Page 9

Mia

I literally can’t believe I just did that. Dillon just gave me the best orgasm of my life, and in the most unconventional way. Water slaps the shower floor as I rinse my hair of conditioner. I turn into the cool spray, hoping it will negate the heat that has me fevered at the memory from moments ago.

The sight of him between my legs. The way he handled my body. The sheer skill of his mouth. His intense gaze and the way his biceps flexed. The veins in his forearms that would grow more pronounced each time he held me in place.

He had complete control. And I easily bent to his will. It wasn’t something I was going to fight.

My stomach does a somersault recalling our interruption. His terms if I wanted to come were the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

For me, it was taboo. Radical. And it was really hot.

Hotter than anything I’ve ever done. What does that say about me? That one kiss from Dillon is enough to turn me crazed? Am I now an exhibitionist?

Whatever label I choose, it doesn’t matter. One time with Dillon will never be enough.

I turn off the water and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t look different, but I feel different. How stupid is that? I’m still me. Still the same person I was ten minutes ago. The only difference is a craving that is now deep within me. Like a switch that’s been flipped.

Dressing without realizing it, I sit on the bed and hug a pillow to my middle.

I want him. The idea of it hits me quick. Much faster than I expect. These are not the thoughts and desires I should be having right now.

I think about the reason we’re here.

There’s a small niggle at the back of my mind, unsettled like a gerbil that can’t decide to get off its exercise wheel or stay on. I can’t help but feel a little guilty. The last thing I should be doing is getting involved in any way with Dillon—not when I’m here to focus and find the cuff. A stronger woman wouldn’t have given in. She wouldn’t have pressed him for a kiss. Because a kiss would surely turn into something more. Something more than an innocent moment between two people in a tense situation.

But it’s the guilt that weighs heavy on me. What kind of daughter fools around while their father is being held against his will?

I grow ashamed and wish I had Ashlee here.

Not wanting to be heard, I grab my phone and send her a text. It’s late enough in the afternoon that she should have a moment to chat.

Hey, you busy?

Within seconds she responds.

Not for you. What’s going on? Where are you? Are you ok? Tell me everythiiiiiiiing.

Instantly, I smile at her dramatics.

We’re still in Colombia, leaving tomorrow. I’m fine.

Could you be any more lackluster? Fine doesn’t sound ‘fine’. My bullshit sniffer is strong, need I remind you.

Do I tell her everything? The thrill of finding the new clue, where we’re headed next…and Dillon? It’s why I texted her in the first place, right? I type a response, filling her in on the former.

Cool, cool. Another little rolling pin.

It’s a cylindrical seal.

Ever the scholar.

Ever the smartass.

I tease her, but it’s nice to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

I still smell BS.

I hesitate for a moment before I give her the crumb trail she’s looking for.

I might have caught something down here…

WTF?! Did you have one of those river parasites swim up you hoo-haw and it’s only a matter of time before it travels to your brain? Please say no. I can’t handle worms and shit like that.

LOL. No. I think I caught…feelings.

Sweet mother of Jesus, thank God. I thought it was something super important like malaria.

Why the fixation on diseases and such? Are YOU ok?

Wait!

Bubbles appear while she’s no doubt typing a lengthy response.

FEELINGS? Let’s play process of elimination, shall we? Adam is out, cuz he’s my cousin. Not that you’re not worthy of him, but he’s ADAM. Blaze is too young for you. Legion, though hot in his Alex Skarsgaard way is also too young. Babies, really! Sorry, I digress. It better not be Phantom, because I’ve never seen a man with that deep sepia skin tone look as fine. Which leads me, dear friend, to DING DING DING! Archer.

…

Just as I thought.

I haven’t confirmed nor denied that accusation.

I reason with her. Though, I don’t know why. There’s no reasoning with Ashlee.

Babe, you just did.

As if she’s sitting across from me, I open my mouth to argue, then shut it stupidly.

Why did I text you again?

Because you love me. Now are you going to tell me details or do I have to call Adam and ask?

Not necessary. Fine, I’ll tell you. Dillon drove us from the airport…and he flew us to the site.

Ashlee is good at many things, and reading between the lines is certainly one of them. She’s like a sleuth for the unspoken. I know she’ll jump all over the last line.

Dillon? So, it’s a first name basis now, huh? And you haven’t married him yet?

Shut up.

I’m serious! You find men that drive hot. AND he can fly? What did he fly? Never mind, doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that you’ve gone and caught feelings for a super sexy dude that checks boxes that you never knew existed. Let me guess, he wears a thigh holster too?

I do not find men driving hot. A helicopter, to answer your question. And yes…he wears a thigh holster.

I feel butterflies in my stomach at the image it elicits.

Yes you do. Remind me to record your reactions next time we watch The Fast and The Furious. And you’re quite welcome for the clay sculpture. Billy was sad to lose his lapels, but now I’m not.

I don’t know what to say, Ash.

Then tell me about his peen. Girthy? Hung like a horse?

Why are you so crass? I haven’t seen it.

But I felt it…

Well this convo just turned into a dumpster fire. You’re joking.

NO. Look, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to check in with you. And…it was nice being able to talk to you.

I miss you. And I just want you to be safe.

I know. I hate you a little bit less for saying that. I’ll text when I can.

K. But do me a favor and make Pound Town part of your itinerary.

Bye!

I was looking for a distraction from Dillon, but Ashlee doesn’t provide a strong enough one. Either way, I feel a little better, though the fluttering in my stomach hasn’t dissipated. Sooner or later, I’ll have to emerge from my room. How do I keep my expression neutral and not give away the fact that I shattered on his tongue.

It will be fine. I’m an adult.

But maybe with the help of a drink. I head downstairs in search of whatever Midas has procured for the six of us.

Blaze is no longer in the hammock, but rather sitting with his leg propped in a second chair. The rest of the guys are sitting around the table, sharing a laugh. It dies when I approach.

“Cerveza?” Midas asks.

I take a steadying breath when I notice Dillon glance at me. “Please,” I tell Midas. But it’s Dillon that walks to the mini fridge, extracting a multifunctional knife from his pocket and pops the top. He hands me the chilled bottle, our fingers brushing. “Thanks,” I say a little breathlessly.

Before turning back to the group, he winks at me. And those small flutters deep in my belly…? They do a nosedive and I feel like my stomach bottoms out.

“So, Mia,” Midas says, clearing his throat. “We were going over the plans for tomorrow.”

There are no extra chairs to sit in, so I pick up Blaze’s foot and place it in my lap, commandeering the spare seat. I can’t bring myself to look at him yet.

“Do tell.” I take a long pull of my beer, hoping it will help ease my nerves.

“We fly out at oh six hundred. We’re looking at close to a sixteen-hour flight.”

“Oh six hundred means six in the morning,” Blaze says, wiggling his foot against me.

“Yes, I can math, thank you.” I pinch his ankle to show I’m kidding as well.

“Anyway,” Legion says, “the plan is to check into the hotel tomorrow night and get to the Alhambra at opening.”

Holding my finger up to silence Blaze from any type of smartass response, I say, “I can math, but I’m a little rusty on time zones. When do we arrive in Spain?”

Phantom offers an uncharacteristic chuckle. “Oh four hundred, local time.” He throws his bottle cap at Blaze who misses, taking a hit to the cheek.

At least I can sleep on the flight over if needed.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but the rain has stopped and we’re in a tropical setting. I am going to take my cerveza ,” I say with my best attempt at the accent, “to the beach and enjoy it while we’re here.” Unceremoniously, I drop Blaze’s dead-weight of a leg and get up. I hear him grumble, but he stands.

“You guys go ahead,” I hear Legion call after me and the small line of men following, “I’ll grab an ice bucket and meet you down there.”

The walk isn’t long, but Midas is at my side and I feel Dillon behind me. His presence is quiet but there’s an unseen current that runs between us. At the rear are Phantom and Blaze; he’s begging to be carried.

“For fuck’s sake,” Phantom sighs. “Your feet and legs aren’t wounded, and to be honest—you shouldn’t be feeling much with that local Legion gave you. Do us all a favor and drop the ‘woe is me’ act. You’re a fucking beast in the ring, so be the same out of it too.”

Behind me I hear a scuffle. “Oh, so now you’re tough? When provoked?” We leave the two of them to resolve their argument.

“I’d like to apologize for Blaze,” Midas says on a sharp inhale. “He really is the best at what he does.”

“Don’t apologize on his behalf,” Dillon says. “He’s just bitter because the last time he got fucked was by genetics.”

I spit my beer out violently. I’m taken over with a fit of giggles, and I secretly hope Blaze hasn’t heard. By the way I hear Phantom throwing more verbal jabs at him, I feel pretty safe about that fact.

Down at the beach, a handful of people have emerged from their huts, most likely enjoying a reprieve from the rain as well. After a couple minutes, we come upon a rudimentary circle of rocks.

“You know, I’ve never been on a beach, nor have I ever had a campfire,” I tell Midas and Dillon. They pass a knowing glance at each other, clearly about to amend my lack of something so simple. “Don’t tell me you have a blow torch on your person…” I tease.

Dillon begins to drag a log over while Midas reaches in his pocket. “Just a Zippo.”

“Oh, are we having a fire?” Blaze asks like a child when he and Phantom join us finally.

“Sure are,” I say.

“I love fire,” he states, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, Pyro, why don’t you help me with this log?” Dillon calls over to him.

For a second, I can tell that Blaze has the whole injured retort on the tip of his tongue, but with a glance at Phantom, Blaze walks over—without a limp—and helps Dillon.

Soon, the guys have a semi-circle of driftwood positioned around the now growing fire.

It’s no longer dusk, but it’s not full-on night yet either. The sky is a deep shade of indigo with bits of golden hues clinging on before the earth continues its rotation.

The beer has settled comfortably, giving me a faint buzz. Legion offers me another from the ice bucket he brought down with him.

I take it obligingly, but suggest we should probably find something to eat. Just because the guys can hold their booze, doesn’t mean I can compete. “I think we can order take out from the restaurant,” I offer.

Midas volunteers to go place the orders, then disappears.

The night grows cool but the heat from the flickering flames keeps the chill at bay. And maybe the heat emanating from Dillon’s proximity. He sits next to me on the log, whittling a stick he found. The shavings sit at his feet, and when the pile grows bigger, he tosses them into the fire. It reacts immediately by disintegrating the scraps before consuming the tinder like a hungry animal.

“So, Mia.” Legion breaks me away from staring at the flames. “What do you think of your first international trip?” He’s finished the beer he was on and the empty bottle hangs from his fingertip.

“Unconventional,” I laugh. “But it’s been eye opening. I don’t know if I ever would have electively come here.”

Phantom digs his heels further into the sand. “But look what happened,” he says. “You got to cross off a huge bucket list item. Not many people can say they made a huge discovery like you did.”

I think about how archeologists aren’t even as lucky. Sometimes, they spend years excavating a site and don’t find anything half as precious as we did today. Even someone as famous as Sir Howard Carter spent five long years in Egypt before finding the remains of King Tut.

“You’re right.” I feel my eyes glaze over, focusing on nothing but what’s in my mind’s eye. I see the sarcophagus in that small room. I can see the arrangement of the bones, how they weren’t unlike the Italian lovers of Valdaro, locked in an eternal embrace. Two skeletons facing one another, heads tilted toward one another, arms linked, knees entangled. And though we came close to finding the cuff today, we did find its original resting place. And that’s something I couldn’t have experienced working within the walls of The Met.

This entire trip (if you’d call it as such) would absolutely not have been possible without these guys.

Midas has returned with the food, and I take a look at each of them appreciatively. “I might have crossed something off my bucket list, but you guys made it happen.”

I’m met with genuine and kind smiles all around. Words don’t need to be spoken, but leave it to Blaze to fill the void.

“No way. You could have done it on your own,” he says in between bites of more beans.

“Right.” I start ticking off things on my fingers. “I can’t fly a helicopter, for one, nor can I rappel out of one,” I point out, much to Blaze’s amusement and Dillon’s resentment. “And I couldn’t have gotten through that wall without help either. Basically, the only thing I had going for me was a valid passport.” I laugh at my own joke, but the guys shake their heads in disagreement. “And it’s rather fortuitous that you can fly, Dillon.” I pat his knee in what I hope is a nonchalant manner. I turn my attention across the fire. “Blaze, fortuitous means lucky.”

“Yeah, I can read,” he shoots back, but takes a bow at the waist.

We grow quiet, nibbling at our food. Like the beer, it’s abundant and it doesn’t take long before I start to feel myself yawn.

The guys begin to exchange stories from their stints in the military. I find that Phantom, the man of few words, is an excellent story teller. His voice is deep, the cadence melodic.

It would be so easy to drift off to sleep right now, but I notice the muscles in Dillon’s thigh stiffen. It’s subtle, but the way he makes eye contact with Legion and Blaze across from us, something’s amiss.

We’ve let the fire peter out a bit. The once steadily burning flames are now nothing more than a random lick of fire and hot embers. Legion dumps what remaining ice is left in the bucket and fills it with sand. His movements are casual, done with the ease of someone turning in for the night. He smothers the glow while Midas and Blaze kick more sand onto the outer edges closest to themselves.

“What is it?” I ask in a hushed tone. I don’t see anyone around; the last remaining beach goers had left hours ago. How long have we been out here?

They’re synchronized as one. Each guy takes their guns from their holsters. And the hair on my arms grows erect.

“Skiff. On the horizon,” Phantom says in a calm voice.

I look out on the water under a muted moon. Sure enough, there’s a small boat approaching. What about it drew their attention? How did they even spot it or hear it until now?

I don’t have time to ask questions because Dillon has taken me by the elbow. “Time to go.”

He, Legion and Blaze form a half circle around me.

Midas and Phantom have vanished. With a glance between the imposing wall of testosterone, I can now make out the approaching boat.

A loud crack interrupts the silence of the night. I yelp in surprise.

“Go!” Dillon’s hand is at my back, urging me to run.

A barrage of gunfire erupts. I scream and run toward the hut. Close shots cause my ears to ring in a dizzying effect. I’m blind to what’s happening behind me, but I sense the brothers have stopped when I hear another series of close pop pop pops.

As we pass the restaurant, I can still hear gunfire down at the beach. I can only assume Midas and Phantom are on the frontlines, taking the brunt.

I trip as I run up the footpath, breaking my fall with my palms. The sting of a deep scrape is replaced by a steadying hand around my arm. Dillon. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

My heart is beating uncontrollably, making the last several yards a momentous feat. But I make it to the huts. The brothers leave us. Dillon doesn’t bother using the key. He breaks the door in with a single kick.

“Grab what you can.” There’s an icy coolness to his voice that I equate with protocol.

Adrenaline governs my every move. Dillon has gathered my bag and is throwing the items inside that are in sight. I scramble to think clearly. I run to the bathroom and grab my overnight bag. I clutch it to my chest like I’m ready to smuggle a child across the border. Dillon has everything else.

I hear an engine start.

“Come on, they’re waiting for us,” he says.

Legion and Blaze? They’re in the car? “We’re leaving without Midas and Phantom? But…”

“They’ll be fine.” Once again, Dillon takes me by the elbow and we leave the room. Blaze is just outside. He takes up the rear, gun held aloft.

“I don’t understand,” I say, panic setting in. We run to the SUV where Legion is waiting. Dillon helps me up, throws the bag in and slams the door behind him. Blaze announces he’s in.

Legion floors it.

And we leave their boss and brother in arms to fend for themselves.