Page 13 of Resurgent
Chapter Four
Liam
Fuck! I shouldn’t have kissed her.
I don’t know why I did it. Hell, yes, I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman, and being with one that looks and smells like Charlotte was too much to resist, especially after the dreams that have haunted me for the last two months. When she tried to run, I had to stop her quickly, so I tackled her. The feel of her under me, the instinctive way she responded to my command to look at me, her full, sensuous lips… I couldn’t help it; I’d had to taste her.
I steal a glance over at her. She’s sitting ramrod straight and rigid in the passenger’s seat, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle as if she’s physically holding herself together, and suddenly I feel like a total asshole. Anyone would be shell-shocked from what she’s been through in the last seventy-two hours—kidnapped and held hostage by one of the most notorious drug cartels, woken up in the middle of the night by a man who’s supposed to be dead, and then spirited out of a house with more security than the White House. For a girl like Charlotte, who likes everything nice and neat and firmly under her control, it’s got to be even worse.
Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have kissed her.
I run my fingers through my shaggy, overgrown hair. I’m an asshole. Might as well own it. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
Something about the tone of her voice makes me think I should definitely worry about it. I know from experience there’s nothing more dangerous than a woman who’s “fine.”
We drive in silence for about fifteen minutes while I give her a little time to process the last hour or so and pull herself together. Finally, I ask what’s been bothering me since I saw her face on the news. “Did they…hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. At least, I don’t think so. They held me at knifepoint in front of McKenzie’s apartment and drugged me.” Her voice wavers, and I want to pull her into my arms, but I don’t think she would appreciate that, and my balls are still aching enough from her well-placed kick not to risk it. “I woke up in the back of a car on a Mexican highway. When we got to the house, they locked me in that room and pretty much left me there alone, other than bringing me food.” After a minute, she adds, “Where are we going?”
“Playa Nayarit. It’s the closest town with a high concentration of American tourists. We’ll pretend to be a couple on our honeymoon. We should blend right in. That will buy us a little time while I try to figure out how to get you back home.”
After a minute, she says, “So you thought they had McKenzie instead of me?”
There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice—as if she thinks I wouldn’t have come just for her—and it slays me. McKenzie had hinted that Charlotte’s home life growing up wasn’t great, and I have the sudden urge to chase away all her demons.
“I came back for you,” I reassure her.
She turns away, but not before I see the shimmer of tears in her doe-like brown eyes. What the hell is that about? Then I remind myself she’s been through hell. Trying to keep it light, I add, “The picture in the news was you, but my contact in the cartel said they had McKenzie. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let them take either of you.”
She’s silent, and I have the distinct impression I’ve somehow said something wrong.
“So you haven’t talked to her? She doesn’t know you’re alive?” Her voice is so cool and controlled, I wonder if I imagined the waver in it just minutes before. The way she can check her emotions is scary. And impressive.
I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the road. “No one does. I flew straight from Mumbai to London to Guadalajara, and then took a bus to La Manzanillo to find you.”
“Not even Walker?” she presses, referring to my best friend who’s also on my SEAL team.
“I can’t tell anyone I’m alive. Especially not Walker,” I say flatly. “I sold Iraqi military weapons to the Mexican drug cartel. I could go to jail for federal conspiracy, arms trafficking…maybe even treason. There’s no way I’m implicating Walker in all that.”
“But he could help! He’s your best friend—”
“Which is exactly why I won’t drag him into this. End of subject.” I keep my eyes on the road, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
“Why did you do it?” Her question is soft, and surprisingly lacking judgement.
I shrug. “Money, I guess. It was a stupid-ass thing to do, regardless of the reason.”
She lays a hand on my arm. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Sometimes people do things they don’t want to when it seems like the only option. We’re all just doing the best we can.”
“Maybe. But it was wrong, and I’m going to make it right, or die trying.”
“How?”
That’s a damn good question. “I don’t know. I have to find the guns first.”
“What do you mean? You don’t know where they are?”
