“Okay. Take your time, but in between waves, you want to get back on your board and paddle out again. You’ve got this.”
With a determined little nod, she gets back on her surfboard and paddles back out. From where I’m standing on the beach, I give a shout and a thumbs-up as I see the perfect wave coming, and this time she catches it perfectly, effortlessly rising to her feet and riding the wave all the way in before nimbly jumping off in the shallow water like she’s been surfing for years. She’s grinning as she runs over to me, throwing her arms around me.
“I did it!”
“You sure did, baby. You did a damn good job of it too. You looked like a pro. See? It’s all about letting go of control.”
Still beaming, she stands on her tiptoes and gives me a quick but exuberant kiss that has me wanting to haul her over my shoulder and carry her back to our villa like a caveman. She’s silent for a moment, then she says, “How did you get so wise? About the letting go thing, I mean. You weren’t just talking about surfing, were you?”
“No,” I admit, threading my fingers with hers as we slowly walk up the beach. “I know this situation is hell for you. For me, too, but you aren’t used to things being out of your control.” I pause for a minute before continuing. “When my parents died, I realized we don’t really have control over anything. Life happens, and you can fight it, which accomplishes nothing, or you can take it as it comes and ride the wave and see what other doors open up as a result. For example, I probably never would have become a Navy SEAL if my parents hadn’t died.”
“Really?”
“Nope. I was in college majoring in finance—that’s what my dad wanted me to do—and hoping to be a pro football player. I probably would have ended up as one of those guys that turn you on,” I tease. “An accountant who’s…what were your words?…dependable and predictable. Instead, I had no money to finish college and I was suddenly forced to reevaluate my life. I decided the only thing I could really control was the time I had and I was going to make it count. But you can’t be afraid. You have to accept you can lose it all any minute.”
“McKenzie says you’ve always been a thrill seeker. Is that why? Because you aren’t afraid of dying?”
“There’s nothing like the dopamine rush that comes with doing something scary and conquering it,” I say with a laugh. “But it’s never been a death wish. It’s a life wish. Like what you said last night about why you wanted to…you know…” I search for the right word.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Fuck?”
Why does her reducing it to that bother the shit out of me? “Yeah. Doing extreme things makes me feel real, like I’m truly connected to my deepest self and living life to the fullest.”
She nods. “I kind of get that. But you just said you have to be willing to lose it all.”
“Yep. That’s true. There’s amazing freedom in that. The tighter you hold on, the more likely you are to lose control, not have it. You have to accept you can lose it all at any minute, and be okay with that. Because it’s life. Never—”
“—underestimate the power of fuck it,” she finishes for me. She smiles, and it’s like the sun bursting through the clouds. After a second, she says softly, “Teach me how to do that. What should I do first?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Stop topping from the bottom. Let’s practice a little more in the water before we move on to…other things.”
Her eyes darken, but her smile is impish. “More surfing?”
I grin back at her. “Absolutely. Let’s go out together this time.”
Two hours later, she’s finally had enough and we return our surf boards to the rental stand and walk hand in hand toward a couple of chairs under an umbrella.
“Want a drink? Something girly and fruity with an umbrella in it?” I tease.
“That sounds perfect. As long as you have one, too.” She smiles, and my heart inflates a little.
“Be right back.”
I’m standing at the thatched beach bar, waiting for our drinks, when I hear my name.
“Liam. Liam! Eres tu?”
It’s the man I saw yesterday. Shit. My intuition was right. But who the hell is he?
I instinctively reach for my knife, but of course it’s not there. You can’t walk around a resort in swim trunks with a knife strapped to your leg, so I’d left it in the beach bag that we’d tossed on the chair before we went out to surf, and where Charlotte is waiting for me now. That might be a good thing, if I could somehow telepathically tell her to grab it and run. But I don’t dare look her way. She still has a chance to get away if he doesn’t see her. Posing as newlyweds was supposed help us blend in and not attract attention; I never thought about someone I knew recognizing me. How am I going to explain Charlotte?
I tilt my chin up by way of greeting, acting casually uninterested. Best to proceed cautiously until I know what I’m up against. “Si. Como estas?”
He claps me on the back like we’re old friends. “Damn. It’s good to see you. I thought I saw you yesterday, but I couldn’t believe it. I heard you were dead, man!”
I turn my body so I can see Charlotte. She’s watching the other surfers as she casually rubs suntan lotion on her legs, completely oblivious to the fact that our gig is up. The man’s back is more or less to her, so if I can stall long enough, hopefully she’ll look for me, see me talking to him, and go back to the villa. In the meantime, I’ve got to figure out who he is, and what he wants.
“I was.” Following his lead, I shoot him a friendly grin. “Got blown up in Pakistan.” I’m not telling him anything he couldn’t have read in the newspaper.
He places pudgy hands on either side of my face and kisses both of my cheeks. “It is a miracle then, no? What happened? You must tell me everything. I was broken up when I heard the news. And not just because of the guns.”
As I suspected, he’s with the cartel.
He continues. “I told Salome what a shame it was when I heard the news.”
“How is Salome?” I ask, wondering who the fuck Salome is.
“Ah, she is good, amigo. But my God, you should hear the woman. ‘Why are you always at work, Manny? Why don’t you ever spend time with your children, Manny?’” He mimics a nagging Hispanic wife perfectly. “So I brought them here for the weekend to buy myself un pocito de paz.” He rolls his eyes, making holding his thumb and forefinger together to indicate exactly how much peace he’s getting.
Manny. The name doesn’t mean anything to me, but at least now I know what to call him.
“But you tell me what happened to you.” There’s a hint of steely authority in his tone, and I realize that I’ve got to play this carefully. I decide to go with the truth as much as possible, without giving away any more than I have to. I steal a surreptitious glance over at Charlotte. She still hasn’t looked my way.
“There was an explosion. Everyone thought I was dead. But someone—I still have no idea who—saved me, and got me to the hospital, where he or she left me. It was a long, grueling recovery, and I had no cell phone and no way to contact anyone for a long time. As soon as I could travel, I came here as soon as I could. I arrived in Guadalajara a day or two back.”
He nods, apparently satisfied with my story. “Bien. You have contacted El Gato then?”
Fuck. This is going from bad to worse. If he knows who I am and knows El Gato well enough to casually ask whether I’ve seen him or not, he knows a hell of a lot. And it’s not going to be long before El Gato knows I’m alive and in Mexico. Without the guns.
“Not yet.”
His bushy black eyebrows knit together as his eyes narrow. “No? Porque no?”
“Sir. Your drinks.” I’d stepped away from the bar, trying to pretend I hadn’t just ordered two Mango Tangos to avoid giving away that I’m not here alone. However, seeing me engaged in conversation, the bartender has walked around to give me the two glasses of frothy frozen drinks that no self-respecting man would ever order by himself. Fuck.
&
nbsp; Manny’s eyes light up. “Aha! Por supuesto! I saw you with a woman yesterday. In fact, it’s why I thought it wasn’t you. Well, that and the long hair. Who is she?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that she’s no one, just a woman I hooked up with, to keep her safe. As soon as they realize she means something to me, she becomes a pawn that can be used against me. But just then he turns around, and so does she, and the moment stretches into an eternity as she looks at him and then at me, the uncertainty and fear in her eyes like a knife in my gut. This is exactly why I can’t get attached to anyone. I can enjoy making love to—no, fucking—Charlotte, but I need to remember that’s all it is.
“Ah yes. The mamacita from the beach yesterday. My Salome noticed the rock on her hand. She’s your wife?”
I could deny it, say she’s married to someone else and having an affair with me. But I don’t think it’s going to make any difference at this point, and some part of me doesn’t want to dishonor Charlotte that way, as ridiculous as it sounds. And for a fraction of a second, I’d liked the thought of her being my wife.
“Si. We were together, in love, before the accident. She was heartbroken when she thought I’d been killed, and then when she found out I wasn’t, she devoted herself to attending to my every need.” That’s the God’s honest truth. I grin, thinking of her hand around my cock this morning. “I couldn’t leave without her. We’re taking a few days here for a quick honeymoon before I take care of what I came for.”
He nods. “I must meet her.”
“Perhaps we could all meet for a drink later this evening,” I suggest. That will give us a few hours to disappear.
“Of course. I’d like that. I will bring Salome to talk to your mujer and we can catch up on old times. But you must introduce me now.” There’s an edge to his voice that belies his jovial attitude.
Fuck, fuck, and double fuck. As a SEAL, I’ve worked on cases involving the drug cartels before, albeit peripherally, and I know when a lieutenant—which Manny undoubtedly is—issues a request, it’s a death wish to refuse it. Of course, it might be a death wish not to.
“Sure.” I hope to hell I sound calmer and more unperturbed than I feel as we walk toward Charlotte. She’s watching us with confusion on her face. Never underestimate the power of fuck it, I remind myself. But for the first time ever, I’m having trouble buying into my own motto.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte
My heart stops as I watch Liam approach, ridiculous frozen umbrella drinks in hand, with the Hispanic man he’d been talking to at the bar. There had been something in the man’s eyes when our gazes locked that had made me uncomfortable, and for a second, my first instinct had been to go back to the villa and wait for Liam. But then they’d started walking over to me, and I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t leave Liam anyway. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. The diamond on my finger glints in the sun, making me think of the vows that have always terrified me. For better or for worse. It doesn’t get much worse than having someone try to kill you. But then I think of my parents’ marriage and realize that’s not true. Shaking my head mentally, I focus on the situation at hand.
At least I don’t recognize the man. If we’d run into one of my kidnappers or guards, this would be a lot harder. As it is, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Liam says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. He brushes his lips close to my ear, and softly says, “Shh.”
Images of last night flood my memory. He’d told me the same thing then, more than once, and I recognize the reminder to trust him, to let go and let him take the lead. I take a deep breath and relax. He had me then, and he’s got me now. No matter what happens, I can trust Liam to keep me safe.
“I’d like you to meet Manny,” he says, turning to the man. “Manny, this is my beautiful bride, Charlie.”
Charlie? That’s a new one. My whole life I’ve always been serious, focused, responsible. No one has ever called me Charlie. Charlie is a nickname for one of those fun-loving, popular girls. It wasn’t until I met McKenzie and Gemma that I even had a nickname at all, and they call me Chaz, not Charlie. And what happened to our aliases?
Smiling, I extend a hand to the man called Manny. “Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, and I try to keep my face blank. His touch—actually, everything about the short but solid, powerfully built man—gives me goose bumps, and they’re not the good kind.
“Maravilloso! I see why you couldn’t leave this beauty behind, Liam.” Liam? “How are you enjoying our country, señora?”
“It is very beautiful, and I love the ocean.” At least that part is true.
“I hope you have found us to be hospitable hosts.” The way his beady brown eyes bore into me makes me wonder briefly if he had been at the house where I’d been held hostage. But no, I would remember him.
“I can’t complain,” I say lightly.
Liam slips his arm around my waist, pulling me to him possessively. “If you’ll excuse us, I believe we’ll go back to our room. Time is short. I’ve got to make the most of it, if you know what I mean.” He nuzzles my ear and I lean in closer to him.
“Of course,” says Manny. “We will see you this evening. Let’s say six o’clock at the hotel bar.” He fixes Liam with a pointed look. “Don’t stand me up. Salome will have my head if she doesn’t get a chance to say hello and meet your new wife.”
I have the distinct feeling it’s a thinly veiled warning, and his wife is not the one who will have Liam’s head if we don’t show.
I wait until we’re back at the villa before I bombard Liam with my questions. “Who was that? How does he know your name? And why did you call me Charlie?”
Liam laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “Slow down, sweetheart. That was Manny. He’s married to Salome and they’re here on vacation with their two children. You now know as much about him as I do.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He sighs, pushing his hair off his forehead. “This memory thing is starting to be a real problem. I saw him on the beach yesterday. He recognized me, called me by name. I have no idea who he is, but he knows me, knows about the guns, knows I’d been killed, and now, obviously, he knows that I’m alive. The clock is ticking.
“Judging by the way he referred to El Gato and what he seems to know about the guns, he’s at least a lieutenant in the cartel. Maybe higher. He wanted to know if I’ve met with El Gato yet, and I told him we were enjoying a few days for our honeymoon first. I wasn’t going to tell him about you, but he turned around…” He shrugs. “There was no point in denying it. But hopefully the nickname may throw him off.”
“Are we really meeting him and his wife for drinks?”
“No. We’re getting the hell out of here. Pack your stuff.”
I don’t move. “Maybe we should talk to him,” I say slowly.
He turns to give me an incredulous stare. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not taking any chances. I don’t like being at a disadvantage. I don’t know how much he knows. Get moving.” He smacks my ass lightly and turns around, the subject closed as far as he’s concerned. “I want to make sure we have plenty of time to be far from here by the time six o’clock rolls around.”
“We should meet him,” I say more forcefully. When he doesn’t respond, I grab his arm. “Liam, listen!” The look he’s giving me is more than a little intimidating, and it occurs to me that as a SEAL commander, he’s probably not used to being challenged, but I forge ahead. “Right now, we don’t have anything to go on but your bucket list, and you don’t remember anything about it. As you said, the clock is ticking, and we don’t have time to figure this out at our leisure anymore. If we talk to Manny, we can maybe get some more clues, or at least find out what we’re up against.”
“What I’m up against,” he corrects.
“What we’re up against. Unless you’re planning to let me go home.”
“Not a chan
ce,” he says flatly.
“Then it’s you and me,” I say firmly. “And unless we’re going to be on the run forever, we have to start finding some answers. This guy is a good start.”
“No.”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Okay. Tell me then. What’s your plan? I have yet to hear it.”
“To keep you alive, okay? That’s my fucking plan!”
That stops me cold. Sure, he’s being a pig-headed, chauvinistic, typical man, but a tiny part of me melts at the thought of him putting my safety above his own well-being. Not that I’m going to let that happen. I trust him to keep me safe, but I intend to keep him safe right back.
I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist tentatively. “Thank you. I want us both to stay alive. But that’s not going to happen if we don’t find the guns. We can’t run forever.”
His arms go around me, and he rests his chin on the top of my head for several long minutes, not saying anything. Finally, he says, “Okay. We’ll meet him for drinks. But we get there early and I buy the drinks. Don’t take a sip of anything that I don’t give you. And don’t leave my side for any reason. I don’t care if the resort catches on fire or Jesus himself appears. Got it?” He leans back and tips my chin up so he can fix me with his most intimidating stare, and I feel a trickle of moisture between my legs. God, it is hot when he gets all authoritative, even if I like to sometimes call him on it. I resist the urge to press my thighs together as I nod. “And after drinks, we’re getting out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet.”
We arrive at the hotel bar thirty minutes early, and despite the brightly colored hanging lights, salsa music, and jovial atmosphere, I feel more like I’m walking to the guillotine instead of into a bar. Liam has spent the last hour grilling me over what I should and shouldn’t say, and I’m terrified I’m going to screw things up and get us killed, although there’s no way I’m admitting that to Liam. After all, I’m the one who talked him into this.
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