enough. He’d adored his father and now he was dead, and beyond that nothing much mattered.
Except that now, at fifteen, that same loving son hated her. And never let pass a chance to tell her yet again how she had ruined his life and he would never, ever forgive her.
She fought down the urge to cry; she’d wept enough over this to know it was a useless exercise. She straightened her spine, opened the journal and picked up her pen.
Sometimes, she told herself firmly, you just have to do what you know is right, and damn the torpedoes. Or whatever that saying was.
She found her page and glanced at what she had written before: “Nothing much happens here in Redstone Bay.”
It suddenly struck her this was very much like the opening of an old, much-loved book her mother had handed on to her. It had been written on a postcard in the story, but the sentiment had been the same. In the book it had also been the precursor to chaos for the unsuspecting heroine.
Paige smiled wistfully at her own whimsy. She lifted her gaze and looked around at paradise. A slight, balmy breeze rustled the palm fronds, but barely stirred the few strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She couldn’t imagine a more peaceful place. The strife she’d heard the hotel staff talking about seemed distant and unreal in this haven of serenity.
And that serenity was exactly what she’d come here for. It had been difficult, giving up her home. But she’d had enough of the brutal streets of Los Angeles. And more than that, she’d had too much of what they were doing to her son. She empathized more than he would believe with his struggle to go on without his father, but she simply would not allow Kyle to be turned into one of those street fighters who turned up on the nightly news, either as killer or victim.
The distant sound that had been niggling at the edge of her awareness swelled to a roar, and she looked up to see a sleek jet, painted in the red-and-gray color scheme of Redstone Inc. She thought it looked like the same one that had ferried her here from California, and wondered if Tess Machado was flying it. She had liked the charming woman with dark, pixie-cut hair and the lovely smile. It had been an experience unlike any she’d ever had; the novelty of leaving when it was convenient for her, of knowing the plane would wait if she was late, and sheer amazement at the amenities. And Tess had told her Josh—anyone who’d worked for Redstone more than a year seemed to call him that—hadn’t gone for the extreme luxury he produced for other customers; he’d spent his money in the avionics, the instruments and in extra