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Alina drifted in a pleasant state between dozing and wakefulness, the hot sun warming her skin as she laid back in a reclining chair. The sound of waves lapping gently against the sand a few feet away had lulled her into a relaxed state of mindlessness as a soft breeze blew in off the water. She breathed in the scent of sunbaked sand, enjoying the state of just being.
A shadow fell over her and she opened her eyes reluctantly behind her sunglasses, watching as Hawk set down a drink on the table beside her. It was in a hollowed out pineapple and had a straw and an umbrella sticking out of it.
“That's a pineapple,” she said, sitting up.
Damon settled in the recliner on the other side of the little square table and glanced at her with a grin. He set a bottle of beer next to the pineapple and shrugged.
“You told me to get you a drink with an umbrella,” he retorted. “As you can see, it has an umbrella.”
“That it does,” Alina agreed with a laugh, picking it up and stirring it with the straw. “What is it?”
“I don't know,” Damon answered with a yawn, laying back on his chair. “The bartender said it's their best-selling drink.”
“Well, who am I to argue with the masses,” Alina murmured, sipping the drink. It was pineapple and coconut and tasted like a sugary piece of heaven. “Mmmm. It's good.”
Alina sipped her pineapple and stared out over the startlingly blue water lapping at the island beach before them. It was Saturday. Raven was back at the house in Medford, where Alina would join him as soon as she and Hawk got the all clear. Harry and Charlie had hustled them out of the country as soon as Alina handed over her evidence. Charlie wanted them both out of the way while he cleaned up the loose-ends in Washington, and Alina was glad to be away from the chaos. She had intended to go to Europe and begin the tedious task of selling her safe houses and locating new ones, ones that would not go into any file, fake or otherwise, but Damon suggested the Islands instead. Viper felt guilty enough about Peru to agree, and now she was very glad that she had.
“I'm glad I let you talk me into this,” Alina said, setting her pineapple down at last and settling back on her chair. Damon glanced at her with a faint smile.
“You've earned it,” he murmured. “But I can't take all the credit. Harry was the one who suggested it.”
“Harry! Of course he did.” Alina closed her eyes behind her sunglasses.
“Here is the paper, Señor.” A resort employee appeared next to Damon, handing him a thick newspaper. “Just came.”
“Thank you.” Damon took the paper and the man headed back to the beach-front bar behind them.
Alina opened her eyes and glanced over, watching as Damon opened the New York Times and scanned the headlines. After a moment, he folded it again and passed it over to her without a word. Alina grabbed it and unfolded it, her eyes falling on the block letters:
ALEX LUDMERE DIES UNEXPECTEDLY TWO DAYS AFTER RESIGNING THE VICE PRESIDENCY
Raising an eyebrow, Alina scanned the article quickly. Ludmere had died the night before at his southern estate, the cause of death unknown.
She folded the paper again and dropped it onto the sand between the two chairs. Glancing over, she found Hawk watching her.
“Charlie?” he asked.
“It wouldn't surprise me,” she answered.
Damon nodded and settled back again on his seat, keeping his head turned toward her. Alina followed suit and they looked at each other for a moment in silence, absorbing the news. It really was over.
He reached out his hand and Alina's fingers touched his, entwining with them over the sand. She smiled slowly as their hands hung, joined, between their seats.
“Viper?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever drug me again, I'll kill you.”
“Understood.”
Damon nodded and turned his head back to the sun, closing his eyes and tightening his fingers on hers. Alina smiled and closed her eyes. The sun was hot and the breeze was cool, and there was nowhere else she could imagine being at that moment.
It was over, and they were free.
The resort employee who had taken the paper over to the couple on the sand watched them from behind the bar. After a moment, he turned away and made his way to the phone at the back. Dialing, he kept an eye on the couple and waited while the phone rang. It was picked up on the second ring.
“It's definitely him. The Hawk.”
“You're sure?” the voice on the other end demanded.
“I'm sure. I have the picture the woman in Washington sent.”
“Good. I will let the new head of the Cartel know,” the voice paused. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Of course.”
The man hung up and went back to the front of the bar, smiling at the customers and leaning forward to greet them, all the while keeping an eye on the couple holding hands between chairs on the white sands of the island beach.