of shock bled into deflated hope. Tatum could be in serious trouble.
“The airline confirmed she boarded her plane,” his dad said unnecessarily. If she was seen getting into a taxi, she must have made it to the island. “The detective assigned to the case said she didn’t rent a car,” his dad rambled on, a father distraught. “He couldn’t find evidence that she took a cab there. The other taxi drivers there didn’t have a record and didn’t recognize her picture.”
Frenchman’s Cay was an island off the coast of Tortola. “Who is the detective?”
“Monty Crawford.”
At least he was intent on searching. “Did Tatum mention she might meet someone there?”
“No.” His dad shook his head, barely hanging on to his composure. “We’ve searched through her things here in Denver. Nothing is missing and nothing is out of place that we can tell.”
Braden contemplated telling them about the BMW and just as quickly decided to hold off. They had enough trauma to deal with right now. He’d go search for his sister and keep them informed as much as possible. The detective may seem to be doing that for them, but Braden could not stay here and wait. He had to do something. Finding a missing person wasn’t his area of expertise, however. He wasn’t proficient in this sort of thing, especially on foreign land, but he did know someone who was.
* * *
Halfway through their Monopoly game, Arizona Ivy had had enough. “I’m twenty-five. I can make my own decisions.”
At her sharp tone, her brother’s blue eyes lifted from the board game. Blond-haired, tall and muscular, he had Viking good looks. All of her brothers and sisters had that Scandinavian appearance. “You aren’t thinking it through. As usual, you’re being impulsive.”
She didn’t respond. She had a real shot at making a good career for herself and Lincoln was stepping all over her toes. She wrote the latest gossip for a not-so-great entertainment rag. Who was divorcing whom. Who was cheating. Who was gay. She could do better than that. Her dad had helped her get a lead on a job, and Lincoln thought she was setting herself up for failure. She should stick with what she was good at, and that was entertainment.
Just because their father was a huge success as a movie producer didn’t mean his kids were destined for entertainment careers. She had her own aspirations. And that was a much more serious career than the one she currently had. If only she could find a way to prove she was capable.
“It’s still your turn,” Lincoln said.
She didn’t feel like playing anymore. “I have to go now.”
While he protested with a brotherly “Aww, come on,” she stood. Tucking her shoulder-blade-length blond hair behind one ear, she grabbed her car keys.
“Don’t be a big baby, Arizona. I tell you these things because I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Then support me.” She left his 1950s, newly remodeled kitchen. Big baby. He always treated her like a kid. His little sister. She was tired of that, too.
“I do support you. I wish you would listen to me,” he called from his seat at the table.
“I do listen to you,” she called back. “I wish you would listen to me!”
It wasn’t fair. He was her only sibling out of eight that she could talk to. Guess not anymore. He was the oldest and she was the youngest. She was an adult now. She didn’t need guidance. She could guide her own way.
Through his living room, the lack of feminine touches further sparked her ire. No flowers. No frilly decor. Just furniture and trim. She sure wished he’d find himself a woman. Then maybe he’d be too preoccupied to stick his nose in her business!
With snowballing energy, she swung the door open and came face-to-face with a man standing there, his finger poised over the doorbell. The first things that struck her were his lean, hard biceps and broad chest. Next was his military-short, dark brown hair and sexy stubble that peppered a square jaw. And last were his intense green eyes. Something about them ignited warm embers.
As he lowered his hand, his bold gaze went down her body and back up again, brushing her with tingles. She’d worn jean shorts and strappy red high heels, which showcased her long legs. A metallic-beaded, sleeveless pink top did the same for her breasts and small waist. Her aim wasn’t to be overly sexy, just fun. Some people didn’t take it that way. Was he one of them?
His pique polo shirt was wrinkle-free and tucked neatly into his jeans. His shoes were leather. He was clean. Smelled that way, too. He appeared a lot more conservative than her. But she’d felt what lay underneath. It was in the green fire of his eyes.
“Hi,” she said.
At her flirtatious tone, blinds shut tight over his emotions. Rigid control. Big, giant, thick wall.
What had caused his withdrawal? She hadn’t mistaken the chemistry.
“I’m here to see Lincoln Ivy.”
His deep voice melted through her.
“Braden, is that you?” Her brother appeared with a big smile on the porch. “Good to see you.” Arizona stepped aside as he reached forward and shook his hand.
“It’s been a while,” Braden said.
“Yes. Too long.”
Arizona stuck her hand out. “I’m Arizona. Ivy. Arizona Ivy. Lincoln’s sister.”
Braden reluctantly shook her hand. “Braden McCrae.”
She felt silly for being so awkward. Why was she trying so hard to get his attention? Normally, she was uncontrollably picky when a handsome man crossed her path. She looked for flaws and held back until she either found them and had an excuse to walk away, or didn’t and dated them until the threat of more sent her scurrying.
“How do you know my brother?” He had smooth skin, and yet not. Strong. Slightly calloused.
“We went to college together.” He let go of her hand.
As before, her skin tingled as though he’d caressed her intimately.
“What brings you here?” Lincoln sent her a curious look, obviously having noticed her reaction to his friend.
“I wish I could say it’s just to pay a visit. Unfortunately, it’s urgent.”
“What is it?” Lincoln was perplexed now. His college friend had come for a reason and it wasn’t to catch up.
“My sister is missing. She went to the British Virgin Islands on vacation and said she was going to call my parents but never did. The police are saying she was seen getting into a taxi in front of Frenchman’s Point Hotel.”
Arizona felt a one-two punch as Braden dropped his news. Missing. In the Virgin Islands. Plummeted back in time, she struggled with sobering memories and the ever-hovering sense of helplessness she could never quite shed.
“Are the police looking for her?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes.
