CHAPTER FIVE

 

Thomas

 

I folded the map and put it in my pocket, taking another sip of the dark, rich coffee Mariana had brewed. The first light of dawn had woken me and I'd gotten up and gone downstairs. I'd taken a moment to look at Olivia as she slept, curled into a ball, her hands under her cheek the way a child sleeps. Livvy. The vision of her that way had caught at something inside me, and I'd exited the room as quickly as possible. I wasn't a man who skirted issues, so I admitted to myself I had a weird weakness for the woman. Although I couldn't say exactly why. And seeing her in that position, soft and innocent, sent an unfamiliar buzz of guilt through my system. She was going to be hurt, eventually at least. There was no way around it.

I sighed, sitting back in my chair. The truth was, sweet or not, the woman was a damned fool. She had decided chasing after a man who'd jilted her was a worthy reason to put herself at risk. So here I was. I'd protect her body—she was responsible for her heart.

Santiago returned from the other room where he'd retrieved his keys and placed them on the table next to my plate. "You take care of my car, paisano," he said in Spanish.

I smiled, taking a sip of coffee. "You know I will." Santiago had a friend in a town near the area most affected by the earthquake, and I’d drop it off to him once we arrived there. From that point, we'd be on foot as the roads were either blocked entirely, or too dangerous to travel.

Santiago chuckled. "And you take care of your lady friend, ay?" He raised his eyebrows up and down, smiling suggestively. Damn, the sun hadn't even risen all the way, and he was already smiling. I had a feeling he smiled in his sleep. But he was someone I trusted, one of the few I did, so I only shook my head. "Business, Santiago. My lady friend is a client."

He shrugged. "Eh, things change sometimes, paisano." He eyed me. "She is yours for now. You have taken responsibility for her, no?" Before I could answer, I heard Livvy descending the stairway a second or two before Santiago's eyes moved behind me and his smile grew. "Buenos días."

I looked over my shoulder to see a sleepy-eyed Livvy coming hesitantly into the room. She was already dressed, her hair pulled into the same knot she'd had on top of her head the day before. "Buenos días," she said to Santiago before looking at me. "Sorry, I must have overslept. We were supposed to leave at dawn. Why didn't you wake me?"

"I figured another hour wouldn't hurt, and it looked like you needed the sleep. Do you want something to eat? Santiago's wife, Mariana, will make some eggs for you."

She shook her head. "Just coffee would be great."

Mariana bustled in, introducing herself and pouring Livvy a cup of coffee. Fifteen minutes later, I'd brought our backpacks down, loaded them in Santiago's car, and we said a quick goodbye. "Take good care," Santiago said, giving me an unusually solemn nod, his gaze moving to Livvy in the passenger seat then back to me.

She is yours for now.

Five days. That's how long this journey would take. That's how long this woman would be mine.

"I will," I promised, ducking into the car and pulling the door shut. I was glad I'd had the opportunity to see them. It'd been a long time.

When we pulled away, Livvy asked, "How do you know them?"

I pulled on my sunglasses as I navigated through the familiar streets. "Santiago's a family acquaintance. I rented a room from him and Mariana for six months before I left for the Navy."

"You were in the Navy?"

"Yup."

"Are you still?"

"Nope." I shifted into fourth as we pulled on to a clear stretch of highway, headed toward the small town over two hundred miles away. This was going to be the easy part of our journey and I settled back, one hand on the wheel and the other resting idly on the stick shift.

"So you, what? Just work for yourself?"

I glanced over at her, and she looked relaxed as well, her ankles crossed and her hands resting in her lap. "I work for a few repeat clients, but I prefer to be my own boss."

"Huh," she said, and when I looked at her again, her brows were scrunched up and she was chewing on those pretty lips of hers as if trying to figure out what questions to ask. We were going to be in the car together for the next three or four hours, depending on road conditions, and so I might as well save us both the twenty questions. And I supposed, as someone who'd hired me, she had some right to my résumé.

"I was a Navy SEAL for ten years. After that, I did contract work but didn't enjoy the restrictions, so I started working on my own."

"Contract work? Like government contract work?"

I shrugged. "Mostly."

"Huh," she said again. "So, you're like a soldier for hire now?"

"That's as good a way to put it as any."

"Did you get your American citizenship or how did that work?"

"I was born in Los Angeles." I fiddled with the air vent, adjusting it so it was blowing more directly at my face. "My mother moved us back to Colombia, where she was from, when I was a baby."

"But you don't have an accent."

"I worked not to. Defining characteristics you can't cover up, or hide, aren't helpful when doing government work."

"Ah." She was quiet for a minute as the scenery zipped by. "Government work." She paused. "I can see what you meant when you said you don't usually take jobs like mine. So, why did you? Why'd you agree to help a woman find her lost fiancé?"

"I'm not helping you find him. I'm taking you to him."

"You get my point."

I paused for a moment, keeping my expression blank. "I told you. I have business near Palomino. When I heard about your situation, I figured I might as well make a little extra cash since I was going there anyway."

She still had that small wrinkle between her brows when I glanced at her, but as our eyes met it smoothed out, and she released a breath. "Well, thanks again. I'm glad it worked out for us both."

"Me too," I murmured, though I wasn't sure if that was the truth.

"So, you mentioned rules we needed to discuss. What are those?"

"Pretend you're my wife in front of people, follow my instructions in any and all situations, and don't complain. That's it. Easy enough?"

There was a long pause. "Easy enough," she finally said.

"Good."

Livvy turned on the radio and flipped through the stations, finally settling on one playing vallenato, a popular Colombian folk music. "Where did you live?" she asked as she sat back.

"A town not too far from here."

"Does your family still live there?"

I glanced at her and her eyes widened before she cast them away. "Sorry. Never mind."

The hum of the engine and the music grew quieter, seemingly background noise to the loud silence that stretched between us. "My aunt, uncle, and cousins do. My mother is dead. I never knew my father."

Livvy's head swiveled. I didn't look at her but could see in my peripheral vision that she was studying me. "Oh, I'm sorry. When did your mother die? Are you close to your aunt and uncle?" She shook her head. "It's not my business, but I just thought since we're going to be spending so much time together, we might as well know each other a little bit." I glanced at her and her cheeks held a pink tinge, her expression embarrassed. "I'm talking too much, aren't I? Never mind."

I looked back at the road. I wasn't used to talking about myself. Even when I'd been in the Navy, I'd seldom shared personal information, and those were guys I would have died for in a heartbeat. Maybe it was the close confines of the car that lent an air of intimacy, or maybe I felt like I owed this woman something. In the rearview mirror, the tall buildings of the city fell away completely. Now there were only rolling green fields, trees, and a never-ending blue sky. "My mother died when I was six. I moved in with my aunt and uncle and their sons but haven't spoken to them since I left for the Navy. And trust me when I say, none of us feel a loss."

Livvy gave me a surprised glance as if she hadn't expected me to answer at all. "That's so sad," she whispered after a moment.

I shrugged. "Not really. Sometimes, you draw the short stick with family. That's just life."

Livvy crossed her legs, turning slightly. "I guess. I just . . . I was adopted and my adoptive parents died last year." She looked away and I glanced at her profile, saw the sadness in her expression, even though I couldn't see her entire face.

"Sorry about that," I said, though I'd already known that fact. I already knew a lot about the woman sitting next to me.

She turned her head, her lips curved into a sad smile. "Thank you. The truth is, we weren't especially close." She looked at her hands twisting in her lap. "They couldn't have children of their own, and sometimes I thought they adopted me as some kind of . . . status symbol." She shook her head. "They were very wealthy, and there wasn't going to be anything money couldn't buy. Including a little girl." She was quiet for a moment. "But after that, they stuck me with nannies, even during some holidays." She shot me a smile, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Anyway, they weren't unkind to me—they gave me everything money could buy—but I've always promised myself that when I married and had children, it would be different. I would create a family that was warm and loving and . . . present for the important stuff."

"And then your fiancé took that dream."

Her head turned quickly to me, her eyes wide. "Yes." She looked at her hands again. "Yes. I . . . I know you probably think I'm a total fool to go after him." She laughed softly though it held little humor. "Even my best friend thinks so. I know what I look like," she practically whispered.

"I guess love can make people take risks that aren't necessarily wise."

She furrowed her brow again. "Yes, I guess so." She tilted her head. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. I'm assuming you have a heart under all that . . . muscle mass?"

The side of my lip tugged but I shook my head. "My line of work doesn't allow for long-term relationships. I'm out of the country more often than not and there are no guarantees I'll return from a job." And frankly, I loved the adrenaline rush too much to give it up. Plus . . . "Love makes you weak," I murmured. Look where it had landed her.

I could feel Livvy's gaze boring into my profile again, and when I glanced at her, her expression was thoughtful, a little bit troubled. "But what's the alternative?"

"Steering clear."

"But don't you get . . . lonely?"

"I find company when I want it," I said, giving her a meaningful look.

"Oh. Well, yes, of course. I'm sure lots of women . . ." She waved her hand toward me. "Well, that is . . . um, you're very . . ." She waved her hand again, bringing to mind a flailing bird. "Very . . ."

I glanced at her, lifted a brow.

She swallowed, her face crimson. "Fit," she finally settled on.

"Thanks," I said dryly and she let out a small, awkward laugh. I wanted to chuckle at her discomfort—the discomfort she'd brought on herself—but I didn't.

Eventually, we chatted a bit about the countryside we were passing and after about an hour, I pulled off a side road where there was a large open area for us to stretch our legs and eat the lunch Mariana had packed. "Hopefully you don't need a restroom yet, but if you do, those trees will have to suffice," I said, gesturing to the grouping of cypress trees nearby. There wasn't a place to stop for another hour or so, and I was hungry. Livvy had to be too, since neither of us had eaten any breakfast.

"I'm good," she said. I grabbed the bag of homemade arepas de choclo and bottles of water from the backseat and we got out of the car. Livvy followed me to the front of the vehicle, and we both sat on the edge of the hood as I unpacked the food, handing Livvy one of the corn cakes and a bottle of water.

She unwrapped the wax paper and I almost expected her to wrinkle her nose in confusion or distaste at what I was sure was an unfamiliar food, but she simply brought it to her mouth, taking a big bite, chewing and humming appreciatively.

We ate in silence for a minute before Livvy squinted up at a circling hawk. "Does he see a dead body, or something?"

"You're thinking of a vulture."

Livvy laughed softly. "Hawks, vultures, what do I know? I'm a city girl."

"You're going to be well acquainted with the country after this, city girl."

She shot me a mildly amused look, but then her expression sobered. "Do you think we'll run into any trouble when we get to the earthquake and tsunami-affected areas?"

I shrugged, squinting off into the distance. "I'm going to try my best to avoid it, but it's good to be prepared."

She nodded, her brow wrinkled. "Will you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"How to defend myself. A . . . move I might use if we get into trouble."

"You don't need moves. That's why I'm here."

"I know. But, you can't keep your eyes on me every second, and well . . . you never know."

She set her half-eaten lunch on the hood of the car and turned to me. I looked her over, starting at her feet and moving my gaze slowly up her body. She was slim but womanly, and although she appeared to be in good shape, no way could she go up against any man worth his salt. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shook her head. "You're not going to hurt me. Let me practice a move or two on you."

Something told me this wasn't a good idea. Not, as I'd said, because I was worried I'd hurt her. But because getting physically close to Livvy felt dangerous, unwise. Too appealing.

"Please?"

I closed my eyes briefly. "Okay, one move and that's it."

She pointed to the grassy area in front of us. "There?"

I took a deep breath. "Sure."

I sighed as I put my food down, took a sip of water, and walked to the grassy area. I faced her, looking into her focused expression. "Grab my arms."

Her gaze went to my upper arms. She reached out tentatively, wrapping her fingers around my biceps. A small wrinkle appeared between her eyes, and she squeezed lightly. I breathed out a chuckle and her eyes shot to mine, widening. She swallowed.

"Sorry."

I felt a zing in my groin area, my stomach tightening. She was staring at me, her lips parted, her eyes filled with gravity as if this lesson was of the utmost importance. A few tendrils of hair had come loose and were framing her heart-shaped face, and she was so damn pretty. Ah fuck. This wasn't good. "Let go of my left arm, bend in, and grab me behind the leg."

She did as I said, bringing her head to my chest and reaching down. "Like this?" she asked softly, and I felt the hot gust of her breath through my T-shirt. Jesus. She was right up against me, the sweet smell of her directly under my nose, her mouth at my stomach. My body hardened everywhere. She tapped her forehead against my abdominals once, twice as if testing the solidness, and it turned me on. She was curious about my body. Exploring it, learning it.

She tipped her head, looking at me, her cheeks flushed. My mouth watered. Shit. Before she could blink, I grabbed her under the arms, flipping her onto her back so she landed on the ground, a soft whoosh escaping her mouth as the breath left her lungs. In half a heartbeat, I was right on top of her, our faces inches apart. I waited until she'd taken in a breath and forced my lips into a wolfish smile as her eyes widened. "Leave the moves to me, sweetheart."

Her expression was still arrested, but I saw the indignation enter her wide eyes and almost laughed. Almost. "That was sneaky," she whispered, her breath still sparse, her voice all breathy and soft the way it might be after she'd been kissed.

I shook my head slowly, our gazes lingering. "That was the element of surprise. But your best bet, is to knee an opponent in the nuts."

She brought her knee up quickly, but not quickly enough. I caught it in my palm, stopping it before it reached any vital organs, not being able to help the laugh that broke free. I winked. "Good try."

Her gaze was fastened on my smiling mouth, her eyes blinking then darkening. I knew what was in her expression. She was attracted to me too. Maybe she hadn't realized it until just now, but I'd seen it, felt it the minute we touched. I'd seen that flare of sexual awareness in her eyes, and it was now simmering in the air between us, thick, heavy. My expression sobered as we stared at each other. Her cheeks were flushed, and a glance down told me her nipples were hardened little points beneath her tank top. Goddammit. Just how responsive was she? As a man . . . fuck, I liked it. As a man, I'd have capitalized on that look right then and there. But as the soldier for hire who had a job to do, I knew what it meant for me: trouble.

If she didn't stop looking at me that way—sort of fascinated and confused—I would kiss her, and if I kissed her, I'd want her under me, and that . . . couldn't happen. I rolled off her, coming quickly to my feet and reached down a hand to pull her up. "Come on, we should get back on the road."

She expelled a breath that made me think she'd been holding it for minute. "Thanks for that. The . . . ah, lesson, I mean." She gave an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and then turned, putting distance between us. Thank God.