Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful,” Beckett began once the four of them were above ground, “but how is it that you happened to get here so fast? Didn’t Carter call less than an hour ago?”
“Happened to be in the neighborhood?” Oliver tossed out sarcastically as he joined Beckett to face the strangers before them.
Beckett stole a quick look at Sydney standing alongside him. She was assessing their surroundings, as well as the six guys that screamed former military, from their all-black clothes to the black and green paint streaked across their faces.
“We were gearing up when Carter called.” One man broke from the pack, and the way he moved and spoke screamed “leader.” Confident but not cocky. “We heard about the shooting at the hotel. I live ten mikes out. We fast-roped into the jungle from my private helo.”
Mikes. Helo. Fast-roped. Yeah, you’re a veteran.
The man in charge lifted his chin when the sound of a chopper flying over the canopy of leaves came into earshot. His men had most likely handled the cartel members on foot after dropping in and then advanced to their location after Gray pinged Sydney’s watch. Relatively quickly too.
“Well, we appreciate your help,” Mya chimed in, stepping forward to offer her hand.
“You’re not police. Or active-duty military,” Oliver said as he shook the man’s hand next. Beckett and Sydney quietly followed suit out of respect. “So, who are you?” Oliver followed up. “And how do you know my boss?”
The man’s lips tipped into a smile before he tossed a look over his shoulder at his men, who mirrored his amused look. “I’m Martín Gabriel.” He opened his palms to the sky. “But my men and I are known as los fantasmas .”
“Ghosts,” Beckett finished for him. “So, you’re the ghosts of the jungle we were told about.” Now it made sense. Sort of.
“Ah, okay,” Oliver said. “Let me guess, vigilantes? If you were gearing up to take out these thugs before Carter called, you must handle this type of situation on a regular basis. Independent of the police, right?”
“Someone must, sí ? The policía can only do so much without endangering the lives of their families if they get involved in cartel business.” Martín stowed his hands into his pockets and angled his head, then pinned Beckett with a knowing look, possibly sensing he was law enforcement.
Unfortunately, because of his time working in LA, Beckett understood the gravity of Martín’s words more than he cared to admit. Had he stayed in town, McKenna’s life may have been in danger at some point because of his work.
“And you’re not afraid of the cartel?” Mya asked, sounding a bit mystified by the man.
“ They should be afraid of us , and I think they’re becoming so. We are developing an intricate network across Mexico to combat these men who try to destroy our country.”
“Brave of you,” Oliver said. “I assume you met my boss through your dealings with the cartel?”
Martín nodded. “Let’s say my head is still attached to my body because of him.” He motioned for them to begin walking, and Beckett was more than happy to oblige. He was waterlogged. And although walking in wet boots wasn’t his idea of a good time, the lure of a hot shower and clean clothes compelled him forward.
“Stupid question because you wouldn’t be here otherwise, but are all the bad guys dead?” Mya asked, rooted in place.
Martín turned back toward her. “ Sí .”
Mya closed the space between them. “If you’re hunting down the cartel, there’s something that may help you.” She quickly explained all about her inside source and the cell phone that contained information about the human trafficking routes.
“My men will locate his phone. And I can promise you”—Martín stopped and set a hand over his heart—“that I will personally help destroy that network. And we shall offer our support if you find yourselves facing the Sinaloas again.”
Beckett wasn’t usually quick to judge people, but Martín not only saved their asses, he gave off good vibes. Beckett’s gut told him the guy was more than worthy of his trust. And he’d take all the help he could get to save his brother-in-law and McKenna’s mother and aunt.
“Carter has requested that the four of you spend the night at mi casa to err on the side of caution for now,” Martín explained as he resumed walking, keeping pace with Beckett while his men followed closely behind.
“We’ll take you back to your hotel so you may collect your things. Policía are not on the hotel grounds yet. We’ve instructed them to wait for my word before coming.” Martín and his team clearly had the pull and respect from local law enforcement to bow to his requests. Better they deferred to Martín than the cartel though. “A car will pick you up and take you to my home. Not enough room in my bird for all of us, I’m afraid.”
Beckett briefly caught sight of the helicopter through an opening between branches overhead. It appeared to be following along, which made Beckett feel a bit better to have eyes in the sky as they navigated the woods back to the resort.
Sydney remained relatively quiet while walking until Martín turned his attention to the bow she’d decided to bring back with her. “You come from a long line of archers, sí ?”
“How could you possibly know that?” Sydney asked, more than a hint of speculation coming through her tone.
From the corner of his eye, Beckett spied Martín smiling. “Call it a feeling. My ancestry can be traced back to the Mayans who once ruled this very land. They were excellent archers.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind us staying with you tonight?” Sydney asked after a quiet moment had passed. “I’m sure we’ll be okay at the hotel. We shouldn’t be identified. My team handled the security cameras.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed with us. Mi casa es su casa ,” Martín replied without hesitation. “Besides, my wife, Valentina, loves any excuse to host a dinner party. You’ll make her happy. And a happy wife means a happy life. You must agree, sí ?” He peered at Beckett and tipped his head in Sydney’s direction. “You two are married?”
“ Us ?” Beckett stopped walking, trying to understand how this man with his excellent read on people thus far had drawn such a conclusion. “We barely know each other,” he explained as his eyes connected with Sydney, who stood still as well, quietly staring back at him.
When Beckett focused back on Martín, his brown eyes gleamed as if he knew something they didn’t. “ El corazón no miente .” Martín grinned. “Neither do the eyes.”
El corazón no miente? The heart doesn’t lie. Hell yes it does. Over and over again. And his relationship with Cora was proof of that.
Beckett cleared his throat and checked for a reaction from Sydney, but she was already on the move again. Instead, it was Oliver he’d discovered looking his way with a smile parked on his face.
Beckett waved his hand, motioning for Oliver to lose that stupid grin and walk.
As they followed Martín back to the hotel, he shared a few more details about the Mayans and their history.
Once they exited the jungle, Martín looked up at the helo still chopping the air, signaled something, and then the helo veered off in another direction.
“If you would like to get your belongings and meet my driver out front in fifteen minutes?” Martín suggested once they were by the archery targets. The grounds were still eerily quiet, and he assumed guests and staff were lying low until the bodies were removed, and they trusted the danger was gone. “Is that enough time?”
“Sure.” Sydney set the bow and quiver down on a table nearby as if she hadn’t used it to shoot a man not long ago. Her clothes appeared to be drying in the heat, same as his, but when she faced him, he spied her nipples through her white top, and he had to gulp and look away.
“See you soon, then. And glad you’re all okay,” Martín said before sharing the driver information for their pickup. Then he twirled his finger like a helo blade to rally his team to part ways.
“Did this really happen?” Mya looked around in disbelief once they were alone. “Is this a regular day at Falcon Falls? I mean, I know what Mason and the guys do is dangerous, but I’ve never been in the field to see it, so.”
“At least Mason has some sense,” Oliver mumbled, which earned him a scowl from Mya.
“I wouldn’t say this is a regular day,” Sydney answered a moment later as Mya opened her purse and dug around, probably looking for her phone to see if it survived their swim.
Beckett was fairly certain his phone was dead since it’d been in his pocket the entire time. He’d need to call McKenna and Ella from the phone in the hotel room before they left.
Shit, scratch that. If the cartel traced any outgoing calls to try and figure out their identity . . .
“Sydney, your cell phone is in your room, right?” he asked, remembering she’d only had her Apple watch when joining them at lunch.
“Yeah, you can call your daughter from it if you’d like,” she answered, reading his mind.
“Let’s get a move on.” Oliver set his hand on Mya’s back, motioning for her to walk, and Beckett and Sydney quietly followed them toward the hotel. Not a single guest, staff member, or police officer in sight yet.
The bar area emerged on their left as they neared the main part of the hotel by their suites, and Oliver tugged at Mya’s arm. “Don’t look,” Oliver warned at the sight of the bodies still lying on the ground. “I’ll walk you to your room so you can grab your things,” he offered Mya once they were inside the main building. Still no sign of life. “And don’t argue.”
Beckett waited for the two of them to part ways, then followed Sydney up the back stairs to her room, neither speaking a word, which suited him just fine.
Once in her suite, he let go of a heavy breath, trying to wrap his head around the last twenty-four hours. From the 1920s club to being saved by “ghosts.” He was pretty sure no one would believe the story even if he tried to sell it to the Enquirer.
“At least the keycard still worked.” She set the piece of plastic on the dresser in front of the mirror and began untangling her hair, working the strands loose from the braid that had miraculously stayed in place. “I could use a quick shower before we go. You?”
He looked down at his dirty, mostly dry clothes. He’d love nothing more than to wash off the craziness of the day.
“Not together,” she tossed out as if worried he may misinterpret her words.
Of course, after feeling like a pinball getting whacked around every which way today, sex shouldn’t have been on his mind. And yet . . . thoughts of Sydney straddling him in that cave earlier pounded his exhausted mind.
“I can be alone. You don’t need to babysit me. Plus, I think you’ve seen me partially naked enough for today.” That bit of humor, or maybe it was sass, had him smiling.
“I’d feel better if we stick together.” He shoved a hand in his pocket in search of his keycard, assuming his would work since Sydney’s had. “I can go grab my bag and come back.”
“Okay.” She handed him her keycard. “Take this in case I’m still naked”—she briefly squeezed her eyes closed—“I mean in the shower when you get back.” She pointed to the bed where her phone was and gave him the four-digit passcode to access it. “Feel free to call home when you return.”
“Thank you.” He waited for her to disappear into the bathroom before heading to his own suite. He locked the firearm into the weapons case and collected the rest of his belongings before making his way back to her room.
After discarding his bags by the door, he removed his boots and socks and let out a sigh of relief before grabbing her phone.
He listened to the running water from the bathroom while waiting for the call to connect with his sister, doing his best not to imagine Sydney naked in there.
“Sydney?” Ella answered, and Beckett forgot she’d most likely have Jesse’s teammate’s number saved. “Did something happen?”
“No, it’s me. Everyone’s fine.” He walked toward the terrace and shifted the curtains to the side to check for movement down below.
The resort was still a ghost town. Literally. Los fantasmas. Beckett spied two of Martín Gabriel’s men who’d rescued them earlier walking the beach as if standing guard.
“I had a weird afternoon, and my phone took a swim in a river, so that’s why I’m calling from Sydney’s line,” Beckett finally shared.
“Jesse-type weird?” AKA, killing bad guys?
“Just weird.” She didn’t need the details. No one did, for that matter. “I need a favor, and then I just want to hear McKenna’s voice.”
“She’s riding with Caleb. She wanted to be on her horse. Get her mind free from her worried state.”
McKenna was in good hands with his brother, and he’d calm her. But still. He missed his daughter. “I don’t want her stressed out.” He let go of the curtains and faced the room, picturing his daughter’s long dark hair, a gift from Cora, blowing behind her while riding her horse.
“Just worry about getting home alive right now. We’ll take care of McKenna. And I called out from work tomorrow.” Ella was an elementary school teacher, but she also designed clothes on the side as a hobby. A hobby that was now paying off. But he was grateful she’d been around so much over the years to step in as a motherly figure for McKenna. She had a better grasp of the younger generation than Deb Hawkins, their mom. “So, what’s the favor?”
Ella not asking about Jesse meant she’d already phoned Griffin or Gray for regular updates. He’d expect nothing less from Ella.
“I need Emily’s number. I don’t have it memorized.”
“Liam’s Emily? Why would you need her number at a time like this?” A pause and then, “Nooo, Beck, you didn’t,” she drawled. “You went to Emily since you knew A.J. would turn you down, didn’t you? Not sure how A.J. will feel about that.”
“One problem at a time. I’ll deal with that issue and the guilt that comes with it after I get your husband free from the cartel.” He did his best to ignore the knot of pain in his abdomen at such a conversation. “Her number, please.” He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and snatched the notepad and pen from the nightstand by the bed.
“Fine.” Ella was quiet for a moment and then rattled off the digits.
He huffed out a deep breath. “Ella,” he spoke before she had a chance to yell at him again, “I’m really fucking sorry.” And then he hung up.
Beckett pocketed the piece of paper with Emily’s number on it, deciding he’d call her later once they set up at their next spot.
He was about to toss the phone onto the bed when it began ringing. Not Ella. Gray’s name popped up. He eyed the closed bathroom door for a moment and hesitantly accepted the call. “Hey, it’s Beckett.”
“Sydney okay?” Gray’s tone came across as more surprised it was Beckett on the line than worried.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to leave her alone after everything that’s happened, so I’m in her room,” he explained, realizing he’d soon have to share why she didn’t answer herself and had no clue how that would go over with Sydney’s ex.
“Sydney doesn’t need a babysitter,” Gray quickly commented.
“She said the same thing,” Beckett recalled. “I’ll have her call you back.”
“Where is she?”
“The shower.”
When the line went quiet, Beckett could almost hear the wheels in Gray’s head turning. He either didn’t believe Beckett’s answer or didn’t know how to process it. But what was abundantly clear by Gray’s pause was that he still had feelings for Sydney. Beckett couldn’t blame him. He barely knew Sydney, and he was losing his mind around her.
“Do you want to wait to have Sydney fill you in on why we were being chased in the jungle today, or . . .?”
“Yeah, have her call me when you get to Martín’s.” No small talk before he ended the call.
“Annnd he’s pissed.” Beckett chucked the phone onto the bed. Like he needed any more problems.
Not sure what to do with himself while he waited for Sydney to finish showering, he wandered around the room, finding himself drawn to a few books on the other nightstand.
He doubted the books came with the hotel since there hadn’t been any in his room. But he was expecting Sydney to have books more about “how to kill someone with one hand behind your back” than a romance novel. These were more up his friend Savanna’s alley.
And they were romance books, right? The men on the covers appeared to have lost their shirts, so either romance or thrillers about hunting a clothes thief.
He chose one of the three to flip through, unsure if any man aside from his brother, A.J., really had abs that fucking defined in real life.
Beckett thumbed the pages, maybe to distract himself from the fact Sydney was wet and naked in the other room, then stopped halfway through and read a few lines. He was more of a Lee Child or Dean Koontz– type reader himself.
A lump rose in his throat when his attention dropped to the next paragraph on the page, a sex scene, and he found himself reading every line out of curiosity.
“You’ve been naughty. Really fucking naughty all week,” he growled out, imprisoning my body beneath his hard, muscular frame. He stared deep into my eyes as I lifted my hips, begging him to fill me. To ease the aching pain there.
“I know. And it took you long enough to make a move,” I whispered, my heart thrashing in my chest with anticipation for what was to come. He was my bodyguard. Assigned to protect me. Given orders not to touch me.
“You know I’ll lose my job for this,” he hissed as the head of his cock nudged my wet sex.
“No one will find out, but if you don’t give it to me now, I’ll lose my mind.” I dug my nails into his shoulders, clinging to him as I stared into his eyes, letting him know how desperately I needed him, even if I’d spent the last week acting as if I hated him. God, that was the furthest thing from the truth.
He leaned in and brought his mouth to my ear, and my nipples pebbled with his breath there. “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yessss,” I cried, dragging the word out as he plunged deep inside me and ? —
“Savanna thought I could use some love in my life.”
Beckett flinched and dropped the book at Sydney’s words. He hadn’t heard the water shut off or the door open, too engrossed by the erotic words on paper.
“Not sure why I just admitted that,” she added as he bent down to pick up the book and then strategically held the thing across his crotch, hoping she didn’t discover the book Savanna had given her had also given him wood.
Fuck thriller novels. Why wasn’t he reading these? Because I can picture . . . You.
All thoughts of the call with Gray went out the window as his gaze journeyed up the length of Sydney standing there in a colorful V-neck dress that stopped mid-thigh. Her hair was wet from the shower, and she had a hairdryer in one hand, the cord dangling on the ground.
She’d put a touch of mascara on from what he could tell. A little lip gloss. And that was it. Damn, the woman was beautiful. And this situation did not ease the blood flow rushing to his dick.
“Have you read any of the books she’s given you?” Why’d I ask that?
Sydney’s attention fell to the book he was still using as a fig leaf, and that thought almost had him laughing. What an absurd situation to be in, especially given the day they’d all had.
“I may have read one. It’s not my usual genre.” She began coiling the cord of the hairdryer around her hand. “I was surprisingly engrossed by the book though. A nice escape. And the sex, well” — she smiled — “was hot. But I guess my question is, don’t these women ever pee afterward? Aren’t they afraid of getting a UTI?”
His lips broke into a smile too, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but damn.
“I guess that wouldn’t be sexy to write for the author.” She lifted her shoulders and looked to the ceiling with a playful expression crossing her face. “How about this, ‘ After having her third back-to-back orgasm from the Sex God, she hurried to the bathroom to pee so she didn’t get an infection .’ Yeah, I think that’d kill the mood.” She lightly laughed.
But he was hung up on the “third orgasm” part. “Three orgasms, huh?” He lifted the book, hoping his erection would obey his command and go down. He flicked the cover while adding, “Sounds? — ”
“Impossible for me.” He lost her green eyes to the floor, and some part of his brain wanted to snatch that up as a challenge. “Anyways. I’ll, um, dry my hair out here while you shower since we’re short on time.”
And that reminded him . . . “Gray called. I didn’t want to worry him, so I answered.”
Sydney set the hairdryer on the bed and folded her arms, her gaze cutting to the phone.
“He didn’t seem all that thrilled when I told him you were in the shower and you’d have to call him back.” He went to tip his hat in apology and realized it was gone. Lost to the jungle when they’d been running.
“Who I shower with isn’t his business,” she said, not with bitterness, more like a basic fact. Yet, a touch of blush rose up her cheeks as her eyes slowly walked up the length of his body to find his face. “You know what I mean.”
He nodded, unsure of what to say. She had a past with Gray, and he needed to remember that. “I’ll just shower.” And forget about what I read in that book.
He hadn’t meant for his body to brush against hers while en route to the bathroom, but that slight touch was all it took for his brain to detour back to that sexy scene, and his dick to disobey orders.
Damn it to hell, what was wrong with him? They weren’t two characters in a book, throwing caution to the wind and giving in to their mutual desire. They were real-life people dealing with the real-life cartel in Mexico. And they both had baggage. So, he’d need to flush any idea of multiple-damn-orgasms with this woman down the drain. And pronto.
Sydney was off-limits for a hell of a lot of reasons.
And he reckoned he’d better remind himself of that.
Over. And over. And damn over again.