Her Mile High Mates [The Hot Millionaires #4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

“Come in,” he said, stepping back. “You’re just in time for a cocktail.”

“Good.” She appeared more composed this time, and Peyton regretted letting her escape earlier. He’d given her the opportunity to think up a more believable excuse for snooping. “I could use one.”

“Margarita okay?” Clyde called from the kitchen.

“Perfect.”

They took their drinks out onto the terrace. Fabia sighed as she sank onto a swing seat and took a healthy sip of her drink. Clyde put dishes of olives and salty nibbles on the table beside her.

“This is lovely,” she said. “Not the drink…Well, that is lovely, but the terrace. It’s a peaceful haven.”

“Except when the planes taxi by,” Clyde pointed out.

She popped a black olive in her mouth and sighed with pleasure. “That doesn’t happen too much, does it?”

“Depends on business,” Clyde said. “And thanks for saying good things about our garden. We like it.”

“Clyde’s the gardener,” Peyton said, “so I guess you’re complimenting him.”

She flashed Clyde a surprised look. “You did this yourself?”

“Guilty as charged. Never could get a bloody thing to grow in the Scottish climate, so I’ve made up for it here.”

“The perfume is almost too much,” she said, breathing it in deeply. “I love jasmine especially.”

Clyde broke a twig off and gently tucked it behind her ear. “Suits you,” he said, winking at her.

The two guys sat across from her, giving her a moment to relax, get some of her drink inside her, and gather her thoughts.

“Come on, then,” Peyton said when he judged the time was right. They couldn’t just sit listening to the cicadas going about their noisy business all night. They needed to tackle the subject that would prevent either of them laying a finger of Fabia until they knew the truth. And laying more than just a finger on her was already a priority in Peyton’s mind. Even so, he wouldn’t do it if he thought she was holding out on them or if her purpose for being here conflicted with their own agenda. “You might as well tell us what you were doing here before we eat.”

She expelled a long breath. Peyton could sense that she’d decided to be honest with them and was relieved. He didn’t doubt that he could take her into subspace and get the truth out of her that way. She was a well-trained sub and he was a powerful Dom, but he didn’t want to exploit his power over her unless he absolutely had to.

“I was looking for clues that might lead me to my sister.”

“Your sister?” they asked together.

“Yes, Sonia Foster.”

Peyton and Clyde shared a loaded glance. “The girl who had your job before you?” She nodded. “She was your sister?”

“Yes.”

“You have different names,” Clyde said.

“She’s actually my half sister. My mum and dad split when I was three. Mum remarried, and Sonia came along a year later.”

“What happened to her?” Clyde asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Her gaze rested first on Clyde, then Peyton. “Our parents—well my mum and Sonia’s dad—I think of him as my dad, too, since he’s the only dad I’ve ever known.” She swallowed several times. “Anyway, they were killed in a car crash six months ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Peyton reached across to touch her hand. It was obvious that talking about the accident upset her badly. “Was that in England?”

“No, here in Spain. They lived ten minutes from here, on the Montgó.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged. “We don’t know. The
guardia
don’t know. It was broad daylight, no rain or anything to make the road slippery. Dad was driving but hadn’t been drinking. He knew the road well and wasn’t speeding.” She gulped. “It happened on a dangerous bend, but Dad knew that and was always careful. The car simply went off the road and down a ravine. No other vehicles were involved, apparently, and it’s been written off as driver inattention.”

Clyde hoisted a brow. “But you don’t buy that?”

“Sonia didn’t. The police seem to think he might have fallen asleep at the wheel, but that wouldn’t have happened. Mum would have given him a prod if he did start to nod.” Fabia shook her head. “I guess the
guardia
needed to say something to get it off their books. You know how things are out here.” Both men nodded. Peyton had certainly had more than his fair share of run-ins with authority for various reasons. “Anyway, that was the easy answer.”

“I think I read about it in the paper at the time,” Clyde said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, it’s been a tough six months.”

“And now you’ve lost your sister as well.”

“She’s not dead,” Fabia said almost aggressively. “I’d know it if she was. She’s just gotten herself into something she can’t handle.”

“You and Sonia were brought up in Spain?” Peyton asked.

“Yes. I was seven when Mum and Dad moved here. Sonia and I both went to a Spanish school but went back to England to go to university and got jobs there afterward. We both played tennis for our colleges and took coaching exams as back-up careers.” Her expression closed down. “I became an interior designer and never thought I’d use my coaching skills professionally.”

“So why did you?”

“Sonia and I came over after the accident, obviously, to make funeral arrangements and everything.” Both men nodded encouragement when her words stalled. “Then we started going through the house, clearing out personal stuff. Neither of us wanted to live here, so it had to be sold. That’s when we found it.”

“Found what?”

“Dad’s diary. He was an architect and—”

“Of course!” Peyton bashed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I should have recognized the name. He did a lot of the planning for this place.”

“Yes.” Fabia sat forward. “Did you know him?”

“I met him a few times. Nice guy.”

“Yes, he was.” Tears rimmed her eyes but didn’t fall. “The thing is, he still came up here a lot. He had a small shareholding in the parent company that he took as part of his salary. He played a lot of golf, too.” She paused, presumably to gain her composure. “Anyway, we found his diaries, and he had a lot of concerns about the way this place was being run.”

Both men sat a little straighter. “What sort of concerns?”

“He didn’t spell them out exactly, but he seemed to think it wasn’t being run properly.” She lifted her shoulders. “After that meeting today, I tend to agree with him.”

“And so Sonia came to work here to see what she could find out?” Peyton frowned. “Not a smart move.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her, but she’s as stubborn as me when she sets her mind on a particular course of action.” Fabia managed a weak smile. “Both of us must have inherited that trait from our mother. Anyway, when they could find no reason for Dad’s car crash and then we found his diaries, she became convinced that someone had killed them to shut Dad up. She reckoned the answer lay in Tosca Brava, and so she took that damned job.”

“Did she find anything out?” Peyton asked in a neutral tone.

“No, not really.” Fabia paused. “Well, nothing she shared with me, anyway.”

Clyde smiled at her. “Did your dad name names in his diary?”

“If only it had been that easy.”

“If there was something going on and she started asking questions, presumably the guilty parties would have recognized her name.” Peyton articulated his thoughts with brutal honesty. “That could have been dangerous.”

“No, she didn’t mention her connection to Dad, and her qualification comes from England.” Fabia shrugged. “Foster’s a common-enough name. Sonia didn’t think anyone joined the dots.”

“They probably didn’t,” Clyde said.

“I thought it was a wild-goose chase but understood it was something she needed to do to make sense of it all. I went back to England but made her promise to either ring or e-mail me every day, which she did. We’re very close. She said she was getting to know people and had started asking questions. Then just over two weeks ago the calls and e-mails abruptly stopped. I tried to reach her, but she never replied.”

“So you came over yourself?” Clyde asked.

“Yes, I couldn’t leave it, so two days after she stopped calling, I hopped on a plane. She wasn’t living here at Tosca Brava. She stayed at Mum’s place. I thought she might be ill or something and no one had found her. Clutching at straws, I know, but I couldn’t take another loss. She’s all the family I have left.”

“You’re not staying at your mum’s place?”

“No, I thought that would set alarm bells ringing. Two assistant tennis coaches staying at the same place, I mean.”

“It probably would have,” Peyton agreed.

“I’m in the staff block behind the hotel here.” She took another sip of her drink. “Anyway, there’s no sign of Sonia, and nothing’s missing from Mum’s house as far as I can tell, excepting her handbag and cell phone. Even her laptop’s still there.”

Peyton frowned. This didn’t look good. If Sonia had voluntarily taken off somewhere, or with someone, she would at least have taken her computer with her. Fabia obviously knew it, so he kept his big mouth shut.

“Do you know the password for her e-mail?” he asked instead. “Perhaps there’s something in it that will give you a few hints.”

“Yes, I’ve already been through it. Apart from a barrage from me after she stopped communicating and a few to do with her work in England, there’s nothing at all to lend a clue.” She looked at each of them in turn, silver-gray eyes alight with worry. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and I’m convinced now that she was right. She’s been snatched, and it’s something to do with this place.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you were doing in here earlier,” Peyton reminded her.

Fabia nodded, well aware of that. “Sonia’s last few communications said she was talking to you guys,” she said uneasily. “She was really excited about that because she thought you knew something.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Fabia sensed that Clyde had been about to say something, but Peyton spoke first. “We saw her about the place but didn’t really know her.”

Fabia couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh, but I was so sure.”

“You thought we had her locked away in here somewhere?”

Clyde seemed easygoing, but he wasn’t laughing now, and Fabia didn’t blame him. She’d made it sound as though she suspected them of something sinister, which she had at one point.

“Sorry, but put yourself in my place. What would you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“She never came up here, then?”

“No,” they said together.

“How long did she work at Tosca Brava?” Peyton asked.

“About six weeks before she disappeared.”

“Well, from memory, we were in Seville for the first of those six weeks, here for two and then away again, so there wasn’t much time for our paths to cross.”

“She did corner us in the bar a couple of times,” Clyde said. “She asked all sorts of questions about the place before Tosca Brava was built. Wanted to know if we were around and how come the flying school became part of the development.”

“Nothing sinister about that,” Peyton added. “We were already here. Not much else was. Just a bar, a small shop, and a few rundown houses. No proper road, more a dirt track, which kind of put potential clients off. No proper runway either, just a scrubby grass strip. The development started when times were still good. If you grew up in Spain you’ll know that property sold faster than it could be built before the credit crunch hit.” Fabia nodded. “We could see what a good deal it would be for us if the school was part of the development, and so instead of selling out, we decided to stay.”

“Did the developers mind?”

“Not really. They needed the school here and didn’t much care who ran it. We even got them to fork out for a new runway. Houses were selling to the rich and needy faster than they could count the money.”

“That was five years ago,” Clyde added. “Different story now. Those who bought are staying because they don’t need the money, but there’s still a lot of property unsold.”

“Which makes me wonder how the resort can be doing so well,” Fabia said pensively. “All those figures I heard in the meeting this morning were pretty impressive.”

“Time to eat,” Clyde said hastily.

He disappeared inside, leaving Fabia to wonder why he didn’t want to talk about that. Peyton remained with her, making small talk but not referring to the development again, or Sonia’s disappearance. A short time later, Clyde brought out plates of food and set them on the terrace table.

“Help yourself,” he said to Fabia, holding a chair out for her. “My own version of lasagne.”

“It smells lovely,” she said. “I missed lunch today.”

Peyton filled their glasses with a crisp chardonnay as Fabia tasted the food.

“This is good,” she said, smiling at Clyde. “A gardener and a chef. Perhaps I’ll propose.”

He grinned at her. “What sort of proposition did you have in mind?”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve finished my dinner,” she said, loading salad onto her side plate and helping herself to garlic bread. “Truth to tell, my appetite’s been a bit off recently.”