Claire ran toward the door.
Adrian caught up without touching her.
"Claire."
"Don't stop me."
"I wasn't going to."
That surprised her.
"Then move."
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"That's fair."
She stopped.
"What?"
"You don't trust me."
"No."
"You shouldn't yet."
Again, the honesty threw her.
Adrian nodded toward Vincent.
"But whoever is upstairs knows your room number, has access to hotel security, and either is your dead father or looks enough like him to fool you."
Claire's throat tightened.
"Don't call him my dead father."
"What should I call him?"
She had no answer.
Natalie touched Claire's shoulder.
"Maybe don't go alone."
Claire closed her eyes.
She hated that everyone else was being reasonable.
"Fine."
Adrian didn't smile.
He simply walked beside her.
Not ahead.
Beside.
Claire noticed.
She wished she hadn't.
They reached the elevator.
Vincent went first.
Elena followed.
Natalie and Megan stayed downstairs after Claire insisted.
The elevator rose.
No one spoke.
Claire watched Adrian's reflection in the polished metal.
"Why did your father know mine?"
Adrian looked at her reflection.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
"You're hiding something."
"Yes."
Claire turned.
"What's the difference?"
"I won't tell you something I can't prove."
"That's convenient."
"It's safer."
"For who?"
"You."
Claire laughed bitterly.
"There's that word again."
"What?"
"Safe."
The elevator opened.
Adrian stepped aside and let Claire exit first.
Her room was at the end of the corridor.
The door stood open.
Claire stopped.
Vincent moved ahead.
"Wait here."
Claire almost argued.
Then she saw Adrian wasn't moving either.
"You aren't going in?"
"Vincent's better at clearing rooms."
"You admit someone is better than you at something?"
"Several things."
"Name another."
"Cooking."
Despite everything, Claire almost smiled.
Then Vincent appeared.
"Clear."
They entered.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
Claire's suitcase remained open.
Her dress hung over the chair.
Then she saw something on the bed.
A wooden box.
Claire approached.
Adrian stayed several feet behind.
She noticed that too.
He was letting her choose.
Claire opened it.
Inside was a silver compass.
Her father's compass.
She remembered holding it as a child.
Underneath was a folded note.
Claire opened it.
Three words.
TRUST YOUR RULES.
She turned toward Adrian.
His expression hardened.
"This is about you."
"Maybe."
"Someone knew our conversation."
"Yes."
"Which happened less than an hour ago."
"Yes."
Vincent immediately checked the room.
"Listening device?"
Adrian nodded.
"Find it."
Claire looked around.
Suddenly the beautiful resort felt contaminated.
Someone had been listening.
Watching.
Planning.
Vincent found a tiny microphone beneath the bedside table.
Claire stared at it.
Adrian's face became frighteningly calm.
"Get Natalie and Megan moved."
Vincent nodded.
"Done."
"Two guards."
"Already assigned."
Claire looked at Adrian.
"You planned that without asking me."
"Yes."
"Rule number one."
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because this one isn't negotiable."
Claire's anger rose.
"Excuse me?"
"Your friends didn't choose this."
She opened her mouth.
Stopped.
Adrian continued.
"You can tell me to stay away from you. You can walk out. You can refuse protection for yourself."
His eyes sharpened.
"But Natalie and Megan became targets because they're beside you. Until we know who is doing this, I'm protecting them."
Claire stared.
That was controlling.
Except it wasn't about controlling her.
It was about people who hadn't chosen danger.
One of her stupid rules suddenly felt less simple.
"Fine."
Adrian nodded.
Claire pointed at him.
"Don't look satisfied."
"I don't."
"You do."
Elena interrupted.
"We need to talk about Thomas."
Claire turned.
"Tell me everything."
Elena sat.
"Seventeen years ago, your father and Adrian's father were partners."
"In what?"
Adrian answered.
"Building a shipping company."
Claire laughed.
"Legal?"
"At first."
"And later?"
"No."
She looked at the compass.
"My father wasn't a criminal."
Adrian said nothing.
That silence was enough.
Claire shook her head.
"No."
Elena spoke gently.
"People can be more than one thing."
"Don't."
"I'm not defending him."
Claire looked at Adrian.
"What did they do?"
"Smuggling."
"What?"
"Mostly untaxed goods initially. Then other people became involved."
"Drugs?"
"My father refused drugs."
"How noble."
Adrian accepted the insult.
"Thomas refused too."
Claire sat heavily.
"So my father was mafia."
Adrian looked at her.
"Your father was trying to get out."
"How do you know?"
"Because mine helped him."
Claire stared.
"Then what happened?"
Elena answered.
"Someone betrayed them."
"Who?"
"We never knew."
Claire looked at the photograph.
"And the boating accident?"
Adrian's voice became quiet.
"Wasn't an accident."
Claire's eyes burned.
"Was my father killed?"
"We thought so."
"Until today."
"Yes."
Claire stood.
"So he could be alive."
"Possibly."
"And he let me believe he was dead for seventeen years."
No one answered.
That hurt more than any explanation could.
Claire walked onto the balcony.
Adrian followed only as far as the doorway.
She appreciated that.
She hated appreciating anything about him.
"My mother spent years grieving."
"I know."
Claire turned.
"How?"
Adrian hesitated.
"Her name was in the file too."
Claire went cold.
"My mother?"
"Yes."
"Where is she now?"
"Charleston."
Claire reached for her phone.
Adrian said, "Call her."
She looked at him.
"I expected you to tell me not to."
"I considered it."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because you'd do it anyway."
Claire almost smiled.
She called.
Her mother answered after three rings.
"Claire?"
"Mom."
Something in Claire's voice changed everything.
"What's wrong?"
Claire swallowed.
"Was Dad involved with the Vale family?"
Silence.
Claire closed her eyes.
"Mom."
Her mother's breathing changed.
"Where are you?"
"Answer me."
"Claire, listen carefully. You need to leave that resort."
Claire looked at Adrian.
"Why?"
"Because if Adrian Vale is there—"
"He is."
Her mother stopped breathing.
"Mom?"
"Get away from him."
Claire's stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because his father destroyed ours."
Adrian heard.
His expression didn't change.
Claire watched him.
"My father might be alive."
Another silence.
Then her mother began crying.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Claire understood.
"You knew."
"Claire—"
"You knew he might be alive."
"I wanted to protect you."
"By lying to me for seventeen years?"
"It wasn't my choice."
"Whose was it?"
Her mother whispered a name.
"Thomas's."
Claire felt something inside her crack.
"Why?"
"Because he believed they would come for you."
"Who?"
Before her mother answered, a crash sounded through the phone.
"Mom?"
No response.
Claire stood.
"Mom!"
A man's voice replaced hers.
"Claire Bennett."
Adrian moved closer.
Claire put the call on speaker.
"Who are you?"
"You want the truth about your father?"
Claire couldn't breathe.
"Yes."
"Then come home."
The line disconnected.
Adrian was already moving.
"Vincent. Car."
Claire grabbed his arm.
"No."
He looked down at her hand.
She released him.
"You're not deciding this."
"Then decide."
"I'm going to Charleston."
"Okay."
"And you're not locking me in some armored car and treating me like luggage."
"Okay."
"And if I tell you to stop, you stop."
"Okay."
Claire narrowed her eyes.
"Why are you agreeing?"
"Because they're your rules."
That silenced her.
Twenty minutes later, they left the resort.
Claire sat beside Adrian in the back seat.
Halfway to Charleston, his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
Then locked the screen.
Claire noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're terrible at lying."
"I didn't lie."
"You said nothing."
"That was evasive."
"Show me."
Adrian hesitated.
Claire held out her hand.
Finally, he gave her the phone.
The message contained one sentence.
BRING CLAIRE TO THE OLD BENNETT HOUSE OR HER MOTHER DIES.
Below it was a photograph.
Claire's mother sat tied to a chair.
Behind her stood a man whose face Claire recognized immediately.
Her father.
But he wasn't the prisoner.
He was holding the gun.