Page 45 of Sin of Love
22
Playa Del Carmen, Mexico
Sittingin a shaded cabana on the beach with a tall glass of iced tea and an Irishman was not how I imagined I’d be spending my first week in Mexico. But as Liam is fond of telling me, Assumption makes an ass out of U and Mption.
Asshole.
But he’s a smart asshole. Well connected. A flawless liar, bargainer, and charmer. Because of him, we have a reliable, inside source who knows exactly where Deirdre is, who she’s with, and where she’ll be tonight.
Here.
Tonight, Deirdre will be in this ritzy resort hotel, where tourists from across the world come to swelter and burn in the tropical heat, drink too much, rekindle romances or find temporary ones, explore hobbies and designer drugs, and indulge in fetishes both unsavory and mundane.
A shadow falls over my lounge chair, and I squint up at Liam. He’s dressed just like every other male in the vicinity, in swim trunks and a tank top. Arms crossed, he scowls at me like I’m a misbehaving pupil.
“I thought you’d be happy today, but you look like a cat pissed in your tea. Do we need to go over the plan again?”
“No, I got it.”
With a sigh, he plops onto the lounge next to mine. “I know you’re worried, but there’s nothing we can do, all right? If she doesn’t want to leave with us, we’re not going to make her. Kidnapping has a price you can’t afford.”
A cluster of women pauses on the beach outside our cabana. There are sly glances our way, subtle shifts to accentuate chests and asses in their tiny bikinis, and giggles that make my ears hurt.
Liam notices them, his characteristic smirk sliding into place. But I’ve learned a lot about the man in the past month. He trains like a beast, eats like his body is a temple, barely drinks and never in excess, and flirts with women like it’s a script he can read with his eyes closed but not a very interesting one.
“You don’t have to babysit me, Liam. I’m not going to get drunk. Go get laid. Don’t you Doms have some sixth sense for submissives? Surely one of those”—I nod to the women—“fits the profile.”
Attention back on me, Liam’s lips twist wryly. “I’m not babysitting you. I actually enjoy your surly company. Besides, I’ve got someone in my sights back in Los Angeles.”
“Poor woman.”
He laughs, but it strikes me as sad. “I know. If she’s lucky, she’ll never have to meet me.”
Frowning, I sit up. “What?”
He shakes his head and stands. “Never mind. Up for a run now that lunch has settled? Nothing like a workout to clear the mind.”
“No way. We biked six miles this morning.”
He grins, hopping from foot to foot on the hot sand. “Come on. Don’t break my heart.”
“You’re unnatural,” I grumble. But I haul myself to my feet and join him, secretly relieved by his offer.
Despite intense efforts to bring my body back to peak condition, my mind hasn’t been as easily rehabbed. Without distraction, my thoughts unerringly veer to dark places. And at night, when the doubts creep in, and the need for a drink is so tangible I can touch it, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here. If I’m crazy for thinking this is what Deirdre wants…
Nate described her past relationship with their captor in no uncertain terms—she hated him, but over time that hate flowered and grew into a dangerous attachment. Nate carries immense guilt over it. He believes she willingly crossed that line to keep him safe.
I don’t want to believe she’s fallen prey to that attachment again, but I’m a pragmatist. It’s a possibility.
She never once asked for my help, even though she needed it, even though I wanted to give it. Almost like she knew my weakness, my impulse to rescue or save women, and wanted nothing to do with it. But that assumes a lot, like she gives a shit about my fucking mommy issues.
The other option is simple—if she never asked for help, she doesn’t want it, and I’m simply taking the most expensive, depressing vacation of my life.
But when I think about what Deirdre went through as a teenager, what she’s going through now, my heart hurts. Bleeds and breaks, over and over. No one should suffer the way she has.
If at the end of this there’s nothing left of her—of the woman I love—then it’s a price I’m willing to pay to get her away from that evil son of a bitch. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means letting her go.
My bare feet pound on wet sand near the gentle surf. Liam’s pace is brutal, but I’m used to it after spending a few weeks under Dominic’s punishing tutelage. Eventually, my body gets the memo and finds a rhythm. My mind quiets as muscles burn, sweat drips, and endorphins flow.
Relief.
“Quit slacking, boyo!”
Cackling like a maniac, Liam pulls ahead of me.
“Asshole,” I mutter, but I’m grinning as I push harder.
My blood sings.
Deirdre.
