Page 77 of Take Me Back
“Your husband pissed off the wrong member of the cartel. Walked right into his house and helped his wife disappear and never come back. He needs to restore his honor, and since he can’t find his wife, he’s taking it out on your husband, and generously compensating the person who delivers him. You’re lucky he didn’t ask for you. He has no more patience for women, and only wants revenge.”
Prickles of fear trail down my spine, and part of me wishes that the man had asked for us both. At least then, we’d die together.
How morbid.
My thoughts are cut off when I’m picked up, tossed over a shoulder, and carried the rest of the way to a speedboat.
Vander follows behind us, and they both jump in. I’m dropped on a thickly cushioned bench seat, and Vander advances toward me with a rope. I lift my knees, ready to kick out, but he’s already got it looped around my ankles and cinches it tight.
“You jump out of this one, and I swear to God I will let you drown.” He turns to the other man, who fires up the engine. “Hurry the fuck up so we can get back on schedule. I want to be out of Belizean waters as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
We pull away from the dock, and my gaze goes to the beach where I last saw my husband.
My husband, the mercenary.
Right now, I could forgive him for anything if he’d walk down this dock, sweep me up, and take us both away from here.
But the only traces that remain of him are drag marks and dark stains in the sand from his blood ... like the red petals that dotted the aisle on our wedding day.
* * *
Two years ago
I hadn’t spent much time thinking about weddings when I was younger, but I’d always assumed my dad would walk me down the aisle. After he left my mom, and then she passed, I knew I would never do the conventional thing.
That was why I was standing beneath a pergola, waiting for the signal that it was time for me to make my way down the beach alone to the man who was going to be my husband. Even though it was just the two of us with no guests, the wedding coordinator at the small resort had a plan to make it beautiful and memorable.
A waiter who appeared much too brawny for his polo shirt watched me from the periphery of the restaurant. He was the biggest guy I’d seen in Costa Rica since we got here—even bigger than Dane. With his blue eyes, he didn’t look like a native, but what did I know?
I glanced toward the pool, and the most masculine and beautiful gay couple lay on the loungers, arguing because one wouldn’t put sunscreen on the back of the other. They both looked like they could have walked onto the screen of a Hollywood action flick and not been out of place.
A few couples gathered near the gazebo where Dane waited for me, and the wedding coordinator gave me the sign to begin.
I was so focused on my husband-to-be, I almost didn’t notice the fit blond man trying to blend in behind three younger girls.
Dane, in his white linen shirt and tan pants, stood in the middle of the gazebo as the sun sank into the ocean. The sand in front of me was dotted with red petals from some sort of native flower I couldn’t remember the name of. My hair blew in the breeze, as did my short white dress. My heart pounded harder as I got closer to him.
Had I looked down at where I was walking, I would have seen the step, but I didn’t. Instead, I tripped on the concrete, dropping my bouquet, but Dane caught me before I fell flat on my face.
The officiant coughed behind his Bible.
“Careful, baby. Can’t be getting married with skinned knees.”
“I was distracted.”
“By what?” Dane asked.
“You.”
A brilliant smile stretched across Dane’s face, and he leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Let’s get married.”
Chapter 36
Dane
