by Ellie Danes
I flinched when the bar door opened and let in a burst of late afternoon sunshine. A group of men, co-workers, shuffled in and found their regular table near the dartboard. They argued over who owed for the first round, and then sent a shorter, middle-aged man up to the bar for the drinks.
“Well, hello there,” he said.
I gave him a wan smile and turned my barstool. Their table was directly between me and Nathan. The group of co-workers, in matching construction shirts, was harmless, but I was still nervous.
Ever since Nathan had mentioned the gunman in the dark suit, my pulse was jumping. And, now I’d found out that Nathan knew the man!
Maybe I was safer with the group of men separating us. Nathan sat in the back booth, eyes on the table. The newly-arrived regulars took one look at his grim mouth and tense body, and left him alone. If I was smart, I should have done the same.
Instead, I turned back to the bar and gripped my shot glass with both hands.
“How about a beer chaser?” The bartender started to pull out a draft beer before I could nod.
The co-workers loudly divided themselves into dart teams and started to play. Their actual skill was not in throwing darts, more than a few stuck far into the wall, but in trash-talking each other. The noise level in the bar jumped up a level and was more relaxing than the tense silence.
I took the beer the bartender gave me and sipped it. “Thanks. Was he really here with that man?”
The bartender’s lips formed a tight line. He didn’t want to talk but he couldn’t refrain from warning me. “I saw that man you came in with sitting at that table. They talked business for a long time.”
“Was he drunk? Hurt? Under duress?”
“Him?” The bartender glanced at Nathan’s formidable presence. “No. They were friendly, easy. Seemed like a straightforward deal.”
Nathan could not hear us over the dart-players’ insults. He was still staring at the table top, no doubt going over and over the few details he remembered. Was he as shocked as I was to learn he knew the man who had kidnapped me?
“Was that the first time you saw Nathan?” I asked.
The bartender sighed. “Yes. I don’t know anything else. Just that you might want to rethink the company you are keeping.”
“You don’t know him,” I said.
I thought my voice was lost in a loud argument over scoring the dart game, but the bartender shook his head.
“I know the type,” he said.
“He’s not pretending, you know?”
The bartender nodded. “Ex-military, hard as rock, no need to pretend. Or is it you he’s fooling?”
“No, no, you have it all wrong. He’s a good man. He just lost his memory. That’s why we’re here. We have to find out what happened and how he got all tangled up in this.”
“What if he’s the one who made the deal? What if it was his idea?” the bartender asked. “You should be more worried about yourself.”
“Why would Nathan make a deal with a cartel?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Then stick with the facts. He knows Adrian Juarez. Sounds like Juarez isn’t too happy with him. Something must have gone wrong. Do you really want to be in the way when they meet again?” The bartender frowned across the bar at me.
“There’s gotta be another explanation. When Nathan’s memory comes back, it will all make sense,” I said.
“You sure he really lost it? Or maybe he’s just blocking out the bad stuff.” The bartender glared over at Nathan, who had not moved.
“I think he’s a good man.” I set the beer down and stood up.
The bartender caught my wrist, not hard or threatening, but firm. “You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know Nathan.” I wrenched my hand free. “He’s a good man; he’s in the Navy Seals. Was. . .”
I leaned back on my stool and felt my head spin. Probably just the tequila, I told myself. Everything was just fine. I’d grab Nathan, and we’d get something to eat and everything would be fine once we were on the road again.
“No one who’s friends with Adrian Juarez is a good man,” the bartender said.
“Maybe he was coerced. Blackmailed. If this Juarez guy lives up to his reputation, he could have had a gun on Nathan under the table the entire time they sat here.” I stuck my chin out and wanted to believe.
The bartender shook his head. “No gun. Just a deal and a handshake. Like I said, they looked friendly. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I meant to ask myself that question but it came out in a ragged whisper.
My head spun. I had decided to help Nathan on a whim. He needed help and it hadn’t hurt that I found him attractive. It had been a long time since a man had caught my interest, and I liked how it made me feel: alive, in motion, excited.
I had done so many things to get away from that old feeling of being stuck. Stuck in the bottomed-out hole of all my bad choices. Nathan had been my escape, and I had taken it without a second thought.
Then we’d faked our own deaths. There was no going back now. I was stuck again.
“Finish your beer,” the bartender said. He leaned on the bar in front of me and made sure he had my full attention. “When you’re done, you’re going to turn around and go down the hallway. Take the door on the left, go through the kitchen, and leave. Bus station is a mile or so west of here. You can make it if a few minutes if you want to run.”
I sat down on the barstool and wasn’t sure I could get up again. I knew the bartender was trying to help, but his words had scared me more than anything I’d heard that afternoon. I was in danger. If I was smart, I would leave and start all over on my own.
I would have no one. Again. Janice and my few friends at the diner thought I was dead. My sister wouldn’t have spoken to me even if she knew I was alive.
I wouldn’t have Nathan. There would be no more sleepy mornings in motel beds. No more laughing over coffee. No more midnight runs for pizza. No more dizzying kisses and explosive falls into his arms.
I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t leave.”
“He’s going to, sooner or later.” The bartender’s gaze hardened. “Don’t waste your life on someone like him. You think he needs you, but does he? Or are you just a nice little distraction for when he gets bored?”
I knew he was being harsh on purpose. He must have had sisters or daughters, because the bartender was angry that he couldn’t save me.
“I’m gonna charge you for the next drink. Or you can save your money for the bus,” the bartender said. He took my beer away and poured it out.
I put my hands on the bar, prepared to push off my stool and head down the hallway. Maybe I could think in the bathroom. I needed to get away from the dart-players’ boisterous talk and the bartender’s hard advice.
Then I felt Nathan’s gaze on my back.
I knew he was looking at me even before I turned around. It was like a magnified ray of sun, hot but not yet burning. If I stayed too long, I would feel my skin begin to singe.
When I stood up, I had no choice but to look at Nathan. His body pulled my eyes like a magnet. There was a question in his look but I just gave him a weak-handed wave. Then I turned toward the hallway and walked quickly.
I heard Nathan stand up but not his heavy footsteps behind me. For now, at least, I had the space I needed to think. The only problem was, my mind was no clearer than it had been at the noisy bar.
Stay or go?
I stared at myself in the mirror but she didn’t have an answer either. I leaned my forehead against the hard glass and felt the tears spill over onto my pale cheeks.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Nathan
I watched Bree head down the short hallway and wondered if I would ever see her again. Not that I could blame her for leaving. The more we both found out about me, the more it seemed like I had lied. Bree had believed me, supported me, and stuck by me but it had all been a lie.
What kin
d of man made deals with Adrian Juarez and the New Mexico City Cartel?
The bartender at La Puerta Roja had said that we seemed friendly. I had sat over friendly drinks and made a deal with the same man who had pointed a gun at Bree’s head.
And it was even worse that I had no memory of it. I couldn’t tell Bree that I had had good intentions or that I was on a mission with actual morals. No, it seemed like I had done something awful and blacked out the parts I couldn’t stand.
How could Bree be with someone like that?
I should have let her go. Bree deserved to find someone better. At the very least, she deserved a chance at a normal, safe life.
Life was never going to be safe or normal for me again.
I had to face Adrian Juarez. I had to know what sort of deal we had struck. And I still had to know how poor little Maggie was tied in with all of it.
The thought made me jump to my feet. If anything, the fact that Maggie still needed our help would make Bree stay. I marched over to the bar, determined to follow Bree and make my plea. I needed her to help me or I was afraid I would never find out what happened to Maggie.
“Slow down. Have another shot.” The bartender blocked my way with a meaty hand.
“No, thanks.” I stepped around him. “Just going to get my friend and get back on the road.”
“I agree. Time to go,” the bartender said. He moved to stand in front of the hallway.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said. Then I rolled up my sleeves. “She can make her own decisions. But, by all means, let me help you move out of the way.”
The bartender held up his hands. “You’re right. She can make her own decisions. If she hasn’t already.”
He moved, and I rushed down the door to knock on the bathroom. What if Bree was already gone? What if I had sat too long and let her slip away?
I knocked again, harder, and pressed against the door. “Bree? It’s me. Open up, please.”
There was no answer. I pressed my ear to the wood and hoped I could hear Bree sniffling inside.
My heart hammered. What would I do if she was gone? How would I get back on the road and figure out the next step?
A choice hit me like a wave, and I stumbled back. The smart decision would be to find Bree, even if she was already running, and go with her. We could start a whole new life and leave all of this in the darkened past.
“Bree? It’s me. Please. I need to talk to you. I don’t know what to do,” I said.
The lock shifted and the door swung inward. I was so relieved to see Bree’s face that I swept forward and kissed her. My lips propelled us both into the bathroom. When Bree’s backside hit the porcelain sink, she put her hands on my chest and pushed me back.
Then she slapped me across the cheek.
It stung but I had to smile. Bree hadn’t left me.
“I’m sorry, I deserved that,” I said. “You can slap me again if it helps.”
Bree wound her hand back then dropped it with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said.
My blood leaped as my mind zeroed in on the only thing we did better than talk. I caught the waistband of Bree’s jeans and pulled her into my arms again.
“Then just listen. I’m sorry.” I punctuated my words with soft kisses. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared it was true about Juarez and the cartel. I won’t keep anything from you anymore.”
She shook her head, unwilling to trust me. Still, she did not pull out of my arms, and I nibbled on her bottom lip and pulled her tighter against me.
“Please, don’t go. I need you,” I whispered.
“I can’t. We can’t. Nathan, this is all too much,” Bree said.
I tipped her face up to meet my gaze. “You’re right. We’ll go, together. Now that we know who the gunmen are, we can avoid them. We can leave it all and just go. Start a new life. See the ocean.”
Bree gave me a watery smile then a small sob escaped her lips. “No. We could but you can’t. You can’t drop all of this, especially not now. Now that you know about Juarez, you want to talk to him face to face.”
I shook my head. “I’ll drop it all. For you, Bree. I swear.”
“Don’t swear. Don’t lie. Not anymore.”
Tears were warm on Bree’s cheeks, and I wiped them away with my thumbs. Then my thumb brushed over her mouth. Bree pressed her lips to it, then took my hand and pressed a hot kiss into my palm.
I felt the soft touch like a wildfire through me. “I’m not lying, Bree. I want us to walk away from this together.”
Bree slipped my hand onto her waist. “Shh. Tell me something honest.”
I stuttered as her arms slipped around my neck. “I-all I-I want you,” I said.
Bree rolled up onto her tiptoes and kissed me. Her body pressed against me, and I wrapped my arms around to make sure not an inch was apart. Her breasts flattened against my chest, and I could feel her heart pounding.
She may have wanted to run, but she wanted me more.
That fact and her sweet lips set me on fire. My surge of lust bent Bree over as I leaned harder into the kiss. She clung to me, her breath hot and heavy as our tongues tangled together.
“No. No! I can’t. What am I doing?” Bree pushed back up to standing and pried my arms off her body. “Why do I always make the worst choice?”
“I’m the worst?” I asked. One hand stroked her from her neck down to the sensitive spot on her lower back.
Bree bit her lip, her mind at war with her heated body. “No. You are definitely not the worst. But I’d have to be a crazy person to want to stay with you.”
“Just want me. Please,” I said. I hooked my hand into the waistband of her jeans and pulled her back against me.
Bree’s eyes flared when she felt my hardness brush against her thigh. “I’m crazy. This is so crazy.”
I crushed her lips with another kiss, pressing her against my body’s eager reaction. “I’m crazy for you, too, you know.”
She moaned, part frustration and part pleasure. “We were good together.”
I leaned back long enough to flip the lock on the bathroom door. “Please, let me be good to you.”
Bree leaned against the porcelain sink as I unbuttoned her jeans. When our lips met again, my hand slipped inside to cup her warmth. Then, slowly, using only my middle finger, I teased her. When she was writhing against my touch, her mouth panting against my lips, I touched her.
The contact was electric, and I felt Bree’s shudder of pleasure run like a fuse through me. Her hands fumbled for my waistband, and I only parted from her long enough for her to open my pants.
She was quivering against my touch, one foot off the floor as she opened farther to the pleasure.
I couldn’t take much more. “Oh, god, I want you, Bree.”
She pushed against my chest, her eyes flashing. “I’m still mad at you. We shouldn’t do this.”
The rational thought only spurred our passion higher. Bree clung to the sink but didn’t protest as I pulled off her jeans. Then she grabbed my shoulders and let me lift her up.
I balanced her on the edge of the sink, one hand holding her waist while the other braced against the bathroom mirror. Bree was hot and wet, her eyes angry but her legs open for me.
I stepped forward and held my breath. It had to be up to her. Bree was everything I wanted but I was no good for her. I throbbed against her slick opening but made no move.
Bree’s eyes widened but her body betrayed her with little rhythmic rocks of her hips. “Nathan, I-I…”
“Say it. You hate me.” I moved to step back.
Bree caught my waist and stared deep into my eyes. “I don’t hate you. Don’t you realize that? Nathan, I don’t hate you. It’s just…”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I said.
Bree rubbed her hands up and down my back. The mixed signals flared through my body like fireworks. I knew it was wrong to make love to her now, but that made me want her even more.
/> My body nudged her again, and Bree’s mouth fell open in a gentle moan. I kissed her neck, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. I had to cool down, let her go.
Bree’s hands roved down my back and then caught around my waist again. She pulled me closer, her slick heat slipping around my hardness.
“I’m crazy for you,” she said again. “So crazy.”
“I want you but I can stop. We can stop. We need to talk about all of this—”
Bree stopped me with a long, wet kiss. “No. No more talking. Just love me.”
“Are you sure?”
Bree nodded her head, her eyes suddenly glossy with tears. Then she wrapped her arms tight around my neck and pulled me in. When we were tight together, Bree tangled her hands in my hair and kissed me.
I fell into the kiss and into her sweet body.
She was the only point in my universe not spinning out of control and I clung to her. My body plunging to fill the space between us. I wanted her, needed her, and I couldn’t imagine being without her.
When we were done, leaned hard against the sink with Bree’s legs wound around my waist, I wanted to hold her. I wanted to cuddle her close and not let go. But the sink was cold and Bree was uncomfortable.
I had to let her go.
“Bree, I… I don’t know what to say.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing else to say. That was the last time. This is goodbye.”
I watched as she pulled on her jeans and fixed her hair. My mouth formed the words but I had no air. Then Bree reached for the bathroom door and opened the lock.
“This is goodbye?” I croaked.
“No.” Bree kissed me one last time. “This is. Goodbye, Nathan.”
She walked out and by the time I’d buttoned my pants and ran out to the bar, she was gone.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Bree
I got lost. Between the tequila, the beer, and the bartender’s warning, it was no surprise I wasn’t thinking straight. I was out of the bar and two blocks away before I realized I had forgotten the directions to the local bus station.
When I finally found someone to ask, he looked at me with a worried frown. “Local or out of town?”