“We were finishing up dinner when you called. We haven’t had a chance,” I told him. I didn’t elaborate on what. I could tell that was going unsaid.
“What a pity,” the man said. “Just so you know, if he gets his job done properly, he’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. So, perhaps you might want to plan around that.”
“What is the job?” I couldn’t help but ask.
The man chuckled, the sound creamy and rich. “He’d tell you, but he’d probably have to kill you. And I would definitely need to know your name.” His voice became serious over that last word, serious enough to send a chill up my spine. This guy was not joking. I heard him inhale, a slow, wicked sound. “May I please speak to Este?”
Yeah, no problem. I didn’t say anything, I just quickly handed the phone back to Esteban and told him I was going to the restroom. I felt extremely uneasy after that phone call, and needed to try to get my wits about me.
Inside the swanky bathroom with its polished chrome and gleaming glass sinks, I eyed myself in the mirror. I looked different somehow, like I was a foreigner in my own world. I looked scared but I also looked . . . pretty. My eyes were clear and bright, my skin flushed and glowing. My hair was glossed back into a smooth ponytail. I didn’t think I had done anything different to myself, but maybe it was all in my head. Maybe the art had started to seep into my body.
Maybe I needed another way to get my fill.
I stared at myself for a few moments, running through all the scenarios in my head. There were only two. I would say good-bye to Esteban here. He would do whatever job he had to do—a job I had no business knowing. I would remain in Hawaii, trying to recapture the fire I’d felt earlier in the day. I’d try to find that finicky will to go on, alone. And if I couldn’t . . . well, the ocean was always right there.
Or I could go back to the table. Take Esteban down to the beach. Try to find myself in his touch. And if I went out, I went out with a bang. A fleeting glimpse of the stars and possibility before the shadows came for me.
I’d lost love with my husband. I’d lost love with myself. I wanted to find something, anything, before I lost everything.
Chapter 5
I went back to the table and saw Esteban standing, waiting for me with his chair pushed in. His phone was nowhere in sight. I quickly grabbed my purse and said, “Where shall we go next?”
His brows quirked up, as if unsure what to do with the question. “The beach?” he suggested. “There’s a path by the cliff here.”
I smiled. “You know everything, don’t you?”
“That’s why they call me the smart one.”
“I thought they called you the nice one.”
“Oh. That, too.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
His eyes sought the ceiling. “My boss is Javier. He controls the operation. In fact, he controls pretty much all of Mexico. Well, almost. We’re working on a few things.”
“Are any of those things the reason you are here?”
He smiled, white teeth against tanned skin. His scars rippled with the movement, so darkly beautiful. He held his arm out for me. “Shall we go to the beach?”
I nodded, my nerves buzzing with possibilities.
We left the restaurant and he led me down the tiki-torch-lit paths past fancy condominiums. The night was beautiful; the stars were out along with a fingernail moon. It was impossibly romantic, impossibly dangerous. The path down the cliff was unlit, and thanks to the dark and the instability of my flip-flops, I was relying on Esteban to keep me safe. I put my trust in someone who probably couldn’t be trusted.
And yet, eventually I felt sand beneath my feet. The wild ocean crashed against the beach in waves of ink dotted with silver sparkles, reflections from the moon. A balmy breeze caressed my face like a gentle lover. My whole body rippled with excitement I hadn’t felt in years and years and years.
I felt like I was waking up.
We walked along the sand in silence, heading toward the surf. The foam churned steps away from our feet. Esteban was now holding his shoes in his hand and behind his back. He stared out at the dark horizon, breathing in deeply through his nose. The wind pushed his wavy hair off his face.
“What are you thinking?” I asked him softly, though I supposed I had no business to.
He didn’t seem to mind. “I am thinking that I am lucky.”
“How so?”
He turned to look at me, the moonlight in his gaze. “That I met you. I was not planning on meeting anyone. But here you are.”
“But you leave soon.”
He nodded once. “I am leaving. And I will go back to Mexico and all I’ll have of you will be memories. We won’t call each other. We won’t write. We won’t e-mail. What we have will remain in the Pacific. Where it belongs.”
I didn’t understand. How was that lucky?
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lani. You’re talented, smart. You have a lot going for you, which you refuse to see. Maybe you’re too stubborn. Or maybe you still don’t think you deserve a second chance. But I will leave here having known you and having made you smile. The memories will be good enough for me. I’ll find someone else, someone available, someone who is cut out for my lifestyle. And I’ll thank you for that.”
Where the hell did his confidence come from, the idea that everything would be okay, even in the line of work he was in? I didn’t understand it.
He turned his body so he was facing me
