When we arrive at the small, dusty airport, three men are waiting outside the sleek private jet. One look at them and it’s obvious they’re cartel members. Liam had hoped to avoid a meet-and-greet, but we’d nevertheless prepared for one.

Two of the men are Hispanic, one older and gray-haired and the other middle-aged. They wear crisp linen suits, and Panama hats shade their faces. The third man is white and definitely their bodyguard. Beneath a tight, black t-shirt, his bare arms ripple with overdeveloped muscles, and he’s wearing clichéd, wraparound sunglasses. His neck is also the same width as his head. As if those details aren’t enough to warn people away, the belt at his waist holds a gun on one side and a wicked-looking knife on the other.

Liam parks the car next to a gleaming silver sedan. He cuts the engine. “Let me do the talking.”

“I heard you the first ten times.”

He doesn’t smile. “I might have to touch you unexpectedly.”

I nod. “I’m not deaf, Liam. We already covered this.”

He pauses, eyeing me, then nods and exits the car. I follow, discreetly tugging down the hem of the blue bodycon dress Maria picked up for the occasion. The smell of hairspray assaults my nose as a breeze lifts curls from my shoulders. There’s so much mascara on my eyelashes that blinking is a delayed affair, and the torture devices on my feet pinch already-abused skin. Despite an hour’s worth of practice this morning, I’m still unsteady as I walk carefully toward the back of the car.

“Six inches,” I grumble as Liam rounds the trunk with our two duffel bags. “What woman in her right mind—”

“Smile, siren,” he hisses through his own fake grin.

I peel my lips back from my teeth and take his outstretched hand. “Better?”

His grin becomes genuine. With a gentle squeeze of my fingers, he guides me toward the welcoming committee. As we approach, the bodyguard lumbers forward and takes our bags. He drops them to the ground and squats to unzip and rummage through the contents.

None of us move or speak until the behemoth rises and nods to his boss. The elder man steps forward. His deep-set brown eyes linger a little too long on my legs before veering to Liam’s face.

“Mr. Rourke, a pleasure to see you again.” His voice is crisp, his English perfect.

“And you, Don Solórzano. I appreciate the timely response to my request.”

Solórzano chuckles, though his eyes stay weirdly flat. “I don’t recall you giving me much of a choice.”

Liam laughs as well. If I didn’t know him, I’d actually think it was authentic. “A favor done is a favor earned. Now we’re square.”

Solórzano glances at the younger man. Now that we’re close, I can see the family resemblance.

“Did you hear that, Mario? When you do business with the Irish, they always call in their favors. Even a decade later.”

Mario nods, then looks our way. “What if the Irishman you do business with loses his name and family? Do we return past favors then?”

My heart picks up nervous speed. I glance at the bodyguard. He hasn’t moved, but with the dark sunglasses I can’t tell if he’s looking at me or Liam. In case it’s me, I focus on maintaining my bimbo-blank expression while wondering how far I can run before he shoots me in the back.

Everything’s fine, I tell myself. Just a pissing contest.

Liam doesn’t respond to Mario’s veiled threat. He doesn’t even look at him, keeping his attention on the elder Solórzano.

Mario doesn’t like that but thankfully for us, his father thinks it’s hysterical. Solórzano claps his son on the back, still chortling as he walks toward us with his hand outstretched. Liam shakes his hand firmly, the lazy smile on his face not easing my nerves in the least.

“Don, let me introduce my girlfriend, Lizzy.”

Solórzano gives me a thorough once-over. My skin crawls like it’s covered in ants, but I manage to keep smiling.

“How do you do,” I drawl. “Gosh, your plane is just beautiful. So massive and shiny. Thanks a million for letting us borrow it.”

Liam gives my fingers a warning squeeze, but Solórzano only laughs again and tells Liam, “Ella es una muchacha magnífica. ¿Cuánto quieres?”

How much? I blink innocently while I imagine stabbing a six-inch heel through Solórzano’s neck.

Liam replies smoothly, “No he terminado con ella todavía, pero cuando estoy, te lo haré saber.”

Solórzano merely smiles. “Please do.” He turns away. “Julio, please take our guests’ luggage onboard.”

The bodyguard does as he’s told, lumbering up the narrow metal stairs to the shadowed portal. Not until he returns, two pilots behind him, do Liam’s fingers relax.

“Enjoy, Mr. Rourke,” says Solórzano graciously, waving a hand toward the stairs.

“Thank you, Carlos,” he murmurs, and shakes Solórzano’s hand a final time before tugging me toward the stairs.

I’m so relieved, I blow Solórzano a kiss. “Thanks again!” I say cheerily.

Liam’s firm hand on my back saves me from embarrassment as we ascend to the plane. The two smiling pilots step back for us to enter. Liam effortlessly maneuvers me behind him so he enters first. Whatever he sees releases the last strain of tension from his shoulders.

“Welcome señor, señorita,” says a pilot warmly. “Our flight duration to Cook Islands is just over twelve hours. Please make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the amenities.”

I look past Liam at the luxury jet’s interior, which includes fully reclinable seats and a stocked bar, atop which rests platters of fresh fruit, sandwiches, and an ice bucket housing a thick, dark bottle.

The door seals behind me, triggering mellow lighting on the ceiling and floor. The pilots disappear into the cockpit.

Liam crosses the cabin. Ice rustles as he lifts the bottle to read the label. With a smile bordering on smug, he glances my way.

“Champagne?”

I kick off my heels. “Yes, please. Did Solórzano really ask how much I cost?” He nods, peeling the wrapper off the bottle’s opening. “What did you say?”

“That I wasn’t done with you yet, but that when I was, I’d let him know.”

I gape, caught between amusement and annoyance. “What the fuck, Liam?”

His eyes lift to mine, his smile belying the gravity in his eyes. “It’s a moot point. I’ll never be done with you.”