“I don’t trust that they’ve left it alone. Best case scenario, it’s nothing more than a tracker to keep tabs on us.”
“Worst case…” She swallows as she gets off the bike before me, leaving the rest of that statement unspoken.
“Yes,” I say, giving her a level gaze. I’ve decided not to treat her with kid gloves now that she’s in this with me.
With me.
Something about that idea—even as it fills me with dread that something might happen to her—sends a warm rush of blood through my veins, filling a small, formerly empty part of me.
Even with the men on my team, there isn’t this kind of connection. With them, I feel like we’re different parts of a machine that work perfectly in sync with one another to complete a job. With Leira, it’s somehow different in a way that I can’t put my finger on.
“It’ll be about nine hours to Barcelona, but this late in the morning, we’ll at least have avoided the people recovering from the clubs. If this is all a ruse to throw me off guard, I’d rather be around people who are awake and alert.”
“Do you think it’s a ruse?”
I consider that as I release the kickstand and get off the scooter. “No.”
Leira seems to agree with this assessment, nodding her head. I can almost sense the questions swirling around in there, desperate for release, but for once, she’s tactful enough to keep them at bay.
“Listen, Leira,” I say, catching her attention. “When we get to Barcelona, I’ll tell you everything. Everything. Until then, I’d rather not have those awake and alert passengers overhearing anything. We’re in enough trouble as it is.”
A tiny smile crooks the side of her mouth, making it tempting enough to kiss.
I push that back into a special mental place and focus on what needs to be done now.
“Let’s get tickets for the next ferry. We can take turns sleeping again. Once we get to Barcelona, we’ll have to be on guard, at least for a while.”
* * *
Leira is the first to sleep. We have seats in one of the larger areas. One of those Nicholas Sparks movies is playing up toward the front. For some odd reason, it’s the annotated version, in which the actors give commentary. Like everyone else on board, I tune it out.
At least I have something to occupy my mind.
I’ve already gone round and round in my head wondering who it is I’ll be meeting in a week. Instead, I now focus on how the hell they found me in the first place.
There are four people in the world who know what I do for a living, so to speak, and that I have a boat and a place in Ibiza. But my mind once again circles back to why any of my team would betray me.
I rewind running into Ulrich back on the beach. Was it truly a coincidence? Even if it was, he knows I usually spend the night there before heading back to the mainland. Plenty of opportunity to call up a certain someone to have people waiting for me.
But again, why?
Whatever the reason, I know for a fact that all future jobs are indefinitely on hold. At least until I figure this thing out.
Putting those files away in a to-be-continued drawer of my mind, I focus on other issues.
For some reason, my parents' anniversary party pops into my head. It’s next weekend.
I laugh softly to myself as I muse over the fact that only yesterday, the thought of attending was the worst thing I was dreading. Now, it seems like nothing more daunting than having to take the trash out.
It isn’t that I hate my adoptive parents. However, even at an early age, I always had the feeling that I was an accessory for their lifestyle, or rather, image. One son to help transition them from a wealthy couple to a wealthy family, so they could fit in with the rest of the millionaires in Marbella, one of the wealthiest cities in Spain. I’m pretty sure they even settled on me for adoption because of my “fine, handsome features,” as they were wont to say over and over.
I’m not sure what Sister Clara and Mother Agnes told them about my past. Never underestimate the powers of the Catholic Church for pulling that one off. Either way, I never once revealed what I saw that night when I was five. And they certainly never bothered to pry.
They were never cruel or abusive or even neglectful, which was an appreciated change from my prior circumstances. I had everything a child could ever want for, including too much freedom. I was the kid whose parents were always conveniently out of town, so the obscene house could be used for parties. I was the one with no curfew or rules keeping me from having fun. All in all, I had no complaints.
At least until I discovered the truth about them and what they’d done.
“Is it my turn?”
I snap out of the daze my eyes have fallen into, staring at the TV screen above us. The couple in the movie are in a lake kissing.
Leira laughs. “The Longest Ride? I wouldn’t have figured you for a romantic.”
My brow lowers with irritation.
“I’m going to sleep,” I say, adjusting my seat so it reclines just enough to be even more uncomfortable somehow.
I close my eyes to the sound of Leira laughing even more.
“Que sueñes con los angelitos,” she leans over to croon in my ear.
It’s a reminder of how sensual her voice is. The kind of voice that certainly doesn’t lend toward sleep. That, combined with that stupid lake scene in the movie only has my brain functioning past capacity. I’m surprised I haven’t grown hard.
Eventually, sleep overtakes me, mostly to visions of swimming with Leira once again, both of us naked and kissing. Angels in my dreams? Not with la Diabla occupying it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
