8. Isabel
8
ISABEL
I ’d never run as fast as I did from that club.
The chaos that ensued with the shout of a fight—of a gun—in a crowded place like that was terrifying. Stampedes of panicking guests triggered me to react in kind.
Fearing that I could be injured in the melee was the only thing that could’ve snapped me out of that sexy kiss with…
With…
I jogged ahead, parting from the mass of the people rushing out onto the street.
I hadn’t even gotten his name.
There was no doubt in my mind that he knew mine. He also knew how I tasted. How wet I was for him. How… stupidly lenient I was to let him hold me against that column.
And that I wanted him.
Correction—that I want him.
The sudden break from the hottest moment of my life hadn’t turned me off completely. Now that I was out on the sidewalk, hustling away as quickly as my heels would allow, I calmed down and willed my heart to stop beating so fast.
The instinct of fight or flight faded. Walking slower, I let the embers of desire return to the forefront of my mind.
Only the instant fear of death could’ve pulled me away from him. Just that thought was all it took to snap me out of the lusty haze I’d fallen into when kissing him and feeling his body pressed against mine.
If no one had shouted that a fight was breaking out, I wouldn’t have been able to pull away. I wouldn’t have wanted to. It was only that survivalist instinct that cut through the lure of his hard, hot lips over mine and his fingers boldly rubbing me closer to an orgasm.
Had we not parted, I probably would have come right then and there. In the middle of a club. All due to the wicked interest of a sexy stranger. No, not a stranger. My stalker .
“What is wrong with me?” I mumbled as I pulled my hair back and chanced a glance over my shoulder. He didn’t follow me down this way, but I knew better than to just give up. Or rather, I was wise enough to know he wouldn’t give up.
That man, so handsome, so confident in calling me out on my desire, wasn’t a quitter. He couldn’t be if he stalked me all day long—all night long, too, if he’d kept on the hunt to corner me at that club.
Whoever the hell he was, he’d be back, and that was why as soon as I reached my hotel, I checked out and sought another in town.
Never minding my attraction to a man who was stalking me, I couldn’t just up and go. I’d come on this vacation based on the idea that a change of scenery would trick my mind out of this loneliness that doomed me. And already, I’d been considering cutting it short and flying home to just dive right back into work and start that commissioned mural for the eccentric art gallery in Tampa.
Knowing a man was stalking me gave me even more incentive to get the hell out of Acapulco. To dodge Mexico altogether. That would be the smart thing to do, to run as far and fast as possible and evade that cocky ass who thought he could just do whatever he wanted with me.
Something had to be severely messed up with me if I could be turned on after listening to him tell me exactly how he wanted to take me, how he’d try to fuck me. What happened to my sense of pride, my self-worth and feminine independence?
It seemed they’d all flown right out the damn window because as I packed my things to switch hotels again, I kept getting aroused all over again just from thinking about how controlling and forward he was.
Why was it so hot?
What made me so reactive to him?
I shouldn’t have been turned on at all . There was no question that he wasn’t a good man.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shook my head, bewildered by my behavior, and tried to stop thinking about him. It was impossible to shut him out of my thoughts, though, because he was the driver behind why I changed my mind about leaving.
I couldn’t leave because he hadn’t answered my question.
I hadn’t asked him why he was following me. I knew it had to be tied to my father. The only reason someone would stalk me was to get leverage or revenge on Louis Flores. That fact wouldn’t change.
I’d asked that sexy bastard what he wanted from me, though. That was a completely different angle, and that was what I desired to know.
What was he after me for?
Answers about a shady business deal that fell apart? Clues about where my father was planning to stash money next? My cooperation to bring him in to the Feds? Agreement to act like a bribe?
None of those things would work, not with me. I meant nothing to my father, and I knew nothing.
The sooner I knew what this stalker hoped to get from me, the faster I could send him away.
“I can’t leave until I know,” I reminded myself once I moved into another hotel down the street. This was a busier area, but less touristy and more of a business block. It didn’t matter. Changing up my location was a habit I’d learned.
I was staying, not because I wanted that man. I wasn’t leaving because I hoped I could have a chance to kiss him again. Nope. I had to come to my senses one way or another.
The biggest and most important reason I couldn’t call it quits on this vacation yet was because I had to know what his game was, what information or favor was required of me. Because if I initiated a game of the cat chasing the mouse, an episode of hide-and-seek, he’d only follow me back to my apartment in San Diego. Or to Tampa on my next commission.
“So I may as well wait and see.”
Staying at that hotel would’ve been too easy. He’d just go right back there and find me. I needed a little distance, though, if for no other reason than to show him he didn’t have all the control over this situation.
Because of my childhood, I knew how to hide. My ability to go under the radar and blend in was a skillset I’d harnessed from the times Louis Flores felt like his enemies or the law were closing in on him. Too often, we had to move from one house to another. Sometimes, we’d have to hide at vacation spots. Whenever he’d screwed someone over in a deal or played too risky with the law enforcement, he’d get nervous and relocate. I was more prepared than the average person on how to hide in plain sight, how to never leave an obvious trail. And that was how I knew my stalker was good. Even though I hadn’t been trying to hide when I’d planned this trip, old habits died hard. I seldom made myself traceable, yet he’d found me.
And he will again. I knew he would, and it filled me with a silly, ridiculous sense of glee. That he’d be coming for me again. That he’d pierce me with another wicked gaze from those dark eyes of his that promised sin.
The next morning, I woke up from dreams about him and how he’d made me feel. It lent a little air of excitement to my mood as I got up and headed out to the beach.
He’s not here.
I didn’t feel his presence. I wasn’t alerted to that sixth sense of being watched. Of being stalked.
Disappointment was the opposite of what I should’ve felt. Not seeing him at this new hotel should’ve been a good thing, proof that I could still dodge and hide.
Nothing good is going to come from surrendering to a dangerous man like him.
As I strolled the beach and warmed my toes in the sand, I tried my best not to feel disappointed.
Or lonely.
It was so hard, though, surrounded by all the vacationing couples in love or families playing together. Under the hot sun, soaking in the warmth and light, breathing in the fresh scent of the ocean breezing in with the waves, I should’ve been happy. Perfectly content.
What I felt was far from it.
The loneliness crept back in. Depressed from people watching as a single person, always feeling like I was on the outside looking in, I headed back to my room to clean up before having lunch at the café out front.
A quick shower almost brightened me up. But as I reached for the door to leave, my stomach growling, my phone rang.
The screen showed the Bayshore Residences number, and I cautiously answered.
Esmeralda Flores never called me. She never initiated contact, and it was no wonder. She’d cut me out of her life many, many years ago. Even before her mental status declined further, she’d never wanted anything to do with me because I was a reminder of her husband.
“Hello?”
“Isabel?” the woman asked. “This is Sandy from Bayshore Residences.”
“Oh, hi.” I’d spoken with the head of nursing many times. Even if my mother never wanted to speak with me, I could play the part of being a dutiful daughter and check in on her.
“I wanted to call and give you an update on your mother. I know we spoke just a couple of weeks ago, at the beginning of the month, but I wanted to give you as much of a notice as possible.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Your mother is showing consistent signs of more decline. Her heart is starting to fail at a faster rate than what we’ve seen in recent months.”
I dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. Impervious to feeling too strongly about this news, I nodded even though Sandy couldn’t see my reaction. A nod seemed best because I didn’t know what to say. Yes, this was sad news, but also, it was a display of potential mercy. Esme couldn’t be living there, not to any degree that she’d enjoy her life. Between the damage from the drugs all her life and psychological issues, she was nothing more than a husk of a person in that rehab facility.
Yet, it would be sad. Of course, her death would come sooner than later with the life she’d led, but once she was gone…
Then that would be it. I’d have no one. I’d well and truly be alone in this world, and that only pushed more dread and gloom, more depressing loneliness on my shoulders. Burdened by the weight of too many ugly emotions, I listened to the rest of her details, thanked her for the news, and then disconnected the call.
Now I’ll really have no one in the world.
It was a sobering, sad thought to bring to lunch, but I couldn’t shake it off. From the heated intimacy with my stalker last night to the remote threat of being all alone with my mother passing away soon, I was caught up in whiplash from the opposite ends of the spectrum.
Staring at the empty seat across from me as I ate my lunch, I couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like if I weren’t here dining alone, but somewhere else with him. If I were back in that club, with his hands holding me captive and his lips searing me to want more. He’d sparked me into wanting his company, but I caught myself before I let my thoughts get carried away.
He wouldn’t be good for me. He was a stalker , nothing more.
He wasn’t interested in being with me for the sake of spending time together.
That man had only been after me with the assumption that I could be a pawn in something bigger, something I’d sworn to never get involved with again.