Chapter Five
The warm breeze races over my skin as I look out at the view. A vivid palette of turquoises and blues fills my vision, with the rugged mountain providing the backdrop. Paradise. It’s been the same the last two days—a perfect destination to relax in. The strain should have left my muscles by now, but I can’t escape the feeling I need to keep looking over my shoulder. It plagues me, refusing to let me forget or rest.
No.
I’ve indulged the paranoid card before, and though I have more reason than ever to be checking my six, it’s been quiet for two days. Every time I stop and pause to check who’s around me, there’s nothing. Each time I’ve detoured and waited, there’s been no trace of anyone to raise my alarm. My phone’s been quiet, too. Andreas hasn’t called.
“No seas estúpido!” Andreas has some explaining to do.
I raise my arms, stretching my fingers to the sky before diving off the wooden deck into the balmy waters below. My doubts and concerns wash away with the ocean. If only I could get my sleeping under control. A few hours a night of interrupted sleep due to nightmares isn’t helping to keep my mind focused.
I surface and turn to look at my villa. The best position on the jetty gives me the most impressive view. Uninterrupted. I look out to my left and see the mirror image of my bungalow set several hundred meters across the water. I’ve been watching it since I slipped inside on my first night. There’s been no sign of life so far, but my surveillance will continue. My arms stretch out in the water, and I take a lazy swim towards my target.
It’s not even six in the morning, but the sun is bright and dances off the surface of the water. There’s little else to disturb me. My exhaustion has eased, helped by the lack of activity over the last two days. The slow and rhythmic glide of my arms through the water is calming, waking me up.
The distance is enough to get my heart rate up, and I stop to tread water as I arrive close to the other bungalow. I manoeuvre close to the steps that would take me to the terrace, but as I consider climbing up, I hear the unmistakable sounds of someone retching in the bathroom. The grin that stretches over my lips doesn’t hold any sympathy. Been there. Done that. Too much sun and alcohol are a deadly combination out on these islands. It seems my diamonds will have a babysitter for the next however long.
Of all the places I could have ended up, this is one of the better split-second decisions I’ve made. Two weeks to shake any shadows from the busted drop, catch some sun, and build my next plan of action.
Perfecto.
By lunchtime, I’ve completed my daily tour of the resort, added to my understanding of security, and memorised the timetable for the sea taxi to and from the mainland. It would be easy to get lost the first time you come down to the beach as all the bungalows look the same.
Staff are littered about and ready to answer your every whim, and if it’s not staff, there are couples everywhere. I’ve identified a dozen couples I’ve seen on multiple occasions and believe the cleaning, bar, and other staff are all on separate rolling shift patterns. It’s force of habit to research and learn my surroundings. Although there’s no diamond job here. Just my own safety. I’ve never had this feeling before, like I’m waiting for something bad to happen. It’s haunting.
I’m the only single woman I’ve seen. Not that romance is anywhere on my radar, but on a paradise island, even my heart can’t help but wonder.
It’s only been two days, but I’ve already got itchy feet. Being reliant on myself and having little in the way of company isn’t new. But being stranded on an island leaves little to keep me busy. Sitting and staring out at the ocean view doesn’t provide the distraction I need. The hairs on the back of my neck send a shiver along my spine every few minutes, like a dodgy sixth sense trying to tell me something’s wrong.
I need a distraction.
Keeping half an eye on the bungalow now worth over ten million dollars, I pick up the resort’s excursions book and bring it back out to my seat. I scan through the options and choose a short trip to get me out of the bungalow.
“Hello, reception. Is there space on the one o’clock boat trip? Great. Yes. Sofia Andreas. Thank you.” A two-hour boat tour around the resort with a snorkelling stop will keep my mind free of doubt and help keep my cover intact. I should be enjoying myself after all. There’s certainly no one here to keep me locked away inside all day.
* * *
The sun will set on another day in a few hours, but I don’t want to go back to the villa just yet. Being alone gives room for my fears to creep in. There are several regulars I’ve seen about the resort, and there’s less threat in numbers.
I drag my feet slowly through the sand on the beach, enjoying the warmth of the tiny specs over my skin. The main bar comes into view as I round the final curve of the beach. A tall glass filled with something fruity, strong, with plenty of ice is just what I’d like. My taste buds practically salivate at the thought.
The thatched roof and open terrace make the bar open and light, with the added benefit of air-conditioning. Bliss.
“I’ll have the passion fruit mojito, please.”
“Yes, Madam.” The barman smiles before digging a silver cocktail shaker into the bucket of crushed ice behind the bar. Several long pours, shakes and squeezes later, I have a delicious drink sitting on the bar for me.
“Merci.” I sign some resemblance of the signature for Sofia Andreas—my current alias for this trip—on the bill and slip off the stool to grab a secluded table overlooking the lagoon.
It’s too early for the bar to be full. But this time of year in Bora Bora means an early sunset. I sit back and sip the strong drink, cooling me from the humidity still hanging in the air, despite the lowering sun.
My vantage point gives me a beautiful, safe view, and I’m content to take it all in. There’s peace here, tranquillity that soothes the soul without you even trying. It’s a far cry from the pulsing rat race my brother thrives in.
If my mind wasn’t lost in worry over the consequences of the botched deal, this would be the kind of place I could plan and research without interruption. Without dangers or anything else getting in the way of my target.
My mind replays the job again, frame by frame. With the time I’ve been here, the footage has come together like pieces of a jigsaw. The only problem is, I can’t decipher it. It could be an inside job, but this feels bigger, more planned somehow. There were too many wheels in motion for it to be an unplanned hit. I may not approve of my brother’s dealings, but he’s not sloppy. He wouldn’t be as successful as he is without checking the details, but what other explanation could there be?
The pouch of cut diamonds hidden away is the only merchandise still salvageable from the meet. A little over ten million in GIA certified diamonds. I take a long draw of my cocktail and let it cool my thoughts. I didn’t come here to solve the problem. I ran here to escape.
