Chapter 2
2
HOPE
Playa de la Palmera, Southern Pacific Coast, Mexico
M ari approached me at the bar, where I stacked dirty glasses in the washer. “Sabes lo mucho que te quiero, ?verdad?” You know how much I love you, right? She blinked her big brown doe eyes at me, which meant only one thing. I was about to get screwed over.
I propped one hand on my hip and answered her in Spanish. “Just tell me. What do you need?”
“Can you close tonight?” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Please.”
Yep. There it was.
I glanced at the clock above the bar.
8:27 p.m.
The restaurant didn’t officially shut down for another hour and a half, and this was the third time this week my bestie had begged off early. Javier, the owner and cook, had already gone home to his heavily pregnant wife, so I’d have to lock up on my own.
I flung a dish towel over my shoulder and cast Mari an unimpressed glare. “Again?”
“Come on, Hope,” she pleaded. “The place is dead tonight. You don’t need me.”
“That’s not the point.” Mari knew locking up alone gave me the creeps.
Not that Playa de la Palmera was unsafe. The small fishing village had virtually zero crime, no cartel influence, and a deep sense of community where the locals truly cared about each other. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and although I was an outsider, they treated me kindly. The three years I’d lived here had been the best of my life.
“You should message Enrique.” Mari shot me a knowing grin. “I’m sure he’ll keep you company until closing and drive you home after.”
Enrique was one of the village’s most eligible bachelors. Handsome, kind, had a solid job. He could have any girl in town but had made it clear he was interested in me. I wasn’t sure why. Not with my…disfigurement.
I scrunched my nose. “I don’t want to bother him.”
Enrique was nice enough, but nothing could ever happen between us. If my past caught up with me, everyone in this village would be in danger, and if I had a boyfriend, he’d be the first to be executed. An uncomfortable knot lodged in my throat. There was already too much blood on my hands. I couldn’t handle any more.
I drew in a steadying breath and glanced toward the palm-fringed bay, where moonlight reflected off the waves. Briny air filled my lungs, calming me in a way only the ocean could.
Since it was the offseason, there were hardly any tourists around, so the two other beachfront restaurants were closed. A few pangas—the small colorful boats the fishermen used— remained parked on the sand, but most were at sea, collecting the night’s catch.
Mari’s latest boyfriend, Luis, kicked sand off his feet and walked through the beachside door. My friend squealed and ran to him before jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist.
They might seem all loved up, but I was willing to bet this week’s paycheck that she’d move on to someone new within a month. I loved Mari, but she suffered from a bad case of dick FOMO and wouldn’t be happy until she’d ridden every available twentysomething guy in the village. Since she was gorgeous, she had her pick of the local talent.
Something pinched inside my chest at the freedom Mari took for granted. In one way or another, I’d been imprisoned my whole life. Hiding in New Jersey. Hiding in Playa de la Palmera. It was a sucky way to live, but what options did I have?
“Pretty please.” Mari unfolded herself from Luis and gave me puppy-dog eyes. “I promise to make it up to you.”
“Fine. Shoo.” I gestured toward the door with a flick of my wrist.
“You’re the best!” She loosened the apron from around her waist and tossed it behind the bar.
I shook my head as the pair made their way onto the beach to walk along the shore. They were probably headed to the Cove, a secluded spot roughly a half mile from here where couples went for privacy. Not that I knew from firsthand experience. I’d never been there with a man.
Mari was right about this place being dead tonight. The only people remaining were old Isaac, sitting red-eyed and stoic at the end of the bar, the same way he had every night since his wife had passed nine months ago, and twins Nina and Nora who were finishing up their dinner and drinks at a table with a view of the beach.
I’d been working at Javi’s long enough that the open-air restaurant felt like my second home. I loved the resort vibe that the thatched roof and colonial hurricane shutters gave it. We served cold beer and fresh local food. The restaurant made better money during the tourist season, but I preferred the quiet off-peak months when there were fewer strangers.
As I busied myself slicing limes, a gentle ocean breeze blew my long hair behind my shoulders. Out of habit, I rearranged a few locks to cover the burn scars on the left side of my face.
There was no denying it: they were hideous. But my scars served as a constant reminder of what I’d gone through to survive, and if I were to have to experience that grueling pain all over again to make it here, I would.
My injuries should’ve killed me. It made no sense why I’d been spared when so many around me had fallen. Guilt remained a constant, heavy companion I’d never be able to shake. How was it fair that I got to live in this peaceful village, surrounded by the love of found family and friends, when I’d let so many people down?
I waved off the last of the customers with a genuine smile because their departure meant I could close up early. Time to wipe the tables, mop the floor, then head home.
Just as I turned toward the supply closet, I glimpsed a shadow by the street-side door. Only it wasn’t a shadow; it was a huge man dressed in dark clothing.
I got a clearer look at him as he stepped through the doorway. Everything about him screamed trouble . The dangerous kind. From the sinister-looking tattoos up his corded neck and along the backs of his large hands, to his all-black ensemble of jeans, heavy boots, and a long-sleeve Henley that stretched tightly across bulky shoulders. With his jet-black hair and short-trimmed beard, all he needed was a cloak and a scythe and he’d be the grim reaper in the flesh.
Thankfully, none of his ink looked cartel affiliated. That didn’t stop the hairs on the back of my neck from standing on end.
Was he a tourist? Unlikely. He didn’t look like the travelers who occasionally wandered into our tiny village during the offseason. No flip-flops, linen shirt, or fanny pack.
Who was this stranger, and what was he doing here?
“Hola,” I said, coming to my senses and remembering it was polite to greet customers, no matter how unapproachable they might appear.
Grim stared at me for an uncomfortable beat as his gaze roamed the scarred side of my face. People did that all the time, and I should be used to it by now, but it never failed to make me self-conscious.
What disturbed me more was his lack of manners, because he didn’t bother acknowledging my greeting at all. He just strutted through the restaurant on long tree-trunk legs like he owned the damn place. Then he sat at a table overlooking the beach and carelessly propped one big black boot on the chair diagonal to him.
Goddamn you for bailing on me, Mari.
This guy made me nervous, and I didn’t like being stuck here on my own with him. What I wanted was to close the restaurant and go home so I could curl up on the sofa with a good book and a steaming cup of cocoa. I should’ve told Grim we were closed as soon as he’d walked in the door, but I’d been too busy trying to maintain my composure. Maybe it wasn’t too late to send him on his way.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my apron and approached Grim’s table. He paid me no mind while he scrolled through his phone.
My gaze raked over his menacing tattoos. There were creepy skeleton bones along the backs of his hands, and up his neck were grotesque horned creatures covered in reptilian scales. The flames surrounding them made it a scene straight from hell. And judging by the way that Henley clung to his broad frame, the man was sculpted of pure muscle.
A small tremor shot through my body, and it wasn’t born of fear. I refused to admit what else might’ve caused it.
I really needed to make him leave.
Grim continued to ignore me, so I cleared my throat.
His phone clattered when he tossed it onto the table. Slowly, he scanned me from my tennis shoes to my denim skirt and black tank until his emotionless gaze met mine. His eyes weren’t Satan-spawn black like I’d thought when he’d first walked through the door; rather, they were a deep brown, like strong espresso.
It took all my courage not to balk under his open scrutiny. I wasn’t ashamed of my body. I’d been too thin when I’d arrived in Playa de la Palmera, but in the three years since, I’d put on weight and was comfortable in my curves. But when Grim’s stare lingered once again on my scars, I felt as mortified as if I were standing before him naked.
“Disculpe,” I said. “La cocina está cerrada.” I’m sorry. The kitchen’s closed.
He gave me a look that was a combination of boredom and annoyance. “Did I ask for food?”
Okay. Rude .
His Spanish made me wonder where he was from. It sounded foreign, but I couldn’t identify its origin.
Also, how was it possible that this douche canoe came equipped with such a delicious deep voice? If only Grim’s words weren’t ones I wanted to shove back down his throat.
My mouth opened and closed while I decided how to respond. I’d dealt with asshole customers before, but there was something about this guy’s unnecessary attitude that made my inner bitch climb to the surface.
I shifted on my feet. “Look, I’m trying to close up, so if you can just?—”
“I’ve had a really long day.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired, and I’m thirsty. So I’d appreciate it if you could sway your sweet ass back to the bar and bring me the biggest, coldest beer you’ve got. If you can organize that without any more attitude, I’ll leave you a nice fat tip on my way out. Okay?”
No.
Not okay, buddy.
If he was having a crappy day, he didn’t have the right to take it out on me.
But he did say I had a sweet ass.
Unhelpful thought, Hope.
I wrestled with the decision to either give him a piece of my mind about the way he treated people or get him his damn beer so he could hurry up and leave. Something told me Grim would enjoy getting a rise out of me, so I opted for diplomacy.
Still feeling the need to grit my teeth, I asked, “Just one beer?”
He gave me a fake smile that would probably make him ruggedly handsome if he weren’t such an impolite ass. “One beer and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Fine,” I snapped, and spun on my heel to stomp back to the bar.
I swore I felt his eyes on my ass the whole way. I grabbed the closest bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popped the cap, and marched back to Grim. Bubbles fizzed up the bottle’s neck when I slammed it onto the table.
He arched one dark brow. “No complimentary chips?”
I shook my head. “Not for you.”
We gave out free chips when Javi’s was filled with tourists because it landed us better tips. But it wasn’t a custom any other time of year, and certainly not for this jerk.
Something subtle flickered across his features. It happened so fast I couldn’t be sure what to make of it, but it was almost as though I’d surprised him somehow and he’d tried to conceal it.
Whatever .
I turned to leave again, but he said, “Wait.” His head tilted. “Where are you from?”
Oh, now he wanted to be chatty?
I held my arms out wide, then let them drop to my sides. “Here.”
“No. I mean where did you grow up? Your accent is strange.”
He had a good ear. Even though I’d been born in Mexico, after spending so many years living in America, my Spanish no longer sounded as authentic as the locals’. I’d tried to correct it. Apparently, not hard enough.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, although I really didn’t like the direction of his questioning. “So is yours.”
“Mom’s Colombian and Dad’s American. I was born and raised in the States.”
His random sharing of personal details took me aback. What surprised me more was that he’d switched to English, correctly guessing I’d understand him.
“What about you?” he asked.
Needles pricked my skin. Maybe I was being oversensitive about Grim’s question, because there was nothing inherently sinister about it. Still, with someone like him, it was wise to use caution.
When I didn’t answer immediately, he chuckled. “Come on. Are you really going to pretend like you can’t understand me?”
Was I? It seemed kind of pointless now.
I licked my dry lips and answered in English, “Where I’m from is none of your business.”
He sipped his beer. “Touchy subject?”
I stared at him in silence. He did the same until our glare-off stretched to a point beyond uncomfortable. Not answering only made it look like I had something to hide.
Why hadn’t I given him the cover story Daphne had concocted? Everyone in the village believed she was my godmother, having raised me in Denver after my parents died when I was two. But if I told Grim that, something made me think he’d question me further and uncover my lie. This guy had me rattled.
“Easy now, Gatita ,” Grim said in a soothing tone that had the opposite effect. He rested his thick forearms on the table. “We’re just having a friendly conversation. There’s no reason to be so skittish.”
Except it felt nothing like a friendly conversation, and I had every reason to be skittish.
And why the hell was Grim calling me Gatita? I was no kitten. I was a badass.
Then stop acting timid, and show him.
“What happened?” He gestured to my face.
My eyes narrowed. “I feel like this lesson is reaching you far too late in life to have any impact, but it’s rude to ask strangers personal questions.” I folded my arms. Time for some questions of my own. “Why are you here?”
“Not for the friendly atmosphere, that’s for damn sure.” He put the bottle to his lips for another drink.
“I don’t mean the restaurant. I mean Playa de la Palmera, but I think you already knew that.”
“Just passing through.” He stretched his arms above his head, then rested one on the back of the chair beside him.
The action drew my eyes to the bulging bicep stretching his Henley. When my gaze returned to Grim’s, he wore a smug smile and winked.
Unbelievable.
Nice try, jackass. I would not be distracted by pretty muscles.
I sneered to convey my contempt. “Then I suggest you drink faster and be on your way.”
His departure couldn’t come soon enough.