by Mia Sheridan
"Okay, but . . . we're not talking about a woman you're considering marrying, we're talking about a one-night stand."
"Not interested."
"So, you don't sleep with a woman until you're certain she's of upstanding moral character?"
Thomas laughed. It was rusty and deep. "I don't take a survey, beforehand, but some people make it unnecessary."
"Huh," I said, pondering that.
"Why is this so shocking to you?" There was that teasing tone in his voice again and it warmed me, made me feel an intimacy with him that I hadn't before. It made me feel . . . special somehow as if I was getting a part of him few others did.
"I don't know. I thought men were more visual than anything else."
"Oh, I'm visual, sweetheart." His gaze wandered down my body and I blushed, averting my eyes and biting my lip to try to stop the warm flush of satisfaction. Stop it, Livvy. He was playing with me, and I didn't like that it affected me like it did. "But no man wants to take a snake to bed."
"Huh," I murmured again. "You're full of surprises."
His expression did something funny, but then it smoothed out and I thought it had been a strange trick of the light and shadows dancing in this small space. I adjusted my head on my arms, my eyes growing heavy.
There was a tightening at the corners of Thomas's eyes as he reached out a finger, frowning when he circled the scar on the underside of my arm. And then the one next to it, and then one under that. I watched his finger as it moved, the scar underneath so light, it could barely be seen in the darkened room.
"Cigarette burns," I said, answering his unspoken question.
He continued looking at the scars, his mouth a hard, set line. "This the meanness you talked about?"
I hesitated. "Yeah. I don't remember it, though. Not getting those scars specifically anyway. My adoptive parents hated them, sent me to a plastic surgeon who tried to remove them. He did make them less noticeable, but they never disappeared entirely. A part of me they couldn't erase, no matter how hard they tried." I paused as Thomas withdrew his hand, a strange look on his face, almost a mixture of anger and confusion. "But . . . I could never bring myself to mind. It's almost like, these scars are the physical reminder of my sister, the sacrifice I gladly made for her. I know I'm not tough like you are"—I shot him a small smile—"but they're my own battle scars and I'm . . . proud of them."
I snuggled into the pillow, catching Thomas's scent. It simultaneously made my heart beat more quickly and provided a sort of comfort. I'd never lain in bed just . . . talking to a man before, and I really liked it. Alec had always been so tired after a day's work and had generally fallen straight to sleep when we got in bed. Now I knew he had to have been stressed, too, juggling the worries he'd never shared with me.
Thomas had turned over and was lying on his back, and for a minute I thought he'd gone to sleep, but the light shifted and I saw that his eyes were open and he was looking at the ceiling. "Are you okay . . . about what happened today?" I asked.
He was silent for a moment. "Yeah. Are you?"
"Me? I didn't do anything."
"You did. You didn't put up a fight about me leaving. Your strength helped me focus on what I needed to focus on."
I see a strength in you, Livvy. I'd never thought of myself as particularly strong, but the idea that two fierce men—Josh and Thomas—thought of me that way made me feel . . . proud.
There was a moment of silence between us before Thomas spoke again. "I gave those men a choice, you know. Confess their crimes and stand trial or . . . not. They chose not. Some men have to be dealt with, Liv. Or they'll keep causing pain to innocents."
Liv.
I took in a breath and let it out slowly. This was all so beyond my scope of familiarity. Why had he told me that? Was it because he thought I disagreed with his choice? Or because I believed he was some cold-blooded killer? I didn't. Admittedly, I didn't fully understand his world, but I knew what he'd done today was necessary. "I think you're a good man, Thomas," I said, hoping that answered whatever question I'd sensed in his statement.
I closed my eyes and drifted toward sleep, sensing a shift in Thomas's mood, but too tired to try to figure out what it meant.
CHAPTER TEN
Thomas
Goddamn Livvy and her battle scars. We'd been traveling for two days since that night at Rosaria's, and I couldn't stop thinking about those small, round, healed-over wounds she'd shown me as we lay in the bed together in that stuffy loft.
Sleeping with Livvy that night had been torture. Her scent teasing, making me desperate to breathe it in up close, to run my nose over her skin, dip my fingers in the wet openings of her body and inhale her smell mixed with mine. Since then, I'd made a point to position my sleeping bag as far from her as possible.
Still, it didn't seem to decrease the want spiraling through my blood every time she got near and I caught her scent. I heard the light fall of her footsteps behind me, the rhythmic sound of her quickened breathing. I forced myself to slow down. I'd punished her once before for the neediness of my own body and regretted it. I wouldn't do it again. Still, I was fucking irritable. Tired. Because now, not only was my body in chaos, but my mind was too.
A part of me they couldn't erase, no matter how hard they tried.
A pampered little rich girl . . . with cigarette burns on her arms. Reality could be so different than perception.
"Where are we heading today?" Livvy asked.
"Josh told me we could catch a bus from a town about fifteen miles ahead. We won't get all the way to Palomino, but a lot closer."
"A bus? Really?" I could hear the excitement in her voice and it caused a tipping of my lips and a hollow in my chest. This journey was drawing to a close, the one that was killing me little by little.
The air around us was muggy and slightly drizzly, although no real rainfall had started. Fog misted the ground, giving the forest a dreamy feel. Frogs croaked loudly, and the bird chatter was especially raucous this morning.
"God, it must have been amazing to grow up here," Livvy said, and when I glanced back at her, she was wearing a serene smile, her gaze moving over the lush landscape all around us. Trust her to see beauty in this volatile landscape.
"Yeah," I muttered. "It had its benefits. At least it was warm enough to sleep outside and not freeze to death."
Livvy frowned. "Sleep outside? Why would you do that?"
I let out a breath. I'd been distracted and hadn't really given much thought to what I was saying. But who the fuck cared? Maybe if Livvy knew I'd kept more company with dogs than people most of my life, it would wipe that worshipful look off her face that she'd worn since I'd come back from avenging Graciela's attack. Taking care of her attackers, slitting their throats because otherwise, they would have slit mine. "My uncle ran a dog fighting ring. I spent a lot of time in the kennels—often slept right beside them on the ground."
"A dog fighting ring? Oh." She looked up at me, her eyes searching. "You slept beside the kennels? On the ground?" Her tone sounded baffled, horrified.
"That or a shed nearby."
"But . . . why?"
I squinted off into the distance for a moment. "I felt more welcome there."
"You felt more welcome in the dog kennels than in your own home?" She stopped and I did, too, my eyes moving over her face. "That's . . ." Her voice faded away as if she couldn't even form the words for how awful that was. Her eyes clenched as if the thought brought her physical pain.
"Shit. It was a long time ago, Livvy."
She nodded, but kept her eyes shut for another moment. I gazed at her, watching the empathy so clear in her expression, the way she held herself, and it made my own heart catch. "Where was your aunt?"
"Inside the house."
Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head. "And she just let you . . . sleep outside? Why would she do that?"
"My uncle was a mean son of a bitch, Livvy. His sons were stupid and cruel. His wife was useless and
detached. I preferred animals to them."
"Oh." She glanced down, frowned. "You said you didn't know your father, but surely he would have helped you if—"
I laughed, suddenly wanting to cause her pain, wanting to shock and horrify her, wanting her to feel the same discomfort she was causing me by caring so damn much. "My father was a wealthy executive in L.A. who fucked the Colombian maid. His wife found out, threw us out, and he didn't do a damn thing to stop it. My mother spent the first six years of my life writing him letter after letter, begging him to take her back, which were never once answered. So, no, Livvy, he wouldn't have helped me if he knew."
She blinked at me, her eyes wide and luminous, her shoulders rigid. "Your mother died and your family—the ones who should have made it easier—shunned you," she practically whispered.
I shrugged. "They did. They always had. But I returned the favor. As soon as I could, I left and I didn't look back."
"I'm so sorry."
That same twinge squeezed my heart as our eyes locked. I imagined my gaze was challenging, cold, but hers remained compassionate, soft. I looked away, taking a step back. "It was a long time ago," I repeated.
I started walking again, a strange emptiness inside me. I shouldn't have talked about that. Why the fuck did I talk about that?
We walked for a while, neither one of us saying a word, and after a while, my mood evened out. Who cared? This was all temporary. This trip, this woman, these feelings she elicited in me. Every job held its challenges, and this one provided ones I'd never experienced before, but like every other assignment, it was temporary. I'd move past it, move past her. With that thought, I felt better, calmer.
"What is that?"
I snapped out of my own thoughts, hearing the roar of water, turning to Livvy. "There's a small waterfall up ahead."
Her eyes lit up. "Are you serious? Can we bathe in it?"
I glanced toward the falls I'd seen on the map and then at her. Neither one of us had taken a shower for days. There had been a miniature, dank shower in Rosaria's house, but I wouldn't have fit in it, and I didn't think Livvy had tried. I'd cleaned up with a bucket of water and some soap, and it had been better than nothing, but to be fully submerged in water sounded fucking great.
"I don't see why not."
We followed the sound of rushing water until we came through a break in the trees. Livvy sucked in a breath at the sight of the small pool, a short waterfall flowing into it from between two massive boulders. She dropped her backpack and begun unbuttoning her pants, pausing suddenly, and turning toward me, a hesitant look on her face. "Do you mind if I—"
I snapped out of the fog I was in, turning. "Yeah, go ahead." I sat down on a nearby rock, facing mostly away from the pool of water so I could only see Livvy in my peripheral vision. She was down to her tank top and underwear and even that was enough to make me feel hot, twitchy. I turned my head, squinting into the morning sun, working to cool my blood.
"Thomas," Livvy called, "come in. The water feels amazing."
I turned my head to see her standing under the falls, letting the water wash through her hair as she laughed. Oh Livvy, what the fuck are you doing to me? I stood, dropping my backpack next to hers, and unzipped my pants. She paused under the water and tilted her head back so she wasn't looking at me. I stripped down to my underwear and waded into the water, the cool lap of the shallow pool making me sigh in contentment. Damn that feels good. When I'd waded a little ways in, I dove under, coming up right next to where Livvy stood. She let out a startled squeal, jumping then laughing. "How'd you do that?"
I stood, the water only up to my waist, running my hand over my hair as water droplets flew off my body, shimmering in the air. "Do what?"
"Swim that quickly?"
I laughed and she blinked at me, her eyes moving from my forehead to my mouth and seeming to . . . warm. "I was a SEAL. Water's my element."
She tilted her head, her eyes moving down my chest, lingering as she licked her lips. "Oh."
Yeah, oh. Fuck. I could see Livvy's white, lace bra under her tank top, the shadows of her darkened nipples. Her hair was slicked back and there were water droplets sticking to her eyelashes. She was so beautiful my guts clenched. Needy, wanting. The sun shifted overhead, finding a break in the leaves, the warmth moving over my skin.
"Your eyes," she breathed, staring at me, tilting her head as if in awe. "Did you know . . . they turn blue under the direct sunshine?"
Light caught the water on her skin, making it sparkle. She was sunshine. Warm and bright, too sweet for this cruel, dirty world. Too good.
A dragonfly fluttered in the air, catching Livvy's attention, and she put her finger up. It landed on her outstretched hand, and her eyes widened with delight as her gaze found mine. Time stilled, the roar of the water faded as I watched her, something filling my chest. I didn't like it. Lust . . . lust I could handle. But this . . . No. I sensed danger, my fight or flight hackles rising—only, this was different somehow. She threatened me in some way I couldn't define and didn't know how to defend myself against. I dove back under the water, immersing myself in the cold, coming up on the other side of the pool as Livvy laughed from where she stood. The dragonfly had flown away. "Showoff," she called.
I shot her a stiff smirk as I climbed out, feeling her gaze on my back, feeling her desire, but also her turmoil. This push/pull we were fighting with every ounce of ourselves. I pulled my pants back on, sitting back on the rock, faced away. I could hear her humming, splashing, but I refused to look at her. Couldn't.
Soon, I heard the splashing sounds of Livvy swimming to the shore and then pulling her clothes back on. My unease decreased the barest bit, knowing she was dressed.
"God, that felt so good." She sighed in contentment, sitting on the rock beside me as she twisted her hair into a wet bun. "Thank you for stopping."
"You don't have to thank me." I checked her feet and re-bandaged them. Quickly. Methodically. Though I could feel her gaze as I worked. Once she had her shoes on, I stood, picked up my pack, and started to walk. I heard her heft her own pack and fall in step behind me. After a minute, the path widened and she walked beside me. "So what other tricks can you do?"
"Tricks?" My voice sounded clipped, but I was tired, horny, confused, and out of sorts, when I'd never felt this way before. This woman shook me, mixed me up and frankly, I just wanted some damn peace. What had I done involving myself in this whole mess?
"Yeah, you know, running long distances, swimming like a fish . . ." She gazed at me with this look on her face—adoring—and it sent a bolt of guilt spearing through my insides. "I've never met a real live hero before and—"
"Stop looking at me that way," I snapped. I halted, turning toward her as she too came up short. "I'm no hero."
Her face fell slightly, but she managed another smile, lifting her chin and crossing her arms under her still-wet breasts. "I'll determine who's a hero and who's not."
"Oh, because your judgment of people is so great."
The flash of hurt was instantaneous, and I grimaced, swearing as I looked away. "Goddamn it, Liv—"
"No," she shook her head, "you're right." A glimmer of confusion moved over her features. "You might be right." Her shoulders drooped suddenly as if in defeat. "God . . ."
"Liv, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"No, it's okay. I get it. I've questioned my own judgment—"
“Fuck.”
“Thomas?”
"We're on the edge of a cocaine field."
Her head whipped left, then right, taking in the rows of plants we'd stepped between, the small red flowers. Coca plant. Shit. "What?"
"We've gotta get outta here, Liv." Livvy's eyes widened, and she seemed to shiver. That's when I heard it: voices, a car or two idling. I froze for a moment, listening and then glanced back at Livvy, gesturing for her to follow.
The voices rose in volume as we drew closer, and I could feel Livvy directly behind me, seeking protection.
/> I stopped behind a wall of brush, crouching and gesturing at Livvy to do the same, holding a finger to my mouth. She nodded in understanding, her eyes once again large with fear. It sounded like the people talking were almost directly in front of us and I stilled to listen to their words, reaching forward and using one finger to move a branch very slightly. Through the tiny gap, I could see two cars, two men leaning against the vehicles talking, one smoking a cigar, and several other men transporting crates from the trunk of one car to the trunk of the other. As we watched, the man smoking the cigar suddenly pulled his hand from his pocket and the sharp crack of a gun sounded. The man he'd been talking to only moments before dropped into a heap on the ground and Livvy inhaled a shocked breath beside me.
"Stand up very slowly and toss your weapon on the ground," a deep voice said from behind us.
Oh, fuck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Livvy
The breath I'd just sucked into my lungs came out as a startled gasp and Thomas froze next to me. Whipping my head around, I saw a tall, burly man holding a very large gun on us, his expression tight and cold.
Thomas swore softly as he began to stand. I shot him a panicked look, but he didn't look at me. I stood, too, putting my hands in the air.
"Take off your packs and toss your weapons to the ground," the man said again, his eyes glued to Thomas. He was speaking English, though his voice was heavily accented. My eyes darted to Thomas as he very slowly slid his backpack off his shoulders. I followed suit as Thomas tossed the gun that had been in his waistband to the ground at the man's feet and then slowly removed the knife attached to his belt. The man bent slowly, his eyes trained on us along with his rifle and picked up the handgun and then the knife, sticking the gun in his own waistband and pulling the knife from its sheath, inspecting it quickly and then throwing it into the thick brush. He gestured with his gun. "Now move."
I was shaking so badly I wasn't sure I could walk, but I did, following Thomas who still hadn't glanced at me. His jaw was tight and his expression blank.