Pushing up to the break of water, I kick my legs to stay afloat and submerge my tense shoulders. This time the buoyancy doesn't work like it usually does. Piercing cramps needle my heart like unruly swords on the attack. The muscles around my ribs constrict painfully as thoughts of Iris deny me peace of mind.
When I squeeze my eyelids shut, she surrounds me. Haunting me. Begging me. Lost in a world where she doesn’t belong.
She double-crossed me.
I fill my lungs with air and sink deeper, but the anguish won’t dissolve. The once pleasant hush becomes deafening instead of relaxing. My arms thrash and manic feet kick with frustration. An expulsion of forced air is trapped in crystal clear water. Instead of a savage roar, billions of bubbles speed away from the violent eruption. Resurfacing, I drag my disfigured hands through my hair and heave myself to sitting at the edge of the pool.
The patio style day bed where she had laid waiting, drugged on my truth serum, mocks my anxiety with its leisurely position. Padding indoors, an air-conditioned climate reminds me of skin whiter than snow, made for harsher weather than sunshine. Clean garments, folded on the freshly made bed, agitate my gnarly mood even more. Any trace of a lingering scent has been replaced with pressed sheets, and her used nightdress has been removed. I storm into the bathroom. My tortured palms immediately smack the countertop when I find it void of personal possessions. She didn’t come here with trinkets or jewelry, just a paltry notebook. It’s like she was never here.
But she was.
The tart sting of bitterness teaches me a valuable lesson. Regardless of the attraction, she was still capable of betrayal. Her beauty was a shroud. A papery layer of deception.
It’s irrelevant how I looked forward to spying on her from afar. That each new day welcomed a spark, a thrill of knowing she was here. My thawing barricade lowered enough to let her slip in unannounced.
And then she proved to me that humans are inherent liars.
“Sir.” The radio crackles from the doorway where my shorts are strewn. “Sir. I need to speak with you urgently.” Sal knows better than to show insolence. After our encounter earlier, he’s lucky I didn’t punish him for showing the guts to confront me. “Please. I found her note. It fell out of the guest’s pocket when they moved him.”
My knees lock. The throbbing behind my ribcage threatens a black out. I scrub my eyes and hesitate. Scraping for a level of decorum, I sniff in a long-controlled breath. Uncertain if I want to hear the words, slowly reaching for the puddled shorts.
“Sir?”
I snatch the walkie-talkie. “I’m here.”
“Where are you?”
“Her cabin.”
“I’ll be right there. You should see this for yourself.”
“No.” I prop myself up against the door jamb. “Read it to me now.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then he begins. “I survived the storm. I’m safe. I promise I’ll come home eventually, but I’ve found something special in the jungle. Something I need to figure out. An adventure of a lifetime. Don’t mourn for me. I love you all so much. I. K.” Whatever he says next muffles under a thunderous heartbeat amplified in my skull. Curled fingers shake with fraying self-control. “Sir…”
In a blind temper, the radio arcs through the air and wallops the opposite wall.
Something special.
Weaving to the outside deck, I cover the full length of the pool edge and reach the immeasurable sprawl of vegetation and infinite evergreens that prevent me from catching sight of my ostracized hummingbird. She’s out there, terrified and alone. I’m in here, love struck and drowning in remorse. We’re miles apart. Separated by a grave error and the shocking truth.
Beija flor isn’t the traitor I suspected her to be.
I slam into the hip height glass screen and grip it with a fierce squeeze. Before I can reign in my wrath, I yell out her name. It spits past my lips and carries into the myriad of trees.
“IRIS!”
I’m the master at safeguarding my identity and unearthing traitors. It’s a skill set I’ve developed with expert finesse. Thanks to Miguel and Maria, I’ve holed myself away for the past few years to accumulate billions. To reap justice when they least expect it. The long game. Making them wait on borrowed time.
Yet, never did I expect that path to fork. For my talent to be tested, and for it to fail.
Beij flor didn’t lie to me.
And if anyone deserves punishment, it’s me.
The beast forged in flames.
The fool who gave in to his temper.
