Page 5 of Doyle

He sighed. “I know. Gabriella has the smarts to go to medical school. Did you know that Dr. Julia Tremblay, our local doctor, attended there?”

“I do.” In fact, Tia’s head was too full of ideas that ran through her mind every night as she lay on her bed, staring at the whirring fan, the sounds of the sea outside her window.

Yes, here maybe she could shake off the last three years, find herself again. She just needed to stay focused.

Doyle held up his hands. “I’m not saying they’re not smart enough, but kids have a much better chance of success with a loving family behind them.”

She refused to argue with him. Yes, family helped. But so did determination. Edward had taught her that.

And in the end, his connection to her family had gotten him killed. So, there was that.

They came into town, passing a fruit stand with fresh mangoes, papayas, passion fruit, and guava.

“Let’s stop there on the way home,” Doyle said, clearly reading her mind.

“Yeah, if we’re not on the run from a gang of thieves.”

“Wow. And me without my machete. Listen, it’s going to be fine.” He looked over at her. “You brought some cheddar, right?”

She frowned at him. “What?”

“A bribe?”

Her mouth opened.

He shook his head. “You’ve been here nearly two months and you haven’t figured that out yet?”

“I don’t bribe people.”

“For the love—it’s the culture. Think of it as atip.”

“It’s dishonest.”

“Yeah, we’re not getting that X-ray machine.”

She nearly slammed on the brakes and told him to get out. She drew in a breath. “If we don’t try, then it’ll end up in the hands of the S-7 crew, and buh-bye any more donations.”

“I thought they only worked on the other side of the island.”

“According to Dr. Julia, they stole an entire pallet of medical supplies from the harbor—and then offered to sell it to her for a ransom.” She looked at him. “Or should we call it atip?”

“That’s different.” He folded his arms. “Okay, we’ll get the X-ray machine. Don’t worry.”

Oh, she was plenty worried. “Just... let me handle it.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay,boss.”

For the love,as he would say.

They entered a neighborhood, and after a moment he said, “Is Declan coming to the fundraiser?”

“I don’t know.” It was hard not to glance at Declan’s home, settled above the town, a sentry. If it hadn’t been for his generosity after the storm, the monastery would have stayed destroyed, the children homeless. He’d put hope back on the map, literally.

She’d discovered that back in Minnesota after he’d offered her the job. Did her research and decided this could be her chance.

No more murder, no more grief, no more wishing she’d listened to her head instead of her heart years ago.

Never again.

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