Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I know you don’t want me doing this. But would you say something? Anything? The silence is killing me.”
Beckett crouched and picked up a stone by his boots, which thankfully hadn’t been ruined from their river swim two days ago. He remained in that position for a moment, not prepared to face Sydney without sunglasses to shield his eyes.
And no, he sure as hell didn’t want her seducing the psycho billionaire. But try and stop a woman like her from doing something? Better chance convincing his die-hard meat-and-cheese-loving father to go vegan.
“We’re rolling out in five minutes. I want a chance to clear the air before we’re all stuffed into one SUV together.” Sydney’s soft plea had him standing.
Hotel check-in wasn’t until three, and the team had spent most of the day digging into both Jorge and Miguel’s backgrounds.
Plus, there was the fact Elaina had shared that her dad would need to kill someone to rescue a kid. But whose kid?
“What are you thinking?” She reached for his arm, and he forced himself to finally meet her beautiful green eyes. “Talk to me.”
“No,” he replied, allowing the word to roll free as he tossed the stone. “I don’t want you in the limelight tomorrow singing for that fucker,” he drawled, finally speaking his mind. “The idea makes me want to commit murder, and I don’t like killing people. Not even bad guys.” There. But what now?
Sydney squeezed his arm a bit tighter. And although it was barely sixty-five out now, a contrast to Mexico’s harsh heat, he wanted to roll his sleeves to his elbows because it was hot beneath her stare.
“Do you have any other suggestions on how to get Jorge’s attention?” She arched a questioning brow.
Singing . . . fuck. It just . . . “Carter’s still trying to construct an alias and get a party invite. There’s that plan. If he can get on the inside, at least we have him and Jesse there. The rest of us can infil that night.”
“We need more of us on the inside if possible.” Sydney let go of him. “I have no clue if he’ll even notice me on Wednesday. It probably won’t work anyway.”
He looked up at her while busying himself rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “You’re funny, sweetheart. A man not notice you?”
“If Cora’s his type, I’m probably not.” He spied her throat move with a subtle swallow she’d probably tried to hide.
Had Sydney seen Cora’s photo? Read up on her when he wasn’t around? Carter had probably pulled together a case file on all things Cora Barlowe, and there’d been no need to share it with Beckett.
“You’re nothing like Cora.” His arms fell, resisting the urge to reach out and palm her cheek. “And that’s a good thing, I promise,” he gritted out. “You’re my type, by the way. Fuck Jorge’s type.”
“You loved Cora once upon a time,” she murmured.
“I was young. Stupid. She was a weakness for me back then and?—”
“A weakness?” she whispered. “So, you couldn’t resist her?” She paused, then quickly tossed out, “I’m not jealous.” She frowned, and her shoulders fell a bit in defeat. “Maybe I am? I guess the idea that this woman might still have some effect on you makes me a little crazy.”
Yeah, he understood “crazy.” He had a hard time stomaching the fact any other man had ever shared a bed with Sydney.
“Listen.” He reached for her elbow, tugging her closer, not giving a damn who might be watching them from the house. “She manipulated me. A professional con artist. I should’ve recognized she was playing with me. It was my job to go undercover. To work a room. In a sense, I had to con people so they bought my story. And the fact she was able to turn the tables on me like that . . .” Fuck, what am I trying to say again? He was losing his focus with her green eyes on him. “I’m not the same person I was back then,” he promised. “You have nothing to worry about when I see her again. If I see her again.”
Sydney pivoted to the side as if searching for her invisible shield of armor. “You’re not mine. I don’t know where this is coming from.”
He knew this blip of insecurity was Seth’s doing. His affair. She had trouble trusting how absolutely amazing she was because of him. And now the jerk wanted her back. He was so stupid to lose her. Never deserved her.
“Well, you sure as hell feel like mine,” he rasped, unable to prevent the truth from passing through his lips. “I don’t have any self-control around you. You’re the only one I can’t resist.” And he’d spend every second making sure she knew and understood that if it’d help her. He’d kiss away whatever insecurities still plagued her from the damage the men in her life had done to her. “I’d love nothing more than to have you see yourself through my eyes.”
Sydney slowly faced him. Her green eyes held his in the most innocent way, and he’d swear twenty years had been peeled back as she quietly studied him.
With his free hand, he pointed at her heart. “You’re everything I ever wish . . .” Fuck, his voice broke, and he was shocked to realize tears filled his eyes. “You’re everything I wish McKenna had in a mother.”
“I think that’s the best compliment anyone has ever given me,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling as tears filled her eyes too. “I don’t understand how you know the real me when barely anyone does.”
He brought his hand to her chin and gently held her face. “Easy,” he said with a smile once she parted her lids. “Because you let me in.”
“It’s time to roll . . . out.” Gray’s voice shattered their moment, and Beckett let go of Sydney. She quickly erased the tears from her cheeks and turned away from the house.
Beckett cleared his throat and swiveled to peer at Gray hanging back on the small porch, his arms stretched out on each side of him, bracing the columns that held up the small overhang. Mya ducked under his arm to get to them when he’d yet to budge.
“Ready to go play couples in love and be all touristy?” Mya asked sarcastically.
Beckett frowned. “Why do we need to act touristy?”
Gray finally dropped his arms when the others attempted to come from the house, and he had no choice but to move. But the expression on his face didn’t read so much as, I want to hit you. More like he was conflicted. Maybe he realized he needed to let Sydney go, but it had to hurt. God, he couldn’t imagine being in that man’s shoes.
And after the op, if he did have to walk away from Sydney for whatever reason, how would he survive that?
“I think it’d be best if you all play the part of tourists instead of looking like you’re private security scoping the place out, which might draw Miguel’s attention if he sees you there before Wednesday night,” Carter explained, walking alongside Camila toward the SUV.
“Do we have an update on Jesse’s whereabouts?” Beckett asked Camila since it was her guys keeping an eye on the hotel.
Sydney sidestepped Beckett and grabbed the suitcase Mya had been carrying for her.
“Jesse hasn’t made contact,” Carter said, then tipped his head to Camila.
“But my team said he’s with Miguel’s crew at a restaurant down the street from the hotel. They arrived there for lunch around one,” Camila shared.
Beckett turned his attention toward Elaina exiting the house with her parents, and she motioned to Beckett with a wave of her hand. “Can I talk to you before you go?”
“Of course.” In a few quick strides, he moved away from the others off to the side of the SUVs. His heart made its way to his throat, worried about what she might say.
“Sydney will be okay. You don’t need to worry about her,” Elaina cut straight to the point, and he appreciated the good news. But with her small hand, she reached for his wrist. He’d swear he felt a small buzz of electricity pass between them. “She has you.” She hid her brown gaze from him when her lids dropped. “But when you see the roses, be sure to stop.”
“Stop what?” Beckett blinked in confusion. “Roses?”
“When you see the roses, you’ll need to stop.” And with that, she let go.
When she opened her eyes a moment later, Beckett sensed there was more she knew, but he had the feeling she was afraid to tell him too much. To change things. Some type of . . . what was it called in movies? The butterfly effect?
“And, Beckett,” Elaina began, “he’ll be okay too.” She angled her head toward Gray without looking at him, but he was the only one off to her right.
“Do you mean . . .?” He won’t die on the op, or he’ll fall in love with someone else?
Elaina smirked, and he still wasn’t sure how to read that, but she added, “You know exactly what I mean.” And then, just like her father loved to do, she winked.