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  Dan, who'd just reached the outside door, turned and nodded. "Sure, if Housekeeping are done cleaning. Pamela said she was doing it first thing this morning."

  Before Dan was done speaking, Toby had the phone to his ear, nodding as he spoke to someone called Annette. After less than a minute, he hung up again. "Yeah, Pamela's done. Should be safe to go through."

  Dan held the door and Xan hurried to follow him, dragging her luggage.

  "Let me get that," he said after a moment, relieving her of the bag. "We lost a bit of the decking in the last cyclone, so it'll be a rough ride for the wheels until we get it fixed. Maintenance are on it, though. Just waiting for the supply truck to get through the road closures."

  Xan found herself nodding as Dan pointed out the staff dining room, communal bathroom facilities and individual staff bedrooms in what looked more like mining accommodation dongas than buildings at a prestigious hotel. They made the rooms at Broome Backpackers look palatial by comparison. She hadn't considered she might be worse off than she'd been in the house she'd shared in town with a couple of tour guides. Single beds and cramped quarters...

  Mentally, she shook herself. She'd stayed in worse. Her flat back home, for a start. All she had to do in her room was sleep here – when she wasn't working, she could spend every spare minute making the most of living in paradise.

  Dan bumped her suitcase up some steps to a veranda where the doors were more widely spaced. He stopped at the one on the end. "You'll need your ID."

  Hesitantly, Xan lifted her wristband to the scanner, which beeped before the door clicked.

  Dan twisted the handle and opened the door for her, waiting for Xan to precede him before he brought her bag in. "I'm buggered, so I'm going to bed, unless you need anything else?" When Xan shook her head, he gave her a tired nod and ambled away.

  Xan let her breath out in a relieved hiss. Instead of a box she could barely move in, she stood in the living area of a flat bigger than the one she'd had at home. Kitchen, couch, TV and even a dining table fitted comfortably in it. She peered through a doorway and found a bedroom with an ensuite bathroom visible through another open door. For a one bedroom flat, it dwarfed the bedsit she'd had back home.

  But she had work to do, so after dragging her bag to the bedroom, Xan returned to Reception.

  She caught Toby's eye. "Ah, Max mentioned I had an office?"

  "Max? Oh, Mr Meier. Right. He said we had to call him that in front of guests, because he was the manager and all. Yeah, your office is through here. Heloise said the paperwork and your temporary passwords would be on the desk, waiting for you." He led the way down the corridor to an office Xan could've sworn was the one Meier had taken her to on Friday, but both he and his photographed fish were gone. The place looked sterile.

  "So is it Heloise's day off? What do you do here on your days off? Is there a fly-in-fly-out arrangement with shifts like the mine sites?"

  Toby coughed. "Not really. We usually catch the carrier boat to the pearl farm and drive to town from there. The resort keeps a couple of four-wheel-drives on the mainland, but most of the staff park our cars at the farm, too. Heloise...she doesn't work here any more."

  Xan stopped. Heloise hadn't acted like a disgruntled employee when Xan saw her at Reception over the weekend. Even yesterday afternoon, she'd seen the girl chatting at length with one of the guests. "Why not? What happened?"

  "Yesterday she was out of uniform on Reception." Toby licked his lips, his eyes darting around to look at anything but Xan.

  "And it's instant dismissal for anyone not seen in public areas in full uniform? Sounds a bit draconian, if you ask me." Xan waited until Toby met her eyes. "If this is some sort of prank you play on new staff, don't bother. Oh, and I know all about the local dropbears, too. I used to run the backpackers in town. What happened with Heloise?"

  Toby crept to the corridor, peered around, then quietly closed the door. His dropped to a whisper, "It's not a joke. She was out of uniform on Reception. Wearing nothing but that pink flower, twined around some naked guest on the desk. Some guests walked in on them and...well, they asked to see the manager. Mr Meier didn't really have much choice. They left in the same helicopter yesterday."

  Right. No having sex in the hotel foyer in front of the guests. Xan could see how that could be a fireable offence. Not that she ever intended to. The rest of Toby's words sank in. "So Meier's not here?"

  "Er, no," Toby replied slowly, as if that was obvious. He waved at the stack of papers on the desk. "But he left all that for you. You should be good, he said."

  Xan smiled broadly. Yes. Yes, she would. "We'll see, I guess." With no boss to report to, this was going to be an interesting day. What if she had questions? "Do you know when he'll be back?"

  Toby laughed. "Well, never. At least, that's what he said. That's why you're here. The new hotel manager."

  "Wait...I'm what, sorry?"

  Xan reached for the stack of papers and found her signed contract. She leafed feverishly through the pages until she found the bit about her job title and duties. It was right there, in black and white: HOTEL MANAGER, not Tours and Activities Manager, like she'd applied for. And she'd signed the damn thing without a protest.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Incessant banging startled Phuong from a sound sleep and made her peer through her dust-caked windows in panic. A demon in a small boy's body grinned at her, drummed on her car one more time and skipped off happily at having raised hell. No one else was in sight, though the road trains she'd parked between had since left, and the sun was high in the sky. The roadhouse was open now, which meant she could get more fuel and be on her way. Driving this far made her car slurp fuel like fish drank water. Hundreds of kilometres every day until she reached her final destination. How much longer to go?

  Which roadhouse was this? Phuong craned her neck to read the sign. Sandfire. If she'd read the map right, this was the last roadhouse before the turnoff to Broome. Some time this afternoon, she'd be able to stop running. And maybe, just maybe, she'd be safe. But she had to get there first.

  She started her car and trundled to the fuel pumps, then stiffly got out. Tonight, she'd sleep in a bed and not her car, she swore. Flexing her fingers, she tried to work out the cramps from her death grip on the steering wheel, but still her hands ached. Even holding the pump handle hurt. Finally, the fuel tank was full. Phuong shook the pump to extract the last few drops before sealing the tank that was her ticket to Broome.

  She staggered in to the shop, counting out cash to cover her fuel. A display of discount chocolate bars caught her eye. When had he last eaten or drunk anything? She dumped a handful of random snacks on the counter as her stomach rumbled its approval. It wasn't enough, though - her dry mouth tasted like a rat had nested in it. She grabbed a bottle of water and added it to the pile.

  The shop assistant barely glanced at her. She told Phuong the total, checked the cash and deposited it in the till with a disinterest Phuong could have kissed her for, but she didn't. Instead, she bundled her purchases in her arms and carried them out to her car.

  Ripping open a chocolate bar, she shoved it into her mouth as she returned to the highway, raising a cloud of red dust in her wake. When she saw a sign proclaiming that it was only 325 kilometres to Broome, she cheered so loud she almost choked. Less than half a day's drive and she'd be home. Funny how a place she'd never seen could be home, but when you had nothing else...

  Jason. She had to find Jason. Wherever he was would be safe and home.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  "Mr Meier!" As if Xan's morning wasn't already mad enough, a man wearing a khaki safari shirt and shorts burst into her office. "Mr Meier, he's done it again. It's worse than ever. He won't move, either. You've got to –" He caught sight of Xan and stopped dead. "Where's Mr Meier?"

  Toby coughed. "Ah, Lee, this is Xan Lane, the new manager. Mr Meier's replacement."

  Xan wanted to strangle the man, but he was only stating the truth, at least as he saw i
t. This mess wasn't the night porter's fault. She summoned her most serene smile. Never mind that she had to grit her teeth and think about feeding the man responsible to the sharks in the lagoon in order to produce something more believable than a grimace.

  Lee eyed her nervously. "I work in Maintenance and someone logged a fault with the spa. When I went over to investigate..." His eyes beseeched her to believe him. "He was lying there unconscious. I can't wake him and I can't get him to move."

  A medical emergency she could handle, or at least she hoped so. "Lead the way," Xan commanded.

  Lee skittered out of the office and broke into a trot when they left the office. Xan jogged to keep up as he led her past the gym and into what the sign said was the health club. Some health club – all she could see was a spa in a big pavilion, surrounded by decking and sun lounges.

  "He's there." Lee pointed at a clump of potted palms.

  Xan peered around the decorative trees. Oh, God. She was profoundly glad she hadn't had breakfast yet. A near-naked man lay on the decking in a pool of what looked and smelled like vomit. It was like being back at the backpackers all over again. Only last week she'd had to deal with some drunken twenty-year-old who'd discovered Australia's eighteen-plus drinking age at about the same time as he'd tried to drink Divers Tavern dry. Well, she had a bloody procedure for dealing with drunks.

  "Get me a bucket."

  Lee vanished and returned with two, which he presented proudly. Xan took them both and headed for the spa. When they were both filled with tepid water, she dumped the contents of one on Mr Drunk and Disgusting.

  As predicted, he came up spluttering, but Xan had another bucket in reserve in case he turned violent. This time, she didn't need it – he glared blearily at her before sagging back to the decking. "Fuck off."

  Xan handed her empty bucket to Lee and gestured for him to refill it while she advanced on the drunk with the full one. This time, she deliberately poured it over his head.

  "Fuck off!" the man roared, sitting up. "I'll see you fired for this." He glared at Xan and her heart stopped. The drunk was Jay, minus his bourbon.

  "No, you won't. I'm the manager of the hotel. No one here has the authority to fire me." At least, she hoped so.

  "Fucking can." He picked up a battered-looking pink frangipani and twirled it between his fingers before throwing it down. Jay squinted at her. "You're new. Have I fucked you yet? Gotta do that first." He tugged at the waistband of his shorts.

  Xan took a deep breath. Fury burned through her bones, but her voice was level. "You don't have a snowball's chance in hell, so better keep your pants on, mate. If you don't get up now – and I mean right now – and take your hangover to the privacy of your hotel room, I'll have you removed from the island. This is a resort. The other guests who want to use the health club should be able to do so without having to see this."

  Lee sidled over. "Ms Lane, you can't make him leave. Mr Meier tried that, but he just comes back. You can't keep him off the island. He owns the hotel."

  Jay's smug smile told her he'd heard every word.

  Thank heaven she'd thought to get that probation clause removed from her contract, though she thought she knew why Meier had agreed to it. The bastard didn't want her skipping out when she discovered that he'd bolted. Well, she'd be pushing her luck to the limit today. "Really? So that makes you staff. Well, let me introduce myself. I'm Xan Lane, the new manager at Romance Island Resort. If you ever, and I mean ever, suggest that I have sex with you, I'll report you for sexual harassment. And if that flower's any evidence to go by, I won't be the only one. I'll call the receptionist, Heloise, and see if she has a complaint to make."

  Jay grinned and winked. "Baby, no woman who spends the night with me has anything to complain about."

  Those eyes, the shit-eating grin she wanted to wipe off with a well-placed foot...Xan gasped. She knew him and not just from that night on the jetty. He'd cut his hair, so she hadn't recognised him at first. This was the arrogant ass who'd been lording it over his harem in Matso's, all those months ago. What was his name? Jay...Jay Felix! If this man was his boss, no wonder Meier had left. But if she wanted to stay in Australia, she couldn't quit. That meant gaining the upper hand over this arsehole rock star and never giving an inch. Thank heaven she hadn't done anything but stare at the stars with him on Friday night.

  "Mr Felix, go home. You've made a spectacle of yourself, but that's your job, isn't it? Well, running the hotel is mine. So while you go hole up with whoever your current companion is, I have work to do." She turned to wide-eyed Lee. "Can you help Mr Felix home, please?"

  "Jay. It's Jay," he insisted, glaring at her. Finally, she'd gotten through to him. Well, irritated him, at least.

  Good. She wanted him to dislike her so much he went to wherever his real home was. Anywhere but here, because Xan intended to stay. It was either that or go home, where she'd be forced to see Jerome and Kelly every day. She'd settle in hell first.

  Xan watched Jay stagger to his feet and stumble drunkenly away from the health club, Lee dogging his heels but not daring to speak to the man. Awe for an arsehole. Jay didn't deserve it, no matter how many hotels he owned.

  Shaking her head, Xan trudged back to her office. She'd managed the backpackers without any problem and she'd been damn good at it. Good enough to land this job, that's for sure. How much harder could managing a resort be?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  "Romance Island Resort? That's the celebrity place up in the Buccaneer Archipelago. Your best bet's to go to the airport and hire a helicopter," the woman in the Broome Visitor Centre said, eyeing Phuong's dusty clothes as if she knew the girl could barely afford a bus fare, let alone a whole helicopter.

  "Isn't there a boat?" Phuong asked weakly.

  "The supply boat the staff use from the pearl farm, yeah." The woman nodded as if everything made sense now. "Are you starting work at the resort? I heard they were in need of staff with the dry season not far off."

  "Maybe. I'm supposed to meet someone who works there." Phuong pushed the map across the counter. "Can you show me on this how to drive to the boat dock?"

  The woman shrugged. "Sure, but you'll need a four-wheel-drive and that's only if the road's open. There's been some flooding with the recent storms."

  "Tell me about it. I've driven up from Geraldton. I didn't know the highway was closed until after I got to the barrier at this end. Flooded rivers, roads...it can't be as bad as I've already driven through."

  "If you say so." She pointed at the map with her pen. "Now, you're here, so you follow this road until you hit the highway, then head north east until you get to the turnoff with all the signs. Turn left there. Follow it for a couple hundred kilometres until you see the pearl farm on the right. The boat schedule depends on the tides, but the skipper lives at the farm, so they'll know when the next one leaves."

  Wanting nothing more than to burst into tears at the thought that she was still hours from her destination, Phuong thanked the woman and dragged herself back to her car.

  For a moment, she considered spending the night in a hotel...or, more likely, a cheap backpackers dorm, because that was all she could afford. But the siren call of Jason waiting for her was too much to bear. She couldn't stop now. If she kept going, she'd get to meet him tonight.

  Smoothing the map out on the passenger seat, Phuong gunned the engine and set off for what she hoped was the final leg of her trip. A couple hundred kilometres was nothing – she'd driven more than twice that most afternoons. And Jason was at the end of it. How could she even think of delaying?

  Romance Island Resort, here I come, she thought, stomping on the accelerator.

  Houses quickly gave way to pindan scrub once more. Broome retreated into memory as little more than a rust-tinted dream. Just a little longer and she'd be safe.

  The promised turnoff appeared, signposted with more warnings than she'd ever seen before. Crocodiles, fires, cows...they whizzed past before she'd had time to read more tha
n half of them. If she did, she knew they'd only frighten her. She'd driven this far – how much worse could it get? It's not like she intended to stop now.

  Nothing could be worse than what she'd endured already. Phuong was certain of that.

  Grimly, she pushed her protesting car to the speed limit, then a little past it for good measure. Her tyres ate up the road as the afternoon light tinted the road gold, then red like the rusty ramparts on either side. The car jolted, its tyres grinding as if she'd driven off the road and onto the gravel siding, but she was still firmly on the road. A glance in her rear-view mirror showed the dusty, bitumen ribbon trailing off into the distance, so she followed the unsealed dirt track it had become. Her teeth jarred as the car bounced and juddered across endless ridges of hard-packed red dirt.

  Soon, a cloud of dust obscured the road behind her. Phuong could only go forward as fast as she dared, feeling like her car and her very bones would be shaken apart by the rippled road.

  Red dust in front and rust-cloud behind – if there was a road to hell, this looked like it. No, a road out of hell, she promised herself. A road to paradise, if such a place existed. Jason told her it did, and that he lived there. Damn it, she'd seen pictures. Those photos of the beach...

  A sharp crack jolted through the car, so it skidded off its straight path and into the middle of the road. Yanking at the steering wheel, Phuong tried to force her sluggish car back to the left hand side where it belonged, but it didn't seem to want to listen. The car shuddered again and slowed, slewing toward the mound of dust marking the border between road and bush. She felt rather than heard the side of the car scrape against the sandy barrier, but she couldn't seem to pull away. Instead, she was losing speed as the dust dragged her to a halt.