Page 23 of Resurgent
“I remember a lot. Thank God my long-term memories are still intact.”
“McKenzie was trying to finish the things that hadn’t been crossed off your list. After your memorial service, she jumped off a waterfall in Costa Rica, and she, Gemma, and I all went to Las Vegas before she flew to the Philippines to sail around the islands.”
“McKenzie?” No way. My little sister is the antithesis of a thrill seeker. She’s always been the homebody, the one who never wanted to go on roller coasters or jump off the high dive. I can’t even conceive of her having the guts to travel out of the country, much less jump off a waterfall or go sailing.
“What else did she do?” I take a closer look at the items still uncrossed on the list. “A BDSM club? Fuck.” Imagining my little sister half naked in front of a room full of guys has me wanting to punch something.
“Relax. She ended up meeting someone in the Philippines and stayed to go diving in Malaysia. Item number twenty-three.” She points to the list. “So Walker and Gemma said they’d do the BDSM club when they went to San Francisco to look at the things on your list there. They were going to go to this club—The Dominion—to see if they could find anything out. That was the night I was kidnapped so I don’t know what happened.”
“My little sister can scuba dive?” Maybe I suffered more brain damage than I thought.
Charlotte nods. “We all got certified together before she left.”
“And she met a guy in the Philippines?” I glance at the list again. “Holy Mother of God. Please tell me she’s not having kinky sex with him.”
Charlotte arches one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little hypocritical? After all, you’re the one who put it on the list.”
“That’s different. This is my little sister we’re talking about! Anyway, that one should have been crossed off a long time ago.” I catch her staring at me, an unfathomable look on her face. I wink, and she blushes and turns away. Interesting…
After a minute, she clears her throat. “How can you be so blasé about all of this? Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? You smuggled a million dollars’ worth of guns out of Iraq and illegally sold them to a Mexican drug cartel, so as soon as the U.S. realizes you’re alive, they’ll want to throw you in jail. And if that’s not enough, the drug cartel will also be after you for not getting their guns after they paid you.”
“Thank you for the recap. I’m well aware of exactly what’s at stake. And I intend to do everything in my power to fix the situation. But I have a motto I’ve always lived by.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know, I know. Don’t underestimate the power of fuck it.”
“Exactly. I’m going to tell you a little secret, sweetheart. I know you love that control you hold on to so tightly, but the tighter you hold on to things, the less control you actually have. The key is to not let anything matter too much. When you let go of what you want—really let go—that’s when you get it.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I shrug. “It works for me.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit back and watch you go to jail.” She stomps inside and I can see her rummaging through a drawer. She comes back with a pad of paper and a pen and perches on the edge of the chaise, legs primly crossed. “Okay, what do you remember putting on the list?”
An hour later, we’re no closer to deciphering what things on my bucket list might be a clue. Some of the things—like jumping out of an airplane and hiking the Inca Trail—I added to my list and completed long before the guns were a thing, and they clearly aren’t important now. Yet many of the newer things that haven’t been crossed off don’t make any sense.
“Salsa dancing?” I run my fingers through my hair with frustration for about the fifteenth time. “Who puts that on their bucket list?”
“Well, I would, if I didn’t already know how. It’s very sexy. I always encourage my clients to take dance lessons for their reception.”
“Exactly my point. That’s something a woman puts on her bucket list,nota Navy SEAL.” I’m half teasing, but I swear I’ve never given a second’s thought to salsa dancing.
“Hmph. I’d expected more from a guy with your…proclivities.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “My proclivities?”
“You know, since you’re into kinky sex and all.”
This woman is fascinating. “What does kinky sex have to do with salsa dancing?”
“Everything. In salsa dancing, the man has to lead. It requires strength tempered with gentleness, as well as confidence. He has to make decisions and communicate them to his partner without saying a word, and she has to trust him enough to follow. And when dancing so close to your partner and leading her, you instinctively learn to read her cues and responses so you know what’s going through her head.” She flips her hair back and shrugs. “But maybe I misunderstood.”
I whistle softly. “Damn. You could singlehandedly create a resurgence of salsa dancing with that speech. But I didn’t peg you for the submissive type.” The thought of Charlotte tied up and at my mercy is oddly tempting, maybe all the more so because she is such a control freak.
“I’m not,” she says quickly. “I’m the one who likes to be in control.” She stands up. “Let’s look at the list again later. Maybe something will come to you. I’m going to order dinner.”
…
“Who was that?”
