Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“This is becoming a habit with you, Miss Archer.” During the past few hours, Beckett had seen this woman topless, in a silky robe with nothing beneath, and now in a nude see-through bra. What would happen if they spent any significant amount of time together?
Sydney didn’t bother to respond as she quietly swam toward where he stood. Once she reached the ledge, he extended his arm to offer an assist.
Instead of taking his hand, she reached for the ledge off to his side, attempting to hoist herself up the slippery rock wall.
He didn’t budge, curious how many times she’d keep at it before finally accepting his help. Stubborn.
A battle of frustration warred in her eyes after each failed attempt. Not only was she headstrong, but she was clearly not used to failing.
Beckett pulled his focus away from the struggling blonde beauty cursing under her breath to where Oliver propelled himself up the steep ledge on the second try, and surprisingly, Mya allowed him to help her up.
“You two have a height advantage,” Sydney mumbled as if still needing to defend her failed attempts.
He crouched a bit more, still holding her wet top, and peered into her eyes. They were ringed by her smudged black mascara and eyeliner, only making her look even sexier, in his opinion.
With her thick mass of blonde hair slicked back, showing off her high cheekbones and full lips, she looked like a supermodel in a travel commercial for Tulum.
“Does that mean you’ll take my hand if I give it to you?” Beckett smiled when her green eyes pierced him like one of her arrows. That dark but borderline seductive look shot him straight in the . . . well, not the heart. Right now, it was a different organ driving the show with her breasts lifting and falling from deep frustrated breaths. “Ma’am?” He arched a brow, opening his hand, doing his best to remain gentlemanly before his thoughts veered into caveman-like territory.
“Don’t call me ma’am,” was all she said before slapping a hand over his forearm and squeezing, taking control of her assist. Doing his best to maintain his footing despite the slick surface beneath his wet boots, he leaned back and pulled her onto the ledge.
But damn it . . . he slipped and went backward, landing on his ass with her on top of him. Straddling him, her hands planted on his wet chest as she caught her breath, she studied him with a sharp intensity that had him curious as to what was going on in that beautiful mind of hers.
“Sorry about making you fall,” she whispered, and then she shifted to the side and stood, offering him her hand this time. Opting not to be a stubborn ass, he took it.
Their palms connected, and a wave of heat traveled from his fingertips and spread up and into his arm.
He swallowed and released her hand once on his feet, nearly forgetting they weren’t alone. When he swiveled his gaze to see Mya and Oliver sitting with their backs to the wall and focusing squarely on them, all they were missing was their movie theater popcorn for the show.
Both he and Oliver had seen Sydney topless on the beach earlier, so why’d it bother him Oliver could see Sydney’s breasts as her nipples strained against the fabric of her nude, sheer bra?
“Your shirt,” Beckett offered, anxious for her to cover up for more than one reason now.
“She seems more comfortable without one today,” Mya said, catching everyone by surprise given how nervous she’d been that afternoon.
“Funny,” Sydney said while shaking her top out as if worried more ants might be clinging to the fabric.
“You should get some aloe vera for your chest and hands. A little red,” he noted, doing his best to discreetly eye the small welts from the fire ant stings near her cleavage.
Sydney followed his gaze to check for herself before pulling her top on. “I’m sure the hotel gift shop has some,” she softly commented, then slowly stepped closer to Oliver and reached for the quiver he must have snatched from the water after Sydney had tossed it.
“Lost a few arrows down the river,” Oliver noted, nudging his chin toward where Beckett had set the bow.
Sydney sat against the wall alongside Mya and rested the bow and quiver on her lap before tapping at her watch, most likely checking to see if Gray had received her earlier text. “Message went through. He says it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Wow, that’s good news,” Mya said as Beckett leaned against the wall. “But while we wait, I do have to ask something.” Mya focused on Sydney as she twisted her blonde hair into a side braid, the tail hanging a few inches below the curve of her left breast.
Beckett doubted her hair would stay like that for long without a hair tie. And he only knew this because he’d learned several different ways to braid hair over the years for McKenna’s sake. Things he’d never thought he’d do in his life. But worth it to see his daughter smile.
“Yeah?” Oliver prompted when Mya’s words seemed to get stuck in her throat.
Mya twisted to face Oliver this time. “Do y’all still want me on your team after all of this? My recklessness got us into this situation.”
Sydney let go of her braid and stretched out, repositioning the bow and quiver farther down her legs.
“You’re brave. Smart. Intuitive. And clearly great at finding sources that will be putty in your hands and give you intel. So yes, I still want you working with us,” Sydney said, her tone resolute.
Mya winced. “My source is dead because of me.”
“He’s dead because he joined the cartel in the first place,” Oliver quickly reminded her. “But maybe he’ll have better luck in the um, afterlife, for trying to do the right thing in the end.” He lifted his palms to the air. “I agree with Sydney. You should join us. We wouldn’t let you come down here alone like your other team did.”
“They didn’t know that’s why I came to Tulum. I lied about why I’m here,” Mya defended before dragging a hand down her face.
Yeah, I can relate to that.
Mya let go of a deep breath, her shoulders slumping slightly in the process. “If I work with you guys, then consider this,” she said while twirling her finger in the air, “a trial run. Which means I need more information from you, Beckett, if I’m going to help find Cora.”
Beckett pushed his back away from the wall at what she was implying. He knew what this former journalist would want from him. And although she didn’t rub him the wrong way like the reporters back in Los Angeles always had, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to unzip his lips and open up like this was some him-on-a-couch therapy session. Talk about feelings? Hard pass, as his daughter liked to jokingly say when she didn’t feel like doing chores. Of course, he wasn’t joking.
“You do realize you have to share what you know at some point, right?” Mya pressed, reading his thoughts.
Or maybe reading his face. He’d probably turned on his “grump look” as his sister teased. Scowling. Furrowed brows. Etcetera. Etcetera.
“We have time,” Mya continued as he remained quiet. “We’re sitting here waiting for a rescue. Why not share what you know so that when we leave here, we can get started right away? The sooner we find your ex, the better.”
“Right now, my concern is for Jesse.” Beckett folded his arms, the back of his skull hitting the hard surface behind him.
“And Jesse’s safety might very well be tied to Cora’s now.” Mya didn’t need to remind him of that possibility. Beckett had been plagued by that thought ever since Jesse had stepped inside that Cadillac last night.
I’m the reckless one.
“I know it may not be easy to talk about this woman if she hurt you in some way, but I can’t help if all I have to work with is a blank page. Maybe start with how you and Cora met?” Mya suggested, her tone soft like butter on his mother’s homemade biscuits.
Damn, the woman was good. He couldn’t blame her for tapping into her arsenal of interview skills to try and bait him into opening up. But that didn’t mean he wanted to pour his feelings out and write his life story to fill up that blank page of hers either.
They’d have to settle for the bullet point version of his life.
Beckett exhaled an uneasy breath and freed his arms from their locked position across his chest.
“Did you meet her in Los Angeles when you were a cop?” Oliver chimed in, throwing Beckett a softball to help ease him into this conversation.
They didn’t need to hold his hand through this, but why’d he find himself gripping the back of his neck where the bundle of nerves there seemed to twist?
“You were a cop in LA?” That piece of information had Mya’s interest piqued. “ So , before you were a sheriff in Walkins Glen, you worked in California?” Her question came across more like a statement in search of confirmation.
He mussed up his hair as he considered the words he’d be comfortable sharing. “I always planned to go into law enforcement. And I wanted the opposite of my small town. I chose LA because I hate the cold, so New York City was out of the question,” he finally revealed. “After I graduated college, I joined the academy in LA. Seeing all the problems with gangs and drugs, I decided I wanted to work my way into the Narcotics Division and become a detective.” Okay, that’s enough backstory there.
“Oh.” The little sound slipped from Mya’s lips as if she were already filling in the rest of his story herself.
Beckett shifted his focus to Sydney, and why was this next part so hard for him to share? Was he worried she’d think he was an idiot for allowing a woman to con him? Just get it over with. But he couldn’t seem to look away from her as he spoke. “I come from a music-loving family. In my free time, I’d go to a few jazz and blues clubs on the weekends.” There’s a point to this, I swear.
“I remember Jesse telling us your hometown was named after your dad and another guy there. Walker and Hawkins combined, right?” Oliver spoke up. “Walkins Glen. Except there’s no actual glen in your town,” he added with a light tone, and Beckett looked his way to see him smiling. “Your dad was a musician after the military . . . and then took over running the ranch.”
Beckett nodded. “Like I said, music is in my blood. So, I used to hang out at one specific place regularly, and that’s where I met a singer.”
“Cora,” Mya whispered.
Beckett’s throat grew tight, his heart rate climbing now that he’d reached this part of his story—a story that’d suddenly gone from bullet points to full-blown detail. “One night, a couple of guys were trying to mug her outside the club, and I stepped in to help. After that, we started dating.” He thought back to that night and the sight of Cora standing next to her red Civic, trying to shove away the two men harassing her, demanding money. It was all an act. “She pulled the whole damsel-in-distress thing on me as a way to con her way into my life.”
Beckett turned and set a hand to the wall, bracing himself as he prepared to share the part of the story that always dismantled him. He’d loved that woman with everything he had, and in turn, she’d ripped his heart out and destroyed him. Destroyed his ability to ever trust or allow himself to love another woman again. But as much as Cora had hurt him, he wouldn’t change a thing. She’d given him McKenna.
“You can stop.” Sydney’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You don’t need to do this now. Not down here.”
He shifted away from the wall, her hand slipping away in the process. “It’s fine. I’m fine. You should sit.”
She angled her head and continued to study him as though she understood the scope of his pain. Maybe she did?
“I’d rather go ahead and get it over with.” I’ve come this far, so why not finish?
“She chose you as her mark because of your job, didn’t she?” Mya, the quick study, asked.
Beckett faced her, unable to get through the next part of this conversation while finding himself lost in Sydney’s gaze. “More like MS-13, the gang, did. She owed them a favor. Cora was always getting involved with the wrong people. And I was someone the gang couldn’t buy. They couldn’t put me on their payroll. So, they found another way to get to me,” he confessed, feeling foolish all over again.
“What happened?” Mya was on her feet now, her reporter brain most likely working overtime, possibly plotting the potential outcomes of how his story went.
Uncomfortable, he attempted to shove his hands into his pockets, forgetting he was still soaking wet from their dive into the cenote. So instead, he crossed his arms once again, trying to get control of his emotions. To fight off the demons of his past that were more real than the “ghosts” in the jungle.
“Six months into our relationship, she accidentally got pregnant. I proposed, thinking that was the right thing to do. We never got married though.” He paused for a breath to collect himself. “And then, a few days before McKenna was born, I caught her going through my work computer at our apartment.” He swallowed the lump down his throat. “She tried to lie her way out of what she was doing, but then she broke down and confessed.”
He resisted the urge to close his eyes, to travel back in time to that night. In truth, he didn’t want to relive that moment. But more times than he could count, he did relive memories just like that one. How could he have been so blind to miss the signs she was using him to relay information to MS-13?
“Cora said they’d kill her if she didn’t trick me into dating her and then worm her way into my life. But then she said she fell in love with me. I know, she’s a con artist, so why believe her?” Beckett shook his head. He still had no clue if Cora ever truly loved him, but it didn’t matter. “I didn’t know what to do. She was about to have our child. And I needed time to figure out how to handle the news. Part of me wanted to throw her in jail. But how the hell could I do that?” His stomach turned at the memories piling one by one in his mind.
“What happened?” Mya softly asked.
Beckett blinked a few times. “Two days after McKenna was born, Cora disappeared. She left a note saying goodbye.”
“She just left?” Mya rasped, and yeah, it was a hard pill to swallow. Even for Beckett thirteen years later.
“Her note said McKenna would be safer without her in our lives. And she assumed the cartel would believe she betrayed them by leaving, so she’d need to go into hiding for a bit.” He closed his eyes this time, hoping his body didn’t betray him and show any physical signs of the emotional beating his memories gave him.
“Did you try to find her?” Mya asked.
“Of course.” Beckett opened his eyes to see Mya taking careful steps to not slip into the water as she sidled up alongside Sydney. “Not that I knew what in the hell I’d do if I found her. Fuck, she used me for months to help drug dealers and murderers. I decided it’d be safer to move back to Alabama and raise McKenna there.” He uncrossed his arms only to tighten his hands into fists at his sides. “I didn’t find Cora after that, but she found me. She’d call for help or show up from time to time. Never saw McKenna though. She just did her best to manipulate me to get what she needed. Money. ”
“And you helped her?” Oliver asked in surprise as if he wouldn’t have done the same. But Oliver didn’t know what it was like to be a parent. It wasn’t so simple.
“She’s the mother of his child,” Sydney whispered before facing Beckett. “What else could he do?”
“You said earlier you haven’t heard from Cora in years, though, right? Three weeks ago was the first time in a while?” Mya reiterated.
“Yeah, nearly six years.” He’d seen Ivy since, but not Cora. “That last time she showed up I warned her if she ever contacted me again, I wouldn’t help her. And shockingly, she listened. Well, up until recently.”
“So, that’s why you don’t think Cora would be involved with the cartel now,” Mya said in understanding. “And I assume her sister knows Cora’s story, so she wouldn’t want to get mixed up with the Sinaloas either.”
“Right, but like I said, Cora was always great at accidentally getting herself mixed up with the wrong people. I guess it’s not inconceivable to think Cora’s in trouble now because someone from the past connected to MS-13 or the Sinaloas has found her. Many of her old crew were arrested not long after she fled town, and they probably blamed her for it.” But Cora was also great at remaining invisible. Hell, even Emily’s contacts couldn’t find her with their facial recognition software. How would anyone from her past be able to find her? “Bad luck, maybe?”
“I take it the cartel never knew Ivy back when Cora was in LA, or she wouldn’t risk going to that club in Juárez?” Mya asked.
“No, Ivy never lived in LA while Cora was there, and she had no connection with the cartel from what I know . . . well, once I learned the truth, that’s what Cora told me.”
Before Beckett could share more, Sydney’s gaze dropped to her watch and she announced, “They’re coming now.”
“Who?” Mya stepped closer to Oliver. “Good guys or bad guys?”
“Good guys,” Sydney answered as Beckett listened for signs they weren’t alone.
Within a minute, a deep voice called out, “Sydney Archer, Carter Dominick sent us. Let’s get you all out of there.”