Текст книги "Crazy Ever After"
Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Heat swelled inside her, and her fingers tightened around each other. “Well, thank you very much,” she said, unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. “I guess you’re happy now that you got what you wanted.”
His smile faded. “I wouldn’t exactly describe my mood as happy.”
She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Whatever. You got what you wanted.”
“I should have known you’d be pissed off.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his shoulders hunched up.
Her stomach tightened, and her hands tightened their grip on each other.
“I included you in decision making,” he continued, his voice a dark rasp. “I acknowledged that you have a role to play in the company. I acknowledged that you have contributions to make. Just because you didn’t get the CEO title, you’re acting like a spoiled brat again.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Spoiled brat!” She almost wanted to spit as she searched for words. “Spoiled brat! Aaargh!”
His eyes narrowed. “Come on, Samara. I did what I had to do.”
Impotent fury welled up inside her, and she fought for control rather than picking up a paperweight and flinging it at his head. “Of course you did,” she said through clenched teeth. “And of course you’re treating me like a child again.”
“I’m not...”
“Just go away,” she snapped, swiveling her chair to face the computer. “I have work to do.”
“Samara...”
She shook her head, jaw clenched, and focused on the screen.
He sighed. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll talk later.”
Yeah, right.
When the door closed behind him, she sagged in the chair. She rested her elbows on the desk and held her head. Her eyes burned.
She never should have slept with him. She’d known it was a mistake, and she’d had the crazy faint hope the last few days that maybe something was developing between them that was more than hot sex, like she’d told him. Her own feelings for him were deep and powerful, but she’d tried to not to show that to him, not so soon, and thank Godfrey she hadn’t.
Sure they’d said they’d keep things separate. She’d told him she still intended to try to get the other executives to see that she should be the one to step into her father’s shoes. He hadn’t denied that he was still feeling the same way. So why did it hurt so much that he’d taken control in that meeting and so easily taken that away from her?
Had she been foolishly thinking that because they were sleeping together he’d step aside and let her lead the company?
Surely she wasn’t that stupid.
She lifted her head and shoved her hair back, blinking her stinging eyes. No, she wasn’t stupid, but she was in love, and she’d let herself get all soft and hopeful and...stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow its frantic beat, trying to relax her tense muscles. Her bottom lip quivered, and she sank her teeth into it.
Okay. It had been an epic fail to get involved with Travis. She should have known no good could come of it when they were locked in a battle for control of the company. Her heart fluttered a little, though, remembering being with him, remembering how much she’d wanted him, how much she cared about him.
Stop. She had to stop those thoughts. She’d made a mistake, but now she’d had a little slap in the face, and she was back to reality. Travis was still ambitious and determined to take over. He’d thrown her a bone by letting her be involved. Fine. She would show him. She’d show them all she knew what she was doing. She’d build that frickin’ traceability system. She’d save them all kinds of frickin’ money. And she’d go to frickin’ Matagalpa and find out what her father had been doing there. She’d finish it and make the company more money that way.
This battle wasn’t over yet.
Chapter Sixteen
Samara handed her passport and declaration forms over to the Matagalpan customs official, and he eyed her carefully before turning to his computer screen. He took his time, clicking through various screens, looking at her, then back at the monitor.
“The purpose of your trip?” he asked in lightly accented English.
Samara hesitated. “Business,” she finally said. “I import coffee.”
He nodded. “Cedar Mill Coffee Company.”
How did he know that? Apparently her life was an international open book. Whatever. She had nothing to hide. “Yes.”
He typed something into the computer, paused, then typed again. He finally stamped her passport and handed it back to her. Without a smile, he said, “Enjoy your stay in Matagalpa.”
She tucked her passport into her bag and walked through to the baggage claim area to find her lone suitcase. Once she had that, she cleared the last part of customs, stopped at the rental car kiosk to get her car keys, and strode out of Santa Anjelita International Airport, into a thick blanket of muggy heat. It was the rainy season in Matagalpa, but at the moment, the sun shone brightly, the temperature probably about eighty degrees. She shoved her long hair back, feeling it turn to frizz in the humidity, anxious to get to her hotel and have a shower. It had been a long trip from Portland, with a five hour layover in Houston before the flight to Santa Anjelita.
It had been years since she’d been to Matagalpa, and the last time she’d been there, her father had accompanied her. She’d been traveling after finishing college and had thought nothing of trekking through Central American countries alone, but now she was acutely aware that, although this country was incredibly beautiful and the people extraordinarily friendly, the political unrest and violence were always there.
Broad daylight made things seem safer as she drove the busy streets to the Corazon Palace hotel, not far from the airport. She loved this hotel, reminiscent of a Spanish villa with its creamy stucco, arched windows and red tile roof surrounded by lush greenery and flowers. The security gate she had to stop at also made her feel safer.
The valet took her car, and she checked in, her last minute internet reservation having thankfully worked then finally dragged herself and her suitcase into her room. The hotel was five stars, luxurious and cosmopolitan. She’d stayed there with her father and had loved it so had booked her room there. Besides, she didn’t know anywhere else, and this was a safe and comfortable place.
This was where he’d been staying before he’d died. This was the hotel whose staff had packed up his belongings and shipped them home, including the valuable laptop. Could she find who was responsible for that and thank them?
Maybe later.
A shower was the first thing she wanted, so she unzipped her suitcase, found her toiletry bag and headed into the spacious bathroom. The marble floor cool beneath her bare feet, she dropped her bag onto the stone counter next to a trio of creamy candles. Arched windows above the marble sink gave a view of the Tipcualpo volcano in the distance.
A lukewarm shower washed away the sweat and travel dirt she felt coating her body, and she emerged into the dim hotel room with a thick towel wrapped around her body, damp hair hanging down her back. She pulled the curtains and let the sun light up the room with bright afternoon warmth, spilling across the carpet in a glowing rectangle, illuminating the golden sateen fabric on the chairs.
She sat on the bed covered in a white puffy duvet and worked a brush through her wet hair. What would her first move be? She knew she had to find Javier Alvarez. She was going to have to drive to Ciudad Lupita to find him. Through the jungle. Alone.
Her stomach tightened, and she willed herself to relax. There was no point in being afraid. She’d always been alone, and that’s the way she liked it. She’d been here before, had a sense of the lay of the land, and was quite capable of doing what needed to be done. She didn’t need anyone else.
She gathered her damp hair into a ponytail at her nape then released it and blew out a breath. Tomorrow she’d head to Ciudad Lupita. Right now, it was too early for dinner, so after blow drying her hair and dressing in a cotton sundress, she went for a walk. She strolled the lush gated grounds, past the turquoise swimming pool where other guests sunbathed on white lounge chairs, beneath the spreading Schefflera trees and along the paved walk through ferny Jacarandas and exotic flowers she didn’t know the names of.
She pushed away thoughts of Travis and the expression on his face when she’d refused to talk to him and had retreated to her bedroom alone, with the door locked. She shook her head at her own contrariness and her disappointment when he’d let her go so easily. Damn him.
Her heart ached, but she resolutely straightened her shoulders. She’d known she and Travis had no future together since that night seven years ago. It had been a mistake to get sexually involved with him. Yet, she couldn’t regret it. It had been the most amazing sex of her life. No, it had been more than that. Much more.
Thinking of things like that led nowhere, so she took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent of damp earth and greenery, and returned to the pool area. She found an empty chair and nudged it into the shade. Her fair skin wasn’t made for the tropical sun of Matagalpa, and at this higher elevation, it was even more dangerous. She’d packed sunscreen but hadn’t put any on before she’d left her room.
She leaned back and tried to relax, the voices of kids playing in the pool and splashing water blending into the background as she closed her eyes. But a few moments later, a feeling like she was being watched had her eyes popping open. She looked around.
Nobody was paying any attention to her. A hotel employee in black pants and white shirt was stacking thick white towels on a shelf. Families laughed and played in the water. Other people stretched out on chairs baked in the sun. Only one man there was dressed, as was she, and he sat on a stool near the bar. He held a glass lightly in one hand and said something to the bartender then laughed. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, and he wore beige khaki pants and a blue polo shirt.
She watched him, and sure enough, he turned his head. Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, she knew he was looking at her. She dropped her lashes but didn’t move, trying to appear unaware. He was an attractive man, dark haired, with a tanned complexion and a hard body, but she certainly wasn’t there to pick up men.
She lowered her own sunglasses from where she’d pushed them to the top of her head and watched him surreptitiously. After a few moments, he finished his drink, stood and left the pool area.
She breathed out a long breath. There’d been something about him, about the way he’d looked at her that made her uneasy, but that was crazy. He was just some guy probably looking for some female companionship, and she was the only woman there alone.
Alone. Again, that feeling twisted inside her, and she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes again. Why did she keep getting these little pangs of anxiety? She was more than capable of fending off advances from a stranger if she had to, perfectly able to look after herself.
Alone was the theme of the day. She was the only person dining solo in the plush hotel restaurant, and she ate quickly, wishing she’d ordered room service. As she passed by the bar, she hesitated. She could be alone in her room, or she could be alone in a room full of strangers.
She chose the room full of strangers, at least for a while, and wandered in to the bar. She sat in a leather club chair at a small round table and picked up the menu. A martini sounded perfect.
When the waiter approached her, his olive face lighting up with his broad smile, she requested the martini, and he nodded and disappeared.
She leaned back in her chair and let her eyes move around the bar. A group of men sat at a table in the corner, wealthy businessmen from the looks of them, talking and laughing. A couple at the table next to her held hands and made lovey eyes at each other. Samara looked away. Then her gaze fell on the man she’d seen earlier at the pool. She frowned.
He was obviously a guest at the hotel, and it wasn’t surprising he’d be there in the bar too. Now he was no longer wearing sunglasses, she could see his sharp cheekbones and deep-set dark eyes. He had an air of strength and danger about him that made her shiver.
She tried to ignore him but was acutely aware he was watching her too. Oh, for Godfrey’ss sake, this was crazy. She drained her martini glass, the strong alcohol tracing a fiery trail down inside her, tossed some pesos on the table to cover the bill, and rose to her feet. If she was going to be all wimpy and freaked out by a guy looking at her, she’d be better off in her room, making her plans for tomorrow.
She hurried across the vast lobby, her flip-flops thwapping on the marble floor in a rapid rhythm. She stabbed the elevator button with her forefinger, then stood there waiting.
“You should go home.”
She started and whirled around, a hand going to her throat. It was the man who’d been watching her in the bar. Her heart tapped in her chest as she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You should go home,” the man repeated. His brows drew down over deep-set eyes. He didn’t smile. “Whatever you’re doing here, you need to leave. Trust me.”
He turned and walked away. Samara’s breath seemed stuck in her chest. The elevator doors slid open, and she stumbled in and pressed the button for her floor then the button to close the doors. Close, close, please close. She half expected the stranger to follow her into the elevator, and panic clawed at her insides.
But he didn’t. She made it safely to her room, where she locked and bolted the door.
* * *
Travis could have chewed up rocks and spit them out. Fury boiled inside him as he waited to disembark the Airbus on the tarmac at Santa Anjelita airport. He’d been fighting it the entire trip from Portland, but now he was only minutes away from seeing Samara, and it had surged up inside him again.
What the fuck did she think she was playing at, jumping on a plane and coming to this crime-ridden country all alone? Jesus Christ! He rubbed his aching jaw.
Passengers began moving slowly off the plane, and he resisted the urge to shove them out of his way, his body humming with pent-up energy as he inched his way down the aisle, down the stairs and across the tarmac into the terminal.
He’d tried to tell her not to come here, but as usual, she hadn’t listened. He was going to have to tell her the goddamn truth now, and who knew what kind of trouble that was going to get them into.
Shit.
After impatiently clearing customs and grabbing his luggage, he strode to his rental car and tossed the suitcase in. He’d only been to Matagalpa once before, back in the days before he and Parker had teamed up as partners. He’d enjoyed traveling and meeting the growers, but that had been Parker’s area, and he’d left him to it. Santa Anjelita was much more developed than he remembered, with tall buildings defining the skyline on the outskirts of the city. Funded by drug money, no doubt. Travis frowned.
He assumed Samara would stay at the same hotel Parker had, and he hoped he was right.
He was. The front desk clerk confirmed she was a guest there but, of course, wouldn’t give her room number. Then his optimism took a punch when the clerk said, “She went out early this morning and hasn’t returned yet.”
Travis turned away from the reception desk, trying to focus. Had she already gone to Ciudad Lupita?
He rubbed his chest. Was he having a heart attack? No, he was too young for that, surely. It was Samara. She was going to kill him, for Chrissake. If she didn’t get herself killed first.
He longed for a shower and a bed after traveling over twelve hours, but dammit, now he had to get back in that car and drive all the way to Alvarez’s farm. He tossed his suitcase into the room with barely a glance at the palatial accommodations then descended back to the sumptuous lobby. Jesus, this place was mind-boggling. He crossed the gleaming marble floor toward the front entrance, past thick white columns supporting a soaring arched ceiling, and guests sitting on elegant chairs grouped around mahogany tables. He headed toward the valet stand to ask them to bring his car and came face to face with Samara.
He stopped short and stared at her.
She stared back.
His breath froze in his throat. Her face was so pale the faint golden freckles on her nose stood out, and her eyes blinked at him rapidly. She thrust a trembling hand through her thick auburn hair. Relief surged through him that she was okay, followed by a white hot blast of returning fury.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Chapter Seventeen
He reached out and curled his fingers around her upper arm and started walking to the elevator, almost dragging her along with him.
“What’s wrong, Samara?”
“Nothing’s wrong, other than you manhandling me across the lobby.” She tried to wrench away, but he tightened his grip on her. “What are you doing here, Travis?”
He paused in an alcove off the lobby and glared down at her. Hoo, he looked pissed. Her insides fluttered. Her nerves already thrummed like a live wire. She didn’t need this on top of everything else. She dug deep for control.
“I came to find you, what else?” he muttered. Now both hands clasped her upper arms, and he held her like that, as if he wanted to shake her. The heat radiating off his body scorched her. “What the hell were you thinking coming here by yourself?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m here on business.”
“What the fuck business are you here on?” Now he did give her a little shake. “I told you there was no point in pursuing that crazy idea. Why can’t you just listen to me?”
She stared back at him, her long bangs falling across her eyes, but she couldn’t reach up to push them aside because he restrained her arms so tightly.
“And why are you looking like you just got mugged or something?” His eyes widened. “Samara.”
“I didn’t get mugged.” She swallowed, not wanting to tell him what had happened to her since she’d arrived. “I’m fine. I told you I can look after myself.”
“This country isn’t safe for a woman on her own,” he ground out. “Jesus, Samara, I could just put you over my lap and spank your ass.”
Her insides went hot and liquid at his words, and her legs went weak. Luckily he was holding on to her so tightly. A shaft of intense longing speared through her. Oh, god. Oh, god. Imagining his hand on her ass had her burning up with feverish need.
She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily.
“Why do you keep treating me like I’m a stupid child?” she said through gritted teeth.
“Because you keep acting like a stupid child!”
They glared at each other.
“Really? Are we going to do this here?” he asked. “Come on. Let’s go to your room.”
He released one of her arms, slid his hand down the other into hers, and gripped it tightly. He started walking—make that marching—toward the elevator.
“Travis.”
“Just wait,” he muttered. She scurried after him, because if she didn’t he’d drag her into the elevator. “What floor?”
She told him. He punched a button, and once the doors closed, he turned to her, crowded her up against the wall, and kissed her. Hard.
Her head spun. Her tummy fluttered. Her pussy ached.
Another emotion she didn’t even want to admit to floated beneath the lust– relief. Relief that he was there, that someone was there. Because she was scared.
Inside the hotel room, he kicked the door shut behind them and dragged her to the center of the room. Fisting a hand in her hair, he held her head while he kissed her again, his other arm sliding around her and pulling her against him. Her body arched into him as his mouth devoured hers, and her fingers dug into his shirt and held on, a ferocious need for him rising up inside her.
He drew back then strode to the bed, tugging her along, and sat on the edge. She stood between his spread knees, blinking down at him, heart hammering, chest lifting and falling with quick breaths. What was he doing?
His hands clasped her hips, shifted her to the side, and in a quick move she was lying across his knees. “Travis!” She lifted her head to try to wriggle away, but one arm pressed her down, and the other laid a gentle swat on her butt.
He was spanking her!
Another crack of his palm against her bottom sent a wave of heat over her body, and a broken cry tore from her throat.
“Need you bare,” he muttered, and flipped her onto her back. He deftly unfastened the button of her knee-length shorts, tugged the short zipper down and yanked them, along with her panties, down her thighs. Then he flipped her again as if she weighed nothing, and this time when his palm landed on her ass, the sting flashed through her.
“Travis!” She struggled again, but only halfheartedly because the truth was she was melting, her pussy turning molten and aching, her breasts throbbing. She complained about him treating her like a child, but this was a very grown-up spanking. A very erotic, adult spanking.
He continued to lay fiery taps on her cheeks, and her ass caught fire, heat flaring along every nerve ending. She let it consume her, her body a hot glow of pleasure and pain. The sharp, forbidden thrill of being spanked streaked through her body right to her clit.
When he stopped, she lay there over his hard thighs, face pressed to the bed, panting. His hand now stroked over her bottom, gentle, slow, and when she felt him bend and press his lips to the heated flesh, her head lifted and jerked back.
“Samara.” Her name was an agonized groan. “God, Samara, you drive me crazy.”
She closed her eyes, fought for breath, aching for him to turn her over and take her. When he didn’t, she rolled. His hands caught her and kept her from rolling to the floor. She wriggled off him, drew her tank top up and over her head, reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, and let it fall off. She lay back down and watched him.
With a low groan, he moved over her, kissed her mouth, then stood and quickly tossed off his clothes. He fell over her, his mouth on her in hungry, voracious kisses, his hands all over her, cupping her breasts, stroking her face.
Awash in a shimmer of edgy heat, her entire body burning up, she kissed him back, stroking her hands over his shoulders, over the heavy muscles and satiny skin, up and down his back, and lower to his ass, where she yanked him closer.
He moaned into her mouth then dragged his lips over her cheek and jaw. “Crazy,” he muttered. “I must be crazy.”
“Then we both are.” She turned her head on the pillow to give him access to her neck, and he licked the sensitive flesh and made her shiver with delight. Then he moved, reaching between them for the erection she couldn’t ignore, so hard and thick and hot. She loved his cock, needed it inside her, needed it now. He took himself in hand and nudged at her entrance, so shamefully wet and slick from when he’d spanked her. She didn’t even want to think about how much that aroused her or what that meant.
She parted her legs, bent her knees, and cried out when he pushed into her. He hesitated.
“No, don’t stop.” She grabbed his ass again and pulled him closer, and he sank deeper inside her, so big, stretching her in such an amazingly satisfying way. And yet, with the heat coiling inside her and tight excitement building, she needed more. Fire rippled beneath her skin, every nerve ending sparked, and exquisite pleasure bloomed inside her and spread through her body. His cock driving into her in hard strokes touched sensitive places that lit her up, and she slipped a hand between them to find her clit and add to the sweet sensations.
“Fuck, Samara.” Travis moved over her, on his elbows, sliding his hands into her hair, holding her head, kissing her mouth again and again. “You feel so good. So damn good. Hot and tight.” He kissed her. “So wet. Pulling me in.”
“Fuck me, Travis. Make me come. Please.” She was nearly there, so close, ecstasy twirling and tightening inside her, and he buried his face beside hers as he powered into her fast and hard and sent her flying. Pleasure flashed through her, her body tightened, and her fingers dug into his flesh.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Forgot...” And he came, too, in long hard pulses, her ankles hooked around his waist, his fingers tangled in her hair, his breath hot and loud in her ear.
“Samara, god, Sam, what you do to me.”
They lay like that for long moments, their skin slick with perspiration, breathing hard, hearts thundering. Oh dear lord. Never mind what she did to him; he annihilated her. Every single time.
* * *
Once again, lust had overcome good sense. Travis sighed inwardly. “We forgot to use a condom.”
“Oh.” The word was a soft sigh in his ear. After a short pause, she said, “I won’t get pregnant.”
“You’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
He rolled off her and collapsed beside her.
“I’m sorry, Samara. I know we shouldn’t have done that. I was just so...you get me so hot. I was furious at you, and relieved you’re okay. Oh yeah, and did I say, furious?” He paused while she gave a choked little laugh. “We have to get the hell out of this country and back to Portland.”
“No.”
He rolled onto his side to look at her and firmed his lips. “Do I have to spank you again? Christ, woman, you drive me crazy. Do you not realize how dangerous this is?”
“I want to finish what Dad started.”
“Samara.” He cupped her jaw forcefully and turned her face to his. “Don’t you see? There is no project here.” Then he closed his eyes briefly. “Shit. I’m going to have to tell you this. I knew I was going to have to tell you but not for this reason. Jesus.”
“Tell me what?”
He blew out a long breath. “Seven years ago your father and I had a big blowup about...something he was doing.”
“My mom mentioned something about that.”
“She did?” He frowned. “What did she say?”
“Um...she said that you two argued about it. She said that’s what you’d been talking about when I overheard you.”
He wanted to roll his eyes. Oh, yeah, that conversation. Shit.
He sat up on the bed, naked, momentarily distracted by Samara lying there also naked, beautifully naked, her perfect breasts bare, her long hair a tangle of auburn silk on the white pillow. He swallowed and tried to focus.
“She also said you thought Dad was doing something illegal.”
He sighed. “I came across some documents that led me to believe your father had gotten involved with...with a drug cartel in Matagalpa.”
“Drugs?” Her mouth fell open. Then she laughed. “That’s crazy.” She pushed herself up to sit also, distracting him yet again with her slender shoulders and arms, her naked breasts tipped with tight little nipples, her small waist. She grabbed the duvet and tucked it up under her arms.
Travis rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. You’d think. I didn’t know what to do about it, and I went to Dayna for advice. Well, she confronted Parker, and they had a big argument about it, and then he was furious at me for saying something like that to her. For even thinking he would do something like that.” Travis shook his head. “But he didn’t deny it. He just told me I should trust him and not worry about it.”
“Well, there had to be some explanation.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But he wouldn’t give it to me. There were a lot of drugs coming into the country from Matagalpa at that time. Cocaine mostly, some opium. The DEA was involved, and I think they were investigating your father. I think they thought he was smuggling cocaine into the country with coffee shipments. Nothing ever came of it, so either he stopped before he got caught...or...hell, I don’t know.”
“I can’t believe that!”
“I know, and Parker was furious that I thought that. He was even more furious that I talked to your mother about it. It was a...well, let’s just say it was a challenging time for Parker and me. It just about ended our partnership.”
Her eyes widened. “Is that why you moved to L.A.?”
“Yes.” Travis nodded, his mouth a grim line. “That’s why.”
She sat quietly for a moment, thinking, then said, “But he got over it.”
“Yeah. He did. We both did. Thank Christ. But...I’ve been worried that your dad was involved with drugs again. I think that’s why he was here in Matagalpa, and I think that may be what got him killed.”
Her brows drew down. “How can you say that? He wouldn’t have been involved with smuggling drugs. That’s crazy, Travis.”
“I know, but...he was so evasive about what he was doing here. He wouldn’t tell anyone; it was all top secret. You know, you couldn’t find anything much either in all his files. So let’s just go home, Samara, before we get ourselves mixed up in something we shouldn’t.”
“I did find something.” She lifted her chin and held his gaze. “I did.”
“What?”
She told him about the Paquita coffee bean, and all the information she’d found on her father’s laptop.
He listened. He took it in, considered it, examined it. Was it possible?
“It’s true, Travis. If we can finish that deal, it will be an unbelievably profitable deal for the company. It will make us all kinds of money.”
“Yes.” Oh, man. Oh, hell. “I don’t know, Samara. I still have a bad feeling about this. About being here.”
A flash of something in her eyes made him pause. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He gripped her chin with his fingers and forced her to look at him. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
She lowered her lashes and nibbled her bottom lip. “Well. Yesterday, this man approached me as I was getting on the elevator and told me I should go home.”
“What! Who was he?”
“I don’t know. He’s staying here at the hotel. I saw him by the pool, and I thought he was watching me. Then I saw him in the bar, and he followed me to the elevator and told me I should go home.”
“Jesus Christ!” Red hot fury surged in him again. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! How could you be crazy enough to come to a place like this on your own!”
“There’s more.” She bit her lip, peeked up at him through her lashes. “This morning, I started to drive to the Alvarez estate to find Javier Alvarez.”
“Hell. I was afraid of that. But...” He frowned. “Why’d you come back?”
