Chapter Three

Charlotte

I stare out the small window of the second story bedroom of the palatial hacienda in Mexico where I’ve been held since I was kidnapped. I’m barely keeping it together. I keep reliving the horror of walking out of Kenzie’s apartment. The two burly men who grabbed me with rough hands… The knife at my throat… A rancid cloth, so sickly sweet smelling it made my stomach roll, covering my nose and mouth. Blackness. Waking up bound and in the back seat of a car as a blur of tree and signs in Spanish passed outside the window. Arriving at a beautiful mansion by the ocean and being forced at gunpoint—still bound—up some stairs and into a room with red-tiled floors and a queen-sized bed. While one of my captors had pointed a gun at me, another man with a thick accent had told me he would cut the ropes, but if I made any attempt to escape, they’d put a bullet in me. I believed them.

I remembered enough Spanish from high school to understand some of their conversation. They thought I was McKenzie, and I was going to be kept there until someone they called El Gato arrived, which could take a week or a month. My Spanish was too rusty to know for sure. But they were clearly with the drug cartel.

Panic and fear simmer just below the surface, threatening to bubble over. What are they going to do with me? To me? Hold me for ransom to recover the money Liam took for the guns he never delivered, thinking I’m McKenzie? Expect me to lead them to the guns? Demand I return the money—or take it back in trade? Kill me, thinking I’m her, in retribution?

Oh God.

So far, they’ve left me alone. But for how long? As soon as El Gato gets back… A sob hitches in my throat as I imagine the worst. All my life I’ve been careful and cautious and planned everything down to the nth degree to keep my life under my control. I’ve been the good girl, the responsible one, the one who takes care of the details and doesn’t do anything crazy. And where did that get me? Kidnapped and held hostage in Mexico while my friends are out having amazing sex and exciting adventures. I remember the guy Gemma thought I should hook up with on the beach who I turned down, not wanting to become a statistic in Mexico. The joke’s on me. Despite all my cautiousness, I’m about to become a statistic in Mexico anyway.

Everything I thought mattered, doesn’t. Even my ten-year plan seems ridiculous now. I’m probably not even going to be alive in ten days, much less ten years! I’ve spent my whole life planning, doing the right thing, trying to control it all, waiting for…what? Nothing. I’m going to die, and it’s all been for fucking nothing!

Hot tears of anger coupled with fear and hopelessness well up in my eyes, threatening to overwhelm me. I swipe my hand across my eyes. Stop it! I tell myself firmly. Crying won’t keep me alive. I force myself to take a deep breath. Think, Charlotte.

Unless I was unconscious longer than I think, it’s been four days since I was kidnapped. Plenty of time for someone to miss me, at least in theory. But who? McKenzie’s in Malaysia, and given the time difference and her busy having the best sex of her life in paradise with Noah, we haven’t talked much. It could be awhile before she figures out I’m not answering my phone, and even then, what is she going to do from halfway across the world? Gemma and Walker should be back from San Francisco today, but it will probably be a day or so before they realize I haven’t been answering the phone or showing up for appointments at Tying the Knot, especially since they too seem to have some sort of blossoming relationship. And even when they do realize I’m missing, how will they even know where to begin to look? I’ve watched enough TV crime shows to know that the colder the trail is, the harder a person is to find.

No one’s coming for me. The realization hits me like a sucker punch. No one’s going to rescue me. Just like when I was a kid.

My breath slows and my surroundings recede as a sense of calm and resolve washes over me. Of course. I know better than anyone not to sit around waiting to be rescued. I will have to rescue myself. Just like I did when I turned eighteen and left home without a backward glance. But this time, it’s going to be different. I’m going to be different.

I pace the small room, becoming more resolved and empowered with each step. If I get out of here alive, I’m going to live my life differently. I’m going to mix up my spices instead of organizing them alphabetically. I’m going to go into work late because I was out until 3:00 a.m. the night before, or hell, I’m going to skip work entirely. Every chance I get, I’m going to get drunk and travel and have crazy sex and crazier adventures. I’m going to…to bungee jump and travel to Italy. If I live, I’m going to be so busy having fun, I’ll never be the one left behind again. Liam may be dead, but I’m going to carry on his motto. I will never again underestimate the power of fuck it.

The sound of male voices speaking rapidly in Spanish in the courtyard below brings me back to reality. The only way I’m going to do all of that is if I get out of here alive. And I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to do that. There’s an armed guard on patrol outside my room twenty-four hours a day. Even when they bring me food, one of the cartel members is there, his hand resting lightly on the pistol to remind me not to bolt. I’m sure Walker will move heaven and earth to save me once he realizes I’ve been kidnapped, but it might be too late by then.

I glance out the window again. I can see the guard who’s about to take over the evening shift talking to the tall Mexican with mirrored sunglasses and a machine gun strapped to his hip that paces the courtyard below me during the day. This guy’s more muscular, but somehow less imposing looking than the guard who’s here during the day, and a bit of a Casanova, judging by the way I see him flirt with the female staff during his watch. If I can figure out how to escape out the window, maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be distracted long enough for me to slip by him undetected. There’s the guard station to somehow get past, but the new me decides I’ll worry about that when I get there. Right now, I need to find a way out the window. It’s a long way down to the courtyard—too far to jump.

Suddenly inspired, I strip the sheet off the bed and with the small blanket and single meager towel they’ve given me, tie them together to make a rope. But even before I tie one end to the bedpost, I can see it’s barely long enough to extend more than a foot out the window. Frustrated, I sink down on the bed, trying for the hundredth time to figure out a way to escape.

I eventually drift off to sleep. I dream of Liam, a dream so real I can smell him, feel the slight roughness of his fingers as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and caresses my face tenderly, saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The words jolt me awake in the dark, my heart thundering in my chest as I realize a man’s hand is covering my mouth. The voice was Liam’s, but the man straddling me looks nothing like him, and I realize it was just a dream. In the thin beam of moonlight shining through the window, I can make out longish hair, the top of it pulled back, and a full beard.

Panic claws its way up my throat, closing off my airway. I realize, with a sense of dread, that it’s too late for my epiphany. I’ve blown it. I’m never going to have a chance to be the rebel, the carefree one.

I know what’s about to happen. I’m about to be raped or killed or both. I don’t know if El Gato, whoever the hell he is, gave one of his men permission to use me however he wanted, or if some cartel member decided he’d just take advantage of me. It doesn’t matter. But I’m not going to make it easy for him.

Driven by terror coupled with an instinctive will to survive that has always served me well, I thrash violently on the bed, trying to wrench myself free of my captor’s grasp. But he has an iron grip, and he’s straddling my body on the bed, pinning my arms at my sides with his knees. My body bucks desperately, trying to throw him off, my feet kicking uselessly. Tears of frustration at my helplessness threaten to spill. I want to scream, to tell him I didn’t make it this far to be broken now, but with his hand still firmly pressed over my mouth, my cries remain strangled in my throat. I’d lost the battle before it even started.

Icy fingers of fear slowly close around my heart, crushing the breath out of me as reality sinks in. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself away to anywhere but here in my mind, a trick I learned when I was younger to distance myself from the fights—my father’s voice raised in anger, my mother’s pleas, the sickening thud of a fist meeting soft flesh. My attacker may do what he wants with my body, but he’s not going to touch my mind, and I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I’m just going to go to my happy place where nothing can touch me.

Playa del Carmen. Liam’s handsome face smiling down at me as I lie on a beach chair. The heat of his thighs touching mine as he sits next to me, a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. His strong, competent hands on my bare, sun-warmed skinned, turning every bone in my body to molten liquid.

“Open your eyes.” My attacker is rubbing my shoulder, and his voice, firm and insistent, sounds like Liam’s. I squeeze my shut eyes tighter, trying to concentrate.

“Dammit, open your eyes, Charlotte!”

I respond to the command against my will. The moon has moved, and I can make out the man’s face looming over me, although it’s still too dark to see his features clearly. “There you go.” White teeth gleam, and for a moment, I see Liam in his smile. But Liam’s dead. The resemblance is nothing but a figment of my imagination.

Thanks to a minor in psychology, I know exactly what’s going on. I’m hallucinating, probably as a result of lack of sleep combined with the constant fear I’ve felt since I was kidnapped in Charleston. Of course. It’s my mind’s way of dealing with the trauma. I’ve conjured up the image of Liam, or maybe I transposed him onto my would-be attacker. Although why the hell my imagination would give him that ridiculous long hair and scruffy beard is beyond me.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth now.” He speaks slowly and carefully, like I’m a mental patient. “I know you probably have a million questions, but if we’re going to get out of here alive, you have to be quiet, okay?”

I nod again.

“Shh,” he warns as he slowly removes his hand from my mouth. He watches me closely, and after a minute, satisfied that I’m not going to scream, he climbs off me. I kick him as hard as I can in the groin. With a muttered curse, he doubles over. Seizing my opportunity, I scramble off the bed and make a beeline for the door. I’d rather take my chances with the guard than stay in this room and be raped. Hell, maybe he is the guard. I make it five steps before he tackles me, his arms banded around me softening my fall as my body hits the hard tile floor with a bone-jarring thud. I struggle again wildly, but he holds me tight.

“Charlotte! It’s me. Liam.” Cupping my chin firmly in his hand, my assailant forces my gaze to his. “Look at me!” Familiar blue eyes stare back at me. It can’t be. Liam’s dead. I went to his memorial service. I cried over the scent of him on a bandana what seems like a lifetime ago.

I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Liam was killed during an explosion in Pakistan rescuing an aid worker.”

He stares at me for one long minute, then places his palms firmly on either side of my face and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that lays claim to a woman, and it levels me, just like it did in Mexico. There’s no denying that immediate familiar and unmistakable jolt of chemistry that had first scared the shit out of me, then made me believe that maybe I’d been wrong about everything. He’s not a figment of my imagination.

“It really is you,” I breathe.

That take charge, dominant, alpha-male stuff, along with that cocky grin coupled with the dark look in his eyes, is undeniably Liam. I stare at him as reality sinks in. Liam’s alive. Liam, who introduced me to pleasure beyond my wildest dreams and told me he loved me and would come back for me. Liam, who let everyone believe he was dead.

Thanks to Liam, McKenzie’s life is in danger, Walker’s barely been able to function, taking a leave of absence trying to prove Liam didn’t sell guns to the cartel, and I’ve been heartbroken and kidnapped. And all this time, he’s been alive, blithely going about his business in Mexico? Not to mention, he just took five years off my life making me think I was about to be raped and killed. “You bastard,” I hiss. “Get the fuck off me!”

He shoots me an incredulous look, but he doesn’t make a move to release me. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re a fucking bastard.”

“You’re right. How dare I rescue you from a drug cartel? That was a really shitty thing to do.” The asshole is actually grinning at me. He shakes his head. “Damn. I knew I should have gone with the white horse and the dramatic entry.”

“You’re a liar. You let everyone think you were dead. We mourned you, and you were alive this whole time?”

“Look, it’s a long story,” he says.

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it in the dark. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Do you know how many nights McKenzie cried for you? Or that she almost got killed trying to complete your bucket list, just to feel closer to you?” There’s no way I’m admitting to him that I’d cried for him, too, or that what was just a one-night stand to him had rocked my whole world.

He has the good grace to look ashamed, and I feel a stab of satisfaction at the pain and regret that flashes across his face, even if it’s not for me. But the look is gone in an instant, replaced by his game face, the one I imagine he uses when he’s trying to rally his SEAL team. My body responds instinctively. Damn him. There’s nothing sexier than a man with unbridled confidence and a take-charge attitude.

“Look, I’ll explain later. But if you want to get out of here alive, you’re going to have to trust me.”

He’s right. He’s a Navy SEAL commander, a good one, and there’s no one I’d trust more to save my life. My heart is another story. “Fine,” I say. “But this isn’t over.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Ignoring the way my stomach quivers at the dark innuendo in his voice, I let him help me to my feet.

“Is McKenzie here?” His voice is calm and businesslike, and it steadies me.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t think so. They thought I was her. I was leaving her apartment when they kidnapped me.”

His eyes rake over my fully-clothed body, and for a millisecond, I feel self-conscious. I’m still wearing the jeans and tank top I wore over to McKenzie’s apartment, and I haven’t showered or brushed my hair since then. There’s a toilet and sink in the room, but nothing else, and while I’d been given a threadbare towel and dingy bar of soap, I’ve been too afraid to take my clothes off and shower. I always take pride in looking put together. It’s like my armor against the world, but I suddenly feel naked and vulnerable. I mentally shake my head. Fuck it. That Charlotte is gone, and in her place is the new badass version who’s going to save herself. Okay, maybe with a little help. “Let’s go,” I say.

“Get your shoes.” He sounds like a drill sergeant now, and I instinctively respond. “You have anything else?”

I shake my head. I haven’t seen my handbag since the two thugs grabbed me, but they hadn’t searched me, and Liam’s passport with his bucket list tucked into the back is still in my back pocket. I don’t have anything else, except for McKenzie’s necklace. They hadn’t taken it. I was still wearing it when I came to, and I’d taken it off and slipped it into my pocket so they wouldn’t decide to keep it after all.

With his finger to his lips cautioning me to be quiet, he slowly opens the door. He looks around and then grabs my hand, pulling me out into the night. I carefully disengage my hand from his. I don’t know what the protocol is for a one-night stand who dies and then reappears, or what to do with the sizzling charge of electricity that still flows through me every time we touch.

We tiptoe down the stairs. He gestures for me to wait as he scans the courtyard, then motions me to follow him. As we move through the shadows, I notice the limp body of the armed night guard who has been stationed outside of my room for the last three days. He’s lying naked on a chaise lounge near the pool, his hands folded over his privates and a hibiscus flower tucked behind his ear. I suppress a smile. “What did you do to the guard?” I whisper.

He shoots me a quick grin. “Just making him pretty for the maids.”

It’s hard to stay mad at Liam.

We stop once, and Liam pulls out a wicked-looking knife and cuts the thick, long length of rope used to anchor the pool furniture, quickly coiling it and attaching it to his belt loop with a carabiner clip before urging me on again. We snake our way down a palm tree-lined path, eventually emerging in front of the palatial house.

“Let’s go,” I urge, headed toward the short fence that surrounds the house.

He grabs my arm, stopping me. “It’s an electric fence. I’ve disabled it. Hopefully.” He flashes me another grin. “But I’d better make sure.”

He unbuttons his jeans, and in the moonlight, I can see the arc of urine as it hits the fence. I look away. The last thing I need right now is to catch a glimpse of his package. It’s probably not as impressive as I remember anyway.

Nothing happens. “All clear,” Liam says.

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “What if it hadn’t been disabled?”

He grimaces. “Then I wouldn’t have had to worry about what to name my unborn children. But I don’t plan to have any, so it wasn’t too much of a risk. Come on.”

I balk, imagining electricity sizzling through me. “Wait, why don’t we go down the driveway—”

With a sigh of exasperation, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I’m too busy fuming over his bossy manhandling of me to realize we’ve stepped over the fence, unscathed, until he sets me down on the other side.

“Oh.” We’re standing at the edge of the rock wall. I peer over the edge. I’m terrified of heights, and even in the dark, I can see it’s a good fifty-foot drop to the ground below. I take a step closer to him. “Now what?”

“Now we find a way off the wall.”

Oh hell no. “Wait!” I say quickly. “How did you get here?”

“I swam.”

“Let’s do that then.”

“Sure.” His eyes travel slowly over my body, and he smiles lazily. “It’s a couple of miles, and you’ll have to take your clothes off so they don’t weigh you down. Don’t worry. I have a Ziplock bag to keep them dry.”

Oh God. There is something seriously wrong with me. My stomach is lurching with arousal from the look he’s giving me. I should be thinking about survival instead of how sexy he looks.

“I’m not a strong swimmer,” I admit. And the thought of swimming in the black ocean while God knows what swims beneath me seems almost worse than taking my chances jumping off a fifty-foot wall. Neither option seems great. “What if we—”

“Exactly who’s rescuing whom?” His voice holds a hint of amusement. “Let’s go. We’re doing this my way.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course we are,” I mutter.

He chuckles softly and grabs my hand. We inch carefully along the wall for a few minutes and then he stops. “This will work,” he says. There’s a tall, sturdy palm tree, and I watch as he quickly and expertly starts looping the rope around its trunk.

“Are you sure this is a better plan than mine?” There’s an edge of panic to my voice.

He stops tying the rope long enough to tilt my chin up with his forefinger. “Scared?”

“I…no!”

His gaze softens. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby.”

The words bring back a flood of memories better left forgotten. I don’t say anything else as he continues tying knots and then steps into the makeshift harness he’s fashioned. “You ready?”

I’ve done enough rock climbing at the gym to know you need a belayer, although I don’t know exactly how that’s supposed to work here. “Are you going down first?”

He laughs softly and yanks me to his chest. “No, sweetheart. We’re going down together. I’m not going to lose you now.”

They’re words I once dreamed of him saying. I just never imagined we’d be about to hurdle off a wall to our death in the middle of the night in the jungle when he said them.

He steps off the edge, taking me with him. I can’t decide which is more terrifying—the near freefall down or the reaction to having Liam’s strong arm wrapped around me, holding me tightly against his solid torso as he rappels down the stone wall. I am so not over him. The masculine scent of him pervades my senses, the jolt of that crazy chemistry from our bodies touching making my blood simmer.

At the bottom, he lets go of me, and we make our way through the jungle. Vines and brush scrape against us, but he goes ahead of me, taking the brunt of the jungle’s ruthlessness. Before long, we’re standing at the edge of a dark, paved road that curves along the sheer edge of cliff. A few feet away, hidden away from view by some trees, is an old sedan. He pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the passenger door, making sure I’m all the way in before closing it and walking around to the driver’s side, like we’re on a date. I suppress a slightly hysterical giggle at the ludicrousness of it all. Now isn’t the time to lose it. I’ve got to keep it together. He starts the car and inches out onto the deserted street, driving without headlights until we turn the corner and the mansion disappears from sight.