Page 41 of Burn the Script

She shrugs. “You can still use it. Whatever you need from me on this mission, just say the word.”

“From either of us,” Maisy says, her expression equally serious. “And run all your crazy ideas through the group chat first. You can’t be trusted to make good choices on your own.”

“I’ll do my best to remember.”

Rubbing my pendant, I smile. I won’t tell them I stole something from Miguel’s apartment the night I surprised him. He’ll get it back when I enact the next phase of my plan.

By the time Maisy and I hop in the car for the drive back to Austin, the sun has set and I can’t stop yawning. She insists on driving, claiming she’s more familiar with the area, but I’m not fooled. I’m a slow driver, and my lack of urgency behind the wheel irritates her.

“Are you sure traveling back and forth every weekend is a good idea?” she asks.

“I have it all planned out and under control.”

“You and your plans.” Grumbling, she cranks up the heater. “I’d bet good money your schedule has hemorrhoids.”

“Probably.” I lean the seat back and close my eyes for a minute. As usual, Miguel graces my nighttime visions like his face is tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

The sound of Maisy’s voice tapers off, her warning distant. “I’ll remind you again to tread carefully, and don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m walking on tiptoes,” I murmur. The world fades to black after that.

18

MIGUEL

THEN

September, Year One

After one day in Costa Rica with Graham and our friends, I never wanted to leave. We were isolated in a villa with a private stretch of beach surrounded by lush vegetation and open blue waters. If this was how the rich vacationed, count me in.

Side by side on an oversized blanket, Tatum and I resembled a candy cane. Every part of her skin not covered by a white bikini was bright red from sunburn, while my legs sticking out of red swim trunks were solid white with three coats of sunblock on them.

“I like coming here because I can walk the beach alone at night. There’s no one around, and Marcus keeps his distance,” she said.

I glanced over my shoulder at her personal security team. Marcus and Judge Ames sat in chairs under a cabana, scanning the area for threats. The inseparable cousins were active military before going into security. They went everywhere with Tatum, even lived with her, and had the uncanny ability to blend in despite their hulking sizes.

Both men were close to six-and-half feet tall with shaved heads, but the likeness ended there. Colorful, artistic tattoos covered Judge’s tawny skin, while Marcus’s chestnut complexion remained unmarked, aside from a scar in one eyebrow.

Judge took his job seriously but would let loose on occasion. Marcus, on the other hand, probably began military training while he was still in diapers. His constant vigilance prevented him from kicking back and having a good time.

“It’s beautiful here…quiet,” I said to Tatum, facing the waves again.

She was on break from her Latin America tour, and Graham had begged me to join them at their favorite hideaway. The second our private plane landed safely, I understood their obsession with this place. We were in paradise. Gorgeous, secluded, beachy paradise.

“I think I’ll stay in tonight and catch up on some sleep. The beach is all yours.” Tatum smiled as a shadow fell over us.

“Your tasty refreshments have arrived,” Graham said.

He may have been talking about the drink cooler he set down, but my eyes were drinking in his glistening, sun-kissed skin and the bulge in his black speedo.

Tatum wormed sideways to make space between us. When Graham squeezed in, his position mirrored mine, legs bent and arms wrapped around his knees. Our toes found each other in the golden sand while he twisted the cap off an orange soda and handed me the bottle.

Since the night at the canals, his efforts to spoil me rotten had gotten out of hand. He even joked that I was his “pampered prince.” I tried reminding him I can do things for myself, but he insisted on waiting on me.

Maisy dropped to her stomach on my other side. She adjusted her green bikini to make sure everything was covered before resting a cheek on her folded arms. “Are you coming to the breast cancer fundraiser with us next month?”

“How?” I asked.