Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Sydney’s eyes landed on the large, vibrantly colored photo of a cenote that hung over the king-sized bed as she removed her bikini top and bottoms. She and Mya had visited the jungle area of Tulum yesterday, and Sydney had been captivated by the beauty and history of the cenotes, which she’d learned from their tour guide was pronounced “seh-no-tays.”
The Yucatan Peninsula was home to thousands of these natural limestone sinkholes. As the only source of freshwater, they were sacred to the ancient Mayans. It was believed Chaac, their god of rain, resided at the bottom of the cenotes, and sacrifices were commonplace to please the deity.
Their guide had invited them to join one of the small snorkel tours, but Mya had chickened out. “ Swim around in an underground hole that is connected to hundreds of other underground holes? With my luck, I’d somehow get sucked under and be the next sacrifice.”
Mya could chase down human traffickers but getting into a body of water that wasn’t crystal clear was somehow out of the question.
Sydney pulled her attention down to the cerulean-blue comforter, a match to the sea, and her thoughts drifted to last night. To that romance novel and the fictitious images of Beckett’s warm body heating hers.
And now he’s here. Mya would call that serendipitous or something as colorful.
“Sydney?” a voice she recognized asked from outside her door. She’d planned to meet everyone at the beachfront bar after she and Mya went to their rooms to change, so she wasn’t sure why Beckett had decided to drop by.
“Yeah, one second,” she responded, quickly searching for anything to put on. There was no way in hell she was answering the door naked, even though a tiny part of her wanted to do just that and see how Beckett responded.
After securing a white silk robe from the closet, she knotted the tie at her waist and swung open the bright blue door.
Beckett was a far cry from the vest-wearing suits she’d dated here and there in the last several years, but he made an impression in all the right ways. He gave off a badass Walker, Texas Ranger vibe, a reminder of the Chuck Norris show she’d watched as a kid with her grandfather. Not that Beckett looked like good ol’ Chuck, but damn. She’d noticed Beckett’s swagger the first time on New Year’s Eve at Jesse and Ella’s wedding.
At six feet, probably two inches, and she’d guess even taller with his cowboy boots on right now, Beckett smoothed a hand over his five o’clock shadow, wordlessly studying her. Taking in the sight of her from her bare feet on up to her beach-wavy blonde hair.
She was guilty of the same, cataloging every inch of the man before her.
A white tee hugged his broad shoulders and muscular biceps, and she knew if he turned around, his ass would look oh-so fine in those well-worn jeans. Were they Wranglers? Weren’t those a cowboy-type brand?
Beckett fidgeted with his black ball cap. She had a feeling he was far more comfortable wearing a cowboy hat, but he’d draw a lot more attention to himself donning one of those at the resort. And she doubted attention was what he was going for, given the circumstances.
“Hi,” he finally managed, breaking the silence first. Sydney had to blink away the salacious thoughts that’d popped into her head courtesy of the fictitious world she’d happily lived in beneath the bedsheets last night.
“I was hoping we could start over.” He cleared his throat and, likely inadvertently, let his gaze flick down to her chest before meeting her eyes once again.
“Oh?” She leaned into the doorframe, keeping the door propped open with her shoulder. “I thought we got off to an excellent start.”
“Yeah, see,” he began, closing his eyes for a brief moment, “I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, but I reckon it is.” That Southern drawl of his had her stomach doing a weird little flip. “But I do apologize for seeing?—”
“My breasts?” she tossed out. “I wouldn’t have been topless on a beach if I weren’t comfortable with my body. And now I’m naked beneath this robe, so we’ve come full circle.”
Beckett reached for the brim of his black ball cap and tipped it as if that were a gentleman’s way of saying I’m sorry.
“Let’s just not make it a habit of you seeing me partially clothed, and we should be all set.” She stepped back into the room, and he caught the door with his palm before it shut. “Oh,” she began, arching a brow, “was there more you wanted to say?”
He looked over her shoulder, his eyes landing on her bed as if being alone with a woman unsupervised was somehow against the rules. Were they on that Bridgerton show Mya had been talking about? Not that Sydney had watched it, but she could imagine what life was like for a woman in the 1800s and thanked the universe she hadn’t been born then.
“You don’t smell like cherries.”
Sydney’s gaze fell to the hardwoods beneath her bare feet, hating that her thoughts had landed on Alice and how she’d hijacked Sydney’s favorite cherry-scented perfume. Memories of that woman and everything she’d taken from her, including their friendship, pummeled their way through her mind all over again.
The news from Levi on Friday was far too fresh. But she’d never let that interfere with her job and safely extracting Jesse from the cartel. She’d learned to bury her thoughts and feelings when need be, which was ninety percent of the time. Give or take.
When she looked up, she wasn’t expecting to see his full lips curving into the slightest of smiles, one that had crinkles forming around his brown eyes. “You have a good memory and an excellent sense of smell.” She left the entryway to snatch her new bottle of perfume from the vanity and came back to find his palm still propping the door open, but he’d yet to cross farther into her suite.
She shook the little bottle of Tom Ford, Black Orchid, between them. “I used to wear a cherry-scented one. I decided I needed a change.” She had no clue why, but instead of handing him the bottle, she offered her wrist as if he might want to sniff her.
What did they put in those mimosas? Maybe it was the combination of the drinks and the sun? Because this was not like her.
Beckett lifted her wrist to his nose and closed his eyes, breathing her in. When their gaze met once again, the look in his eyes was raw, almost primitive. Like a man doing his best not to succumb to . . . desire?
With his eyes locked with hers, and his hand still wrapped around her delicate wrist, she’d swear his thoughts were becoming as derailed as hers. It was as if he were mentally untying her robe to part her thighs to check if she was wet for him.
It’s that book. And maybe the mimosas, she rationalized, remembering a scene from chapter thirteen. The sheriff had asked the woman if he made her wet, and she’d been stubborn and defiant and told him no. And to call her bluff, he asked her to touch herself. Prove it. She’d boldly lifted her skirt and caressed her sex, but when she removed her hand, her fingers were coated in her arousal. Within a minute, he had her on her back and was inside her. Pounding her hard.
“It’s nice.” Beckett freed her wrist and stood upright, his gaze cutting away from her as if feeling guilty for having dark, erotic thoughts given his brother-in-law’s situation.
Or maybe it’s just me with those ill-timed thoughts.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said as she turned and tossed the perfume bottle onto the bed.
“And what’d you expect?” Cold-hearted with bone-chilling icy walls? Dangerous and deadly with a bow? She rattled off a few more possibilities in her head as she waited for him to respond.
“Well, Jack warned me you’d be pissed I ruined your weekend. I guess he was giving me a hard time.”
“I’ve had a few mimosas. It’s entirely possible the me you expected will show up once I have some food in my stomach to counteract the alcohol.” She was only partially kidding. She really had no clue why she’d allowed her guard to slip even for the few hot seconds they shared as he breathed in her perfume, even if it was one-sided.
“I should let you get to it now.” His focus landed on the bed again. “You know, get dressed.”
“Sure.” She nodded and started for the en suite, assuming he’d leave without another word. But when she looked back, he was still standing there, eyes on the floor as if there was something else he wanted to say or ask.
“Jesse will be okay,” she noted in case that concern dominated his thoughts, which was more than likely the case. “I wouldn’t be standing here so calm if I didn’t believe he could handle himself.” And that was the truth—no sugarcoating needed, not that she knew how.
“If your son’s father was in danger, and he wasn’t the greatest person on the planet . . . would you do the same? Would you try to help him?”
Ah, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together.
Beckett said McKenna’s mother was a con artist, so he was likely questioning the sincerity of Cora’s request for help. Was he being conned again? How many times had this happened before? And why’d she leave him and McKenna in the first place?
“I would do anything for my son even if I hated my ex. He’d want his dad alive, which means I would help him.”
Beckett nodded and faced the door, and it was only then she spied the shadow of a bulge at the back of his waistband.
“How’d you get a weapon over the border? They let you fly armed because of your badge?”
He twisted back around. “No, a friend of Carter’s friend?” It came out more like a question as if he didn’t quite understand Carter’s network of influence. “I have a piece for you too. I can get it to you after we’re done at the bar.”
“Hopefully, we won’t need weapons here, but it’s nice to be packing just in case.” She forced a small smile, then spotted Mya in the hall a second later.
“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be here.” Mya quickly brushed past Beckett to enter the room. “Can we meet you at the bar? I need a few seconds with my friend.” She set her hands on Beckett’s chest and gently nudged him toward the hall as if he might resist.
Only Mya.
“Of course.” Beckett had barely left the room before Mya tossed two fisted hands in the air by her face and mimed explosions with them.
“That’s your cowboy sheriff,” she whispered. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences. We were talking about him, and now he’s here. This is Joe Dispenza’s theory of manifestation in action. The universe placed the four of us together in Tulum for a reason. And the fact that his daughter’s aunt and Jesse are with not just any cartel, but with the Sinaloas?—”
“Mya, you’re rambling.” Maybe there really was something in those drinks?
“I’m just a little shocked, I guess.”
“Sure it has nothing to do with the other guy here?” Sydney angled her head, remembering the way her friend had said Oliver’s name at the beach. Flirty, for sure.
“If we work together, I promise Oliver won’t become Mason two-point-oh.”
“So, you like him?” Sydney smiled. “Hmm, now I’m not sure if Oliver will be your reason for not joining Falcon or your reason for joining.”
Instead of answering, Mya’s gaze flitted around the room, landing on the photo of the cenote hanging over Sydney’s bed, and there was a moment where Sydney wondered if Mya regretted not taking the leap—changing her habits, starting with her fear of swimming in water other than pools. But then she blinked a few too many times as if her nerves were settling in, claiming control of her thoughts.
Habits die hard. “What’s going on? There’s something you’re not telling me, and it has nothing to do with whether you’re attracted to Oliver.” Sydney folded her arms and waited for her friend’s full attention.
“Maybe.” Mya nodded. “Okay, yes.” She tipped her chin, her eyes cutting to the ceiling. “I may have chosen our trip to be in Tulum for a reason. Girls’ weekend while you convince me to join your team,” she went on, her gaze finally moving back to Sydney’s, “and for a small mission, one I didn’t tell you about because it’s not until tomorrow after you’ve already left. And I don’t need backup.”
“Mya,” Sydney hissed and reached for her friend’s forearm. “And Mason and the others don’t know the real reason you’re here either, am I right? If Mason knows, that means he’s somewhere on overwatch keeping tabs on you right now.”
Mya frowned. “No, he doesn’t know. He’d lose his mind.”
Sydney released Mya and turned her back, angry at her friend for potentially placing herself in danger. “Can’t swim in a river, but you can chase bad guys on your own. Perfect.” The effects of the mimosas were quickly leaving her system now. “If Mason would go apeshit for you doing whatever it is you planned to do tomorrow, then it’s not a simple mission, and you do need backup. You should have told me.” She spun back around, doing her best not to explode at her best friend.
In truth, she’d do the same in Mya’s shoes. Hadn’t she done the same in the past? But Mya wasn’t a trained operative. She’d never served in the military or on the front lines like Sydney had. Mya was a valuable asset with her research skills, but she wasn’t equipped to go out into the field. And the idea of losing her friend . . .
“I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal. Mason’s just a worrier. He didn’t like the idea of me even coming to Tulum. Gave me every worst-case scenario for a single woman in Mexico.”
“But he let you come, huh?”
She smiled. “Once he knew it was you I was traveling with, he wasn’t so worried.”
Sydney fidgeted with the knot at the front of the robe, tightening it a bit more as she figured out her next steps. She refused to let Mya stay in Mexico alone tomorrow for a “mission,” but what if Jesse needed an extraction before then? “This is why you’ve been looking over your shoulder the whole time we’ve been here?”
“More like I was worried Mason didn’t trust me and would show up in true wet-blanket fashion.” Mya opened her palms as if that made perfect sense.
Sydney supposed her best friend would’ve given her the heads-up if she’d been on edge because she’d been concerned their lives were at risk.
“You know how I said everything happens for a reason . . .?” Mya’s sentence dangled in the air a bit as if there was more she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to express it.
Sydney knew exactly what Mya was about to share. Whatever mess of a situation Beckett had found himself in, as “fate” or whatever Mya wanted to call it, was connected to why Mya was in Tulum.
“The reason I’m here, my source, well, he’s from the?—”
“The Sinaloa cartel,” Sydney finished for her after an exasperated sigh.