The unexpected newcomer winked at me from across the resort's lobby. I took off for him, bypassing one of the white leather chairs in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed.

Tony winced, and I jerked back quickly. "It's fine. You just caught me off guard with the running and the jumping."

"I did not jump," I said with an eye roll but kept my gaze on his chest to make sure he didn't start squirting out blood or something else as equally horrible.

After taking the bullet from my aunt, I visited him every day until we moved, but seeing him up and walking around still caught me off guard. How did he survive? I sniffled and threatened my eyeballs to keep it in check. Tony didn't want me crying all over him.

"Don't start that shit," he said before giving me a light hug. Probably in an effort to stop the tears.

I wiped my left eye and stood firm. Vonnie Vines did not cry. "I'm not crying. Why would I be crying? It's not like you died or anything. Don't be so dramatic."

Tony laughed. Small lines around his mouth deepened as he smiled. "It's good to see you too, princess."

The woman behind the registration desk openly watched us, but I ignored her. We'd have to become friends eventually because that woman knew all the drama on this island. But I wasn't ready yet, and I didn't want her in my business now.

"I can't believe you let yourself get shot," I said and then slapped Tony on the shoulder opposite his bullet wound.

He chuckled again, and I swear he flinched. It happened quickly, but it happened. "Is that how we're going to play this?"

I ignored his question and tried to move him to the chair by wrapping my arm through his. "Why don't you sit down? You probably shouldn't be up and walking around. Who gave you permission to travel halfway across the country?"

His doctors just released him from the hospital. Why in the world would they let him travel to Florida?

"How did you get here? Did someone drive you? Where's your truck? I hope you weren't driving around Florida with a bullet in you." The questions flew out of me before I realized half of them. The faster they came, the higher my panic grew. What if he'd been driving here and had an accident?

Tony's eyes grew wide. "Whoa there. Why don't you have a seat before you blow that vein in your forehead?"

"This is not funny, Tony," I said and waved away his hand as he tried to lead me to the same chair I'd been taking him to. He's the one who needed to rest.

"Nobody here is laughing, princess." He stared at me, then the chair, and back at me, but I didn't move. "When did you develop anxiety?"

"What? This isn't anxiety. This is a healthy concern for a friend." Wait? Was it anxiety? What did anxiety feel like? My chest tightened. No. I didn't have anxiety. "Is it hot in here? You need to sit down before you pass out."

Tony watched me fan my face with my hand. "Stop with the fussing. I'm not dead."

"You almost were!" I hit him on the shoulder again. A sharp pain started in the middle of my chest. Shit. Did I have anxiety? That or I was having a heart attack. "Does Broadrick know about this?"

He continued to watch me with wide eyes. "About me being here or your anxiety?"

"I do not have anxiety." The last few months had been stressful. These were normal coping emotions. Probably. I'd have to Google it. "It's normal for a friend to be worried when their best friend dies."

Tony rubbed at his shoulder where I'd hit him. "For the last time. I did not die."

"But he might if you keep hitting him," Broadrick said from behind me.

I turned toward him, but he'd used his long ass legs and already made it to us. He and Tony did a weird handshake thing where they slapped palms and then snapped at one another. I swear their movements changed every time, but they both always knew exactly what to do. It was weird.

"Did you know about this?" I asked Broadrick as I stared at him with narrowed eyes. I flipped my gaze to Tony. "Why are you risking your life in Florida right after just getting out of the hospital?"

My stomach fluttered. What if he was here to give me more bad news? It would have to be bad. Something he couldn't tell me over the phone.

"Oh, my word. You're dying," I said and covered my mouth with my hand again.

Broadrick stared at me.

Tony stared at me.

The woman behind the check-in desk stared at all of us.

"You didn't tell her?" Tony asked Broadrick.

My boyfriend shrugged. "I thought she'd like the surprise."

"Is it cancer? A tumor? The bullet leaking metal into your bloodstream?" He looked healthy at the moment, so it had to be something slow-acting.

Tony patted my shoulder. "For the last time, I'm not dying. Ridge talked me into a job on the island."

"Ridge? Gave you a job? I thought you weren't about settling down in one place?" Definitely had to be a brain tumor.

Tony laughed. "Money changes a man. There was also a promise of women in bikinis."

My concerned expression fell into one of disbelief. "You're in Florida less than three weeks after leaving the hospital from a bullet wound to see women in bikinis?"

"Yeah," he said with absolutely not an ounce of shame.

I glanced at Broadrick, but he remained silent. "You can't just pick up and move to an island. Where are you going to live?" I already had plans for our spare bedroom, and they did not involve having a retired bounty hunter living in it. "I haven't asked, but I don't think NB wants a brother."

"Huh?" Tony asked and then pursed his lips. He ran a hand through his hair and tipped his head at me. "I'm staying in one of the one-bedroom places they set aside for security employees."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I don't have million-dollar condo money like some people," he said, flipping his gaze toward Broadrick. "Did you notice she has anxiety now?"

My cheeks heated. "We're not talking about condo prices." I wasn't touching the other thing.

Broadrick finally had told me how much he offered for the condo, and I almost died. The 2.7 million price tag made it one of the cheaper properties on the island, but I couldn't do the math to make that number computable.

"Do you want to see my place?" Tony asked both of us.

Broadrick checked his watch. "Sure, then we can all grab dinner if you're up for it. Vonnie has her gossip group tonight at seven, which she can't miss."

"It is not a gossip group. We knit," I lied. It was a gossip group. But he was right about me not being able to miss it. Barbie said she might even stop by to hear the new island controversies. Tonight was required attendance.

We turned to walk to the section of the resort set aside for security employees. The woman behind the desk waved toward our group.

"Ms. Vines," she said. "I have a message for you before you leave."

I crinkled my nose. A message for me? Everyone I knew just sent me texts. "You guys go ahead, and I'll catch up."

"You sure?" Broadrick asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, leave the door open so I know which place."

"It's 127," Tony called before the two of them turned the corner together. If I wasn't careful, Broadrick might steal my best friend.

I leaned up against the counter and smiled as the woman sorted through a stack of papers on top of the desk.

"Here you go," she said, handing me a small, light blue envelope. "It came in this afternoon."

I flipped the card over to find my name written in a beautiful script on the front, but no return address or postage stamp. Weird. With her watching, I jammed my finger under the envelope's flap and tore it open.

A card with three blue colored birds-the same color as the envelope-sat on a black branch of wood that extended past the end of the card. It was simple, but elegant. I flipped it open and read.

Mind your business on the island. Or else.

There was no signature or anything else on the card. I flipped it to the back to double check. Blank.

"This is it?" I asked the woman at the desk.

She nodded.

"Did you see who dropped it off or when?" I asked, shoving the card back in the envelope.

The woman without a name tag shook her head. "It was here when I clocked in for the day, so before three p.m. Sorry."

"No problem. Thanks for getting it to me." I shoved the card in my back pocket and pushed it far enough down that Broadrick wouldn't see it. He didn't know I'd taken the case of Melissa's death or Harold's golf cheating. Starting our time out with elegantly written threats probably wouldn't go over well.

Now I just had to figure out who had written the letter and which case they were trying to steer me away from solving.