2. Hope
2
HOPE
I placed the cigar box on a side table. The rare Cubans were my father’s favorite, but this variety hadn’t been available for almost a decade. Vaughn had come across them during one of his team’s raids, and although he preferred to hand them to Carlos himself, the closest he could get was using el Capitán as a middleman. All the same, he hoped the gesture would put him in Carlos’s good graces, perhaps opening the opportunity for a future meeting. It was just one avenue Vaughn and his team were pursuing to locate my father’s compound.
I paced the small hotel room, anticipating the bing of Vaughn’s phone with a response giving us the location of the meeting.
“Nervous?” Vaughn asked.
My gaze cut to his, but I didn’t stop my back-and-forth march. “Of course. Aren’t you?”
“Not nervous. Just in a heightened state of readiness, the same way I’d be before any op.”
How reassuring it must feel to have a history of successfully completing dangerous missions. The only time I’d put my life on the line, I’d almost been killed and my friend had ended up murdered right before my eyes. Rubbing shoulders with narcos wasn’t an experience I was eager to repeat.
Perhaps sensing my escalating anxiety, Vaughn added, “It’s not too late for us to back out.”
“No. I don’t want that.”
There were too many innocent lives riding on the outcome of this meeting. La Mano Roja, or the Red Hand , had a transportation job for Vaughn, and any details they gave him at the meeting might reveal clues about my father’s whereabouts. And if we didn’t show up, el Capitán would most likely ask another pilot to do the job, which would jeopardize the chance to recover the women we suspected he was trafficking.
I exhaled a deep breath. “What if I stay here at the hotel while you go?”
“No. This room isn’t secure. If la Mano Roja has been watching us, there’s a chance el Capitán will send someone to snoop while I’m out, and I don’t want them finding you on your own. The only place I know you’re safe is with me.”
Vaughn dragged his hands through his hair. “Either we go to the meeting together, or we don’t go at all.”
There was no way we were backing out. This meeting was too important.
“Then we’re going. I can do this.”
“I know you can, but you can’t act tense around these guys. It’ll make them edgy. Keep your cool no matter what.”
“Stay calm. Don’t freak out. Got it.” I went to the window and peeled back the curtains just enough to glimpse the street two floors below. The brightly lit sidewalk was alive with people, food vendors, and stores selling beach inflatables and souvenirs. Despite it being the offseason for tourists, Puerto Escondido was far busier than Playa de la Palmera.
I shut the curtain and faced Vaughn with my arms folded. “You know, I might feel less anxious if you explained what you need me to do in the meeting. ”
All Vaughn had said was to dress slutty, a task I’d accomplished by overdoing my makeup and squeezing my curves into a tight black minidress. It was a hand-me-down from Mari, who’d bought it online in a size too large for her petite frame. I hadn’t bothered to try it on before today, because where the hell would I wear a dress like this in Playa de la Palmera? Luckily, the stretchy scrap of Lycra managed to cover my assets despite my tits doing their best to escape the plunging neckline.
I totally looked like a hooker, and I was ninety-nine percent sure that was to be my cover for this meeting. Vaughn didn’t need to worry about upsetting me. I was down to be his obedient little escort, because pretend sex worker or not, there was no chance he’d let another man touch me.
“I’ve already explained what’s required.” A roguish grin appeared on his face, making me nervous for a different reason.
“You mean your one and only instruction to do whatever you tell me? That’s hardly comforting.” Especially given how poorly I reacted whenever Vaughn turned into a domineering ass. Having an argument in the middle of a narco meeting wouldn’t be a good look.
“Never mind about that.” He called me over with an arrogant flick of his first two fingers. “Come here.”
I made my way to where he sat on the bed. When he gestured me closer still, I stood between his parted knees. “What is it?”
Vaughn took my hands and guided them to the nape of his neck. I weaved my fingers through the silky ends of his hair because I’d noticed he liked me doing that. It was a safe place for him, and I savored any opportunity to touch this man.
He ran his palms up the backs of my thighs. “This dress is very distracting.”
Goose bumps pebbled where his fingertips roamed. “Is it?”
“It makes me want to take it off you. So I guess it’s not the dress that’s distracting but what’s underneath.” Vaughn’s eyes trailed up my body, and when his gaze landed on my lips, I leaned down and kissed him.
It felt strange being the initiator, but not in a bad way. As Vaughn’s confidence built in our fledgling relationship, so did mine.
Was it naive of me to think of this as a relationship? Things between Vaughn and me felt intense already. But a small voice in the back of my mind asked troublesome questions.
How long would Vaughn stay with me? Until Carlos was dead? Longer? Despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length, Vaughn had already made a lasting impact, and it was clear that saying goodbye to him would come with a whole truckload of heartache.
I told the annoying voice to shut the hell up, because I was determined to enjoy each moment with Vaughn for however long I had him. We’d just take things one day at a time.
When I deepened the kiss, Vaughn chuckled against my mouth.
I pulled back and lifted one brow. “Is there something amusing?”
“Kind of.” He licked his lips. “I don’t really kiss.”
“That’s weird, because we’ve been doing a lot of that since you tackled me to the sand and practically slammed your lips against mine.”
“Yeah. And now I want to kiss you all the goddamn time. I can’t look at your mouth without thinking about it. But before today? No.” He shifted a lock of hair behind my shoulder, letting his fingers graze across my collarbone. “The idea of it always felt too intimate. Too…close. At least since I got my scars.”
Something warm bloomed inside my chest. Sure, I couldn’t put my hands on Vaughn whenever I pleased, but I sensed he wanted us to work toward that. Which meant he had let me in. This impenetrable fortress of a man was lowering his walls just for me.
It felt good. It felt really good.
“I like kissing you, too,” I said.
“You want to know what else I like?” Vaughn asked, and I nodded. He reached for where I massaged the base of his scalp and closed his eyes briefly as though relishing the feeling. “I like your hands on me, and I want to combine the two without worrying about how I might react if you touch my scars.” Then he stood, towering over me, his dark gaze serious but determined. “Will you help me try something?”
“Of course.”
“Kiss me again.”
With a small smile, I rose on tiptoes and pulled his face toward mine.
Right before our lips met, he shook his head. “Not like that.” He unclasped my fingers from his neck and brought my hands between us. Shoulders rigid, he carefully splayed my palms over his firm pecs. Even through his black button-down, those raised scars were a tangible reminder of the horror he’d endured, and that made a heavy ache take root in my sternum.
My eyes volleyed between Vaughn’s and his chest as I waited for him to end what must surely be difficult for him. But he didn’t. He took one slow breath, then another, and when the bunched muscles beneath my palms relaxed, he said, “I want you to kiss me like this.”
“Okay,” I answered quietly, not giving away how significant this moment was.
No matter the outcome, I was so damn proud of him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, although it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
“I know.”
“If it’s too much, I’ll back away.”
“We’ll go as slowly as you need. ”
He worried his bottom lip with his teeth before nodding once. Then in a move that was both dominant and achingly tender, he took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine.
A soft moan escaped my throat. I was new to kissing, but something told me it wouldn’t be this good with just anyone. When Vaughn’s hot tongue swept the seam of my mouth, I opened for him willingly, certain I could kiss this man all day and never get tired of it. He took my breath away.
“Fuck, you taste good.” Vaughn’s raspy words echoed my own thoughts about him.
With one hand at my waist, he pulled me against his hard body, deepening the kiss until my legs turned to jelly and my head swam.
Since we were testing the waters with my hands being free, I’d expected this to be a chaste kiss. A cautious step that might one day lead to further experimentation. There was nothing meek about the way Vaughn’s mouth plundered mine. Everything about him made my body catch fire and my belly clench.
“More,” I demanded.
Vaughn let loose a feral growl. “Fucking love it when you get greedy.”
A second later, he dipped low, scooped beneath my thighs, and lifted me with ease. My dress rode up when I wrapped my legs around his lean waist. And then my back was against the wall, pinned there by Vaughn’s powerful body as he ravaged my mouth.
He was everywhere and all-consuming. His tongue entwined with mine, his large hands squeezed my ass, and his hard length pulsed against my soaked panties.
Vaughn had said he wanted my touch, so I let my hands explore every ridge and groove of his broad chest. If he minded, he didn’t say so. Nothing in his body language indicated he wanted me to stop or even slow down, and I intended to take full advantage of this newfound freedom.
“Is this okay?” I asked as my palms roamed the deliciously hard crests of his upper abdominals.
“Yes,” he panted against my lips. “Fuck, yes.”
Not taking his mouth from mine, Vaughn carried me to the bed and lowered me onto the duvet. It was strange having him above me without my wrists pinned, yet it felt so darn right.
I longed to lift his shirt and feel the bare skin beneath, but I knew that would be too much. As distracted as Vaughn was, I didn’t want to risk breaking this lust-filled spell by pushing him beyond his limits.
Beside my head, the phone beeped. We froze, holding each other’s gazes until Vaughn reached for it and checked the screen.
“Blue Sky Bar. Ten minutes.” His brow creased. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.” I wasn’t, but I decided my new mantra was going to be Fake it till you make it.
“You’re a terrible liar, but I appreciate your courage.” He traced one finger down my neck. “Gatita, you know I respect you, right?”
“Yes,” I replied cautiously.
“Good. Because tonight, I’ll say and do a lot of things that will make it seem like I don’t. Starting with this.” He reached for the duffel bag and fished something from the side pocket. A black leather dog collar. He must’ve pinched it from Daphne’s supply cabinet.
I eyed what he held, realization dawning that he expected me to wear it around my neck like a slave. Like he owned me. I felt sick. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s for your protection.”
“My protection?” I squeaked.
He rolled the collar between his fingers. “This tells the men at the meeting that you’re mine. It’ll mean none of them will touch you without my permission. Not unless they have a death wish.” He lowered his chin. “These men, they understand what this collar means, and as disgusting as it is, they’ll respect me more once they see that I have a slave. It’s some fucked-up status thing in the underworld. It’s rumored el Capitán has one of his own.”
Acting like a timid, abused woman went against my nature, but if I kept the end goal in mind—that what we were doing could ultimately help liberate women from this very situation—then I could do it.
I pressed my lips together. “Fine. I’ll wear it.”
We sat up, and Vaughn carefully secured the slim collar around my throat. “We’re in their world now, so I need you to act the part. You’re quiet. You’re submissive. And you do everything I say without question.”
“So don’t act like myself at all?” My lip curled. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”
“Believe it or not, I prefer it when you unleash every ounce of your sass on me.” He took hold of my hands and rubbed circles over the backs of them with his thumbs. “There’s something else you should know about Miguel. He’s going to look at you like you’re his favorite meal.”
Great. That didn’t sound creepy or uncomfortable at all. “What makes you so sure?”
“You’re exactly his type, and Miguel has a weakness for things he can’t have. When he sees this collar, he’ll know you’re off-limits, which means he’s going to be jonesing for a taste.”
“I swear to God, if you ask me to?—”
“Relax, Gatita. I promise, no one touches you except me. But maybe I can use Miguel’s unwholesome craving to get exactly what I want.”