Page 4 of Risky Obsession

He stopped at a third seating area which was positioned to take in an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The sweeping panorama from the top of the hill was breathtaking.

He indicated for me to sit. “I would offer you a drink, but I really must . . .”

As I sat, he glanced at his watch.

Is that a real Rolex?

“That’s okay,” I said. “I just need to ask a few questions, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“How can I help you, officer?” Remaining standing, he loomed over me.

I was only five feet, four inches tall, so I was used to that. It didn’t help that he’d asked me to sit, though.

As he buttoned up his shirt, his gaze raked over my features as if he were memorizing my face. Which wasn’t necessary, given the number of cameras that had recorded my arrival.

“I’m investigating the disappearance of one of your neighbors, Gordon Sommers. Did you know him?”

He shook his head before I’d finished my sentence. “No, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“His wife told me that they have tried to visit you a few times. Is there a reason why you wouldn’t see them?”

He laughed and a flicker of unease crossed his features before he masked it.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who arrive unannounced at my gate.” He smirked with a twisted expression that sent chills down my spine. “Someone is always wanting something from me. Usually money.”

His gaze fell on the tattoo on my wrist, and I rolled my arm over, hiding the promise I’d made myself away from him.

Numerous statues and pieces of art were dotted around the room. I’dvisited many luxury homes, but this guy was loaded. Where did he get his wealth from?

“It seems like you have done very well for yourself,” I said.

He tucked his shirt into his pants. “Is that a question?”

“What do you do for a living?”

He shrugged. “This and that.”

I glared at him. “That’s a bit vague.”

“I don’t understand what my career has to do with the disappearance of the fisherman?”

Dread inched up my spine. “I didn’t say he was a fisherman.”

He half chuckled. “I took a guess. It’s what most of the residents of this island do.”

“I thought you didn’t talk to your neighbors.”

“I don’t.”

I shifted forward in my seat, ready to stand. “Is that why you spy on them with your drone?”

He checked his watch again. “Well, I really must get ready for this meeting, so . . .”

I stood and he stepped back, waving for me to go ahead of him.

As I walked in front of him, I committed the opulent furnishings to my memory. On one of the shelves containing an extensive alcohol collection, a golden statue of a scorpion carried a bottle of wine between its tail and claw. My mind raced. Chui’s drug empire was Scorpion Industries. That’s a weird coincidence.

Between the drink cabinets was a series of famed pictures. One held a certificate for a Bachelor of Business in Accounting. I peered at it, trying to read more information.