“All the phones on the island are operable.”

Hunter was certain they were . . . and traceable, too. “My contacts are in my phone.”

Val stood, retrieved his jacket. “You can use my office.”

They walked into the heat of the Keys. Hunter followed Val to a golf cart, the only form of transportation on the island.

“You survived my mother. I have to give you points for that, Blackwell. I didn’t think you’d follow through.”

They turned up a two-lane road to the main building on the island. The three-story structure held Val’s office, rooms designed to hold staff that needed to sleep on the island. The long verandas swept around the building with massive windows that opened to a dining room and kitchens. The resort’s swimming pools and spa were a hedge and greenbelt away. A nightclub and separate gathering halls completed the lower portions of the building. “Your mother didn’t leave me much of a choice.”

Val nodded. “She has her ways.”

“Stubborn, much like your sister.”

Val pulled to a stop and turned toward him. “It runs in the family.”

“We have that in common, then. Once my mind is set on something, I seldom let down until I have it in my fingers.”

“Like my sister.” Val’s observation couldn’t be closer to the truth.

“My relationship with Gabi isn’t the same.”

There was a tick in Val’s eye. “The last man I allowed to court my sister nearly killed her. You’ll have to forgive my need to protect her.”

Killed her? Wait . . . “Picano?”

“A man I trusted. A man we all trusted.”

“Even your mother?”

Val looked away. “My mother never liked him.” Val muttered something in Italian. “I don’t think she cares for you, either.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure. He caught Simona close to a grin at least twice when he destroyed her kitchen. “Did Picano ever cook with your mother?”

“Lord no. She wouldn’t have bothered.”

Interesting . . . yet she did with him.

Hunter moved to leave the golf cart, Val stopped him. “Has Gabriella told you about Picano?”

All the answers felt as if they were only a question away. So why was he hesitating?

“Not everything.”

Val opened his mouth and Hunter cut him off.

“She will tell me when she’s ready. For the first time in a long time, I will wait for her to reveal the truth.”

Val regarded him in silence. “You surprise me, Blackwell.”

Hunter pushed out of the cart. “It probably won’t last.” He thought of the question Blake had asked him and decided one question could be asked without learning too much about Gabi’s past. “Who shot him?”

Val hesitated.

“Never mind.” What if it was Gabi? He shouldn’t have asked. “I’ll wait for Gabi to tell me.”

“I don’t think Gabi knows. She wasn’t there when it happened.”

Now he was confused. He thought . . .

“I, however, was.”

“You shot him?”

Val shook his head. “If only I had a gun in my hand. No . . . I didn’t have the pleasure. Between the Coast Guard, Neil, Rick, and my wife, there wasn’t much left for me to take out.”

Meg . . . Val’s snarky blonde wife?

“I see you have more questions than answers.”

He did. “I’ve said this before, but I’m going to repeat myself. I won’t hurt her, Valentino. You have my word.”

Val shoved his hands in his pockets, the tick in his eye gone. “I’m holding you to that,” he said.

Hunter offered a nod and followed Val to his office.

When he was alone, he checked his messages. First was Tiffany. She muttered something about liking his wife and wondering if she still had a job on Monday. Hunter couldn’t remember another time when a secretary had drunk too much at a cocktail party and spoken out of turn. Tiffany was a rare find. The second message was Andrew’s. “You received a message . . . one you were expecting.”

Damn. Not good.

The third message was from Remington. As the man rambled about Colombia and Italy, Hunter held his head in his hand. He needed to divert his PI from finding any personal facts about Gabi and concentrate on her offshore accounts. Any trust he was building with his temporary wife would be shattered in one phone call if she knew he was paying someone to learn about her past. For some strange reason, he wanted her trust.

Wanted to trust her.

He dialed Remington first and met with a voice mailbox. With caution, he stepped out onto Val’s veranda and looked below. Once Hunter was assured of his privacy, he kept his message short. “It’s Blackwell. I need you to drop what you’re doing. I need to find out who Picano dealt with in Columbia. Someone accessed those accounts, I need to know who. Same with Italy. If you come across Gabriella’s name anywhere else, contact me immediately.”

He sent a text to Tiffany, said he’d see her on Monday.

Andrew picked up on the first ring.

“How is Florida?” Andrew asked.

“Warm, sticky . . . beautiful. Tell me.”

Andrew sighed.

Hunter knew, before Andrew opened his mouth to confirm, what he was going to say.

“The paternity test is positive.”

“Oh, Luuucy . . . you have some ’splaining to do.” Meg’s singsong voice called Gabi outside once her mother finished her interrogation.

There was no way out of this conversation, though Gabi had to try. “Can we ignore what you walked in on?”