CHAPTER THREE

 

Olivia

 

What did one pack to go on a hike through Colombia in search of her missing fiancé? Hike. I snorted. I had a feeling that was an extremely loose description of what we'd be doing. I'd looked at a map of the areas we'd have to get through to make it to Palomino—a small town on the Carribean coast—and they looked to be unpopulated for large stretches. Luckily, commercial flights had resumed to a few of the larger airports. But how would we travel after that? Surely we wouldn't walk. It would take a month. No, my guide, the man I'd been too flustered to remember to ask his name, would make arrangements for transportation. Right? Surely. How did this work? I took a deep breath, placing my hand on my stomach as if I might contain my nerves that way.

I thought about him again, pictured the flash of those pale eyes in the midst of his hardened face and shivered as I had when the light hit him in that bar three nights before. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant shiver, more a strange mix of uneasiness and curiosity. He was a type of man I'd never come into contact with before, had no reason to. Until now. He was dangerous, obviously used to the shadows, when I lived in the light. Or at least I had . . . until now. "Oh Alec, what happened to you?" I whispered despairingly.

I allowed myself a moment of sadness before I resumed packing, grabbing a pair of jeans and placing them in my backpack. Pack light, he'd said.

When I'd gathered everything I thought I'd need, keeping in mind the limited space, I set the full backpack next to my bedroom door and went to my home office to make sure all my personal responsibilities were in order before I left town.

Six months before, I'd taken a leave of absence from my job at a large financial institution when my parents passed away unexpectedly in a boating accident. They'd been extremely wealthy and once I'd begun the job of settling their estate and managing the inheritance, I'd realized it was going to be a full-time job. I'd since hired people to help me with the various aspects of estate management, so I didn't need to worry about that while I was gone, nor did I have to worry about taking time off from a job. Still, there were plenty of odds and ends that would need to be taken care of regarding my bills and my house before I left, especially because I didn't know exactly when I would return.

Just as I entered the room, I heard my cell phone ringing from where I'd left it on the kitchen counter and hurried back that way. I noted the words unknown number on the screen before I snatched it up. "Hello," I said breathlessly.

There was a momentary pause before that deep voice came over the line. "I booked you a flight for tomorrow morning at nine, leaving McCarron and arriving in Rionegro."

My heart stuttered and then resumed in a quickened beat. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Problem?"

"No," I said faintly. "No," I repeated with more certainty, standing straight. "I'll be there. What about you? Will you be on the same flight?"

"No, but I'll meet you at the airport in Colombia."

"Oh . . . okay. Where? I mean, where should I meet you?" I'd never been to Colombia, had no idea what the airport was like. Oh my God, I was flying to Rionegro tomorrow?

"I'll find you." How comforting. This man liked to keep plans to himself, sharing only tiny tidbits of information as he alone saw fit. But . . . I'd hired him to make the plans, hadn't I? My stomach cramped. Oh God, I was trusting a complete stranger—a probably dangerous stranger—with my safety in a foreign country where I'd never traveled before and only knew the bare minimum as far as language was concerned. My pulse leapt, and my breathing became labored though I was standing still.

"Okay," I croaked.

Another pause. "If you want to cancel this plan, now's the time. Once we get there, there'll be no turning back."

No turning back.

I pulled in a slow breath, blowing it out, picturing Alec's face as he'd bent on one knee in front of me, asking me to be his wife. Asking me to be his family, all he had. All either of us had. "No." I shook my head. "No, I don't want to cancel."

"All right. Your ticket will be waiting at the airport. I'll see you in Colombia."

"I'll see you in Colombia," I repeated numbly.

He paused yet again and for a second all I heard was the sound of his breathing across the line. "Last chance, Olivia," he finally said softly, his voice almost . . . gentle somehow though I must be imagining that. There was nothing gentle about the man I'd met in a dive bar off the Vegas strip. Last chance, Olivia.

"I'll see you in Colombia," I said again, putting all the strength in my voice I could muster.

"Good enough." And with that the line went dead. I lowered my phone, tapping it against my chin as I leaned against the counter. After a moment, I dialed my friend Christina's number.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey."

Whatever tone was in my voice must have alerted her to my mood, because she immediately said, "What's wrong?"

"I'm doing it, Chrissy. I'm going to Colombia."

"Oh no. No. We talked about this. You can't fly to Colombia with no way to get where you're going other than to walk alone. Quiet!" I heard in a muffled yell before her voice came back to me. "Sorry. Kids are having an all-out war in the playroom."

Despite the nerves still sparking in my stomach, I smiled, picturing the five sweet faces of my friend's kids. "I'm not going alone. I got a call from a man—a guide I guess. I don't know what to call him, but he got word that I was looking to hire someone and called me, offering his services."

"Holy crap, Livvy. Do you know anything about this guy?" A door closed and her voice suddenly echoed slightly as if she'd gone into a closet. "He could be a nutjob for all you know! And you'll be in the middle of a damn jungle with him. No, uh uh. I can't allow this."

I hesitated, chewing at my lip. The PI I'd hired, Jeremy Quaid, had obviously put the word out that I was looking to hire someone, but I hadn't even checked in with him to find out my guide's references . . . his background. It'd just been a whirlwind, surreal almost. Everything had happened so fast, and I guess in the back of my mind, I assumed Jeremy wouldn't give anyone my information if he didn't believe he was a professional, trustworthy. A lawyer, who had worked at the same company as me, had recommended Jeremy, and I’d felt he was genuinely sympathetic to my situation. He'd done all he could do to help me. "It's done, Christina. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I . . . I have to. I have to do this or I'll always wonder. I'll always regret. Just think of it as me going backpacking in Colombia. People do it all the time and have amazing experiences."

"Yeah, people get kidnapped in Colombia all the time too," she muttered.

"Hence my hired protection."

I heard her sigh, and she was quiet for a moment as if deciding whether to keep trying to talk me out of this. Finally she said, "I'd come with you if I could."

"I know you would. I'm going to be okay, I promise. This guy isn't a nutjob. He seems intense and alert . . . standoffish, but professional. And I'll contact you if I can."

"Livvy, what about what we talked about before Alec disappeared? Your doubts then and—"

"Wedding jitters, Chrissy. They're normal. And if this situation has convinced me of anything, it's that I'm willing to fight for Alec."

She paused again before saying, "All right. But, honey . . . if things . . . well, if he doesn't want you to fight for him, if things don't turn out the way you're hoping when you find Alec—"

"I'll be okay, Chrissy. Really, I will. I'm . . . prepared for that possibility."

I heard banging and a few high-pitched voices yelling in the background. The army was at the gates. I pictured Chrissy pressed into the corner of a closet, or pantry, as her kids knocked relentlessly, calling for her attention, little hands coming under the door. My lips tipped up, and though I knew they were probably on Chrissy's last nerve, yearning rose inside me. I wanted that too. Noise. Family. Love. "Okay," Chrissy finally said. "I just . . . God, this really worries me, Livvy."

"I'll be okay. I will. I promise." I have to be okay. I’ve spent two months grieving and trying to resolve Alec’s loss, and I’ll survive if I can’t find him, but I need to know the truth.

As the yelling grew louder, I promised to email Chrissy my travel details, just in case. I refused to dwell on what just in case meant, but it was always wise that someone had your itinerary, vague though mine might be. I promised to text her when I got to Colombia, and we said our goodbyes.

I stood at my counter for a few more minutes, staring off into the distance, seeing in my mind's eye the stranger who would lead me to my runaway fiancé, picturing the two men who couldn't be any more different—Alec with his clean-cut handsomeness, and my mysterious guide with the stormy eyes. Shaking my head, I walked to my office where I'd been headed when my phone rang.

I had so much to do before tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

I was doing this. My God, I was really doing this.

 

**********

 

The flight time between Las Vegas and Rionegro was just under ten hours. I spent a few hours sleeping restlessly, but the rest of the time, I spent going over scenarios in my head about what might happen when—if—no, when, I found Alec in that seaside town. Would his expression tell me immediately where his heart was, or would he only look at me with shock and bewilderment? Would he be relieved? Angry? My heart thumped nervously in my chest as I imagined any one of several possibilities. Initially, I hadn't been able to convince myself of anything other than that something terrible had happened to him, and all I'd felt was desperate fear for his well-being. But as the days went by and more and more information came to light—the failing company, the money problems—information that pointed to the possibility he'd been lying to me for a long time—I'd had to consider that he'd disappeared on purpose. He'd been keeping secrets, and then he'd run. The question that plagued me was why. Was he ashamed and couldn't face me? Did he think I'd turn my back on him because he'd made mistakes? Had he desperately tried to figure things out on his own rather than admit his failings? Was that the underlying tension I'd detected in him for months? The mood I'd attributed to the stress of wedding planning?

I rubbed my temples; a sound of impatience coming up my throat that was quickly drowned out by the roar of the engine. God, I'd gone over this so many times I felt like I could scream. No, I needed answers. And the only place I could get them was from Alec. He couldn't get to me even if he wanted to. I had no way of knowing if he was desperately trying to reach me in some way—any way—and simply didn't have the ability in the earthquake/tsunami-devastated area of Colombia where he was. Why Colombia? I gave a tiny shake of my head. No more questions. Not now. I dug my earbuds out of my purse, elbowing the man next to me and shooting him an apologetic smile, but he was asleep, his mouth hanging open. I stuck the tiny speakers into my ears and found a classical station from the music the airline offered, leaned my head back, and tried my best to clear my mind.