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“Welcome to the holy party!” Mark cheered as I joined them at the pool a few minutes later, dressed in what the little shit brought me. At least I appeared the complete opposite of how I looked when I played the part of Eric Noah for ten years undercover with the Cartel.
I had caught my reflection in the windows as I strolled toward them. Keith rolled his eyes as jealousy radiated off him.
“I call it hot nights in Miami.” Mark grinned at my blue loafers, white cotton pants, and blue shirt that buttoned only halfway up. My exposed chest was decorated with a massive cross that had fake crystals down the center. The pants left nothing to the imagination. I let out a huff. I’d gone from a Cartel badass, to Agent Paul, to Mike Lowrey in Bad Boys. Fuck me, I missed Montana.
Keith glared at Mark. “Explain to me why he gets to look like Mike Lowrey, and I have to look like Captain Pantoliano.”
“You have great ankles,” Mark tried to explain with a straight face but dodged behind John when Keith went to punch him. He stuck his head out. “We’re all jealous of your ankles.”
“I’ll get us a round.” I turned on my heel and headed for the bar. “Four pitchers of whatever you have on tap, por favor,” I ordered and jotted down my room number to be billed. I felt a sense of ease settle over me now that the guys had arrived, minus the ridiculous outfits. I’d never admit it out loud, but Mark always brought much-needed humor to otherwise dark situations. He was needed in a world like ours, and after the life he’d been dealt in the start, it always gave me hope that no matter what we had to endure, we’d be fine when we came out the other end.
“Damn.” Nicole stepped up next to me and dropped her purse and duffle bag at her feet. I wondered where she was off to next. “When did Boca Breeze Retirement Home recruit you?”
“Funny.” I laughed into the glass the bartender handed me as he poured beer into the pitchers. “It’s a long story.”
“And I bet it’s a good one.” She waited for the bartender to look over at her. “Mai Tai, please.”
On cue, Mark arrived with his shit eating grin. I looked at John for help, but he shrugged. I knew he’d enjoy a Lopez shitstorm.
“Ah, yes, the famous Nicole Winter,” Mark purred and batted his long lashes like a teenager in heat. “I heard you met my buddy.”
“Met would imply I knew his name.” Nicole tossed me a scowl but then smiled warmly at Mark. “Nice to meet you…?” She waited for his name.
“Mark.” I glanced at Cole, who gave me a nod that it was all right that she knew our real names.
“I must say, Mark, your outfit is rather fetching,” she teased, and he gave me a proud smile.
“Don’t encourage,” I muttered.
“Did you like my nifty fanny pack?” He dragged the zipper along the tropical print pouch and pulled out a ChapStick.
“So help me, God, if you put that on…” I warned, and he rolled his eyes and zipped it closed.
She stuck her straw between her lips and drew the orange liquid into her mouth. “Is he always this grumpy?”
“Nah, it’s just an act.” I laughed, and Mark waved. “Get a few drinks in him and he’ll ease up.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She smirked around her straw.
Mark grabbed two pitchers off the bar. “Come join us.”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should.”
“Don’t you want to know how we know you?”
“Let me guess,” she chuckled, “from TV?”
“Nope.” He walked backward with a grin toward the guys’ table. She bit her lip and suddenly looked a bit uneasy.
I shook my head as Mark put the beer on the table for the guys. I knew he wanted to know what she knew, if anything. I was equally interested, and I still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t been following me.
TEN
NICOLE
“You don’t seem like someone who’d be nervous to join a group of Floridians for a drink,” he teased. This guy had an intensity about him, and I could feel his stress. He intrigued me. Who was he, and what did he want from me? I was almost positive he’d been following me.
“Tell me why you’re here.” I needed some kind of answer before I’d consider letting my guard down.