Page 15 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"Anyway," he said. "You can check out access to Damien's house from the water tomorrow."

"If it's possible to paddle all the way around the island," Violet said. "They could have put up barriers to isolate that stretch of beach."

"Only way to find out is to get out there," Rodrigo said. "You okay with kayaking?"

"In what way? As in, do I want to do it? Because, no, I don't." Violet gave Max a death glare and was pleased when he shifted his chair further away from her.

"No," Rodrigo said. "As in, have you ever done it before?"

"How hard can it be?" she said. "You get in a boat. You paddle. And you don't even have to wear a swimsuit to do it, shorts and a T will do. There was a park in Glasgow we used to go to as kids that had little paddle boats on a manmade pond. I did that, I can do this."

"I bet there weren't any waves or sharks in your little manmade pond," Max said, proving he wasn't as intimidated as he should have been. She'd have to work on that. "This will be a bit different, but don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Oh, he was begging for her to drown him during their precious kayaking session.

Someone cleared their throat, and they looked up to find their waitress waiting for them.

The young woman noticed the map and smiled enthusiastically. "You have to try snorkeling. The water is crystal clear, and you see the most amazing sea life." Her accent was pure American. Somewhere in the Midwest, Violet would bet. Although, she was still having trouble pinpointing some of the regional accents.

Max gestured to the server. "See? Sea life. Not a puddle in Glasgow."

Bloody comedian.

"You're a long way from home," Katrina said to the waitress.

She grinned. "I'm working my way around the world. As soon as I get enough money from this job, I'm on my way to Brazil."

"How exciting," Katrina said.

They gave the woman their orders and watched her hurry away. That's when Rodrigo stiffened.

"What is it?" Violet asked, being professional enough not to turn around to see where he was looking.

Rodrigo's face remained carefully blank. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Juan Flores sitting over there in the corner."

"You're kidding." Now Violet really wanted to look.

"Who's Juan Flores?" Max asked, with that same eager tone he always got when he was curious.

"He heads up one of the smaller South American cartels," Rodrigo said. "When I say smaller, I mean he isn't as big as the Sinaloa cartel, but he's still a serious player. His territory includes part of the border where three countries meet, which means he controls all of the drug trade that passes through his territory."

Violet surreptitiously angled her body to get a peek at the crime boss. He sat at a large, round table, filled with what looked like family members. As she watched, someone stood and toasted a smiling young couple.

"Looks like they're here for a wedding," she said.

"Seems like." Rodrigo reached for the jug of iced water in the middle of their table. "Don't recognize the happy couple as being family though."

Now, that surprised Violet. "You know him that well?"

"Spent a lot of time studying the guy when I was working a job in Paraguay. But that was some years ago now." His gaze swept the room as he offered to top up Max’s glass. All the while, he smiled like they were having an intimate dinner and weren't concerned with anything going on around them.

"Do you think he's Damien's partner?" Katrina asked, careful to appear relaxed.

Max shook his head. "Like I said with the last crime guy you spotted, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure the partner doesn't stay on the resort when he comes for the meetings."

"Not even as a guest at Damien's private residence?" Katrina said.

Max looked taken aback. "I never even considered that as a possibility." He sighed. "And I have no way of checking the theory out either."