Page 36 of Reckless Woman
It’s making me think bad thoughts as we hit post-lunchtime traffic just south of Westview. Shitty, horrible things that I’d tucked away at the back of mind and forgotten about. Like how she sold me out to that creep Alberto Fernandez on my first day in Colombia. How if my broken past hadn’t compelled me to fire that gun and save us, we’d both be dead now.
I try to counteract them with a good memory, but after the last two days I’m struggling.
“Is Santiagoreallyflying you out to his island?”
It blurts out of my mouth like volcanic ash, polluting the atmosphere even more.
“Why? Does it bother you?” Vi lifts her dark brows at me. “I’m leading his operation in Colombia. I’m his fucking niece, Anna…I should have been invited there weeks ago.”
The car slows to a crawl as we swing into the lot of an old diner and park in a bay underneath a flapping red canvas.
“Well, you must be doing something right,” I concede, sick of fighting with her. “It’s like a reverse Alcatraz. It’s harder to be admitted than to escape.”
She smiles, but it’s not a smile that comforts me.
I don’t want her near Ella.
I don’t want her near Eve.
I glance away, staggered by the intensity of that thought.Our friendship used to be a living breathing animal, and now it’s lying wounded on the ground somewhere.
“Hey Anna?” Her casual tone puts me on high alert as I reach for the door handle. “Can I borrow your cell?” She holds up hers with an apologetic grimace. “My, ah, battery is dead and I need to make that call we spoke about."
She’s going for the liar lotto win today.
“Sure.” I hand it over reluctantly. I’m not sure what the heck I was planning to do with it in the restroom, but options would have been nice. “If Joseph calls, come and get me.”
She smiles that damn smile again. Her right hand brushes her shoulder.
“Of course I will.”
The diner’s interior is sad and tired. There are only a couple of occupied tables, mostly truckers wearing faded baseballs caps the right way round. The yawning waitress who points me in the direction of the restroom fits the place to a “T”.
The restroom itself isn’t so bad. At least the walls aren’t smeared with shit.At least Vi isn’t in the next stall ready to mindfuck me into unzipping a nightmare from her skintight dress.I’m grateful for her taking charge of this situation, but I’m starting to wish we’d never met.
I’m just finishing up when the door opens. Heavy footsteps trail into the end stall, making me panic I’ve stumbled into the men’s room by mistake. I wait a couple of moments before flushing and exiting, still fiddling with the top button on my skinny jeans which is refusing to cooperate.
If I hadn’t been so distracted, I might have seen his reflection in the mirror. I might have ducked away from the dirty hand now clamped across my mouth, as that dangerous combination of blood, sweat and determination hits me like a tidal wave.
Before I can scream, he’s spinning me back into the stall and kicking the door shut behind us. “Be quiet,Luna,” he growls, his deep cadence as familiar to me as the beats of my own heart. “Don’t say a word, and maybe we can get the fuck out of this diner alive.”
Tears burn—part in relief, part in horror. I blink them back furiously because I never want to blur the sight of him again. His huge, masculine body is dwarfing me; I’m lost in unfathomable gray-blue eyes. I inhale all of him—from that strong stubborn jawline to the mouth that will one day tell me all of his secrets.
He looks like he’s been to hell and back and bought more than the T-shirt. His handsome face is barely recognizable. It’s bloody, beaten and streaked with dirt, and one eye is bruised over completely. His jeans and denim shirt are clean on, but they smell of a cheap cologne he’d never wear. I know right away that they’re stolen.
We stare at each other, both breathing hard, as hurt, faith and forgiveness swirl like invisible smoke between us.
“Fuck, it’s good to see you.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I had to get back…I never thought…”
Gently tugging his hand away, I pull his mouth down to mine, because I can’t wait any longer for something I’ll never tire of.
Our lips connect, but the kiss never deepens. Instead, we stay like this. Immovable. Resuscitating each other with the simplest of touches.
This is what I was trying to convey to Vi earlier. This nearness. This fatal pull between us that fizzes my senses and detonates in my soul—a craving without a name that feels so unequivocally right.
I don’t know who snaps first, but suddenly my mouth is full of him—his tongue twisting wicked shapes around mine, his fingers fisting around my blonde hair. He’s demanding and violent as he purges our forty-eight-hour absence with his hands on my body.
Breaking away, he smears salt water into my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “No tears,” he murmurs. “Not yet.”