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everything at once. Emelio knew how she felt. No matter how often he came here, the city’s charm and grace still affected him.
    Old Naples boasted a low skyline of pastel-painted stucco-and-glass buildings tucked among palm trees and lush foliage. Upscale boutiques nestled beside jewelry stores and antique shops. Each structure was uniquely designed with columns or archways, recessed plazas with murmuring fountains and flower-draped balconies.
    Stevie pointed to a series of six-foot fiberglass reptiles decorating the sand-colored brick sidewalks. “I can’t get away from the alligators.”
    Emelio chuckled. “Those are part of the ‘Gators Galore’ public art project. It’s to raise money for the Boys and Girls Club. Kind of like the ‘Fish Out of Water’ project in Baltimore and the ‘Cows on Parade’ in Chicago.”
    “They dress better than the gators back in the swamp. I like that one over there, with the sparkly purple evening gown, pink shoes and gold eyelashes.”
    As he breathed in the scent of warm sea air and tropical flowers, he made a right turn onto Gulf Shore Boulevard. He immediately felt the cool breeze coming off the greenish-blue water. Glancing to his left as he drove, he could catch glimpses of the sugar-white sandy beach. Only a few more minutes and he’d be home.
    Funny that he thought of it that way. Mamá, Pápi and his sisters lived within walking distance of his house in Coral Gables. His parents’ house was always full of relatives and friends, music and raised voices and his family was the most important thing in the world to him.
    And yet… All of that love and togetherness could be stifling at times.
    As the firstborn and the only son of Cuban immigrants, he carried the burden of responsibility and parental expectation. From the earliest age, Mamá and Pápi instilled in him a strong sense of family, honor and duty. How could he face his family if they ever found out that his informant, a woman he was responsible for, had been killed? He’d never allow that to happen ever again.
    Still, he looked over at Stevie and wondered if he’d made the best decision by bringing her to Naples. Of course, he knew it was right—he had to protect her—but his chest tightened with more than a little resentment over having to take her to the beachside cottage. It was his solace, his sanctuary, and in taking her there he’d have to reveal his secret perhaps.
    Then he remembered the mess in her apartment, and the look of devastation in her eyes when she saw it. He’d made the only decision he could. Keeping Stevie safe from harm was his chance to regain his honor, a belated attempt to make things right again, to find some peace.
    Stevie’s belly rumbled and she turned her attention from the scenery to the matter at hand. “I’m starving. Can we stop somewhere for burgers and onion rings?”
    “Sorry. There are a lot of cafés and restaurants in Old Naples, but no fast-food places.”
    She stared at him in disbelief. “No golden arches, no yellow bells, no red-and-white buckets? How am I supposed to survive?”
    “That stuff is poison. We’ll stop by the grocers and I’ll make us an early dinner.”
    Half an hour later, Emelio guided the Jeep through the security gates of an exclusive resort community. Stevie’s eyebrows shot up and she yanked her sunglasses off. Not many private detectives traveled in the kind of circles that allowed them to stay in a place like this.
    After passing several streets, he turned onto a circular driveway shaded by a canopy of palm trees. Behind a wrought-iron gate, the butter-beige stucco walls and white tile roof of the Bermuda-style house gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The front formed a U-shape with tall mullioned windows overlooking the central courtyard.
    Stevie looked from the house to Emelio and back. “I thought you said your friend had a ‘cottage’?”
    He shrugged. “That’s what the realtor called it.”
    “Hiding from deranged