CHAPTER FOUR

 

Olivia

 

José María Córdova International Airport was somewhat large but easy to navigate, with signs both in English and Spanish. I hadn't checked my overstuffed backpack, so I didn't need to head to baggage claim. Where should I go? I'll find you, he'd said. I took a deep breath, looking around. I guess I'd just head toward the entrance of the airport and hope he was as good as his word.

I made a stop in the restroom and cleaned myself up as much as possible, smoothing water over my hair and pulling it into a neater topknot. I wasn't wearing much makeup so I wasn't smudged. I removed my cosmetic case and brushed my teeth and applied some ChapStick. Good enough. At least I felt refreshed after the long, cramped flight. I'd only ever flown first class, but apparently the money I'd paid mystery man didn't include luxuries. That was fine—I could live without luxuries for the next week or so, depending on how we traveled. Or at least that's what I'd estimated. I had no confirmation of anything from mystery man really, and yet here I was, making my way through customs in a foreign country, with no idea where I should go, only that I'd be "found."

I walked into the main terminal and headed toward the building exit. My eyes scanned the faces as I walked, looking for a tall, lean but solid figure who would certainly stand out in any crowd, especially—

"How was your flight?"

I startled, tripping over my own feet as he came up beside me, as if appearing from nowhere. He linked his arm with mine, steadying me as we continued to walk. In one smooth motion I was relieved of my backpack as he gripped it effortlessly in his opposite hand as if it didn't weigh three thousand pounds and he wasn't carrying another one on his back. "Uh, my flight was fine. Do you just materialize or what?" But I couldn't deny that a wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't alone in this strange airport in this unknown city where I didn't know a soul.

A sound came from his chest that might have been a chuckle, but when I glanced at him, there was no smile on his lips. I let my gaze linger a minute longer, taking him in in the bright fluorescent light of the airport. Without the cap, I could see his hair was black and cut short. Even without the shadows, his face was still angular lines and defined masculine bone structure, his skin bronzed as if he spent most of his day outdoors. My gaze flickered downward and back to his face. He was all . . . man, from his well-worn boots to the shadow of dark scruff on his jaw. He was attractive in a severe sort of way. Wolfish somehow. And when he glanced back at me, I couldn't decide if those pale eyes added to the harsh severity of his features, or softened him a tad. Maybe a little of both depending on his expression. Which right now, was focused and intent as he led me through the terminal.

"When did you get here?" I asked as we stepped through the doorway into the night and onto a sidewalk where people were dragging wheeled bags behind them and hugging loved ones goodbye in front of parked cars.

"Few hours ago. This way." He let go of my arm, and I immediately missed the solid press of his body, the safety I'd felt with him directly beside me. The innate feeling of loss comforted me, however. His rocklike physical presence and intense watchfulness were a little scary, but if he wasn't trustworthy, surely my instincts wouldn't have led me to feel I was safe with my arm in his grip? Then again, my instincts had proven terrible when it'd come to the man I'd been planning on marrying. Maybe they'd proven terrible. I couldn't be positive yet. Hopefully not, but . . . I glanced at the man and he was looking at me, some sort of knowing expression on his face as if he could read my thoughts. That weird shiver went down my spine again.

"I never got your name, by the way."

"Thomas." Thomas? I wasn't sure why that surprised me. It seemed like such an ordinary name and this man seemed anything but ordinary. What had I expected? Ice, or Hawk, something like that. I wondered if Thomas was even his real name, but didn't ask.

"Nice to meet you, Thomas."

His eyes tilted in my direction but he didn't respond to my nicety. "By the way, you'll be traveling as my wife if anyone asks."

My brows came together. "Your wife? Don't be silly."

"I'm never silly."

We looked at each other, his wintry eyes spearing me. I believed it. "Why?"

"Just not my style." But was that . . . bemusement I'd glimpsed in his expression before he turned away?

"I meant, why do I have to pretend to be your wife?"

"Safest that way. I can better protect you if other men know you're mine. There are different rules here, and one of them is that men respect other men's possessions."

I scoffed. "Women are possessions?"

His jaw hardened as he shot me a sharp glance. "Feminism doesn't mean shit to armed gangs and traffickers. I didn't make the rules, sweetheart, but I'm damned well going to play by them. And if you want me to do the job you hired me for, you will too."

Sweetheart? "Got it, honey bunches," I mumbled as he steered me toward a compact gray car idling at the corner of the walkway. He shot me a glance over his shoulder, that miniscule lip quirk taking me off guard again. Does he have to walk so quickly? "So how do you know so much about Colombia anyway?"

He tossed our backpacks in the open trunk, shut it, and pulled the back door of the car open. "Because this is where I'm from."

Oh. He ushered me into the vehicle and slid in next to me. In the driver's seat was an older man who looked over his shoulder and shot me a wide grin. "Hola!"

I smiled back and nodded. "Santiago, hola compadre," Thomas greeted, reaching forward and gripping the man's shoulder quickly.

Santiago pulled away from the curb, and he and Thomas began conversing in rapid Spanish. I looked out the window, watching Rionegro go by, nodding when Thomas told me we were headed to Medellín about an hour away. I'd never been to Colombia though I'd been to Mexico a few times with my parents before they'd died, but we'd always stayed at all-inclusive resorts, never leaving to tour the nearby towns or cities.

The lights of Rionegro rose in the distance, dotting the slopes of the Andes Mountains, the higher peaks a dark outline in the cobalt sky. Thomas and Santiago's conversation droned on in the background and eventually we pulled behind a non-descript gray building. Santiago got out, opening my door and offering me his hand with another of those jolly grins. I smiled back, taking his hand and stepping out into weather that felt much warmer than it had in Rionegro. Thomas glanced at me as he pulled our backpacks from the trunk, seeming to read my mind about the weather. "They call Medellín the City of Eternal Spring."

"Ah. How beautiful," I murmured, following Santiago into the building, Thomas behind me.

We entered into a back hallway and I could hear loud Spanish music coming from the room beyond. Santiago spoke in Spanish to Thomas again and Thomas nodded, gesturing toward a stairway off to the right. "Our room is upstairs."

Our room? "Okay." I started to turn toward the staircase and turned back to Santiago. "Um, gracias, señor."

He nodded, smiling again. "De nada."

Santiago and Thomas exchanged a few words, then we began climbing the stairs, the music fading as we moved higher. When we got to the second floor, Thomas said, "Second door on the right."

I opened it slowly, peering inside and finding a good-sized room with a full bed, a wooden side table, and nothing more. A fan whirled on the ceiling, circulating the muggy air. Thomas entered behind me, shutting the door. I heard the click of the lock and glanced back to see him checking it, for what I had no idea.

My heart started beating more quickly as I stared at the bed. How is this going to work?

"I'll bed down on the floor," Thomas said as if reading my mind. He set our bags down and grabbed the folded quilt at the end of the bed and one of the pillows, tossing them on the wood-planked floor. A bolt of guilt raced through me, but there was no way I was going to share that small bed with this big man. I was anxious enough about sharing the room with him, so I simply nodded.

He was checking the windows, and as he leaned and maneuvered, I glimpsed the gun in the back of his waistband, covered by his T-shirt. I tensed. It made sense he was armed, but seeing the weapon brought it home that what we were about to embark on could put us in some dangerous situations.

Apparently satisfied with whatever he'd checked, he turned to me. "There's a bathroom across the hall. It's safe enough, but I'll still stand outside while you use it just in case. Santiago owns the bar downstairs and drunks have been known to wander up here."

A bathroom across the hall? "Couldn't we have just stayed in a hotel?"

"This is a hotel."

"I meant a hotel with two rooms."

He spared me a sharp glance as he laid the blanket out and placed the pillow at the top. "I need to sit down with Santiago in the morning and draw up a map. Plus, he's loaning us his car."

"Oh." I yawned. It was late, and I'd been traveling all day. Standing there staring at the bed made me realize how exhausted I was. "I'll just"—I grabbed my bag—"use the bathroom quickly and turn in for the night. I assume we'll be leaving early?"

"Crack of dawn."

I nodded. Thomas followed me out of the door and I used the small, but clean bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth. I changed into the yoga pants and tank top I'd brought to sleep in and then exited the bathroom, feeling strange and sort of awkward. Thomas was leaning against the opposite wall and gave me a quick once-over. I swore I felt his gaze sear down my skin and when he opened the bedroom door, I fast-walked into the room. "Lock it behind you. I'm going to use the bathroom then I'll knock—three quick ones—so you know it's me."

I nodded again and sat down on the bed, biting at my lip as I waited for Thomas. A minute later he was back, knocking just as he'd said. I opened to him, walking to the bed and turning back the sheets as he locked and checked the door once more.

He went to the window and opened it halfway. "We'll never get any sleep without some air," he muttered. I was grateful. Even though I was exhausted, the room was sweltering, and the breeze from the open window circulated by the fan felt wonderful.

I turned my back so Thomas could get ready for bed. God, what did a man like him sleep in? My heartbeat quickened and my stomach gave a strange jolt. Don't think about it. "Will you turn off the light?"

I startled at the sound of his deep voice coming from below me on the floor. I hadn't heard him move. "Of course." I clicked off the light, catching the view of him lying beneath the thin blanket, his arms behind his head on the pillow. He was still wearing his shirt, but his biceps were on full display, the chiseled power of his arms causing my stomach to tighten. "Good night," I muttered, turning quickly.

There was a very short pause then that low rumble of a voice came from the darkness, "Good night, Olivia."

"Livvy."

"What?"

"My parents called me Olivia. Everyone else calls me Livvy."

I waited but Thomas didn't answer. After a minute I turned over, fluffing the pillow under my head.

It occurred to me how vulnerable I was, lying in the dark with this powerful stranger. I worked out regularly, but I wouldn't stand a chance against him—a man whose body looked like a lethal weapon. Even if I managed to scream, the music from the bar would most likely drown out any noise from above. Plus, what if I didn't have a chance to defend myself? What if he attacked me while I slept? But why would he do that? He'd get the second half of the payment only if he got me safely to Palomino. He’d be foolish if he attacked me now, or left me somewhere on my own.

I stewed on that for a moment, turning and peeking at the gray form lying still on the floor. He was turned away from me now, his big body rising and falling minutely as he breathed slowly and evenly. Something fluttered in my belly, warmth blossoming under my skin. Lying there in the dark, I was so aware of him in the room with me; the skin on the back of my neck prickled, my nipples tightening. His maleness seemed to fill the room, making it feel even hotter, more stifling.

The fan whirled, and the sheer curtains billowed in the summer night breeze, bringing with it the faraway fragrance of jasmine or something equally heady and tropical. The warm air in the room was heavy, sultry, the distant strains of a Spanish ballad finding its way through the floor, it's beat rhythmic, pulsing. This was a night for lovers, and although I was in a hotel room with a man who oozed virility, lying in this unfamiliar bed, I felt my aloneness.

I forced myself to push the melancholy away, turning my head into the slightly musty pillow and picturing Alec's face, the way he'd looked the first time I'd met him in the frozen food section of the grocery store. He'd made me laugh, we'd talked, flirted, ended up in a nearby coffee shop where we'd talked for hours as our groceries melted in our cars. My heartbeat calmed, my purpose returning in a slow trickle, and eventually, I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, pale yellow morning light was streaming through the window. I blinked around the strange room, memory dawning. When I realized where I was, I rolled over quickly, my eyes going to the floor. The blanket Thomas had slept under was folded, the pillow on top of it, and I was alone in the room.