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No.
In the gap stood a man, dark suit, staring down into the abyss. He had no flashlight.
She put a hand over hers, cutting off the light.
“I know you’re down there!”
She slipped into the water and doused her light.
Then she took a breath, stuck the mouthpiece in, and sank into the dark. Wan light fell from the opening above, just a dent in the shadow, but as she kicked away, a hand on the lava wall, she spotted him standing on the water’s edge.
Staring down into the darkness.
Her heart thundered, her breath tight as she hugged the wall.
She couldn’t see his face, just his outline, the way his shoulders rose and fell. But she could imagine the tight fists, the clench of his jaw, the fierceness of his blue eyes dissecting the shadows.
And deep in her memory, she heard his voice:“What are you doing to me, Phoenix?”
Oh no.Because in her heart, she knew.
Steinbeck Kingston hadn’t forgotten her. Not at all.
* * *
She’d put way too much hope in Doyle’s idea.
Or maybe Tia had simply put way too much hope in Doyle. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
No, if anyone deserved for her to throw her trust, her hope, directly into his arms, it was Doyle Kingston, who just couldn’t help but show up.
And look good doing it.
He wore a pair of cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a short-sleeve t-shirt with the wordsIron Willon it, some dogsledding race he’d attended in Minnesota.
Sometimes she forgot he lived in the same state, probably less than sixty miles from her. Funny that they’d had to travel a thousand miles into the depths of the Caribbean to meet.
Although, she might have never fully appreciated his quick thinking and optimistic demeanor if they hadn’t been here, facing off with trouble. The man had a quiet determination about him, even as he led the way along a trail into the jungle that wound around the base of the volcano. He kept looking back at her, checking on her, but she’d recovered better than she’d expected to from her near-death dive.
In fact, last night, for the first time in a long time, she’d slept without dreaming. No nightmares of Edward or even the ones that lingered, deeper, from further back. Probably because she’d gone to bed thinking of the way Doyle pulled her into his arms on the dance-floor-slash-patio of Declan’s estate during a Dean Martin song.“You’re nobody ’til somebody loves you...”Just one song, but the man had moves.
The kind of moves that had made her put her arms around his neck and, for just a second, wish that he’d act on the look in his eyes.
Unless she’d imagined it.
The dance had ended too soon, and then he’d danced with his sister and some of the other female guests, and maybe he’d smiled at everyone like they were someone special.
The bright sunlight and the early-morning air had put reality back in its place. They were here to do a job, and Doyle had met her in the kitchen with a backpack and a water bottle, along with a map.
They’d headed up along the back of the property to an old hiking trail that should lead them on a short trek around the mountain to where he’d marked anXon the map. Apparently his best guess at the location of the tunnel he’d seen.
Now, ten minutes up the trail, he turned and looked back, huffing a little at the steep climb. “Gorgeous.”
The town of Esperanza lay in a pocket, the houses scattered along the hillside, dropping into the valley, the sea a deep variegated blue stretching out under a gorgeous sky tufted with cotton. The jungle rose around them, dense with coconut palms and royal poinciana with their big red blossoms, and thick mahogany, and fragrant cedar trees, with wild orchids, and hibiscus, and aloe vera plants stirring up a sweet haze of scents. Humidity clung to the air, settled on her bare arms and legs.
But somehow, up here, she could breathe.
Even if a sweat had started to trickle down her spine.