Chapter 11
Omar
“She really can’t swim,” I said, mostly to myself, but I could hear Felix swearing and pleading in turn on the other end of the line as Lyse’s splashing ceased and she sank beneath the blue currents.
I don’t feel anything, damn it. I had killed more men than anyone on my father’s security team. Lyse was just one more person. She was the daughter of my enemy. She was nobody.
But I’d never killed a woman before, and there was a lump in my chest that I couldn’t quite breathe past. I stepped to the end of the dock when she didn’t come up again and looked down. Lyse thrashed beneath the surface, though she wasn’t able to push herself upward any longer.
You had that woman spread out beneath you, my mind whispered torturously. I’d had her gasping and pleading for me and walked away with her scent on my fingers…and now I was watching as she drowned.
“Hijo de puta.” Dropping the phone onto the dock, I dove off the end. The water was warm and clear, but the salt stung my eyes as I kept my sight locked on Lyse. It was hard to tell if she was still conscious or not.
It was easy enough to reach her — she hadn’t quite hit the sea floor — and once I had my hands on her, I kicked off from the bottom and sped back toward the surface.
It took less than thirty seconds for the whole retrieval, and when we were in the sunshine again, I held her above the surface with one arm and paddled over to the dock ladder with the other.
Climbing up the ladder was difficult, but since Lyse was unconscious, I balanced her on my shoulder. Pain speared through me. My fucking shoulder. The stitches were definitely torn.
When we reached the top of the ladder, I set Lyse down on the dock and pounded her once on the back. The force of it startled her into breathing again, and she began to cough roughly, retching up salt water.
Keeping my eyes on her, I picked up the burner phone. I could hear Felix screaming at me. “Senor Suarez,” I said, spitting out the taste of salt.
“Is she dead?”
I held out the phone so that he could hear her struggling to take breaths. She was in pain, that was for sure, but she was alive. “Can you hear her? She swallowed half the Caribbean, but she’ll live. For now.”
“Keep your hands off of her. Do you understand me? If I—”
“Who do you think you’re speaking to?” I kept my tone flat.
It was a trick that I learned from Padre and Angel: there was almost never a reason to yell.
Remaining calm and emotionless would get my point across far more harshly than if I screamed at him to shut the hell up like I wanted to.
“Do you think that I’m somehow weaker now that my brother is in a coma?
Or because the police have searched my home? ”
“Do you have any idea who you are speaking to?”
“Felix.” Lyse’s voice was rough; it sounded like her throat was torn to pieces. “Shut. Up.”
The voice on the other side of the phone paused in its ranting. “Lyse? Love?”
Lyse looked up at me, and when I nodded, she said, “Do you want me dead?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Then shut up and do what he says.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
There was a fierceness beneath all that trained fragility; I had seen it in the hotel, when she jumped in front of my gun to protect her cousins, and as sure as I was that her father had done his best to beat that streak out of her, it was easily her most attractive trait.
“Your fiancée is surprisingly mouthy, Senor Suarez. I like that in a girl.” That sent Felix off on another rant about keeping my hands to myself.
The man sounded near-frantic, and it was precisely where I wanted him to be.
“Make this right,” I advised him, “or next time, I won’t pull her out. ”
I threw the phone behind me; it made a satisfying plop as it hit the water and sank.
Lyse was staring at me, eyes wide and soaking wet; her hair was a dark tangle.
A beautiful mess, I thought absently, and my stomach clenched.
Despite my threat, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be able to let her drown.
It was the first time in my life that I’d made such a threat against a woman.
I reached out a hand for her. “Come on.”
Lyse’s eyes traveled up the length of my body and met mine. “Absolutely not.”
I gritted my teeth and tamped down the irritation that flared through me. “Get up, or I’ll pick you up.” Lyse tried to push herself up, but her body was exhausted, and she nearly tipped off the dock when she attempted to stand.
My hands shot out, grabbing onto her before she could plunge back into the water. She was such a tiny thing. It was hardly any effort to lift her up and fit an arm beneath her knees. “Wha—?”
“My shoulder is fucked,” I grunted. “This puts less strain on it.”
“Put me down.” I ignored her and walked back up the dock toward the house. Lyse struggled in my grip, but she was as weak as a drenched kitten. “Seriously, Omar, put me down.”
I didn’t bother looking at her, and halfway to the house, she settled into the cradle of my arms. Lyse didn’t trust me — she would be a fool to do that — but she’d given up fighting me. For now.
By the time we reached the house, my shoulder was throbbing, but I didn’t put her down.
I…liked her in my arms, not that I would ever admit that out loud.
Chances were good that Lyse would still die, if not at my hands, then in the ensuing war between our families.
Or at the hands of a jealous Felix once he found out that his sweet little virgin wasn’t nearly as innocent as he thought.
Even if I barely touched her, Lyse was still bold enough to drop that towel and imprint the image of her naked flesh in my brain.
Pushing that thought as far down as it would go, I opened the front door and kicked it shut.
“What in the hell happened?”
Helena was staring at us with wide eyes. “Go run a bath in Lyse’s room,” I told her.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and I half-expected her to argue. “Sí, jefe.” Then she was rushing up the stairs like the Devil himself was coming after her. I snorted. Maybe he was.
The soft thump of Lyse’s head against my shoulder brought my attention back to the woman in my arms. Her eyelids were fluttering; she wasn’t quite asleep, but the last hour had finally caught up to her.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something, but what?
I’d spent every day from the moment I brought her here telling her that if her fiancé didn’t comply, then she would die.
I threw her off a dock and watched her almost drown. What could I possibly say now?
What would I even want to say?
I carried Lyse upstairs to her room. I could hear Helena puttering in the bathroom when I set her down on the bed; Lyse didn’t move an inch as I let her go. She’s going into shock. “Make sure the water’s warm!” I called.
Why did I care? My mind kept circling back to that. There was no reason for me to care a whit about her, but seeing her like this, a pathetic, wet tangle of a person, gave me a pang.
“I can take over, jefe,” Helena said as she stepped into the room.
I nearly nodded…but stopped. It would be easier to let Helena deal with this, yes, but I didn’t want to leave the room. “I’ve got it.”
Helena gave me an unfriendly look. “Omar, if you—”
I turned on her, and for the first time in all her years of service, Helena shrank away from me.
Like she was afraid that I might actually do something to her.
I backed down, rolled my shoulders in an attempt to unwind them, and winced as pain lanced through me for my trouble.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I promised, guiding Helena to the door and into the hall.
Helena was suspicious; I couldn’t necessarily blame her for that. “Why the change of heart?”
I shrugged and glanced back at Lyse, who was starting to sway. Shit. I had to get her out of those wet clothes. “I threw her off the dock,” I said, ignoring Helena’s gasp. “I intended for her to die.”
“But you rescued her.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “Why, jefe? I’ve never seen you change your mind once you decided that someone was going to die.”
I glanced at Helena. “I don’t know.” The words were nearly a growl. “I just couldn’t.”
For some reason, that seemed to delight her. “Get her into the tub and get her warmed up,” she said. “I’ll get her some hot tea.”
“Good. Hurry up.”
Helena rolled her eyes at me, patted my cheek just a touch roughly, and scurried down the hall. The silence that followed as I shut the door echoed around us. Get moving, I told myself, knowing that I was stalling.
“Come on, conejita,” I said, approaching the bed, but when I touched her arm to pull her up, Lyse jerked like I’d struck her. She was coming back online, so to speak, and if I didn’t move quickly, she would work herself into a full panic attack. I’d seen it happen before.
As gently as I could, I got Lyse standing and reached for the hem of her shirt.
She resisted a little, making a sad, whimpering noise, and I calmed her the same way I might calm one of my father’s horses when it was frightened.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised, saying the words over and over as I worked the shirt over her head.
We repeated the process, me saying soft words of comfort as I pushed the shorts that were slightly too big over her hips and down her thighs. When I reached around her for the clasp on her bra, Lyse’s breath caught in her throat. “Don’t.”
I stopped and dropped my hands. “You need to get in the tub and warm up.” I spoke slowly, making sure to enunciate my words, in case she was having trouble understanding me. “Do you want my help getting in?”
Lyse shook her head. “No.” But she didn’t move. Her eyes were trained on me, as if she were expecting me to attack her. I couldn’t exactly blame her.
“Do you want me to leave? I can send Helena to you.”
She stared at me for a moment, but then, slowly, she shook her head again. “No.”
Frustration rippled through me, but I did what I could to hide it. It wouldn’t help anything to get mad at her…even if I had no idea why I was trying to help. You’re getting bent out of shape over a Rojas, my mind spat at me. “What would you like me to do, Lyse?”
She was shaking all over now; I could hear her teeth chattering. “Can I get in like this?”
Sitting around in wet clothes was certainly not my favorite thing — I couldn’t wait to change, actually — but if that’s what she wanted, who was I to argue with her? “Sure.”
Lyse turned and, on shaky, colt legs, headed into the bathroom. I trailed after her: I didn’t want to chance her drowning in the tub. I still needed her for leverage, after all.
Sure, tell yourself that.
I shook off the intrusive thought and followed her into the bathroom. Lyse was trying to swing her leg over the edge of the tub, and I knew she was going to fall. Her arms shot out as she tried to catch herself, but there was nothing to grab onto.
In one step, I was there to catch her, and even though she tried to jerk away, I held onto her. “Let me help you.”
This time, I didn’t give her an option. I lifted her, easily, off her feet and set her in the tub. “Are you going to stand there, staring at me, the whole time?” she demanded.
Another flash of irritation, but I bit it back as best I could as I knelt beside the tub. The look on Lyse’s face was unkind, and my answering smile matched. “I’m not standing,” I pointed out and reached for the shampoo.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you,” I said. “I’m helping.”
With my mother dead, and Angel needed at the right hand of my father, I grew up with Lili as my companion.
I was put in charge of getting her ready when our housekeeper was busy: I had washed and styled her hair more times than I could count.
Padre hated how much I doted on Lili, but Angel encouraged it.
I think it was his way of ensuring that I didn’t just become a weapon for my father’s use.
Not that I was saved from that fate anyway.
At the very least, I knew that I could handle this particular task.
Gently, I worked the shampoo into her nest of hair.
The salt water was already making it feel brittle.
Her bathroom was stocked with a conditioner in the same scent as the shampoo; a leave-in conditioner would make detangling everything easier.
Get a fucking grip, I told myself. Lyse wasn’t my girlfriend, or even a friend; she was my hostage, and if Felix let me down again, I’d kill her. I had to.
I pushed that thought from my mind and did what I could to detangle her hair with the conditioner. I found a comb on the vanity, and that helped. Lyse, for the first time, looked relaxed…or as relaxed as a woman who was being held captive could get.
Her face, tipped back with her eyes closed, exposing the long line of her throat, made my chest constrict, and I struggled to catch my breath. “Helena is bringing you tea,” I told her as I stood. “Stay here until she comes to help you out of the tub.”
Lyse hummed in agreement, her eyes still closed, and I hightailed it out of the room as fast as I could, needling my chest with my knuckles. Why did it suddenly feel like I was the one who’d almost drowned?