Page 8 of Island Rescuer

Her phone vibrated in her purse and the screen lit up with an image of her uncle’s face. “Hey Uncle Bruce,” she answered, hoping she sounded normal instead of choked up with nerves.

“Hey, yourself. You coming inside or what?”

She glanced at the employee entrance and smiled to see him standing there under the wash of the security lighting. He was about the same height as her dad, only a few years older and one of the best men in her world. “On my way.” She hustled out of the car to the building. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“All’s quiet in here.” He held the door open wide for her. “You look pale.”

“It’s nothing. I’m great.” She relaxed as the door locked automatically behind them.

“How was trivia?”

Her fear and worry had dimmed the happy fizz of the win and she was grateful to focus on it once more. “We won!” she gushed. “Trina was over the moon. The prize included some special access with an author visiting the Lowcountry soon.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “Not Gentry Carver?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’d be over the moon too.” He shook his head. “I have all his books.”

“You want my ticket?” Harper offered, gladly. Bruce did so much for her, much of it she took for granted. It was rare to have the chance to do something special for him.

Bruce gaped at her. “Don’t tease me, young lady.”

“Never.” She laughed, pausing to pull the winner’s packet out of her purse. Her uncle’s eyes went round as she revealed the ticket and handed it over. “Here you go.” Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she turned down the hall toward her suite.

He was still staring at the ticket. “Thanks, Harper.”

She waved and ducked into her apartment, locking the door right away. Feeling completely secure and protected again, she made a mental note to have Trina take pictures of Bruce at the event. The family would want to see hard evidence of an awestruck Bruce. As far as she could recall, he was consistently unflappable. Working at the family properties, he’d met plenty of famous folks through the years from celebrities to military heroes to politicians, and not once lost his cool.

If this was the moment that turned him giddy, she wanted it on record.

* * *

Knox sat in his car on the far side of the Ellington Resort parking lot, his heart still hammering in his chest. Harper was safely inside. Protected by layers of security. Technically, he could drive away with confidence.

But “technically” wasn’t good enough for him tonight. He’d sit here a while and monitor the lot for anyone who didn’t belong.

Watching that car ride up on Harper’s bumper had him seeing red. He’d maneuvered to intervene and odds were good that it was his aggressive move on the bridge paired with her evasive lane change that prevented disaster.

They’d won the skirmish, but it was too close for comfort.

He tried to put himself in the harasser’s mindset. As tactics went, going after her on the bridge was an effective way to scare her. The limited escape options would’ve amped up her tension and stress.

It sure had made him redline, and he’d been relegated to the role of observer. Mostly. He never would’ve let that driver hit Harper.

Knox wanted to find the driver and shake him until his teeth rattled right out of his head. The bastard could’ve killed her. Or prompted her to make a dangerous mistake. Knox’s heel drummed against the floorboard. He was itching for a fight. Itching to storm into the resort and either invade her space or haul her off where he could keep her out of harm’s way.

Both of those options would fail spectacularly. She didn’t even know she was under protection.

Yet.

Tonight proved—to Knox at least—that whoever sent the creepy messages was escalating.

He’d already briefed Jenna. Once he regained his composure, he’d call Jess and link up with the bosses if she deemed it necessary. Assuming they didn’t call him first. Gamble and Swann didn’t mess around when it came to caring for their clients. Considering their ongoing partnerships and ventures with the Ellingtons, they wouldn’t take any chances with this case. Jenna or someone else would soon have a lead on the plates he’d reported when the incident went down.

Antsy, he stepped out of his truck. The security team here knew him well and he wanted to make sure whoever was on duty stayed alert. His gut was telling him trouble was closing in. Someone had decided to target Harper—which made zero sense to him. Any con man looking to blindside a wealthy woman had to see she was a bad target. She was savvy, careful, and seriously connected to her sprawling family. Not the kind of person easily swayed or isolated.

Of course, a con man looking for an heiress to steal from likely wouldn’t apply the creep factor, unless he planned on rescuing her from the perceived danger.

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