Chapter 5

Bel burst into the resort's lobby and scanned the guests for the stranger. He was wearing the same shoes as the brunette who'd flirted with her, and while she'd only seen him for a few minutes, her memory was reliable. She knew what the flirt who'd called her Mia Cara looked like, and the man who just knocked her over decidedly wasn't him… only something in her gut told her he was.

Spotting the back of his head, Bel darted after him. If she could catch another glimpse of his face, it might explain why this stranger felt like the same man from a week ago, but he was moving too quickly. Before she reached the exit, he stepped into a waiting sedan and was whisked away down the lane.

"Can I help you, Miss?" a resort attendant asked, and realizing how wild she looked racing through the lobby, Bel forced her features to relax.

"No, thank you." She smiled. "I thought I recognized someone. My mistake. Have a nice day." She turned on her heels and calmly exited onto the path, breaking into a jog the second she stepped out of sight.

"Hey. Let me change, and then I'm all yours," Eamon said as she flung open their bungalow's door. "Is there anything you'd like to do before we meet the Victors for dinner?"

"I need you to make sense of something for me because my brain's freaked out," she said by way of greeting.

"Are you all right?" Eamon froze with his polo shirt halfway over his head.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I'm worried I'm seeing things, so can you help me explain something?"

"Okay." He resumed removing his shirt before sitting on the sofa. "What happened?" He gestured for her to join him, and Bel sat down as she recounted the last few minutes.

"So, you believe two men with two different faces are the same person?" he asked when she finished speaking.

"Yes." She ran a hand through her hair. "Griffin was right. I need this vacation, because all these crime scenes, witches, and magic have me seeing things."

"You needed this trip, but not because you're seeing things." He tugged her into his lap. "I didn't see the connection when you first figured out Henry Knight was Hook, but I believed you, so let's walk through this. You saw two men with two distinct faces, but their voices, hair, shoes, and unusual phrases were identical?"

"Correct, and while witches powerful enough to wield black magic can alter their features, you would've sensed if he had power, right?"

"He had no magic," Eamon confirmed. "So, there must be a human explanation. Could it have been his brother? Siblings, especially twins, often have similar fashion and conversation styles."

"That would make sense, but I can feel it." Bel tapped her chest for emphasis. "That's not it. They were the same person. I can't explain why I feel this way. I just do."

"Okay, so they're the same man, but without shifter magic." Eamon paused as he considered the possibilities. "Botox? Plastic surgeons founded the charity we're here to support, so there are dozens of doctors on this island capable of giving injections. Maybe he got some work done during his stay, and that's what's throwing you off."

"Botox?" Bel repeated as she mulled over the possibility. "That could explain it, I guess, but his face looked so different. Would that alter someone that much?"

"I don't know. I've never needed plastic surgery—or any surgery, for that matter—so I'm the wrong person to ask. But it's possible. Or what about an allergic reaction? Swelling can change someone's features."

"He wasn't swollen, so Botox is the most logical explanation."

"I'm sorry. I wish I were of more help." Eamon pulled her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "But without seeing him, I can only guess."

"It's okay. You helped." She planted a quick peck on his cheek. "Your ideas make more sense than mine, so thanks. I feel less crazy."

"Stop calling yourself crazy. We both know you aren't. After watching Ewan shift from man to bear, it's impossible to ignore things the mind can't explain."

"Have you seen him shift?" she asked. Ewan Orso was Olivia Gold's boyfriend and a bear shifter. He was muscular in his human form, but his animal was monstrous. Witnessing his transformation during the Darling case had almost made Bel sick.

"I have. It's unsettling," Eamon answered.

"So disturbing." She shuddered.

"Which is why you aren't crazy. You know the truth about what's out there. You're also observant, so you saw something today that no one else noticed. I wish I'd been there so I could get you answers."

"Me too, but it's probably nothing. He was most likely just a guy getting some vanity work done. I shouldn't let it bother me." She shifted in his lap to rest her head against his chest. "How was golf?"

"Isobel." Eamon's voice cut through her haze of sleep, his deep rumble so distant that Bel assumed she'd dreamed it. "Isobel, wake up." Broad hands shook her, and she groaned as her consciousness raced to the surface.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she blinked awake. The bedroom was dark, and her exhaustion told her she'd only been asleep for an hour or two. They'd spent the rest of their day on the water before meeting the Victors. Dinner had turned into drinks which had left Bel so worn out that she barely stayed awake long enough to pull on one of Eamon's oversized shirts before she'd passed out.

"Get up." Eamon gently tugged her from her sprawled position across the mattress. "You need to see this."

Bel realized the TV was humming in the background, and she rolled over to find the late-night news playing on the screen.

"The manhunt for Alessandro Gianni continues after the disappearance of the undercover agent who'd spent the past year infiltrating the organization," the reporter said into the camera, and Bel's body flushed cold as the televised woman stared almost accusingly at her. "The FBI has been building a case against the new head of the Gianni family, but with the sudden disappearance of both their agent and Alessandro, law enforcement agencies have joined forces in the search." A photo of Mr. Gianni replaced the reporter's image, and Bel's stomach pitched at the sight of his face. His very familiar face.

"If anyone has news of Alessandro Gianni's whereabouts, the FBI urges them to call the tip line at the bottom of their screen," the reporter continued as Bel reached out and clutched Eamon's hand. "The FBI also asks that if anyone sees him, they do not engage. Mr. Gianni is considered armed and extremely dangerous."

"I let that man put his hands on you." Eamon's voice was so low that the room visibly darkened with his power.

"Alessandro Gianni…" Bel whispered his name as if speaking it out loud would summon the violent mob boss. She'd never seen him, but she was well acquainted with the Giannis from her NYPD days. They were a brutal family, and to become their leader was to become the worst of them. And she'd let that monster kiss her hand.

"He stood right in front of me." She leaped out of bed and started to pace to keep her racing heart from exploding. "Alessandro Gianni was here, and I let him walk away. How did I not realize that was him? Mia Cara," she repeated, the Italian phrase obvious in hindsight.

"This isn't your fault." Eamon captured her shoulders to halt her movements. "You didn't know who he was when he flirted with you. I should've picked up on it, though."

"But that's just it!" she practically shouted. "Do you know how many crime scenes I examined because of the Gianni family when I worked for the NYPD? How many deaths I investigated because of them? I should've recognized him the moment he grabbed my hand…. Oh my god." She slapped her palms against Eamon's bare chest and dug her fingers into his muscles, thankful he didn't feel pain the same way humans did because she needed something to cling to. "That's why his face changed. You were right. I think he got Botox or some sort of operation while here. This is a private island teeming with surgeons. No homeland security. No passports. No FBI. He flew here undetected because he discovered a rat in his ranks. I guarantee you he killed the undercover agent and then forced a doctor to alter his features. The privacy of this resort would allow procedures to be performed off the books, and now the news is circulating a photo that no longer resembles him."

Eamon cursed as he pulled Bel into a hug. "I'm just thankful he didn't hurt you while I was playing golf."

"I could have stopped him," she said into his skin as guilt consumed her. "The most wanted man on the East Coast was literally in my grasp, and I let him escape."

"I'm glad you did. I wasn't around, and who knows what he would've done if he suspected you knew his identity?"

"I need to call Barry." Bel bounced off his chest so fast that Eamon almost flinched. "The FBI's hunting a face that no longer exists. They'll never find him."

Bel snatched her cell off the bedside table where it lay charging and dialed Agent Jameson Barry. They'd met during the Darling case and had formed an excellent working relationship, especially after he helped her conceal who truly killed Peter Pann.

"Detective Emerson," Barry answered on the second ring. "It's late. Is everything okay?"

"Alessandro Gianni." She skipped her greeting. "I know where he is, or at least where he was ten hours ago."

Bel told Agent Barry about her encounter with the handsome flirt in the resort's lobby a week ago. The news confirmed the man she met was the Gianni leader, and she explained her theory about why he traveled to the island, ending with how his features had so drastically changed that she stared into both faces and didn't connect the dots until it was too late.

"Do you have proof?" Agent Barry asked when she finished. "Did you take a photo, or does the resort have security footage?"

"I didn't think to take a picture," Bel said as she glanced at Eamon, and he shook his head in answer to her silent question. "And there are no surveillance cameras. We're on a privately owned island, and while there are security measures in place, they aren't recording their guests."

"Okay, so there's no proof," Barry said. "Being that you're the detective who saved the Darling family, your sighting will be believed, but only your interaction from last week. A police officer making a positive ID carries weight, but if I present the idea that Gianni has had plastic surgery without concrete evidence to back me up, they'll laugh me out of the meeting."

"I figured as much, but I had to tell you," Bel said. "His features were changed enough to trick any facial recognition software. He left the resort this afternoon, so, unfortunately, he could be overseas by now. TSA won't flag his new face."

"God, I hope not." Barry let out an exasperated breath. "Do you have time? I want to set you up with a sketch artist. I can't prove to my superiors that you're telling the truth, but I'm smart enough to listen to you. If my team knows what Gianni looks like, we may be able to find legal means to locate him."

"Of course I'll help."

"Great. I'll video chat with you when the artist gets here. Thanks for calling. This is the first lead we've had since our agent went missing."

"I'm sorry about your agent."

"Thank you. Talk soon."

Bel hung up and changed out of Eamon's shirt into more appropriate attire. She made herself a quick cup of coffee, and when her phone rang, she sat with the artist until the sketch vaguely resembled the man who'd almost knocked her over that afternoon.

"Emerson, one last question before I let you get back to bed," Barry said. "Have you seen anything that points to L'Oasis knowingly aiding a fugitive? Do you believe the island is involved, or was this the act of a single doctor taking advantage of the location?"

"We've seen nothing odd," Bel said. "That doesn't mean the resort is innocent, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. We're at a charity fundraiser that benefits plastic surgeons who help children and accident victims, though. Doctors are in abundance here. It would've been simple for one to smuggle Gianni here on their jet, perform the procedure away from the public eye, and send him on his way without anyone figuring it out."

"That's going to make it difficult," Barry said. "If the resort was to blame, and we found proof, we could raid the island since it's technically under the United States' jurisdiction. But if it was a private doctor operating under duress or the promise of cash, they'll be almost impossible to discover."

"I can look into things if you like," Bel offered.

"No," Barry and Eamon said in unison.

"You have no authority there," the agent continued. "If the wrong person learns you're investigating them, it'll place a target on your back. I don't want you getting hurt. You've been more helpful than you know."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"You're on vacation. You shouldn't have to do anything, but I'm thankful you recognized him. It's late, though." Barry glanced at his wristwatch. "I'll let you go."

They said their goodbyes, and after hanging up, Bel joined Eamon on the bed.

"That look on your face," he said as her head fell against his shoulder. "Why do I have the feeling you have no intention of heeding his warning?"

"Because I don't."

"Detective…"

"Don't worry, I'm not planning anything dangerous." She patted his stomach reassuringly. "This island is owned by a plastic surgeon, so it's the perfect place for the rich and famous to get procedures done without the public figuring it out. I can ask Dr. Hyde to examine my scars and offer his expertise. If he tells me to book an appointment at his main office in the States, then we'll know the resort isn't involved, but if he mentions something inside the hotel, we'll have somewhere for Barry to start."

"Seems safe enough," Eamon said. "And now you have me curious."

"See." Bel pinched his stomach, but he didn't so much as flinch. "Now you understand why I can't let things go. I need answers."

"Really? I thought it was because you like to keep me in a constant state of heart failure." He leaned over and buried his face in her neck.

"That too." She slid her fingers through his hair and kissed his head. "Definitely that too."

Eamon nudged her with his elbow and nodded toward the opposite end of the dining hall, and Bel followed his line of sight, finding the island's owner making his rounds.

"Care to dance?" Eamon extended his hand, and she slid her fingers into his grip as they made their way onto the floor close to where Jake L. Hyde was chatting with a grey-haired man and his significantly younger date.

"You look beautiful," Eamon whispered against her hair as he guided her closer to their target.

"And I guess you clean up okay." She smirked as she slid her palm suggestively up his chest,careful to trailher fingers over every muscular curve until his black eyes burned. "You dance well," she said as he spun her so she could watch Hyde for their opening. "Classes or a side effect of your nature?"

"History," Eamon answered. "During the Regency Era, I spent much of my time in proper society. As a wealthy, eligible man, I danced at most gatherings. I'm naturally graceful, but those years taught me how to move… what?"

"Regency? Like Pride and Prejudice?" Bel's mouth fell open, and for a moment, she forgot to watch Hyde.

"As in, I danced with many fine young women, but none were handsome or tempting." He winked.

"Oh my God." Her eyes lit up. As an avid reader, she'd read every Jane Austen work. She'd also seen every Pride and Prejudice adaptation, and here stood a man who might've met the author most book lovers were obsessed with.

"Did you meet Jane Austen?" sheblurted.

"I don't think so," Eamon said.

"But you could have."

"I doubt it."

"But you could have," she pushed.

"Youreallywant me to say yes, don't you?"

"I mean, Mr. Darcy was handsome, rich, and grumpy. Sounds like someone I know."

"I was not the inspiration for Mr. Darcy." Eamon spun her, glancing at Hyde as he pulled her back to his chest since she'd forgotten they were on a mission.

"But you could've been."

"I'm not."

"But you could have."

Eamon laughed, the sound infectious and exquisitely beautiful. She was one of the few he let hear his joy, and she would never tire of its melody.

"Will it make you happy if I say there's a small—a very, very small—chance I met Miss Austen and inspired your rich and grumpy Mr. Darcy?" He slid his hand against hers as if they were in a Regency movie.

"Obviously, yes." Bel beamed. "Pride and Prejudice is practically the romance reader's bible. Even if it'sabsolutely ridiculous, it's fun to imagine. Plus, it makes hearing how old you are easier, because it's terrifying that you're immortal, and I'm…" she trailed off. "Anyway, I enjoy imagining you at a ball, so tall that you stood a head over everyone, causing Jane Austen to notice your black eyes and think, ‘I can fix him by making him a romance hero' ."

"Ireallylove you," Eamon chuckled. "Only you could see the monster I am and hope I inspired history's favorite romantic lead."

"If I were her, I would've written a whole series inspired by you." Bel rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. "Oh, Hyde is free." She jerked backward and dragged him across the floor to where the doctor stood, the dreamy bookworm gone as the detective assumed control.

"Dr. Hyde." Bel plastered a charming smile on her lips. "Do you have a moment?"

"For a beautiful woman, of course," he answered.

"I have a question," she said. "I live in a small town, and everyone knows everyone's business. If I were to get a procedure done, everyone would know by lunch, and I'd prefer not to deal with their judgment."

"And you're wondering if this island full of plastic surgeons can help," Hyde finished for her. She nodded, and he gestured for the couple to follow him. "We canabsolutelyhelp you. It's one of our specialties. It's hard to hide procedures from the public, so many of our guests come here, get work done, and then recover in their private suites while enjoying their vacation. They return home looking amazing, and everyone assumes their glow is thanks to the sunshine and relaxation."

Hyde led them through the long hallways to the rear of the resort, where a sterile and aesthetically pleasing clinic sat out in the open for anyone to stumble upon, and Bel threw Eamon a look. This was too easy. This clinic was too obvious. L'Oasis wasn't hiding anything, so while they might've helped Gianni change his face, she suspected they'd been as oblivious as she was to his identity. Otherwise, Hyde wouldn't have led a cop right to the evidence.

"The technicians left for the evening, but you're welcome to come back tomorrow morning," he continued, all too eagerly. "What were you thinking of getting done? Lips? Filler?" He studied her like an equation and not a woman.

"Actually,I want to lighten the scars on my neck." Bel angled her throat at the doctor.

"Your scars?" Hyde asked, clearly surprised by her answer. "That's not something we're equipped to handle. A procedure to reduce scar tissue isn't a vacation operation. You'll need a specialistfor that, but I can recommend some magnificent surgeons. Dr. FrankVictorsis the foremost expert in trauma reconstruction. I can put you in touch with him."

"I'm friends with Frank," Eamon said. "I'll make Isobel an appointment when we get home."

"Excellent. In the meantime, would you like a tour and a procedure list?" Hyde asked, ever the salesman. "Even if we can't do what you're looking for, we offeran assortment ofbeauty treatments."

"I'll think about it," Bel said. Now that she knew this clinic existed, she didn't care to linger and discuss procedures she had no interest in.

"Well, you know where to find us," Hyde said. "Drop by anytime." He locked up the clinic, and together the trio returned to the dining hall.