by Tawny Weber
There was an awful lot of bitterness in that tone, but for the first time since he’d rescued her, she looked like she was going to cry. So Travis let it go and gave her an easy smile.
“Actually, the way you keep cool and roll with the punches, I figured you might do something a little more kick ass. Cop, military, security. That kind of thing. Still, ass kicker or matchmaker, it doesn’t much matter to me what you do, as long as you’re good with it.”
He tilted his head to the side and gave her a quick once-over, then smiled.
“So? Are you any good?”
* * *
Lila didn’t know if he was referring to her job skills or something else, but either way, she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.
So she angled her hips to one side, thrust out her chest and threw back her shoulders to make the most of her assets. She tossed her hair back and gave him a sultry look through her lashes.
“I’m better than good. I’m amazing. One hundred percent satisfaction, guaranteed.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and arched one brow. “Not that you’ll ever find out. Believe me, I’m way out of your league, Super SEAL.”
“Now that’s just mean,” he said with a deep, appreciative laugh that made her want to smile. “And after I swam out, rescued you and everything.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, her words more frustrated than shamefaced. “Like I said, I have a headache.”
One that was growing steadily worse as she tried to figure out what to do next. Leaving without a passport was going to be rough enough. But without her phone? Her credit cards?
But they did. Whoever they were.
Just thinking about it all was enough to make her want to scream.
Hoping to hold off on that, she dropped to the couch again and rubbed her forehead with the heels of both hands.
“I don’t suppose you have anything for a headache?” she asked, now rubbing her temples.
He shook his head. “I’m not a fan of drugs. Of any kind.”
She almost asked what he took for his sore leg, but she managed to bite back the question at the last second.
“You said this is your friend’s place. Doesn’t he and/or she have anything? Aspirin? Morphine? A good, sharp ax?”
“It’s a he, and he handles pain the same way I do.”
Oh, God. Lila wanted to groan. Not only Super SEAL, but Super SEAL from Martyr Land.
“So, what? Neither of you never experiences pain? Pain you want to get rid of, I mean.”
She realized her mistake the second the words left her mouth. Thankfully, Hawkins kept his response to an ironic smile.
“You know what I mean,” she muttered.
“There are plenty of other options. Stretching, breath work, meditation.”
“Unfortunately, I’m a yoga beginner.”
“What’s yoga?”
Lila opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Any chance you’d be willing to run to the market, then?” she asked instead.
He rolled his eyes, but at least her pathetic expression had him chugging the last of his beer before tossing the bottle into a bin.
“You’re proving to be a pain in the ass,” Hawkins told her as he moved around behind her. Before Lila could twist around to see what he was doing, his hands gripped her shoulders.
She almost jumped to her feet, but before she could, his thumbs dug into the rigid knots and, with a quick twist loosened the tension, making her moan.
Okay. She could wait before making him stop. A few minutes, an hour, two or three days.
With each stroke, he rubbed away tension and soothed the pain riddling her body. He worked his way over her shoulders and along the sides of her throat before his fingers danced down her shoulder blades. He seemed to know exactly where to touch for the most impact.
“Oh, man,” she groaned quietly. “You’re so good.”
“That’s what they all say.”
She’d put money on that.
When his fingers shifted from digging to soothing, her body shifted into meltdown mode. Without the pain to distract her, all she had left was lust.
Totally inappropriate, she told herself. She’d never been the type for easy, no-strings-attached sex. Every physical relationship she’d even been involved in had come after weeks of dating and days of angsting over the possible repercussions.
So no matter how good Hawkins made her feel, no matter how stirred up his touch made her, it didn’t matter.
She wasn’t easy.
And the man himself was impossible.
Still, he did have amazing hands.
Such amazing hands.
Hawkins’s fingers found every pain point, digging gently, releasing tension, soothing aches.
Hands that skimmed down her waist now, then back up her sides so his long fingers skimmed over her bra, just along the cups. Her breath caught as desire danced through her system, heating her belly and hardening her nipples.
For the first time in her life, Lila wanted to throw reason and responsibility aside and give in to the needs spinning through her system. She wanted to shift, just slightly to one side, so his hand could cup her breast.
He’d be incredible.
The best she’d ever had.
He’d make her forget everything.
In his hands, under his body, she’d forget all about her abduction and seeing a man murdered. She’d lose herself in passion, experience new realms of pleasure.
It would be incredible.
“You okay?”
Oh, God.
The man was simply trying to help her—again—and she was lusting after him. Again.
She was glad he was behind her when the heat in her belly climbed high enough to wash over her cheeks. She blew out a long breath, gave herself one more second to enjoy the sexual haze, then forced herself to twitch her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “That’s a lot better. Thanks.”
Lila didn’t look at him. She couldn’t do anything about the heat that probably still colored her face, but she knew enough to keep her lust-filled eyes averted as she hurried over to the front window.
For the first few seconds, she focused on trying to get her body’s reaction under control. When that didn’t work, she shifted to listening, trying to guess what he was doing behind her. But that made her imagine all the sexy things she wished he was doing behind her, so Lila forced herself to count the trees instead.
By the time she reached seventeen, she was ready to scream.
“Do you think they’ll come here?” It was the first question that came to mind, and as soon as she asked it, she wished she’d just gone with silence and kept counting.
“Probably.”
She was so surprised, she actually turned around to stare at him.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She tried to ignore the way his T-shirt shifted over those mile-wide shoulders when he shrugged. “The highest probability is that whoever grabbed you is involved in the shooting. Which means they most likely know I was with you last night. When they realize you’ve escaped, they’ll check your hotel first, then target me.”
Lila wasn’t sure which surprised her more.
The fact that he admitted that they were in possible—probable, even—danger.
Or that he was smiling about it.
“And you think that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah. Why not?” At her incredulous stare, he dropped onto the couch and gave another shrug. “Look, whatever is going on, you’re in trouble. Since you’ve dragged me out of my hammock and into the middle of your problems, I’d prefer to get it settled as quickly as possible.”
“So you can get back into your hammock?”
“Exactly.”
He pointed a finger at her in agreement. “The sooner they come after you again, the better.”
Lila wondered if she should be offended at his easy welcome of murderers having another go at her. He had a good point, though. She’d dragged him into this, so the sooner it was done, the sooner he could go back to being a beach bum.
“I can just leave town,” she said, ignoring the hoops she’d have to jump through to get out of here without a passport.
“Without answers? You’d leave without knowing what happened to Rodriguez or who’s behind it? Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you’d do.”
“How would you know what kind of thing I’d do?”
He didn’t know her well enough to have a clue what she’d do. She could easily follow that up by sharing multiple examples of all of the things she’d bailed on, from the boarding school she’d run away from to the two engagements she’d ended to the various careers she’d tried before founding At Your Service.
“I’m a good reader of people. Good enough to figure you’ll be here when I get back.”
Lila frowned, watching him kick off his boat shoes and pad, barefoot, toward the back of the small house.
“What are you doing?”
“You might have avoided an early-morning swim, but I didn’t. I’m going to hit the shower.” He tossed his T-shirt onto the pile of laundry in the corner on his way to the bathroom. “Wait here. Keep watch. Come get me if you see anyone heading this way.”
Just like that?
Lila stared at his back until he disappeared behind the closed door.
He acknowledged that they were in danger, then trusted her to handle it? Even if it was just keeping watch, it was more than she’d figure a man like him would believe she could take care of.
It wasn’t like she was an idiot. Plenty of people trusted her. Corinne showed it on a regular basis, getting into mess after mess and expecting Lila to fix it. The clients Lila worked with in At Your Service trusted her to make their perfect match.
But Travis—the man had almost brought her to a climax simply rubbing her back, so they were going to be on a first-name basis, in her mind, at least—Travis was trusting her with his life.
It was a little mind-boggling.
Travis was a man.
A totally alpha, take-charge-and-control-everything man.
He was a SEAL.
Her last boyfriend hadn’t trusted her to choose the right wine with dinner. Her brother, also a SEAL, didn’t trust her enough to know anything more about his naval service than his rank. Her own father didn’t trust her to capably handle her own life.
But Travis was trusting her to keep watch for murdering kidnappers.
Lila leaned against the windowsill and watched the trees wave lightly in the breeze, and tried to figure out why that scared her.
Before she could find an answer, he was back. Probably that navy training, she thought, watching him stride back into the room. Fully dressed, which was a minor shame she wasn’t even going to think about.
“Nothing to report?”
“The lady with the fussy baby went somewhere.”
“Maria. She works as a maid at one of the hotels.” He strode over to the refrigerator, and this time when he held out a bottle of water in question, she nodded. “Her husband’s a fisherman. He was out on the water long before your little adventure.”
“And the baby? Is he at work somewhere, too?”
Hawkins’s lips twitched, but otherwise he seemed to take her question much more seriously than her smart-ass tone merited.
“Maria’s aunt lives with them, so she’s likely taking care of him now. But I’m sure he’ll be up and working soon. People around here stay pretty busy.”
Lila twisted the cap of the water off, then twisted it back on without taking a drink.
“Are you going to call the police again?”
He took his time answering, chugging down half of his water while he considered. Then he gave another one of those shrugs.
“You were right. Probably no point in bothering.”
“Why?” She knew her reasons why she didn’t trust the police. But she wanted his take.
He didn’t bother with an immediate answer.
Instead, he gave her a long, considering look. Her heart jumped when he walked over. She told herself it was because he was so tall, he totally loomed over her.
Then he reached out and took the bottle of untouched water from her and took a long drink. As she watched him swallow, she had to admit that at least half of her bouncing heart rate was due to lust.
“Why don’t you tell me what you think?” he suggested after he’d recapped her water and handed it back to her.
Lila took a moment to wet her lips and set aside those thoughts she didn’t particularly want to share—especially the ones that featured him, naked.
“They didn’t believe me last night, so there’s no reason to think they’d believe me today.” She waited, but he gave no indication if he agreed. “Is that why you don’t want to call them?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I said there was no point. You nailed part of it. Montoya runs the policía and he’s big on tourism. More specifically, on the benefits tourism brings.”
“And murder has a way of dampening tourism?”
“About as much as a pretty woman being grabbed in broad daylight does.”
He thought she was pretty? Lila told herself to ignore the flutter in her belly at his words. Like the shoulder massage, she was sure it didn’t mean anything to him.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked, half-hoping he’d suggest taking her to the nearest airport and finding a way to get her the hell out of here.
“Do?” He shot her a wicked grin. “We’re going to kick some ass, of course.”
Chapter 8
“Senorita Adrian?” The desk clerk stared in surprise. “How nice to see you again. We thought you’d checked out.”
“I’m sorry?” Lila frowned at the big-eyed brunette. “Why would you think that? When I saw you a couple of hours ago, I told you I was getting aspirin.”
“I’m sorry, senorita, but our records show that you checked out.” The woman’s easy smile faded as worry creased her brow. “I was working the desk myself when your friend came by. He had the proper documents. He said you were leaving. He paid your bill and asked that your bags be brought down. Since they were already packed, we did so.”
“What documents gives someone the right to do that?” Lila scowled. “You gave my possessions to a stranger? What the hell kind of establishment is this?”
Her voice rose higher with each word, stopping just a few decibels below hysteria. Wasn’t it enough that she’d been abducted? Now her possessions had been commandeered, too?
She drew in a long breath to tell the clerk just exactly what she thought of this damned hotel. Before she could utter a word, Travis gripped her shoulder. His warning touch warmed her skin, tamped down her fury enough for Lila to take a calming breath.
“Why don’t you fill us in on who this man was, and what documentation he had?” Travis suggested in a friendly tone.
All it took was a sideways glance to see he had a flirtatious smile aimed at the woman. Lila’s frown turned into a scowl. He never bothered to flirt with her. Then again, he was usually trying to get rid of her, not trying to get information out of her.
Still, there was no call to get flirty.
They both knew it must have been the kidnapper. Maybe he thought she’d hidden something that’d link him to the murder. Lila cringed, thinking of that ham-handed goon pawing through her laptop and undies.
“He was quite the gentleman,” the desk clerk told Travis, her tone warming into a gossipy cadence. “Well-dressed in a nice suit and he spoke with an American accent. He said he was Senorita Adrian’s executive ass
istant. He showed me his business card, his passport and a photo of Senorita Adrian. He had all of her information. Passport number, address and driver’s license number. Everything.”
“My photo?” Lila’s brow furrowed. Most of that had been in her bag. But her photo? Had she been right before? Was the abduction because of her father instead of the murder she’d witnessed—ransom instead of intimidation?
Maybe she should mention that to Travis, tell him that there were other possibilities at play. But that would mean explaining her family. Her father.
Shuddering, Lila wrapped one hand around the other, gripping and releasing her fingers until the nerves receded enough that she could breathe again.
“The photo, can you describe it?”
“It was clearly the senorita,” the desk clerk told Travis with a sharp nod. “A casual pose taken on the beach. White sand with the ocean in the background. The senorita, she was alone in the photo, wearing a pretty dress and sandals.”
“Was it a local beach?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” The woman frowned as if trying to remember, then shrugged. “I don’t know. But the manager, it was with his approval that I checked out the senorita.”
“He let you give my possessions to a complete stranger, simply because the guy had my picture?”
“Oh, no. He let the gentleman pay for the bill, and ordered us to gather your belongings and hold them in the security room. The suitcases, they were already packed, so Senor Tomás, the manager, he felt the man was telling the truth. Still, Senor Tomás would not release them to this man.”
“Did the guy ask for her luggage?”
“He didn’t, no. He said she’d contact the hotel to arrange to have it shipped to her home in San Francisco. He even prepaid the costs of storage and shipping.”
“That’s was mighty thorough of him.” Travis slanted Lila a look and asked under his breath, “San Francisco?”
More confused than ever, she just nodded. Yes, she lived in San Francisco. This all sounded like the kind of thing her father would order done, and she couldn’t think of a single reason for kidnapping murderers to care about her luggage.