turned and was about to quietly slip away and find out, when she happened to hear him speak Spanish with the small, wiry man.
The father of the boy returned to the boat, lifted something off the floor and carefully shifted that weight to Sean, standing with his arms spread wide. From where Kayla stood it looked like a body. Had someone died? Murdered? Was this secretive guest of theirs someone who'd bring illegal immigrants into the country and get rid of the ones who died while crossing?
The thought made her shudder. Her heart thundered in her chest and her skin broke out in a sweat. She fell back into the shadows, watching the men as they carried the body down the ramp, over the mangroves, to disappear amongst the cabins.
She followed slowly, her stomach clenched, her mind in denial. She was a good judge of character and she truly did not think Sean Flannigan was dangerous or mixed up in bad business. But how could she know for sure? There was only one way to find out the nature of his secrets.
Before she could talk herself out if it, she walked up to his cottage and knocked firmly on the door. She heard Sean say something to the people inside, but not being fluent in Spanish, she didn't understand.
She knocked again. "Sean. It's me, Kayla."
After a few seconds he opened the door two inches. He'd taken his shirt off and was using a towel to dry his sandy brown hair, probably hoping she'd think he’d just gotten out of the shower. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his accent pronounced. "It's a little early for a social visit."
"You can stop the act, Sean." She pushed the door wide. "I know you're hiding some people inside. What I don't know is who or why."
Sean shook his head, spraying water on her, then scratched his chest. Still faking. "I was just getting dressed. Can this wait?"
She brushed past him. "Where are they?"
"Where is who?" he asked politely, stepping aside.
He was every bit as good as an actress as her dear mother. She put her hands on her hips, breathed in and out, and tried not to stare at his tanned muscular chest. No fair, him taking his damn shirt off. It was distracting.
"The people from the boat. I saw you. You can't deny it." Before he could answer, she walked down the hall and opened the door to his bedroom, but it was empty. "I was out for my jog, and I saw a man and a boy on your boat. Where have you hidden them?" She went to the second bedroom, not knowing what she'd find when she opened the door.
What if someone was dead? She didn't have her cell on her, and even if she did, how long would it take the police to arrive? This smuggler and the immigrants could be long gone by the time the local cops showed up, leaving her with a dead body to explain.
"It's not what you think,” Sean said, stepping toward her. His brown hair curled over his ears, his demeanor calm.
She glanced back at him, her hand on the doorknob. "Were you helping them into the country illegally? Is that why you're staying in this cabin, so close to the pier? Using your boat to bring people across?"
He slowly shook his head. "Go home, Kayla. Everything will be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong. Trust me."
Her stomach knotted. "Trust you? You’ve been close-mouthed and guarded since you arrived.” She tapped the door of the bedroom. “You're hiding people in my cabin. I own this place, and I won't have any illegal activities going on."
Hearing a noise, she looked once more at Sean, hoping he’d tell her the truth. When he didn’t, she opened the door. Inside, she saw a man and the boy sitting on the floor between the bed and the wall. Beside them lay a woman, breathing heavily, her belly swollen.
Dark, wet hair clung in lank hunks against the woman’s pale cheeks. Her lips, blue and trembling, parted as she fought for even breaths. Attempting to sit up, the pregnant mother dug her hands into her thighs and moaned in pain.
“Is she in labor?” Kayla asked, her hand to her throat.
Sean put a steadying
The father of the boy returned to the boat, lifted something off the floor and carefully shifted that weight to Sean, standing with his arms spread wide. From where Kayla stood it looked like a body. Had someone died? Murdered? Was this secretive guest of theirs someone who'd bring illegal immigrants into the country and get rid of the ones who died while crossing?
The thought made her shudder. Her heart thundered in her chest and her skin broke out in a sweat. She fell back into the shadows, watching the men as they carried the body down the ramp, over the mangroves, to disappear amongst the cabins.
She followed slowly, her stomach clenched, her mind in denial. She was a good judge of character and she truly did not think Sean Flannigan was dangerous or mixed up in bad business. But how could she know for sure? There was only one way to find out the nature of his secrets.
Before she could talk herself out if it, she walked up to his cottage and knocked firmly on the door. She heard Sean say something to the people inside, but not being fluent in Spanish, she didn't understand.
She knocked again. "Sean. It's me, Kayla."
After a few seconds he opened the door two inches. He'd taken his shirt off and was using a towel to dry his sandy brown hair, probably hoping she'd think he’d just gotten out of the shower. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his accent pronounced. "It's a little early for a social visit."
"You can stop the act, Sean." She pushed the door wide. "I know you're hiding some people inside. What I don't know is who or why."
Sean shook his head, spraying water on her, then scratched his chest. Still faking. "I was just getting dressed. Can this wait?"
She brushed past him. "Where are they?"
"Where is who?" he asked politely, stepping aside.
He was every bit as good as an actress as her dear mother. She put her hands on her hips, breathed in and out, and tried not to stare at his tanned muscular chest. No fair, him taking his damn shirt off. It was distracting.
"The people from the boat. I saw you. You can't deny it." Before he could answer, she walked down the hall and opened the door to his bedroom, but it was empty. "I was out for my jog, and I saw a man and a boy on your boat. Where have you hidden them?" She went to the second bedroom, not knowing what she'd find when she opened the door.
What if someone was dead? She didn't have her cell on her, and even if she did, how long would it take the police to arrive? This smuggler and the immigrants could be long gone by the time the local cops showed up, leaving her with a dead body to explain.
"It's not what you think,” Sean said, stepping toward her. His brown hair curled over his ears, his demeanor calm.
She glanced back at him, her hand on the doorknob. "Were you helping them into the country illegally? Is that why you're staying in this cabin, so close to the pier? Using your boat to bring people across?"
He slowly shook his head. "Go home, Kayla. Everything will be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong. Trust me."
Her stomach knotted. "Trust you? You’ve been close-mouthed and guarded since you arrived.” She tapped the door of the bedroom. “You're hiding people in my cabin. I own this place, and I won't have any illegal activities going on."
Hearing a noise, she looked once more at Sean, hoping he’d tell her the truth. When he didn’t, she opened the door. Inside, she saw a man and the boy sitting on the floor between the bed and the wall. Beside them lay a woman, breathing heavily, her belly swollen.
Dark, wet hair clung in lank hunks against the woman’s pale cheeks. Her lips, blue and trembling, parted as she fought for even breaths. Attempting to sit up, the pregnant mother dug her hands into her thighs and moaned in pain.
“Is she in labor?” Kayla asked, her hand to her throat.
Sean put a steadying
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