Bud stepped out of the airport into the stifling Mexican heat and adjusted his sunglasses. He’d thought Atlanta’s weather unbearable but this was worse. At least the resort was on the beach so there’d be an ocean breeze. Customs hadn’t been too bad, and his driver had been waiting for him where he was supposed to, but Bud was still on alert for potential pick-pockets, thieves, or worse.

The first time he’d come to this resort he’d hated it, but he was looking forward to a few days of resting and relaxing away from the club this time. He loved his brothers and wouldn’t give up being president of the Atlanta RTMC for anything, but getting away occasionally was good for him. It gave him fresh perspective when he returned — and it gave his men a chance to realize just how much he did for the club.

He didn’t, however, enjoy wearing the frou-frou clothes required for him to fit in at the resort, but blending in was important for this kind of trip. He fixed himself a bourbon on the rocks from the limo’s bar, and sighed at the sight of his legs sticking out of his creased khaki shorts. He could easily see Duke’s brother wearing them with a blue dress shirt and leather sandals, but if anyone from the RTMC saw Bud in this, they’d fall on the floor laughing.

The MC had made the last two deliveries without Bud needing to have a face-to-face with the cartel leaders, but experience told him it wasn’t good to take these relationships for granted.

The driver handed him off to the hotel staff, but Bud only had a small suitcase and his carry-on backpack, so he waved off the bellhop as he entered the lobby. A flustered woman was apologizing to a bellhop as he pushed a cart laden with seven giant suitcases. She wore cream pants and a black and cream striped shirt with heels the exact color of her pants. Her blue eyes were so vivid they were almost purple. Her dark blonde hair fell around her face like a beautiful frame, and she was stunning despite her obvious edginess, likely from a day of travel. She was the exact opposite of the women who usually attracted him, yet something in the way she moved caught his eye.

Bud slowed and motioned them in front of him. He’d long ago learned not to get in a hurry in Mexico, and this woman looked as if she desperately needed to get checked in so she could find herself a strong drink.

“Thank you,” she told him, “I can’t believe how much I packed for a two-week getaway, but I’ve never been to Cancun before, and…” Her voice trailed off and she looked embarrassed. “My bellhop seems to be okay now that we’re on a level surface, and I’m feeling better now that we’re in an air-conditioned room. Please, go ahead and get checked in before me.”

“I’m not in a hurry, ma’am. You look as if the sooner you get a fancy drink, the better,” Bud responded as they walked to the check-in desk with three people waiting in all four lines. “But since the single feeder line doesn’t seem to have taken hold here, we can get in separate lines.”

“What an adorable accent you have,” she said with a smile. “Not Kentucky or Mississippi, I’m going to guess…” She stepped into the line beside the one he chose and gave him a long, considering look. “If it’s North Carolina then it’s one of the cities, but I don’t think so. I’d say either Tennessee or Georgia, or perhaps northern Alabama?”

“An excellent guess, though I’ll have to admit I can’t place yours.” Bud never gave strangers personal information, and the fact she was fishing set alarm bells off in his head.

“Oh, I’ve lived all over. My dad was in the military, plus he’s an awesome photographer and he’s sold nature photos taken from all over the world. He dragged me with him on his photography trips, made me his assistant, so I’ve been just about everywhere. I live in Pennsylvania right now, but only because it’s…” Her voice trailed off again. “Listen to me, giving away all my secrets before I’ve even introduced myself. I’m Nicole Blackthorn.”

Bud looked at her outstretched hand a half-second before shaking it. “Bud Jones. Are you here by yourself, Nicole?”

She looked across the huge lobby at her luggage before meeting his gaze. “I’m almost embarrassed to say I am. I recently returned home from an overseas trip that put things in my head I’ll never be able to erase. But, I met my deadlines and now I’m going to try to at least fade some horrible memories into the background with the ocean and lots of sun.”

Bud could scent her pain, grief, and hopelessness when she thought of whatever she’d seen, but he also smelled hope, courage, and strength when she forced the thoughts from her mind and focused on the present. She’d initially seemed shallow and materialistic, but the woman had some depth.

He stepped up to the counter, handed over his ID and credit card, and turned on the charm to the resort employee. He’d reserved a nice enough room, but it never hurt to make the person doing the actual room assignment like you.

The woman with the seven suitcases was still embroiled in the check-in process when he finished, and Bud made a mental note of the time so he could have Shadow take a look at the hotel’s video feed and find out what he could about Nicole Blackthorn. She spoke truth, but she could still easily be an ATF agent trying to get friendly with him.

Bud grinned as he thought of Shadow, one of their youngest members. Bud had actively looked for a hacker who might be interested in joining an MC when Brain had gone back to the Chattanooga chapter. Shadow was nearly as good as Brain on a keyboard, could tear a bike apart and put it back together with his eyes closed, and could ride like the wind. He’d been an out-of-shape couch potato when they first approached him, but had taken advantage of the club’s workout facilities and had quickly muscled up. He’d also taken boxing lessons somewhere else before stepping into the ring with his new prospective brothers — the kid was competitive as fuck, but it was serving him well.

It didn’t take long to get logged onto the resort’s wi-fi, and Bud carried his laptop out to the balcony to type his instructions for Shadow. Everything was encrypted as it left his laptop, and Shadow had the software and codes to decrypt it once he pulled it from their server. None of what he typed went onto his hard drive — he created the document directly on the RTMC’s server in Russia, just to be sure no one could get anything off his hard drive. You’re not paranoid if they really are looking at you with a fine-toothed comb.

He closed his laptop, breathed in the ocean air, and took in the wide expanse of the ocean. He hadn’t reserved a room with an ocean view, but turning on the charm had been his ticket for a free upgrade. Werewolves don’t show their age, so he still looked mid-thirties even though he was twenty years older. It was impossible to tell the age of the people at this resort, because they all had the money it took to look at least a decade younger. The woman he’d talked to in line could be anywhere from mid-thirties to fifty.

After a day of traveling, he was starved, so he called down to one of the restaurants to make sure they had his table reserved.