Neesa woke just before dawn, the gray light above the horizon not even thinking about turning pink yet. She felt Rath, his body heat, his hard body snugged up against hers. He was being kind, giving her his comfort when she’d withheld information from him. But now they were being open and honest.
Except that she was feeling so drawn to him. She didn’t think she could share that with him. That she should.
Not even good to acknowledge it to myself.
She scooted out of bed, not surprised when he opened his eyes. She doubted he missed much. “Taking a shower,” she said softly, disappearing into the bathroom and turning on the water to the hottest setting. She brushed her teeth while it heated up, then immersed herself in the flow of the water for a few minutes before washing her hair and body.
As she towel-dried her hair, she noticed she was overdue for a shave. Did it seem crazy or vain that she was worried about hairy armpits after everything she’d been through? Yes. But she was going to do it anyway. She filled a porcelain bowl with warm water, grabbed her razor and a towel, and came out.
He was standing in the open doorway to the balcony video-chatting with someone. “Knox is my eyes and ears, watching over you. I trust him with my life, and with yours. Anything feels off to you, talk to him.”
She’d moved closer, hoping it was his little brother.
“I will, Rath. Promise.” Carlton’s pale face lit up, and he waved, pulling an IV tube with the action. “Hi, Neesa.” He wasn’t back to his peppy self, and his smile wasn’t as broad, but his light was plain to see.
“Hey, hon.” She moved closer. “You’re looking much better. I’m so relieved.”
“I still hurt a lot, but the doctor says I’m going to be okay.” He pointed to his bandaged shoulder and upper chest. “Hey, try to talk Rath out of killin’ Sam, will ya?”
She and Rath traded a look, she communicating I’ll try and him saying Nobody’s gonna stop me from throttling that son of a bitch.
“I’ll do my best,” she said.
“Rath likes you.” Carlton grinned. “I can tell.”
She looked at Rath again, and he actually flushed…or at least it seemed he had, as much as she could tell through that beard. “You think so, huh?”
Carlton gave her an exaggerated nod. “Oh, yeah. Do you like him, too?”
Lord, he was so cute. Sweet and naïve, though it saddened her to know how he’d gotten that way. “I do.”
Carlton looked to the door. “Pa’s here. Wanna talk to him?”
“Nope,” Rath said. “We have to head out. Talk to you soon.”
“Love you, Rath.”
Rath let out a soft breath. “Love you too, lil’ bro.”
Damn, seeing his softness squeezed her heart so tight. She needed to change the subject, and fast. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll finish out here.”
“It’s nice out. A little cool, but the sun’s already warming it up.”
The warm morning sunlight burnished his bare chest, and she thought he looked like a Nordic god limned in the light with the ocean in the background. “Gorgeous,” she said, speaking aloud what she’d only meant to think. “It’s gorgeous outside,” she clarified, carrying her bowl to the small table on the balcony.
He glanced at her. “Sure is.” Then he went into the bathroom.
She used to watch her father shave out of a bowl like this, and doing it the same way felt comforting. She made a point to finish her armpits before Rath came out, his hair damp but still in those low-waisted drawstring pants that showcased his flat abs and lean, sculpted chest. Still in her chair, she turned to the Gulf before he caught her looking at him.
He sat across from her, hands planted on his thighs. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Confused, sad, angry…” She met his gaze with a wry smile. “Sorry you asked?”
“Nope, give it to me. All of it.”
She saw that he meant that, and it cracked her open. “I’m so twisted up. My father murdered people. I can’t imagine him killing, though I know he probably did in his various roles in the government. But he did these killings of his own volition. And yes, he had a reason, but he could have turned them into the government or involved our government to see about extradition. But it’s hard to be angry at him because…he might be dead. And I want to keep hoping that he’s not, but if he’s not, that means he’s either been captured or he’s hiding, even from me. There’s no great option, though of course I want him to be alive.”
He nodded, commiseration on his face even though she knew he thought little of her father. “It sucks when your father isn’t the man you want him to be.”
“And that’s the confusing part. I don’t know my father, not really. And being here, remembering who I was before the kidnapping…it makes me wonder if I even know myself. I work so hard to help women overcome their trauma, but I’ve never told anyone why.”
“You told me.”
“And it was so painful. So scary. I told you because it seemed like the right thing to do. But I still can’t imagine telling anyone else. I did tell my business partner, but not the part about Angel. Hiding my past feels so wrong. So cowardice.”
He reached across the table, and she clasped his hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her over to him, guiding her to sit on his lap facing him. “You are a brave, smart, beautiful woman who can still figure out who she is and what she wants.”
She brought her hands to his face. “That’s kind of you.”
“It’s true, at least from what I can see.”
“You know what’s really messed up? You know so much of me, and I don’t even know who you are.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re a man with two names as well. But I haven’t seen your face.” She ran her hands down his clean beard, the strands coarse beneath her fingers. “Can I see you? Can I shave off your beard?”
He held her gaze as something unnamable crossed his expression. “Yes.”
She’d tipped her chin toward the bowl of water. “I’ll get a new razor.”
“I have an electric one to do the first phase of it, in my bag.”
Her heart tightened at his letting her do this. Why she needed to see his face, she didn’t know. Probably because she’d been wanting to see him since they met. She took the bowl, which she dumped out and refilled. She found his small bag, then went to her toiletry bag and pulled out the last razor from the pack, along with a washcloth and a towel. Then she settled back on his thighs and squirted a blob of shaving cream on her hands before massaging it into his face. She’d never shaved a man before, and never hair as long as his.
He kept his gaze on her. “Never had anyone shave me before.”
She liked that, being the first.
“Will this hurt?” she asked.
“You mean physically?”
“Well, that and or emotionally.”
He laughed. “I’m not attached to my beard. Honestly, it’s just laziness on my part keeping it. And it fit my persona in the last several months.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Bad-assed?”
“Yeah, that’s me, babe.”
Babe. He’d never used that endearment with her before, so it wasn’t just a throwaway word. “I think that’s what you want people to think. But I’ve seen a softer side of you. With your brother. And me.”
“Shh, don’t tell anyone.”
They shared a smile that tickled her tummy. She turned her attention to his face because she so badly wanted to kiss him. And if she was going to give in, she wanted it to be with a freshly shaven face. She drew the buzzing razor down in the direction of his hair, trimming it until all that was left was a four o’clock shadow. Then she started with the razor.
She washed each section as she went, keeping the water from dripping all over his chest. The sun rose as she worked, almost as though she were revealing it the same way she revealed Rath’s face. Golden light lit up his eyelashes and showed faint freckles across his cheeks.
“I never noticed your freckles!”
He rolled his eyes. “I hate ’em.”
She ran a fingertip over them, grinning. “Because they’re cute, and you don’t do cute.”
“See, you do know me.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and something in her chest flipped. She had to force herself to keep shaving him. She took her time, the act of it meditative because she was so focused on what she was doing, and the blades moving over the planes of his cheeks and jawline, that she couldn’t think about anything else. Being face-to-face with him, so close, felt good. It had been a long time since she’d felt good. And right. And while much in her life wasn’t either, right then…well, right then it was.
His hands were on her thighs, holding her still perhaps, or just holding her. Every now and then his fingers tightened slightly, and she worried that she’d cut him. But she saw no blood or any sign of discomfort on his expression.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Perfect.”
She smiled, dipping the razor into the bowl of water now filled with shaving cream bits and hair. Finally, she washed off the last traces of cream and set the cloth down to take him in.
“God,” was what she said.
He rubbed his fingers over his face. “Is it bad? Am I bleeding?”
“No. It’s good. Very good.”
“Well, now you can see my ugly mug.” He gave her an overly enthusiastic smile. “You’re probably wishing you could put the hair back.”
He was beautiful, in a rugged, angular way. There was still a roughness to him and yet, his naked face made him seem more vulnerable. Approachable.
“I like seeing you. It’s like you’ve been hiding behind a curtain all this time, and you finally let me see who you are.”
She touched his damp skin, her hands on either side of his face. The breeze washed his hair over her fingers, the strands skittering over her skin. But her eyes hadn’t left his, and she moved her fingers over his face, the cheekbones and then his chin, and finally his lips. She watched for any sign of annoyance or weirdness, but he simply met her gaze with a soft smile on his mouth.
She wouldn’t have known what to say if she felt she could speak. The sound of the waves washing in over and over, that was enough. He brought his hands up to her arms, skimming them, moving up to her shoulders. She leaned in and touched her lips to his, her hands sliding into his damp hair.
He kissed her, softly but not tentatively, running his hands over her bare shoulders. His mouth felt so right, and she opened hers to him, a little more, more, and then he took her in a full kiss. She was lost in it. Her body came alive, lighting up the way a Christmas tree did when you first plugged it in, a hundred colors blazing at once.
Some part of her brain admonished her for losing her control. She was always in control, of her body and feelings. But she silenced it. Something about Rath’s dichotomy of being wild and in control energized her. His hands on her, rough and soft at the same time, running down her arms and then her sides, his thumbs moving along the edge of her breasts. She wanted them on her, and she scooted closer and arched into his body to let him know it was okay. He would make sure of that. She knew him that well, anyway, his integrity and respect for her. She could feel his body’s response, and that he was caught up in this too flooded her with heat.
She’d been too distracted to let herself really feel her desire for him, to let herself notice how just seeing his chest, his shoulders, all of him woke her up. They weren’t here for this, and yet, here they were, both clearly having fought it…and lost.
He moved his hands over her breasts, and even through the silky material of her top, she felt the heat and need for more, more, more rise up inside her. She took his hands and pushed them up beneath her top, desperate to feel skin to skin. And when she did, she sighed, rocking her pelvis against his, moving her kisses to his smooth face, across his jawline and to his neck. He shuddered, sighed as well, and again as she ran her hands down the contours of his chest.
“Neesa,” he said, or maybe growled, but said nothing more.
Her breath caught when he started circling her nipples with his thumbs while caressing and squeezing and stirring her down to her core.
Seagulls squawked, but she hardly paid the world around them any mind…until she heard a child calling out. She jerked and nearly fell backward. As he tried to grab her to keep her from falling, they knocked the table over, the bowl crashing to the concrete with a loud thud and sending water splashing all over.
They both looked for the source of the child, seeing a family of three on the beach a short distance away. A little girl chased a seagull, squealing with delight at making it fly away.
Neesa had jumped to her feet during the melee, and now she sank to her chair across from him. “Oh, my god.” She rubbed her hand down her heated face.
“Exactly what I was thinking.” But he hardly looked ruffled at all. “Well, before I sensed there were people out there.”
“You knew they were out there?” She surged to her feet now that she felt stable—and horrified. “Didn’t you care if a child saw us…us…” She gestured to where they’d been getting hot and heavy.
He stood, too, an impish grin on his face. “I knew they couldn’t see us from their angle. At least until they reached that point right there.” He pointed to a grouping of chairs.
Of course, he’d be in control. Aware of everything.
But he’d lost his control just a little, she thought. Because he’d stopped them before, saying it wasn’t a good idea, and this time he hadn’t. She moved a wayward shoulder strap back in place. “That was…” She wanted him to finish the sentence. Crazy. Dumb. Amazing.
“Yeah, it was,” he simply said, not at all helpful. He moved up beside her at the balcony railing. “But we might want to cool it until everything comes out. The truth, I mean. We still have things to figure out.”
“Sure, yes. That makes sense. It’s a bad time to be getting all crazy like that.” And since he’d said he wasn’t into going around picking up women, he probably didn’t have a condom on him. Which was good.
Right?
Definitely.
He moved up closer, gathering her in his arms facing him. “But to be clear…I don’t want to cool it.” He cupped her chin, pausing to look so deeply into her eyes that her tummy tingled. “You’re different from any woman I’ve ever met. Seriously, amazingly different.”
“I could say the same…well, except for the woman part, of course.”
One side of his mouth quirked up, but the hint of a smile faded. “There are things about myself I need to tell you before we go any further.”
“So, tell me.” But her chest already tightened at the possibilities. Married or committed? A felon? Damaged beyond repair?
He trailed his thumb along her lower lip. “Let’s finish our business here first. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Okay.” She saw his conflict, and it scared her because of the way her heart was opening up to him. She’d been so damned good about keeping up walls between her and any man who’d expressed interest. Rath—good at breeching as he was—had made it over her walls.
“Plus, you’re at a dicey place emotionally, and I think you’re making decisions based on that.”
Dicey. Because of what they’d found out from El Gato. “Being attracted to you has nothing to do with that, but you’re right; maybe I’m feeling a little needy right now.”
“Not needy, but just needing…”
Clearly, he wasn’t good at talking emo. After a moment of searching, he said, “To be touched and held and kissed and…connecting.”
“Yeah, that.”
She ran her hand down his arm. “Thank you for giving me all of that. I have a feeling that’s not exactly natural for you, given your childhood and family.”
He nodded. “You are not wrong about that.”
She had to hide a smile at his roundabout way of admitting it. She moved in front of him, lacing her arms over his shoulders. “If you need that from me, I’m here.”
He placed his hands at her waist. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to ask. Or what I needed.”
That made her sad, and of course, she wanted to remedy it. But he was not her patient. “Let’s pack up and go to the beach.”
Once everything was packed, they walked across the street. Things between her and Rath felt different now. He looked different, more soft and open somehow. And, with his usual dichotomy, also more mysterious.
“Want to rent one of those chair things?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They paid a boy for the use of the two chairs and small palm umbrella, plus two waters and breakfast pastries. She sat and ate the pastry, but she couldn’t stop looking over at him, even with the gorgeous blue water spread out before her.
“What?” he asked, pausing mid-bite. “Do I have something on my face?”
She could lie and say he did, but no...no more lies. “I just like looking at your face. You’re quite handsome, you know. I mean, you probably do know, but I’m saying it anyway.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, I am always looking at my reflection.” He lifted his chin comically and patted his cheek.
She playfully slapped at his arm. “Brat.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Mercurial man, he went from teasing to serious in a second. He looked away toward the water, finishing his pastry.
She knew there were things he hadn’t been upfront about. His wounds from the war, for sure. She wanted to look up his name, and the rifle company he’d mentioned. But she had other more pressing things on her mind, like what Pablo would tell them.
He gestured for her to give him the wrapper, balled them both up, and pushed to his feet. “Want to walk? I can’t just sit around.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He reached down, and when he pulled her to her feet, and only inches from him, he leaned down and kissed her. Just a quick peck, and then he led her down the beach with her hand still snugged in his. “See, that moment was about a kiss, and this moment is about not kissing.” He slid her a smile.
She sighed softly, so low that it was lost on the breeze. Breathe in, breathe out. She felt mercurial as well, going from worried to this bliss. They didn’t talk, nor even look at each other, just walked in comfortable silence.
They reached an outcropping of rocks, and he looked at his watch. “Almost time.”
“I hope Pablo confirms that El Martillo is a front for a cartel,” she said as they headed back. “I want that to be right, on my father’s end of things. You know?” She glanced at him.
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Then, if he’s truly gone…well, at least he was a hero in that small way.”
He gazed out over the water. “We all want our fathers to be good people. We want to believe in them, to be proud of them. And mostly we want to feel like that if we inherited the bad from them that we got some good, too.”
She saw the sincerity and the depth of his words on his expression. “We did, Rath.”
The click of a metal latch pulled their attention to the shack, where Pablo was unlocking the panels and propping them open. They gave him time to open all four sides and go inside before wandering ever-so-casually over.
“Pablo?” she asked as they approached. “Silvano sent us.”
In what seemed like an involuntary reaction, he glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear. Then he waved them toward the window for ordering.
Rath pointed to the menu board behind him. “We’d like two coffees.” He set a hundred-dollar bill on the ledge. “Keep the change.”
Pablo began the busywork of turning on the equipment, then brewing a pot of coffee. “He said you’re looking for your father.”
She tried to appear casual, leaning against the ledge, while her body tensed completely. “Yes. Here’s a picture of him.” She pulled out her phone and showed him.
He studied the photo, then pointed off in the distance, as though she’d asked him where something was. “I don’t know him.”
“You think you’re being watched?” Rath asked, a little more on alert.
“There are spies, especially when Americans are around. Not many tourists here. And with my son in El Martillo, I must be even more careful.”
“Understandable,” Rath said. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. See, her father was also working with El Martillo, and he thought they were a front for a regular ole cartel. Is it true?”
“No. They have liberated three areas from cartel strongholds, and they have not moved in to take over. Just protect.”
Neesa felt her body sag at that. But Pablo continued. “I mean, they are as violent as any cartel. But here, you have to be, you know? Angel, he is not always comfortable with their tactics. He feels obligated to stay, and maybe he is safer there than with Los Corazónes Negros, where he was.”
The name hit her in the chest, but she resisted the urge to exchange a look with Rath or give away her shock. “Angel. Sounds like a good boy.”
Pablo’s face lit up with a proud smile. “He is. And it’s not his fault he’s involved in this business.” His smile disappeared. “He did it for me.”
It may not be the same man, she thought. Angel wasn’t an uncommon name here. “Why?”
“His mother, she died when he was a boy. And ten years ago, I had a heart attack. A lot of bills, and the bank was going to take our house. He was only sixteen, and he’s physically challenged. He was born with a bad leg and can’t do heavy labor or stand for too long.”
Neesa felt those words too. Angel had a limp. She’d never asked him why, but he sometimes had trouble doing the household things he claimed he’d been hired for. “That must have been tough for all of you.”
He nodded in agreement. “The man you know as El Gato, he told Angel that his boss, José, had a job he could do. Not a lot of work, but shady. Angel told me it was a one-time thing, enough money to pay off my hospital bills. He didn’t tell me what it was, and I didn’t ask. A coward, I know, but I didn’t want to think it was something terrible. I know who José is, and what Los Corazónes Negros did for their money. I was desperate, and I let him do it. But afterward, he told me that he couldn’t quit. He was a liability if he left; if he stayed, he’d continue to be paid well and protected by the organization. And now he’s part of that world, just another thread in that terrible blanket.”
“It seems that so many young men don’t have much of a choice,” she said. “Was he involved in that raid six months ago?”
“No, thank God. He is assistant, in a way, or at least that’s what he tells me. He does many different things, but not drug running or assassinations.”
Just assisting in kidnappings, she held back. Gaining a young girl’s trust and setting her up. She took a breath, swallowing her anger. She knew his story now. He’d done it for his father. God, what we do for our fathers. And because of them. “Do you think you could ask him if he knows what happened to my father? I don’t want to put you in a bad position, but I’d really appreciate knowing.”
Rath said, “We think he’s probably dead. If we had confirmation of that, we could go home.” He put his hand on the back of her neck. “She could let go of her search, which is putting her in danger, and grieve him.”
Pablo nodded, the obligation and love of family clear on his conflicted face. He sent a text. “I ask him in code if he’s alone and away from the house.” A few seconds later, the text tone sounded. “He says go ahead.”
She held up her phone with the photo, and Pablo took a picture and sent it, along with his message.
They waited. Pablo poured their coffees, handed the cups to them. They took their time pouring in cream and sugar, and Rath, pointing south down the beach, affecting the stance of a casual visitor peppering the local with questions.
Still, nothing.
“We should probably move along,” Rath said meaningfully.
“Does this happen?” she asked Pablo. “That he suddenly stops answering mid-conversation?”
“Si. Someone walks up or he’s called away. Maybe the photo didn’t go through. I’ll try him again later. I don’t want to send more texts in case there are others around. He says they don’t have much privacy at the house, that maybe there are cameras around. Always on guard.”
Rath passed the man a napkin. “Here’s my number. If you get an answer, we’d appreciate it if you could let us know. No matter what the news is.”
Pablo nodded, and Rath thanked him and led her away.
“We could stay nearby—”
“No, Neesa, we don’t want to cast any suspicion. The guys at two o’clock smoking over there have been watching us.”
He wrapped his arm over her shoulders, and they walked casually down the beach to the rocks again. She held everything in until they’d left the men far behind, and then she crumpled against his chest. “My father’s a lying murderer! You were right. I wanted you to be wrong so bad, but he’s everything you thought he was.” She saw no gloating on his face, only compassion. “He put those men in the line of fire over a lie, Rath, and a soldier died! And I’ll never be able to ask him anything or even yell at him because he’s probably…probably gone.”
The grief swallowed all the months of worry and fear of finding out just this news. She let it come, feeling Rath’s arms closing around her, pressing her close against his chest.
“I’m sorry, Neesa. I wanted to be wrong. For you, I wanted it to be different.”
“You were right. He sabotaged the relationship between the U.S. and El Martillo just for his need for revenge. And he put me in danger, not intentionally, but here I am, his stupid daughter naively hoping for the best because I believed in him!”
“Oh, babe,” he soothed, “I’m sorry I said all that.”
“I believe in the wrong people, Rath.” She looked up at him through her teary eyes. “Time and again.”
He let out a long breath, gently rubbing the tears from her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t stop doing that. Someday you’ll find people worthy of your devotion.”
“Like you,” she said, pressing her forehead against his chest.
“Someone better than me, Neesa.”
He was being self-deprecating, of course. Because right now he felt like the only person she could believe in besides Kiersten. But beneath all of the betrayal and anger at her father, the idea of him being dead hurt the most.