by Tawny Weber
She stepped forward and poked a sharp finger into his chest.
“So if I had a meltdown according to your stupid book, then I figure I’m due.”
Damn.
Travis couldn’t stop smiling.
Well, what d’ya know, he realized with surprise, downing the water she’d ignored. As the icy liquid poured down his throat, he gave thanks.
Because, oh, yeah. He still had a libido.
“Okay,” he said after debating the merits of keeping her riled up versus being a gentleman. “Anyone who saw that sort of thing would have a right to melt on down.”
“Anyone?”
“You, in this case.” Not interested in arguing the point, he shrugged. “How much time passed between your supposed escape and mowing into me?”
“I don’t know,” Lila said, sounding a little frantic as she shook her head. “A few minutes, I suppose.”
“Factoring in the five or so minutes it took you to reach me on the beach, then to calm down and make sense—”
“You mean for you to quit bitching about being knocked over and listen to me.”
“And the five minutes it took us to walk to my place. I called the cops, we met them here within ten minutes, give or take,” Travis continued, ignoring her. “Less than a half hour, all told.”
“So?”
“So if an as yet unknown number of men killed a harmless chef, and saw you witnessing the murder first, don’t you think they’d have pursued when you ran? But, instead, you figure they cleaned up all evidence, scrubbed the place clean of blood and guts, tidying the office while they were at it. Then they hauled the body out of a busy restaurant, on a busy beach, without anyone noticing?” He waited a beat, letting that sink in, then added, “And all of that in less than thirty minutes?”
“How would I know?” She threw her hands in the air. “All I know is what I saw.”
With that, she headed out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“The cops don’t believe me. You don’t believe me.” She shot him a nasty look. “So what difference does it make?”
“I believe you are upset.” He glanced through the grimy window. “And I believe it’s a little late to be storming around town alone.”
“Oh, sure,” she said with a sneer. “Being a hero isn’t enough for you. You just have to play gentleman, too.”
Ignoring her attitude shift from lady of the manor to peasant, Travis gestured for her to precede him out the door. Despite his service as a SEAL, Travis had never wanted to play hero. But he couldn’t ignore the need to do something to fix this mess for her, to do whatever he could to make her feel better.
“C’mon,” he said, walking over and offering his hand.
She looked at it, then those mermaid eyes rose to his face before dropping to his hand again.
“What?”
“Let’s go.”
Brows furrowed, she looked around the office and gave a small shudder before tucking her hand in his. Her fingers were slender, making Travis want to be extra careful not to crush those delicate bones as he pulled her to her feet.
Upright, she swayed a little, so he left his hand in hers. Just because he didn’t want to have to scoop her off the floor, he told himself.
Her gaze, foggy with confusion and frustration, skimmed from the floor to the wall, then shifted away.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her words faint as they moved through the doorway.
He shoved the side door open, gesturing with his free hand for her to go first, then pulled her down the beach. They’d take the ocean route, give her time to decompress.
And him time to think.
“Your hotel should work.”
“Look, buddy. You’re hot and all, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep with you after all this.”
God, what a woman. His lips twitched. He loved that her mind just went there.
“Not for that, but thanks for thinking about it. We’re going to figure out what the hell happened here tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
When he didn’t respond, she dug her feet into the sand. It wasn’t much in the way of an anchor, given that she hardly weighed a thing and couldn’t get much of a grip in those fancy heels of hers. But Travis stopped anyway.
“What?”
“What do you mean by that?” Lila asked again. “The figuring out what the hell happened part.”
“Just what I said. You think you saw some guy murdered. I don’t know if you did, but I’ll accept that you saw something. Now we’ve got to figure out the particulars.”
* * *
“Wait here,” he told her.
A lifetime of her father’s arrogance had her chin lifting and an automatic refusal on her lips. But given that the alternative to obeying was to open the door to her room herself, she kept her mouth shut. And yes, maybe took a couple of steps back toward the stairs.
Just in case she had to make a run for it.
But Hawkins, the mighty SEAL, used her key to unlock the door and shoved it open. She held her breath when he disappeared inside. But a few moments later, he was back in the doorway, gesturing for her to come on in.
“The room’s clean,” he said when she joined him.
“Of course it is. It’s a good hotel and I’m hardly a slob.” She caught his eye roll. “What?”
“I meant clean, as in there’s nothing dangerous in here.”
Oh.
“Thanks,” she murmured. Still, she left the door open. Just in case. “I appreciate you walking me back, but you don’t have to stay.”
“I didn’t plan on it.” His smile flashed, fast and wicked. “Just making sure you’re okay before I go.”
“I’m fine.” Teetering between embarrassment over the night’s events and frustration that her rescuer was a damned SEAL, Lila gestured coldly toward the door. “Feel free to go.”
Before he took a step, there was a thump on the open door. Lila jumped so high, she almost lost her shoes. A scream lodged in her throat. All Lila saw was a shadow and a flash of silver.
Hawkins pivoted, cussed and grabbed his gun, gestured for her to get behind him.
With her heart locked too tight in her throat for the sound to escape, she closed the two feet between them in a single jump to angle herself behind Hawkins. Thank God the man was so tall and broad. He was as good as a wall.
A hint of guilt seeped through the terror pounding through her. Enough guilt that Lila forced herself to shift just enough to see around him.
“Senorita Adrian?”
Oh. The rush of adrenaline left so fast, Lila had to grab Hawkins’s arm to keep from falling when her knees went soggy.
“Are you okay?” The girl from earlier who’d brought Lila the phone was there with a tray, a tidy stack of pink messages and a bright smile.
“Fine.” Lila thumped her fist on her chest to make sure her heart was still beating the right tempo. She stepped into the open and gave the girl a shaky smile. “Just fine.”
“Bueno, senorita. I have your nightcap, Ms. Adrian. And a few messages.”
“Is it alcoholic?” Lila asked, almost desperate for a drink at this point.
“Hot spiced tea and cinnamon cookies,” the girl said with a smile, lifting the lid. “It does go well with tequila if you’d like me to have some sent up.”
With a flirtatious smile, the sloe-eyed brunette gave Hawkins a once-over as she stepped around him, then offered Lila an arch look.
“Would you like a second serving? I can have it delivered very quickly.”
“No. No, thank you,” Lila added, trying to soften her tone from frantic anger to genial gratitude. “This is fine.”
It took a few more minutes of chitchatty friendliness to scoot the girl out the door. Mostly beca
use the brunette was more interested in the beach bum than in leaving.
Finally, Lila got her out and, this time, closed the door. She barely resisted snapping the lock. Instead, she strode back to the small table with its covered tray and yanked off the dome.
At first sniff, she wished she’d opted for the tequila. Still, maybe flowers and spices would settle her nerves enough to figure out what to do next. So she lifted the etched orange mug. Then, remembering her manners, she turned to face her reluctant guest and lifted the cup.
“Would you like some?”
“Hell, no. That’s going to taste gross,” the beach bum declared, casually leaning against the wall and crossing his feet at the ankles.
Did the man never stand upright, Lila wondered, taking a defiant swallow.
She almost gagged.
It tasted like flowers sprinkled with nutmeg. Which, she decided after a second sip, was pretty gross.
“You should have sent for the tequila.”
“Why are you still here?” Irritated, she shot him a dirty look. Did the guy always have to be right?
“Just doing the gentlemanly thing and making sure you’re okay after your traumatic experience.”
“I’m surprised.”
“That I can be a gentleman?”
“That you think I had an actual traumatic experience,” she corrected, exchanging the tea for a cookie. It was actually pretty good, she decided after a tentative nibble.
“I don’t doubt your experience.”
“Just my perception?”
“Look, whatever you saw, just put it out of your head. Get some sleep,” Hawkins suggested, straightening from the wall and putting one hand on the doorknob.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see him hit the floor.” She tugged her fingers through her hair, needing any relief she could get from the tension dragging at her brain. “I see the blood splattering everywhere. Hear Rodriguez’s body as he hit the floor.”
“Maybe try erasing those images. Replace them with something else,” he suggested, his eyes focused on her hair as Lila finger combed it in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her scalp.
“You think it’s that easy?”
“I didn’t say easy.”
There was something in his eyes that reminded Lila that SEALs worked damned hard to earn those hero badges. They saw ugly things, did ugly things. Which meant he probably knew what he was talking about.
Did Lucas get that same look when he thought about his time as a SEAL? Would she even recognize it if she saw it firsthand? She was pretty sure she had a better handle on the expressions on this stranger’s face than she did her own brother’s. Did this guy, Hawkins, know Lucas? Had they served together?
She didn’t want to ask.
Her stomach clenched.
She didn’t want to know.
She just wanted this to all be over.
So she strode to the door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said as confidently as she could, twisting the knob and throwing it open.
Obviously used to following orders, he straightened and walked over, stopping inches from her.
Lila held her breath.
The look in his eyes was still intense, but wasn’t filled with horrors. Or worry.
She was pretty sure that look in those dark depths was desire. Her fingers gripped the doorknob so tight her knuckles hurt when he reached out to give her a hesitant pat on the shoulder. She trembled a little at his touch, not sure if it was comfort or answering desire spinning through her system.
It didn’t matter, she realized. She couldn’t do justice to either.
“Call down to the front desk, get that tequila if the night gets rough.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, her eyes locked on his.
His gaze dropped to her lips for a single heartbeat. Lila’s mouth went dry. Then he met her gaze again and gave the briefest of smiles.
“Take care.”
That was it.
Just “take care,” and he was gone.
She shut the door most of the way, angling herself behind it. And watched through the crack as he strode down the hallway. His jeans were on the baggy side, so the view wasn’t as sweet as it had been when he’d strode out of the water in cotton trunks that afternoon. But given that he had some really long legs and slender hips beneath incredible shoulders, she realized it was just as well.
Seeing the curve of his butt would probably be the last straw for the night. She’d call him back, ask him to tuck her in, maybe share that tequila he kept talking about.
And that would be bad, she told herself.
The guy might be an uptight jerk, but the man was seriously hot. Hot, sexy and, maybe deep, deep down, kinda sweet.
And he was a Navy SEAL.
Lila sighed.
Didn’t it just figure.
Chapter 5
Over the course of his recovery and during his self-enforced seclusion here in Puerto Viejo, Travis had made a point of avoiding hard alcohol. A beer here and there wasn’t a big deal. But he’d seen too many strong men fall into a bottle during hard times, never to climb out again long enough to discover if the times had gotten any better or not.
But as he walked away from pretty blonde Lila’s hotel room, he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and debated making tonight the exception.
He’d been too focused on busting his ass to be the best SEAL possible to follow the expected Navy tradition of heavy drinking and wild partying. Of course, now that he’d jacked up his knee, he had plenty of time for bellying up to the bar.
But as he approached the beachside drinking hole, he kept hobbling on.
“Hey, there. Yo, it’s Hawkins, right? Hold up. I want a word.”
“Take as many as you like,” Travis said, not slowing his pace. He wasn’t surprised to see the cop who’d backed Montoya at the bar sidle up to him.
“I want those words with you, senor. Let’s step in here.” The cop slapped one hand on Travis’s arm and jerked his chin toward the little side street between the market—with its windows boarded up for the night—and Lolo’s bar, sparsely populated since everyone was partying on the beach.
“You want to talk, do it while we walk.”
The guy’s plain face screwed up into an expression of outrage.
“Do you know who I am? You do realize I’m an officer of the law, yes?”
“Yep.”
He didn’t know the guy’s name or rank. But he’d met plenty of cops like this one. They could be found in any small town in any country in the world. They used the little bit of power bigger cops allowed them to puff themselves up and annoy the hell out of everyone.
“If you know who I am, then you know I work for Montoya. With my help, Montoya runs this town.”
It wasn’t the words that made Travis stop and stare. It wasn’t even the implicit threat. It was pure curiosity.
“What does any of that have to do with me?” he asked, leaning against a bench made from a couple of planks slid through the holes of cinder blocks.
“Perhaps nothing.” The cop planted his feet in the dusty grass in front of the bench as if his skinny frame and holstered gun would stop Travis from making any unexpected moves.
Figuring it would probably be less a pain in the ass to make nice now than show the guy how wrong he was, Travis shifted the weight off his bad knee and gave the cop a smile.
When his eyes went wide and the cop took a stumbling step backward, Travis toned down the teeth and tried a friendlier tone.
“I didn’t get your name.”
“Uh, Agente Garcia. I’m the special liaison with the Policía Turística,” Garcia said, pride giving his quiet voice an edge. “We’re on special assignment, you know. To ensure the safety of tourists and visitors to our fine country.”
Travis rubbed one finger over his chin and wondered if Garcia realized he’d left out those pesky local citizens from the list he was sworn to serve and protect.
“We know who you are, of course. Senor Hawkins, yes? You’re a military man, good friend with Senor Constantine and living in his home while he’s serving his duty to your government. You are here to rest and recreate.” Garcia offered an ingratiating smile that stopped just a step or two below ass-kissing. “You’re not here to get involved in silly local issues.”
Now Travis didn’t care if it made Garcia nervous. He had to smile.
“You all think murder is silly around here?”
“No, no.” Garcia looked almost animated when he shook his head. “Real murder, that’s bad. We take action when someone is truly killed.”
Okay.
Travis watched a pair of drunk women walking, wearing more fabric in their shoes than they had covering their butts.
“Did you guys run down Rodriguez?” he asked, his eyes, like Garcia’s, on the swaying hips as the drunks fell on each other in groping giggles.
“Montoya, he’ll take care of it,” Garcia assured him, his skinny head tilting when the women almost giggled their way horizontal. “In the meantime, the captain, he was just wondering if you were thinking about making trouble. He likes a peaceful town, you know. But that lady, Senorita Adrian, she’s got trouble written all over her. He doesn’t much like that.”
“And being civic minded, Montoya sent you to give me a warning that the blonde is trouble?”
“You could say that.”
“Was that the extent of the warning?”
“¿Qué?”
“Did Montoya have anything else to add to the warning? You know, like probable outcomes if I don’t stay away from the blonde troublemaker. You know, the follow-up threats that go with the warning.”
“Would we threaten a man as powerful as you, Senor Hawkins?” Garcia asked, lifting both hands with fingers spread wide. “That would be very careless on our part. No, no. We are a small police force with limited resources. I believe that the captain is simply concerned that those resources be used correctly.”