by Elle James
“Lots of my friends’ marriages ended in divorce,” Chase said. “Their spouses couldn’t handle the loneliness. They found other men to make them happy.”
Maggie’s lips pressed together. “They weren’t the right women for your friends.”
“Yeah, well I hadn’t met a woman who fit that bill.” Chase nodded toward a building ahead with a huge, garish sign proclaiming it as La Casa Loca.
He turned her toward a small shop several structures shy of the bar.
“Where are we going?” Maggie asked, trotting to keep up.
“If the text dude is looking for us, I don’t want to make it any easier for him to find us before our rendezvous time.” He stepped through the door into a cornucopia of souvenirs and junk from Cabo San Lucas magnets and key chains to beach towels and floppy hats.
He selected two brightly colored baseball caps with Cabo San Lucas embroidered across the front and two pairs of large, round sunglasses. He paid for them with his credit card, and then handed her one of each. “Think you can hide your blond hair in that hat?”
Maggie bent over, twisted her hair into a tight knot and jammed the baseball cap over her head, tucking any loose strands inside. When she straightened, she grinned. “It won’t cover all of it, but at least, from a distance, it won’t be as noticeable.” Maggie put on the sunglasses.
Chase settled his cap on his head and wore the glasses. Even in the touristy getup, he was still sexy as hell.
He touched a finger to the bill of her cap. “Anyone ever mention that you look like a cute tomboy with your hair pulled up like that?”
She tilted her head. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“All good, sweetheart. Maybe, too good. I’m thinking I like this outfit almost as much as the red dress.”
Her cheeks heated.
“But as cute as you are, you might want to stay here while I go check out La Casa Loca.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m going with you. If this is the place where the pot got stirred, you’re not going in there alone.”
He frowned. “And if it gets dangerous? What then?”
“I’ll be your back up. I’ll call the police.” When he arched his brow, she raised her hands. “I don’t know. I can hit someone with a chair or a bottle of booze. All I know is you’re not going in there alone.”
He chuckled. “You’re cute when you go all badass.” Chase bent and kissed the tip of her nose.
Maggie stood still, her lips parting slightly.
Then Chase kissed her mouth, taking advantage of her parted lips to sweep his tongue past her teeth to slide the length of hers.
Too shocked to think, and too mesmerized to push away, Maggie dug her fingers into his blue polo shirt and drew him closer, deepening the kiss. Her mouth moved with his as though following a muscle memory. She didn’t even realize she’d kissed him back until Chase lifted his head.
“Finally, something I remember clearly,” he whispered.
Sweet heaven, so did she.
He turned her toward the beach, took her hand in his and walked out to the sand.
Two doors down from the souvenir shop, they came to a tiny little hut with the words “Wedding Chapel Open 24 Hours” written in broad, baby-blue letters.
Maggie and Chase halted at the same time.
She pointed to the chapel. “You don’t think…”
“It’s way too much of a coincidence,” Chase said. “Would they have some kind of register?”
“There’s only one way to know for sure.” Maggie drew in a deep breath.
Chase’s hand tightened around hers, and they walked into the chapel.
Chapter 5
Chase recognized the place as soon as they entered, even before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside. He’d been there before.
“Welcome to the Wedding Chapel.” The proprietor’s gaze zeroed in on the rings they wore. “You look like a happy couple. Are you looking to renew your vows? We offer a discount package for vow renewals.”
“No, thank you,” Maggie said. “We came to ask if you have a registry that lists the couples who’ve been married in this chapel.”
“Sí, señora. We do.” He led them to a large white book on a table near the rear of the chapel.
Chase knew what they’d find. He remembered being there. He remembered standing at the altar, facing Maggie in her red dress and a borrowed white veil. That memory came back to him with all the force of a freight train. He’d bought rings, married her, kissed her and signed the papers all in the matter of a few minutes.
Maggie bent over the book and dragged her finger down the page to the bottom. For a long moment, she stared at the two signatures on the line. “We really did it.”
“Yes, we did.” He didn’t tell her he remembered. Nor did he tell her how he’d felt at the moment he’d said I do, because he felt it all over again. That feeling of rightness. That this was a woman he could trust with his heart, and who would never leave him for another man because she was lonely and insecure. She was the one.
All those thoughts raced through his head as he stared down at his signature on the page.
And Maggie wanted to have their union annulled.
That knowledge made a hole in his chest where his heart should have been.
“What were we thinking?” Maggie stared at their signatures, shaking her head.
“Blame it on the tequila,” Chase muttered. He took her hand and led her toward the exit. On the wall beside the door leading out to the beach were photos of some of the couples who’d been married in the little chapel. Dead center was an instant photo of Maggie and Chase, just like the one they’d found in his hotel room. Maggie wore the red dress and a funny little white veil. He wore black trousers and the white polo shirt he’d worn on the flight from California to Cabo. They’d smiled for the camera, appearing like all the other couples posted on the wall—happy.
Why had they woken up completely devoid of these memories? Well, at least he could remember the wedding ceremony and kissing the bride. With her hand in his, he wanted to pull her into his arms and test that kiss again. If he did, would he recapture the feeling of rightness? Would she feel the same? And would it trigger her memory?
Maggie paused to study the photos. Chase knew the exact moment she spotted theirs. She stiffened, and a small gasp escaped her lips. “Just like the one in your room,” she whispered. “It wasn’t a prank.” By now, the reality of their marriage was etched in stone. The rings, the marriage certificate, signatures in the chapel registry and the photos would have been too much of a coincidence.
“That couple came in last night with a mile-long conga line.” The proprietor chuckled. “I pride myself in judging whether or not a couple’s marriage will stand the test of time. Those two were completely head-over-heels for each other. They’ll be together until death do they part.”
Maggie’s fingers tightened around Chase’s hand, but she didn’t pull free. “We should be going. Thank you for letting us in.”
“My pleasure. And remember, if you want to renew your vows, it’s half the cost of a wedding package.”
Maggie’s cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head.
The proprietor opened his arms wide. “We are here to help give a jumpstart to every couple’s dreams of marriage and happiness by taking the work out of wedding planning.”
Maggie slipped through the door and out onto the sand, still holding onto Chase’s hand. “We’re almost to La Casa Loca,” she said unnecessarily. Chase could clearly see the structure. “Do you think it’s safe to enter?”
He studied the building ahead. Tourists sat on the outdoor patio, drinking, eating and smiling happily. On the beach around the establishment, young people lounged in everything from speedos to bikinis and one-piece swimsuits. Mothers chased children into the waves, and families gathered around beach umbrellas to share sandwiches or to apply sunscreen. “I think it’ll be fairly safe during the light of day. But I would pr
efer you to stay outside in case my guy is inside, determined to take me down.”
Even before he finished his statement, Maggie was shaking her head. “We’ve been over this before. I’m just as much a target as you are, and you need someone watching your back. Besides, they won’t recognize us in these ridiculous disguises. The guy who married us sure didn’t.” She gave him a fake smile. “See? We’re just a couple of tourists, going into an establishment for a drink.”
Chase brushed a finger across her cheek. “You know, you’re pretty special.” Then he bent and touched his lips to hers in a feather-soft kiss. “I’m beginning to see why I married you so quickly.”
Maggie raised her hand to her lips. “Why did you do that?”
He grinned. “Do what? Do this?” Chase dropped another kiss on her lips. But it wasn’t enough. Before he could think through his actions, he pulled her into his arms and deepened the kiss. Oh, yeah. His lips couldn’t forget the sensation of her mouth against his.
Maggie stood still, her hands resting against Chase’s chest. When he started to pull away, she curled her fingers into his polo shirt and dragged him closer.
Chase obliged, happy to kiss this woman, hoping she would remember at least part of the night before.
He swept his tongue across the seam of her lips.
Maggie opened her mouth on a sigh, giving Chase the opportunity to dart in and caress her tongue in a long, sensuous kiss.
For a long moment, they stood in the sand, frozen in time, kissing like long-lost lovers.
When at last Chase raised his head to take a breath, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I remember this.”
Maggie stared at his chest, the sunglasses shielding her eyes. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t remember any of this.” Then she stepped backward, out of Chase’s embrace. “We need to move on if we’re going to discover what happened before your midnight rendezvous.” She set out across the sand at a brisk pace.
Chase hurried to catch up. When he reached for her hand, she brushed his aside and kept walking. What the hell? He could not have been mistaken by her earlier response. Maggie had returned the kiss with as much fervor as he’d given. What had he done wrong to deserve the cold shoulder now?
Maggie charged ahead, determined to get to the bar, learn what they could and get the hell out of the mess they’d landed in. She couldn’t believe she’d married a stranger within hours of meeting him. Not only would her father go ballistic, he’d likely hire a hit man to take out the man who’d dared marry his daughter so quickly. He’d be certain the man was after one thing only. Daddy’s money.
She’d have to remind her father that money alone didn’t ensure a marriage. Lloyd was proof of that. When it had come to the actual wedding ceremony, he’d skipped out with someone else rather than marry her.
Maggie frowned. Or had her father paid him off? Had he paid Lloyd to skip out on her wedding and go off with the wedding planner? The moment the thought came to her, it left. No. Her father had approved of Lloyd. He’d pushed for the marriage as much as she had.
Her father would disapprove of Chase immediately upon meeting him. The fact he hadn’t had a hand in selecting him for his daughter would play a huge part in that disapproval. Dwayne Neal, multimillionaire, liked to control everything about his daughter’s life. Perhaps that was why Maggie liked Gina so much. Her father hadn’t chosen Gina for her friend. They’d been friends since they’d met at a party in LA. Gina had come as a guest of a guest. It galled her father that he didn’t know Gina and couldn’t find enough dirt on her to keep her out of Maggie’s life.
Thank God, Gina had been there when her wedding day fell apart. She’d helped her out of her dress and into the red one, grabbed her suitcase and bundled them into a taxi before her father arrived to berate her for letting Lloyd slip away. He would have found a way to make it her fault that her fiancé had eloped with the wedding planner. He never understood when people didn’t do as he expected them to do.
Maggie didn’t go to great lengths to displease her father, but she found a bit of backbone and a rebellious streak running through her veins when her father cinched the reins too tightly. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d gravitated toward the handsome SEAL.
Her father wouldn’t have liked her hanging out with a man trained in combat. A man he hadn’t met and couldn’t control. Yeah, Daddy would be livid when he discovered she’d married someone other than Loser Lloyd.
As they neared La Casa Loca, Chase hooked his arm through Maggie’s and slowed her down. “We’re not in a race,” he said. “We’re tourists coming in for a drink at the bar.”
Maggie slowed her steps. “Right. Tourists. With a murderer wanting to off us for some reason we can’t remember.” She threw him a sideways grin, albeit a forced grin. “Got it.”
She liked the feel of his arm hooked in hers. Liked the hardness of his muscles up against her body. And she wondered, not for the first time—and probably not the last—what it felt like to make love with him. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember.
But she had remembered his kiss. Her core coiled and heated. No woman could forget a kiss like that. That kiss fired up the memories of a dance, ending in a similar kiss. She remembered the fire in her veins as he spun her around the floor, the way his hips moved to the rhythm of the music, and how he’d dipped her low to the ground, crushing his lips to hers in a searing kiss that left her panties damp and her heart pounding to the beat of the Latin music.
Even as she walked into the bar, her heart thrummed to that tune in her head, firing up her nerves and making her pulse beat hard in her ears.
Once inside, Maggie reached for her sunglasses, the dimness of the interior hard to make out.
“Might want to keep those on.” Chase covered her hands with his and guided the glasses back to perch on her nose. “Your eyes are unforgettable.”
“You managed to forget them,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but I was drunk. We can’t expect La Casa Loca staff to have been in the same inebriated state last night. We’re better off if they don’t know who we are.”
“If we don’t want them to know who we are, how will we ask about last night?” Maggie asked.
“Leave it to me,” Chase said. He made a beeline for the bar and settled her onto a stool before sliding onto one himself.
The bartender took their orders and delivered a Salty Dog for Chase and a beer for Maggie.
“I would have pegged you for beer,” Maggie said.
“And I would have pegged you for a fruity drink.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I learned to drink beer in college.”
“And now I’m out of the military, I have to watch what I drink. I figure grapefruit juice is healthy, right?” Chase lifted his drink.
Maggie laughed. “The grapefruit juice, maybe. But the vodka, not so much.”
The bartender drifted off to wait on another customer. He returned a few minutes later. “Anything else?” he asked while wiping the counter with a cloth.
Chase smiled at the short, meaty Hispanic man. “We heard there was some excitement here last night.”
With a shrug, the bartender continued wiping.
Maggie gritted her teeth and waited for Chase to continue.
“Were you here?” Chase asked.
Again, the bartender shrugged.
After a quick glance around the bar, Chase leaned forward. “Was there a fight?”
The man nodded, glanced around the interior of the bar, just like Chase had a moment before, and leaned closer. “We had a visit from the Jalisco cartel. Raul Delgado, one of the leaders of the cartel got into a fight with a tourist. The tourist beat the shit out of Delgado. Delgado wouldn’t back down. He was very angry he’d been bested in front of his men.”
“Why didn’t his men stick up for him?” Maggie asked.
“They did,” the bartender said. “Only the tourist they targeted was a better fighter than Delgado and his men.”
“Good to know,” Chase said. “Does this cartel hang out here often?”
“Delgado likes to flirt with the pretty tourists,” the bartender said.
Maggie tilted her head. “The Cabo police don’t keep them out? I thought they were pretty good at protecting the tourism trade.”
The bartender snorted. “The last policeman who dared stand up to Delgado ended up hung from a bridge.”
Maggie swallowed hard. With all the nice trappings of the tourist hotels and resorts, there was a seedier side of Cabo San Lucas. And it appeared that seedier side was infiltrating the tourist haunts. “Do you know how many people are a part of the Jalisco cartel?”
“One, maybe two hundred,” the bartender said. “And that’s just in the Cabo area.”
Her belly knotted, and Maggie fought to stay upright. “Do they ever show up in the same place all at once?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.
The bartender’s eyes narrowed. “Why so much interest in the cartel? The cartels are part of life in Mexico. We learn to stay clear or give them the payola they demand to leave us alone.”
“Is that what you do? Pay the Jalisco cartel to leave you alone?” Chase asked.
A frown settled on the man’s thick brow. “You ask too many questions. If you don’t want another drink, you go. We don’t want trouble here.”
Chase slid an American one-hundred-dollar bill across the counter. “Thank you for your time.” He got up, helped Maggie off her bar stool and walked out of the bar.
“I remember what happened last night,” Chase said, his jaw tightening.
“Why is it you can remember, but I can’t?”
He touched a hand to his bruised cheek. “I remembered a Hispanic man hitting me. When that memory returned, I remembered why he hit me.”
Maggie stopped and faced Chase. “Why did he hit you?”
Chase cupped her elbow and steered her around the back of the building.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to know the layout of the building and surrounding area.”
