Resurgent

by Brynley Blake

  “Liam, look.” I follow her finger to Dive in Malaysia on the bucket list. “Do you remember diving here?”

  “No. But I’ve looked at my passport. Malaysia’s the one place I’ve been in the last six months that I can’t explain.”

  “This has to mean something! You have to call him.”

  She’s right. We’re running out of time. I’d rather not involve anyone else, but as a self-employed attorney with a shitload of secrets he already keeps, I doubt I’ll put Anthony in any jeopardy. Unlike Walker. And I trust Anthony. If I tell him not to let anyone know I’m alive, he’ll take that information to the grave. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

  I purchased a burner phone on my way to Manzanillo, and I use it now. After I talk to Anthony, I’ll toss it in the Pacific and get a new one. Charlotte sits on the edge of her seat as I make the call, practically bursting with excitement.

  He doesn’t answer. I hate to freak him out and leave a voicemail, but I don’t have time to pussyfoot around. I leave a brief message telling him I’m alive, not to tell anyone, and to call me as soon as he can.

  “He didn’t answer,” I say unnecessarily as I put down the phone. “He’ll call when he can. But we don’t have time to wait.” I glance back down at the bucket list. “You want a plan, sweetheart? I’ve got one. We’re flying to Malaysia tomorrow.”

  “But I—”

  “Don’t have a passport?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “I got you one in Mumbai. It’s illegal as hell, like mine, but we should be able to travel undetected. We’ll retrace my steps when I was there with Anthony. If I was there with Anthony. But I’m sure I was. I’ve never dived with anyone else. It’s on the bucket list, my passport proves I was there, and the necklace I gave Kenzie matches his tattoo. There’s got to be some connection, some clue there. Maybe even the guns themselves. We’ll head there and wait for Anthony to call. In the meantime, maybe something will spark my memory. With any luck, I’ll have guns before I meet with El Gato.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “I’ll worry about it then. In the meantime, I want to do every damn thing I can that’s left on my bucket list that I don’t remember putting on it. Anything might be a clue.” I move my finger down the list, stopping at each unmarked item. “Let’s start with salsa dancing. We can do that tonight. I saw a sign about it in the hotel lobby. When I talk to Tony, I’ll ask him about the Dominion, maybe get him to check it out for me, so we can skip that. Tomorrow we’ll fly to Malaysia and check off diving and getting a tattoo.”

  Charlotte looks at me incredulously. “You’re going to get a tattoo, just like that?”

  “Sure.” I wink at her. “Never underestimate the power of fuck it. I have a couple of days to think about what I want.” I look back at the list. “Tweet from the equator…we can manage that while we’re in Malaysia. Sail the Philippines…probably won’t have time for that.” I look at her and wink. “Want to join the mile-high club?”

  Her grin is contagious. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Let’s see… Get a dog? Another one that doesn’t make sense. I travel too much to have a dog.”

  “I’ve always wanted a dog,” she says wistfully, looking over my shoulder at the list.

  “I can totally see that. One of those frou frou rat-looking things that you carry around in your purse?” I tease.

  “No!” she retorts. “A big goofy lab from a shelter. Maybe one whose owner died or didn’t want him anymore. One that’s big enough to hug when I’m feeling sad.”

  I have a sudden image of a forgotten little girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, whose life might have been a tiny bit better if she’d had a dog to confide in. But before I can say anything, she quickly changes the subject.

  “What about this one?”

  Charlotte’s perfectly manicured finger is pointing to “kinky sex,” and although her tone is nonchalant, I can feel the vibrations of arousal coming from her body that I can somehow read like my own.

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “You want to?”

  She flushes. “Just to make sure we cover all the bases and don’t miss anything.” She’s trying to act casual, but I don’t buy it for a minute. And there’s nothing I want more than to see her unravel as she gives her all to me.

  “Oh sweetheart, we’ll definitely cover all the bases. And I’ll make damn sure you don’t miss a thing. But first things first. Go put on your dancing shoes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte

  “Do you think we’ll see Manny and his wife?” I ask Liam as we walk to the resort’s discoteca. To be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck about Manny, his wife, or even salsa dancing for that matter. Ever since I told Liam we should cross kinky sex off his bucket list tonight, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I said it was to make sure we considered every angle, but I wasn’t fooling either of us. This sexual adventure Liam and I are on has nothing to do with his bucket list, or even my decision to live in the moment, and everything to do with the intense and undeniable chemistry between us. What started as a spark has turned into a blazing bonfire, and we’re both about to combust.

  “I hope so. That’ll just add credibility to us living it up on our honeymoon. Hopefully, it will help alleviate any suspicion when we disappear tomorrow.”

  We step inside the door of the discoteca, where a chalkboard sign announces salsa lessons at eight o’clock. I lift my eyebrows at Liam. “Lessons?”

  “It’s on the list. You may know how, but I don’t. C’mon.” He grabs my hand, pulling me over to the dance floor where several other couples are standing, along with a woman in a very tight dress with curves that could wreck a Maserati. “I’ve got to learn how before the nightclub opens.”

  While it took me months to learn how to salsa, Liam picks it up in less than an hour. And oh my God, what an hour. The classes I took in college were nothing like this. Or maybe the difference is my partner—every lean, hard inch of his six-foot frame pressed against mine, his hands constantly roaming over my skin as he pulls me to him or spins me under his arm. I’m on the tall side, five eight in my bare feet. With heels on, I tend to tower over most men, but even in my three-inch strappy sandals, I feel small next to Liam. It’s a nice feeling.

  “Señora!” The instructor’s voice over my shoulder as Liam and I practice the most recent sequence of steps we learned startles me. “Stop trying to lead,” she chastises me. “Again!” She makes a circle in the air with her fingers. “Do the spin.”

  Liam and I exchange a conspiratorial smile as we repeat the steps leading up to the spin, but when he lifts his arm to send me into the turn, something goes wrong again. The instructor clicks her tongue at me. “He is trying to turn you clockwise, but you are hijacking the move and going counterclockwise. When you drive a car, there is one driver. Similarly, in salsa, there is one leader. One leader,” she repeats, holding up one finger as she fixes me with her stern gaze. “Who is the leader here?”

  I sigh. “He is.” His eyes flare with heat and the slow smile he gives me makes my stomach tighten in response. Salsa is sexy in and of itself, but her comments, coupled with what I know is to come later tonight, is creating a whole different dynamic, one that has me aching with need for something I never imagined I would want, but that I now can’t wait to experience. Funny what staring death in the face does to you.

  “Then you must clear your mind and completely trust him. His slightest hint is your command, so you must be attuned to him and be ready to follow wherever he leads.”

  “You hear that, sweetheart? My slightest hint is your command,” he repeats with a sexy grin laced with innuendo. I stick my tongue out at him.

  “And you…” She turns her gaze to Liam. “You must know your partner and what she is and isn’t capable of. You must listen to what her body is telling you. If you are both doing these things…” She stops and lifts her gaze and hands toward the ceiling, closing her eyes in a brief moment of rapture. “…it is the p
erfect union. Salsa is a conversation, not a fight. Make sure you’re listening.”

  She moves away, and I get into position to try the step again. “Hey. Look at me.” Liam’s voice is soft but commanding, and our gazes lock. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course,” I say. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t.” I’m smiling, but it’s true. My life has literally been in his hands several times already in the last few days.

  “Then trust me with your body.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about the dance or what’s to come later tonight.

  “Okay,” I say softly. There’s no way I’m turning back now. I’m not used to trusting anyone but myself, but here in Mexico with the drug cartel and possible death a heartbeat away, I have no choice. And the more I’m forced to let go, the headier it becomes.

  With my eyes fixed on Liam’s, I let go of everything—where the next dance step will be, whether I’ll know where to go or fall flat on my face, where this whole thing will end—and I trust him to lead. This time, I twirl effortlessly into Liam’s embrace, and we both grin at each other like five-year-olds who just found the secret stash of Halloween candy.

  “You were right,” he says an hour later as we take a break from dancing to sit at the bar. After the lesson, the club opened to the public, and we’ve gotten to practice our moves to a live band, along with dozens of Mexican couples who all seem to have come out of the womb knowing how to swivel their hips and cha-cha. But if I do say so myself, we looked pretty good out there.

  “About what?”

  He takes his time, ordering a beer for each of us and taking a long pull of his before answering. “About salsa dancing being a lot like kinky sex. You still want to dance?”

  Time stops, and my skin suddenly feels impossibly warm. There’s no mistaking what he’s asking me. “Yes,” I say, my voice low.

  Wordlessly, he takes my hand and pulls me off the barstool. “Let’s go.”

  “But, my beer—”

  “Forget it. I want you sober this time. I want you to feel everything, and I want there to be no doubt that you know exactly what you’re doing. Besides, if I have to wait too much longer, my dick is going to explode.”

  A rare sense of feminine power flushes over me. I’ve never had a man unable to wait to get his hands on me, one who wants to make love to me so badly that he’ll leave an untouched drink at the bar without a second thought. And most definitely not one who looks like Liam— every rugged, decadent inch of him.

  We walk hand in hand down the increasingly dark path to our villa, the night getting blacker with each turn we take that leads us farther away from the lighted main area. The jungle lies just beyond, pitch-black and filled with unfamiliar noises, but I feel safe with Liam.

  “Look.” He stops, and we both gaze up. Away from the lights of civilization, the sky is blanketed with thousands of twinkling points of light, even more than Playa del Carmen.

  “Beautiful,” he breathes with reverence.

  “It is.” I step closer to him with a sense of déjà vu, remembering the last night we walked along the beach under the stars.

  “Look.” He points to a constellation. “There’s the—”

  “Southern Cross,” I finish for him. Smiling at his look of surprise, I say, “You showed it to me in Playa del Carmen. It was one of the things you’d crossed off your bucket list that weekend.”

  He’s staring at me intently, and after a minute I start to squirm a little under his gaze. “What?” I touch my hair self-consciously. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. I just felt something…familiar. Like a memory, but without any actual memories.” He shakes his head and laughs. “That made a lot more sense in my head.”

  “So more like a feeling than an actual recollection?”

  “Yeah. Exactly!” He pauses for a second, and then says, “Did I show you any other constellations that night?”

  “I don’t know. Did you?” My tone is teasing, but part of me wonders if he’ll start to pull out some of those memories. They’re clearly in his brain somewhere.

  “Brat!” He winks and grins before looking back up at the sky. After a long minute, he says, “I don’t really remember anything else. There’s something familiar about that one, but I don’t know the name of it. Hell, maybe it’s not even a constellation at all. But it looks like a Phoenix. Did I tell you about it?”

  “You mentioned it briefly.” I try to hide my disappointment. What did I think? That just because he had a vague feeling of familiarity looking at stars with me that his entire memory would come flooding back—including our night together? “There really wasn’t much else. You told me how you used the constellations to navigate when you were in the Middle East. You showed me Draco, and the North Star, and the Big Dipper.” And he reminded me how to breathe by taking my breath away.

  As soon as we’re inside the villa, Liam puts the keycard back in his pocket and says, “Lock the doors. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going? We just got here.”

  “I’ve got to go back to the lobby and make our flight plans for tomorrow, but I wanted to get you back here safely first.” Noticing my look of disappointment, he adds, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then we’ll continue with our evening plans.”

  With a quick brush of his lips across my forehead, he’s gone. I stare at the door, wondering what I’m supposed to do until he comes back. Get ready? And what exactly does one do to get ready for kinky sex? I take my time in the bathroom, brushing my hair, applying another coat of the mascara I picked up in town, and changing my white lacey thong for the black one. Sadly, my wardrobe is pretty limited. At least I splurged on sexy panties.

  Eventually I run out of things to do. I consider pouring myself a drink, but Liam’s right. I need to be sober. I want to experience every minute of this evening.

  Also, just like every other woman in America, I’ve read my share of romance books on the subject, and I know I need to keep my head so things stay safe and consensual. Not that I think Liam would ever hurt me—I wasn’t lying when I told him I trusted him with my life—but he’s experienced and I’m…well…not. His idea of kinky sex and mine might be totally different. In fact, given his penchant for pushing every boundary that he encounters, it’s a pretty safe bet.

  Oh God. I need to make a list of what I want and don’t want! I read about it somewhere. There’s a name for it, but I can’t remember what it is. Glad to have something to do, I eagerly grab the pad of paper and start writing.

  I’m so engrossed in my list making that I don’t realize Liam has come back until he’s standing in front of me, looking sexy as sin. He’s still wearing the slacks and button-down shirt he wore to the nightclub, but he’s unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing that smooth, well-defined chest of his. I suddenly have the urge to follow that line of hair that goes down the center with my tongue, all the way to his—

  “What are you doing?”

  “What?” I tear my eyes away from his chest. “Oh. Making a list.” He lifts his eyebrows. “You know, of things you can do. What I want, what I will do, what I won’t do…” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush of nervousness. Dammit, Charlotte. You’re supposed to be the sexy ingenue, I remind myself. But I’m having trouble finding her right now. Especially with that look on his face. There’s a decidedly dangerous look in his eyes.

  He holds out his hand. “Let me have it.” I hand him the piece of paper. His lips twitch as he skims my list silently. He pauses and looks up at me. “No anal? Seriously? You don’t know what you’re missing.” Oh my God. I knew it. He’s into way more than I’m ready for. Good thing I made the list.

  “No threesomes?” Okay. He’s definitely laughing at me now. “Who do you think I’d share you with out here? The cartel?”

  “Just covering all the bases,” I say defensively.

  He turns back to the list. “No knives. No pain. No bruises.” He l
ifts an eyebrow. “No blow jobs?” This time he’s not teasing. There’s genuine surprise in his voice, and I don’t know how to tell him I’ve never liked a guy enough to be that intimate with him. I knew girls in high school who wouldn’t think of having sex with a guy but would give out blow jobs like candy canes at Christmas, but to me, it’s more intimate than sex, because it’s given for the sole purpose of his pleasure. Sex, on the other hand, is something you can separate yourself from without too much intimacy. At least, that’s what I thought before I met Liam.

  Everything is different with Liam, including, I realize with surprise, my aversion to blow jobs. The thought of taking him in my mouth, of tasting him, of watching his eyes close in pleasure as his control slips away, is intoxicating.

  But I have zero experience, and I’m terrified of doing it wrong, of gagging, of confirming his original belief that I’m a goody-two-shoes who doesn’t have any experience.

  “I have a strong gag reflex,” I say lamely.

  His eyes flare with a carnal heat at that. “You think that’s a bad thing sweetheart? There’s nothing sexier than a girl who chooses your cock over air.” Before I can formulate an answer to that, assuming I even could, he keeps going down the list. “Ah, this is a good one. ‘Go slow.’”

  I can’t tell if he’s serious or teasing me, so I don’t say anything.

  Meeting my gaze with his unwavering one, he slowly and deliberately rips my list in half, and then in half again twice more, and lets the pieces flutter to the floor. The look he’s giving me is decidedly predatory, and I take an involuntary step back. But my heart is beating faster, and I’m suddenly impossibly turned on.

  “I know you like to know exactly what’s going to happen and how and when. But that’s not how it’s going to happen tonight. Tonight, it’s all or nothing. You give all the control, all the decisions, all the power to me. No lists, no rules, no overthinking it, no trying to orchestrate it all. You relinquish it all to me, or not at all.”