Chapter 8
Marta stared up at the ceiling long after Crusher chose the floor over the bed with her. Kissing him had been spontaneous, not at all planned or thought out. Had she read his response incorrectly? He’d kissed her back like he’d meant it—not like a pity kiss.
Or had it been?
In retrospect, she shouldn’t have done it.
Hell, she hadn’t known she was going to do it.
She’d just been staring at his lips, wondering how it would feel to kiss him.
The next thing she’d known, she was kissing him—and he was kissing her back.
She couldn’t regret a single moment of it.
Now she knew what it felt like to be kissed by the ruggedly handsome former special operations soldier.
The only problem now was that she knew what it was like to kiss him.
And she wanted to do it again.
And so much more.
Sigh. What the hell was she thinking?
She must have fallen asleep sometime in the night.
Her next conscious thought was that there was a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently.
“Marta,” Crusher’s voice brought her awake.
She stared up into his blue eyes and blinked. A wedge of light shone through the partially open bathroom door, bathing Crusher’s short, sandy-blond hair in golden light. “Umm,” she smiled. “Decide to join me after all?”
His lips lifted in a grin. “I wish. Liza just texted me that our ride will be here in a few minutes.”
Marta sat up straight. “A few minutes?” She flung back the covers, leaped to her feet and staggered a few steps, still woozy from waking from a dead sleep.
Crusher pulled her into his arms to steady her. “It’s okay. You have time to dress and grab a cup of coffee. The bathroom is all yours.”
That’s when she noticed he was fully dressed in his cargo pants and a T-shirt Liza must have given him.
She pushed away and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right out and ready to go.
” Grabbing the brush and stack of clothes Liza had left for her, Marta hurried into the bathroom.
After brushing her teeth and hair, she pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a green T-shirt.
Liza had even provided socks to go with her loafers.
Marta was a hodge-podge of styles and didn’t give a damn.
She was a scientist. What she wore didn’t change that.
Then why did she all of a sudden care about how her clothes looked?
Because she’d kissed her incredibly attractive rescuer and bodyguard—and she wanted to do it again.
Her pulse kicked up as she rested her hand on the doorknob.
Get him out of your mind, Marta, she told herself. She had a job to do. It didn’t include flirting with her highly competent escort, much less making love with him.
The lingering disappointment that they hadn’t slept together the night before crept into her thoughts. She shut it down, squared her shoulders and marched out into the guest room.
The empty guest room.
Marta frowned, her heart skipping several beats. “Crusher?”
“Out here,” his voice called out.
Relief rushed over her as she opened the door and found him standing on the porch in the dark.
He turned to her. “Ready?”
Out of the corner of her eyes, Marta spotted the baseball cap Slater had given her. She grabbed it, jammed her hair up into it and finally nodded. “I am, now,” she said with a tight smile.
He touched the bill with a wink. “You’re cute in that cap.”
Her cheeks heated at the compliment. “Thanks,” she said and stepped out onto the porch.
Crusher took her hand and walked with her around to the back door that led into the kitchen. He knocked lightly. Light shone around the curtain over the window, but Marta couldn’t see inside.
The door opened. Liza smiled and waved them in. She looked fresh and rested with her dark brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail at her nape. “I hope you slept well. I worried about Crusher sleeping on the floor. That couldn’t have been a restful night.”
He shook his head. “I managed to sleep just fine.”
Liza’s lips twisted. “Let me guess... You’ve slept in worse? That’s what all you former military guys say. I remember Royce saying that once when he had to sleep in the front seat of a compact car.”
Crusher laughed. “Did he even fit in the car?”
Liza shook her head. “He had to fold himself into it with his knees up to his chin. He said he’d slept in foxholes worse than that. I doubted that, but he slept there and didn’t complain.” She touched Crusher’s arm. “I wish you had stretched out on the sofa.”
Marta smiled at Liza’s concern for Crusher. She wanted to be a good host to the friends of the man who’d saved her son and herself from mafia retribution.
“I’m fine,” Crusher said and patted Liza’s arm. “But I’d like a cup of that coffee, if you can spare it.”
Liza threw up her hands. “Of course. Let me get it for you. I even have cups you can take with you.” She glanced out the window over the kitchen sink. “Looks like your transport has arrived. How do you like your coffee?”
Liza prepared two Styrofoam cups of black coffee—one for Crusher and one for Marta.
“You wear my yoga clothes much better than I ever did,” Liza said softly as she handed Marta her coffee. “I wish I had more, but I live a very minimalist life since moving from the States. I like it that way.”
“Thank you so much for taking us in.” Marta hugged the older woman. “It must’ve been scary starting over in a different country. I wish you and Stewart a beautiful life here in Panama.”
“Come back and visit.” Liza smiled and then snorted.
“Preferably when you’re not being targeted by a Colombian cartel.
” She hugged Marta and tipped her chin toward Crusher.
“You can’t go wrong with a guy like Crusher.
He reminds me so much of Royce. They’re men with a lot of combat skills, a past you don’t want to know about and hearts as big as the state of Texas.
He’s the kind of man who’ll always be there for you. ”
Marta shook her head. “We’re not like that. We met when he rescued me from the cartel.”
Liza cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe you just met, but the fire is there between you. Falling in love doesn’t always take time.
It can happen like a bolt of lightning. You never know when it will strike, but it will go straight to your heart.
And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
” She hugged Marta again. “Be good to him…and to yourself.”
They carried their coffee cups out to the driveway, where a white van had pulled in.
Liza brought a third cup of coffee with her as she joined Crusher and Marta at the van.
A man dropped out of the driver’s seat. “Liza, mi amor,” he said, took her empty hand and pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles.
Liza’s cheeks blossomed a pretty pink. “Oh, Raul, you’re a charmer.” She pulled her hand free and waved it toward Marta and Crusher. “Please, take care of my new friends. And here, a cup of coffee for you as well.”
“You are as kind as you are beautiful,” Raul said. “Escape with me, and we’ll make amazing music into the night.”
Liza shook her head. “As much as I’d love to escape with you, I have a son I care about.” She patted Raul’s cheek. “You know, as a mother, I could never leave my boy.”
Raul cocked an eyebrow. “But he is un hombre adulto.”
“And alone in a different country without me.” She handed Raul his coffee. “Now, go. Before I change my mind.” Liza winked at Raul and smiled toward Marta and Crusher. “I hope we meet again, preferably under better circumstances. You’re always welcome here. Mi casa es su casa. Stay safe.”
Raul went straight for the driver’s door and climbed in.
Marta approached the back of the van.
“Are you coming, amiga?” Raul asked.
“We’re not riding in the back?” she asked.
Raul shrugged. “If you want to ride in the back, you can get there from the front.”
Crusher grinned and opened the passenger side door, holding it for Marta. “You can have shotgun if you like.”
Marta climbed in, glanced out the front windshield, and shook her head.
“No, thanks. I’d rather not give anyone a chance to recognize me.
I’ll sit in the next row.” She took a seat behind the driver, where she had the pleasure of watching the side of Crusher’s face.
He must have found a spare razor among the toiletries Liza kept in the guest bathroom, along with combs, hairbrushes, wrapped toothbrushes, and toothpaste.
Marta had tucked the toothbrush into the side pocket of her yoga pants.
After all that had happened, she didn’t trust she’d get another anytime soon.
The drive out of Panama City was blessedly uneventful. Soon, they picked up speed, heading north toward the Costa Rica border.
Every so often, Crusher brought up the map on the burner phone, holding it so Marta could see it as well. They stopped for fuel, a bathroom break, and food during the eight-hour drive. As the road left the coastline, they entered a more mountainous region that was cooler and even more humid.
Marta dozed off several times while the men talked about football teams, both American football and international football, aka soccer. Each had a favorite team.
Having spent little time watching sports, Marta had nothing to contribute. Now, if they’d wanted to discuss DNA, RNA, viral evolution, pathogenesis and transmission, she’d happily jump in.
She listened absently to the hum of the men’s voices as they talked about sports, wondering if someone like her could ever fit into the same world as someone like Crusher.
Everything about him was so intensely physical.
But if she thought about it, he was always thinking ahead, trying to get in front of the next conflict or roadblock that could arise.
He was always thinking on his feet, adapting quickly to changing circumstances and seeking ways to neutralize his opponents. Marta, on the other hand, focused for days on the same pathogen, trying to find other ways to approach it and neutralize its effects.