Page 23 of The Big Scoop

What was going on? What could have happened that would make Gwen want to run out on me like this? She was just sending an e-mail…

No, I thought, stopping in my tracks. It couldn’t be.

As panic started to set in, I raced into the office and opened my e-mail. Sure enough, there was the e-mail I’d been expecting from Audrey, letting me know the deal had gone through. And sure enough, it was marked read.

Gwen saw it.

Fuck.

I headed downstairs into the bottom of the yacht where I had yet another small boat parked inside. That way I didn’t have to hire someone from the shore to come ferry us back and forth. I opened the sliding door to the sea, hopped in it, and hit the switch that rolled the boat down into the water.

I hit the engine, backed up, turned the wheel, and gave the engine everything it could take and began speeding towards shore in the direction that Gwen had gone.

The wind whipped through my hair and sea spray splashed across my face as the boat thumped through the waves.

She shouldn’t have seen that…you should have been more careful.

But it was too late now. All I could do was track her down and try to get her back. But based on everything I knew about Gwen, that wasn’t going to be easy.

I came in hot to the docks and almost took out a couple climbing out of their boat. They threw me dirty looks and the woman shook her fist at me as I tied up my boat and hopped out.

My eyes scanned the harbor and the coast, searching for any sign of Gwen. But all I saw were herds of rich people, vacationers, and dockhands. But then I saw it—the jet ski Gwen had taken, beached on the shore where it definitely wasn’t supposed to be.

“Gwen!” I called out as I started running again.

The beach was filled with people and a small group of them were clustered around the jet ski, talking to themselves and pointing up the hill to a stone archway leading up to the town. It was as good a guess as any, so I picked up the pace, my heart pounding in my chest.

My footsteps echoed through the archway and I skidded to a stop on the cobbles of a busy street. I glanced right, but all I saw were cars and more people heading down to the harbor. I glanced left, praying I’d see her running away and glance back over her shoulder at me, but all I saw were more vacationers and a group of models with their photographer.

Shit!

I balled up a fist and slammed it against the wall, ignoring the pain that it produced. I was about to turn back, start asking people if they’d seen Gwen, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Hey, Mister.”

I turned around to see an Italian boy, probably not even eighteen, spinning a soccer ball on his finger and smiling at me.

“Looking for your girlfriend?” he asked.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Have you seen her?”

“Pretty girl? Bag over her shoulder?” he smiled. “Nice long legs?”

“Yes, that’s her! Where’d she go!?”

“Up those steps there,” he replied, pointing to a set of stone steps leading up to a plaza.

“Thanks, kid!” I said, snatching a hundred out of my pocket and shoving it in his hand.

“She looked mighty upset, sir!” he called after me as I ran. “I hope you have a good apology ready!”

I took the steps two at a time. They were slick and I almost ate shit halfway up, but I got to the top and quickly looked around the plaza, which was filled with people going about their day. I’d never been more annoyed with tourists in my life (even if I happened to be one of them).

And then I saw her.

There she is.

Gwen, her bag over her shoulder, marching through the horde of people wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She’d clearly just thrown something on and got dressed in a hurry before commandeering my jet ski.

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