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parts, so do yourself a favor and help him cover it—casually—when you’re out. Got it?”
    So who was protecting whom, exactly? “I don’t understand.”
    Gabe grinned, a playful, charismatic smile that probably set the hearts of hundreds of women into high gear. “Sorry, but one of the first rules of undercover work is that you don’t know everything, because what you know can hurt you.”
    “I don’t accept that,” she said.
    Gabe gave a soft snort and shared a look with the other man, a silent bonded-male communication that irked her even more.
    “Let me ask you this,” Gabe said. “Do you accept death?”
    How did she answer a question that ridiculous? She didn’t get a chance, because he got closer and continued, “Because I just read the latest little love note your father received, and I hate to be the one to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but someone is getting off on the idea of locking you in a basement, raping the shit out of you, then cutting your body up into small pieces and, as he so poetically puts it, ‘dismissing the evidence’ in his kitchen disposal.”
    Blood drained from her head so fast she felt dizzy. “What?” She whispered the question, vaguely aware of a man’s hand on her shoulder. A huge, strong, surprisingly warm hand that was exactly what she needed to stay standing.
    She’d had no idea…
    All joking evaporated from Gabe’s expression. “You got yourself in the sights of one sick fuck, what can I say?”
    She struggled to speak. Dad never told her that. If he had… “It really said that?”
    “That’s one of the more tender ones. Believe me, all you need to know to be safe is what you’ve been told. You have two contacts, other than me and Conan here. Nino Rossi, my grandfather, who I predict you will grow to love, because everyone does, is in on everything and able to take you two wherever you want to go, within reason. Poppy, your housekeeper, is also on my payroll. She knows you’re undercover, but not your real identity. With the exception of the head of all security, Luke McBain, not another person at this resort—not the chef, owner, gardener, massage therapist, front-desk person, cabana boy, doorman, or the pretty blonde who flies the hot air balloons can or will know who you are.”
    “But what if—”
    “Don’t get friendly with guests, but don’t act weird either. You’re on your honeymoon, so no one will go out of their way to bother you, but you don’t want to bring attention to yourselves by acting like you don’t know or like each other. In fact, I prefer you drooling over each other in public. If you speak honestly to one person or let on to anyone that you are not who they think you are, I wash my hands of both of you. And, trust me, I have spies everywhere, and I will know if you so much as think about your real identity around another person anywhere on this island.”
    Kate stared at him, wanting so much to cling to her righteous indignation about being told what to do by yet another man . But all she could think was… lock you in a basement, rape the shit out of you, and…a kitchen disposal?
    As if Benjamin could read her thoughts, his fingers tightened on her shoulder. And then, without thinking, Kate lifted her hand and put it over his. His tag that said kill .
    Awesome, just awesome. What a fabulous vacation in paradise this turned out to be.
    “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Gabe said, his gaze noting the touch. “Oh, here, this is why I came over here in the first place.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black bag. “Don’t go anywhere without these.” He flipped the pouch to the bodyguard, who easily snagged it with one hand. “And I didn’t make up a backstory about how you met and all that shit. You can dream one up together.”
    “We don’t need that,” Kate said.
    “Yes, you do.” Gabe headed toward the front door without looking back. “Follow the rules, kids, and everybody stays