Into Thin Air

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Kristina Beck

  About the Author

  Into Thin Air

  Copyright © 2019 Kristina Beck

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-3-947985-05-0

  To Dad

  Chapter 1

  Ellie

  “Ms. Crimson,” a soft male voice whispers with a thick accent I can’t quite place. A hand taps my shoulder.

  I lift my head slowly, and my neck cracks. I blink several times, trying to clear away the slight dizziness I’m experiencing. I look forward and realize I’m on a bus. A really long bus. It looks like I’m fifty rows back.

  “Ms. Crimson, are you okay?”

  I startle and turn to my right. A short, pudgy man, wearing a large, vibrant sombrero, observes me uneasily. I can’t answer his question because I don’t know.

  “Who are you, and where am I?”

  “I’m Carlos, and we’ve arrived at your hotel. It was a long drive from the airport; it’s quite late. Let’s get your luggage, so the bellboy can take it to your room while you check in.”

  I don’t remember anything at the moment—where I am, why I’m here. Jetlag? I hold on to the back of the seat in front of me to pull myself up. My body is sore, like someone’s beat me with a bat. Not that I’ve ever been hit with one before.

  I traipse behind Carlos to the front of the bus and suddenly notice how wide his sombrero is. Was it like that a minute ago? How is he going to fit through the door? I duck down to peek out the window for a glimpse of the hotel. Then I follow Carlos down the stairs. The edges of his sombrero seem to blend through the walls of the bus, and I squint, then knock on my head. My eyes are screwing with me.

  I breathe in deeply, only to be slammed by a wall of humidity. I can practically feel my annoyingly natural pin-curly hair shrink into tighter ringlets. I probably look like Shirley Temple, like my mom always says. I prefer to compare myself to Disney’s Merida. Her hair’s a more fiery red compared to my golden auburn, but otherwise, our hair is the same.

  As Carlos retrieves my suitcase from below the bus, I turn slowly, taking in my surroundings. To my left, strategically placed lights enhance the most stunning water fountain I’ve ever seen. Four swirling streams of water rise together, intertwining until they meet at the top. There they flow over into the shape of an umbrella, splashing, creating a rainbow effect even in the dark.

  But then again, it looks like an iridescent jellyfish. My head spins like the streams of water.

  Carlos clears his throat, pulling me from my fog. I do a double take. His sombrero has turned into a cowboy hat.

  He cocks his head. “Is everything all right, Ms. Crimson?”

  I point at his hat. “Didn’t you—I mean, I thought you had…” He looks at me like I have three heads. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Never mind.” What the hell is wrong with me?

  He holds out his hand, gesturing toward the front of the hotel. “Shall we go? The lobby is this way.” I nod.

  We walk down a winding path and through glass doors. A woman with a shiny gold nametag and a clipboard tucked to her side greets me with a warm, welcoming smile. “Good evening, Ms. Crimson. My name is Coral. Please follow me to our welcome room. You can enjoy a refreshing drink while you fill out some forms.”

  I walk behind her, admiring the massive turquoise swimming pool outside. A band plays on a stage constructed over the illuminated water.

  We pass through another set of sparkling glass doors. It takes my muddled brain a few seconds to realize the room isn’t as large as it seems. The walls are covered in mirrors. Two plush, deep-red velvet couches face each other in one corner of the room, and they look so enticing that I want to curl up on one and sleep until morning. To the left is a large white bookshelf filled with colorful books.

  Coral points to the bookshelf. “Do you read?” she asks. “This is our library for our visitors. You can borrow as many books as you like during your stay.” I nod with a smile. “Please take a seat anywhere you’d like. Here are the forms for you to fill out. I’ll be right back with the information for your room. A waitress will be here shortly with an assortment of tropical drinks for you to enjoy.”

  I thank her and wander to a table with two black-and-white swoop-back chairs. Suddenly, I realize there’s a man sitting on one of the red couches. When did he come in? I can’t see his face because he’s reading a magazine. Late arrival like me, I guess.

  Before I sit down, I stretch my arms over my head to try to relieve some of the pain I still have in my shoulders and back. I toss my handbag on one chair and sit down on the other. As I begin filling out the forms, a waitress comes to my table with a tray of three different exotic drinks, each loaded with fresh tropical fruit hanging off the edges.

  “They look too pretty to drink,” I say with a giant smile. I look over my choices and decide on the glass with fresh strawberries and mint in a light-yellow liquid with a lemon slice hanging off the edge. “Thank you.” I suddenly realize how parched I am. Maybe I should’ve taken two.

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy,” the waitress says as she picks up the tray.

  I forgot to ask if these have alcohol in them. But who cares… I’m on vacation. Alone. Exactly the way I want it to be.

  “Enjoy your drink,” says a smooth, deep male voice behind me. Goosebumps dance down my arms, all the way to my fingertips. Sexy doesn’t begin to describe the perfect sound he just made.

  Before I can respond or even see his face, he leaves the room with another hostess. He must be sweating in that well-tailored black suit he’s wearing. What am I talking about? I’m wearing a suit too. I didn’t have time to change.

  Chapter 2

  Ellie

  I’m going to get lost in this resort. The twisting path goes in so many directions, it makes my eyes cross. />
  “I know it seems far away from the main building,” Coral says, “but you’ll think differently tomorrow.”

  We walk toward a large house with two doors. “Suite six is yours.”

  That’s my favorite number and my birthday.

  “Suite?”

  “Yes. We’ve given you an upgrade. I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”

  “Wow!” It looks fantastic, and I haven’t even seen the inside. “I’m sure it will be. Thank you so much.”

  “Let me give you a tour.”

  She explains the keypad and tells me the code for my suite. I type in the number and hear the door unlock. Coral enters first. The clicking of her sandals on the polished white marble floor grabs my attention. I look up and almost lose my balance. I manage to avoid making a fool of myself, but this is not a suite. It’s a villa. A villa! A burst of adrenaline courses through my veins and wakes me up from my stupor.

  An array of colorful umbrellas brightens the corners of the suite. A few more stand ready at the main door. I’m not sure why so many are necessary in a tropical location. Maybe they’re only decoration. I’m too tired to ask.

  To the immediate right is a modern kitchen that’s larger than the one I have at home. The chrome appliances sparkle. There’s a bowl filled with the most perfect fruit I’ve ever seen. So perfect, I wonder if they’re plastic.

  “You have a full kitchen in case you’d like to make your own food instead of eating in our restaurants or buffets. It’ll be restocked every day, or you can order whatever you need.”

  We move past the kitchen and into the elegant living room. I’m not much of a pink person, but powder-pink accents throughout the living room give it a soft, cozy atmosphere. Outside the open glass doors is the glow of another swimming pool. I can’t wait to see everything in the daylight.

  “You have a private pool and also a private area on the beach, which you can access at the end of the garden. Hotel personnel will get you anything you want or need here or on the beach. This will be your dream vacation. You’ll never want to leave.”

  I scan the living room and notice a bottle of champagne cooling in ice on the coffee table. “Wow. You give your guests a bottle of champagne to welcome them?” I giggle to myself.

  She smiles. “Yes, we do. We love to welcome our guests. If you don’t drink alcohol, we can offer you something else.”

  “No, no. This is perfect. Thank you!”

  My stomach growls. I know what I’ll be doing once Coral leaves. Drinking champagne and eating fruit. Bring. It. On.

  Coral leads me upstairs to the second floor. I’m quickly distracted by the master bedroom—it’s to die for. Sheer white netting with crystal accents drapes from the top of a king-sized canopy bed. Fluffy pink-and-white pillows in different shapes and sizes are arranged perfectly at the head of the bed. There’s a little sitting area to the left with two swoop-back chairs similar to the ones in the welcome room, but these are pink and white to match the pillows.

  She pushes back the curtains to reveal another large glass door. She slides it open and leads me out to a spacious balcony that has a cute table with two cushioned chairs. The fresh breeze from the ocean frolics with my curls. The large moon reflects off the ocean like a picture I’ve seen on the internet. It doesn’t seem real.

  The master bathroom is my favorite. A massive granite counter wraps around two walls and is full of bath and beauty products. To the left is an open shower with glass walls and three showerheads. What really catches my eye is the glistening white claw-foot bathtub that could fit two people. But it’s only for me. Only. Me.

  A few minutes later, I follow Coral to the door to see her out.

  “Oh,” she says. “Your luggage has arrived. Will you need help to take it upstairs?”

  It wasn’t there when we got here, and I didn’t hear anyone come in. Strange.

  I tilt my head. “No, because that’s not my suitcase.”

  “Oh my. I’m so sorry.” Flustered, she fiddles with the ruffle on her tight floral shirt. “I’ll have this straightened out right away.”

  Just as she reaches for the door, someone knocks. She opens it, and there’s a bellboy, holding my suitcase. A beautiful man stands next to him. Well, beautiful is an understatement. His eyes catch my attention like a billboard. They’re smoky blue with a black ring around the outer edge of the iris. Like a husky’s, but not as dominant. The black ring matches his wavy, overgrown jet-black hair. My fingers itch to help his tight jawline relax. Beauty is overrated, I remind myself. But I’m on vacation, so I can indulge a little.

  “I seemed to have switched the luggage for the rooms. Mr. M—”

  “Like I said, please call me Sam.” He smiles, and my breath hitches. He looks my way, and our eyes meet. He’s the one who spoke to me in the welcome room. His voice could relax anything, even something as high-strung as my hair. His light blue button-down shirt is cuffed at his elbows, and the top two buttons are unfastened. I wish they were all undone.

  The bellboy’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Right. Sam’s suite is next door. This one belongs to Ms. Crimson.”

  Coral moves to the side to let the bellboy in. He places the suitcase he’s carrying next to the one already in my suite. “This suitcase is yours, correct?” he asks, motioning to Sam for agreement.

  “Yes, that one is mine.”

  I’m suddenly embarrassed by the color of my suitcase. Cringeworthy mustard yellow. Real fashionable.

  “Sorry about the confusion. It won’t happen again,” the bellboy expresses as Coral nods her head with a tight-lipped mouth.

  “No problem,” Sam and I say in unison. He catches my eye again, and my heart skips several beats, or maybe those were palpitations. I need them to go before I say or do something stupid.

  Coral motions for them to leave, including herself. My skin steams from Sam’s steady gaze, but I refuse to acknowledge him. His wife or girlfriend is probably waiting for him in their suite.

  I open my wallet to give Coral a tip, but she raises her hand.

  “Tips aren’t allowed in this hotel. Money isn’t used here. You just need to wear that bracelet I gave you throughout your stay.” She points to my wrist.

  Everything is beyond gorgeous here except this bracelet. It looks like a hospital band. I twirl it around a couple of times.

  They finally exit the suite, assuring both Sam and me that if we need anything, we should simply contact them. I feel like a queen here, but I’m tired, hungry, and want to be left alone.

  I nod, smile, and begin to close the door.

  Sam stops the door with his hand. “See you around, neighbor,” he says. He turns to leave, and I think he winked at me… or maybe he has a lazy eye. I would prefer a lazy eye. I’ve worked with and dated enough perfect-looking people. It’d be nice to be near a guy with a flaw. Hmmm. He did have a crooked nose. But it only added to his friggin’ appeal. Typical.

  I close the door and do my best version of the floss dance. I’m a horrible dancer with my lanky legs, but I’m alone, so who cares? Not me.

  I can’t believe I’m here and this is all mine. With the champagne bottle cradled in one arm and the fruit bowl in the other, I head upstairs for a celebratory coconut bubble bath. Vacation has officially begun.

  Chapter 3

  Ellie

  “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with her?” Cooper snaps.

  Two flashes of light burn my left eye. I bolt upward into a sitting position, choking on the soapy water in my mouth. Water plunges over the sides of the bathtub onto the floor. I grip the sides of the tub for dear life, coughing profusely. I look around the bathroom. Candles are flickering and bubbles are popping against my skin. Champagne fizzes in my flute. What kind of dream was that?

  I squeeze my eyes shut and count to three. When I open them, everything’s still the same. I take a deep breath and freeze. It smells like Cooper in this bathroom, as if he were here—or maybe still is. I swear he swims in cologne. W
ater spills again as I twist left and right in search of him. But he can’t be here. He doesn’t know where I am. Nobody does. Except for Mom, to an extent.

  I step out of the tub, careful not to slip, and put on a fluffy white bathrobe. Just the thought that he might be in my suite has me shaking. What if he’s outside the bathroom door? I tiptoe to the door and press my ear against it. Silence. I twist the doorknob and peek out. No one’s there. I skitter to the open bedroom door and listen some more. Nothing.

  After a few seconds, I conclude it must have been a dream. I don’t smell his cologne anymore. I shake my hands at my sides and jog in place to relax my tight muscles. Maybe the champagne and the warm bath went to my head. I should’ve known better—I’m such a lightweight.

  I walk back to the bathroom and pluck another perfect red grape from the cluster next to the tub and pop it into my mouth. I drop a towel on the wet floor and use my foot to dry it. Then I crumple it up and throw it in a corner. The bathwater is too cold to get back in, so I pull open the drain. Wrapping a towel around my wet hair, I wander out into the master bedroom.

  I’m tired, but I can’t seem to go to bed yet. The door to the balcony is open, and a light breeze dances with the sparkling, sheer curtains. I fetch the fruit bowl from the bathroom and walk outside. The crescent moon is huge and luminous, providing enough light for me to sit outside.

  With my legs pulled to my chest and my chin resting on my knees, I relax on one of the chairs. I can’t believe I had the guts to pack my bag and leave without telling anyone where I was going. All I did was send an email to my bitchy, unthankful manager and a voicemail to my mom, saying I’m taking a last-minute vacation. I left her the phone number of the hotel but didn’t give any other details. I haven’t taken a trip like this in years.

  My manager can fire me for all I care. Before I left the office, I put my business phone in my desk drawer. I turned my personal phone off a while ago, and I won’t turn it back on until the end of vacation. It’s buried in my suitcase in the bedroom closet. The only electronic device I have here, other than my fully loaded Kindle, is the iPad provided by the hotel that controls everything in this suite. I could listen to music, but I just want to hear the crashing waves in the distance.