Page 92 of Stains of Desire

She crosses her arms. "You're blowing this out of proportion."

"No. I don't think so. I see how not being with Millie is tearing you apart. You suffered through the jet ski ride in silence. Then you told me it helps you to not feel the pain in your heart."

"I meant you. Us. Not the ride," she angrily replies.

My heart beats faster. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting hurt?"

She shakes her head and starts walking away.

I reach for her arm and spin her back toward me. "Don't walk away from me. Answer my question."

Tears fill her eyes, and she cries out, "My daughter is missing. I don't have time to worry about bruises and a bit of pain. Whatever I have to do to get to her the quickest, I'll do. What part don't you understand?" Her face crumples, and she puts her hands over it.

My pulse quickens. I embrace her. "I'm sorry. Don't cry."

"I need to find Millie." She sobs.

I tighten my arms around her. "I know. We will."

"I just want my daughter. If I need to endure some bruises to get to her faster, then I don't care."

I kiss the top of her head then tilt it up. "No. We don't sacrifice you for her. Next time something is hurting, you tell me, and we find a different way."

"I've already lost too much time."

I nod. "But Millie doesn't need something happening to you."

She closes her eyes, and more tears fall.

I slide my hands over her cheeks. "I told you no and stop are two words I listen to. Promise me you'll tell me next time something is hurting you like that."

Her face scrunches, and she sobs.

I sigh and hold her against my pecs, stroking her hair.

After a few minutes, she pulls away and wipes her face. "We need to keep going. I'm wasting more time."

"You still haven't promised me. I need to know I can trust you to tell me when things are bad."

"Okay. I promise."

I peck her on the lips. "Good."

We walk hand in hand until we approach the resort. Before we get too close, I re-tie the T-shirt she wore earlier over her hair and put the sunglasses on her head. "Follow my lead, green eyes."

She tilts her head. "Am I your non-English speaking, Polish wife again?"

"You'll see." I wink.

"You aren't going to tell me?"

"Nope. It's more fun this way."

"Well, let the games begin," she mutters.

I chuckle and put my hand on her back, leading her up to the hotel. We pass the pool and bar area. I grab a menu, and the bartender says something in Spanish about a drink.

I hold up my finger to wait a minute and scan the menu. It has Milla 4, Honduras, on it.