Chapter One
The man had the pup by the scruff of the neck, and the poor thing was yipping with fear. I leaned over the woman sitting next to me to get a better look out the bus window at what was going on. The man was getting a talking-to from a woman—his wife?—that was drawing some attention. She shouted, gesturing in the air, while a little boy clung to her leg with one arm, his other clutching a chicken.
I speak Spanish, but at the rate of speed words were flying from her mouth, I was lost. “What’s she saying?” I asked the woman sitting next to me on the bus.
She glanced at the scene. “El perro ha perseguido el pollo. Él tiene que ir,” she said. The dog has gone after the chicken. He must go.
“¿Ir? ¿Qué quieres decir, ir?” Go? What do you mean, go?
“Él persiguió el pollo” she said, as if it were obvious. He went after the chicken.
Chickens are vital to rural Mexicans. Dogs are not. That meant—I leapt from my seat and pushed my way down the aisle. There had to be something I could do.
As soon as my feet hit the dusty road, I made a beeline for the dog. “Disculpa. ¡Disculpa!” Excuse me. Excuse me!
The man glanced my way, but quickly dismissed me.
“¿Señor, permítame—”
His eyes came around again, but this time he didn’t hide his annoyance.
I came to a halt. What was I thinking? I quickly looked around, remembering where I was. Behind the man’s wife stood a one-room house, about ten by ten, hobbled together with pallets and other discarded wood. The roof was corrugated metal, affixed at a slant. A burro was tied to the corner of the house, the dirt beaten down around it in a half circle. The tiny yard was encircled by a fence, which was made of branches lined upright and strung together by rusted barbed wire. Two other chickens pecked at the weeds that sprouted at the base of it.
I looked to the woman, but her expression was as unkind as her husband’s. I was interrupting their argument. I was being rude.
I shifted from one foot to the other. Looked from her back to him.
“Me estaba preguntando… sobre el perro…” I was just wondering… about the dog…
Another man, a neighbor, strolled into my peripheral view. Then another, their eyes on me like bees swarming.
The woman thrust her hands onto her hips and glared at me.
My eyes dropped to the dog. Mostly black with brown on her face, ears and legs, and small white accents on her nose and feet. Part hound, part shepherd maybe. Who knows. A mutt. A mutt with floppy ears. Well, one flopped, the other stuck out to the side in an awkward, adorable angle.
She was probably chasing the chicken for fun, like dogs do. Maybe trying to get the chicken to play? Or maybe she really was trying to kill it. She looked hungry. Her ribs showed through her short fur. She probably weighed about thirty-five pounds. I guessed by her size and skeletal structure she should have weighed more like fifty.
She looked up at me with soft brown, pleading eyes.
“¿Está de venta la perra?” I blurted. Is the dog for sale?
The man’s eyebrows bent together and his mouth dropped open a little.
The situation wasn’t ideal—offering money—but at the moment, I didn’t know what else to do.
The man stared at me. Still no response.
I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out a wad of pesos. I counted what I had. “¿Quinientos pesos?” I was offering him about twenty-five U.S. dollars.
He stepped back, eyed his wife with confusion, then cocked his head to the side. He didn’t know what to make of me, a red-haired, freckled-faced American girl offering cash for a useless mutt, which probably wasn’t even his. She was likely one of the many strays that wander the countryside looking for scraps.
The pup froze, eyes wide, as if she knew her life was in the balance.
“¿Quinientos pesos?” I asked again, shoving the money at him. “Para el perro.”
The man’s eyes settled on the cash in my hand, then broke away, back to his wife.
The woman nodded in my direction, a signal to take the money.
The man swung back around to face me. “Hay que llevarla fuera de aquí,” he said. You must take it away from here.
“Yes, yes, of course,” I said, nodding like a crazy woman.
I stepped closer, holding the cash out to him, and he let go of the dog to snatch it from my hand.
“Gracias,” I said.
He shook his head. He thought I was nuts.
The dog cowered, but didn’t go far. Now what was I going to do? I guess I hadn’t thought this through.
“Hay que llevarla de aquí,” the man repeated.
“No supongo que tenga una cuerda,” I said. I don’t suppose you have a rope.
The man rolled his eyes at me, shook his head.
No. Right.
He flung his hand my way. “Váyase ahorita.” Go away now.
Right. I patted my thigh. “C’mon puppy.”
The pup cowered, tail between the legs.
“It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. C’mon girl.”
Her floppy ear perked up a little.
“We need to get going,” I said and turned back toward the bus. It was gone.
Well, crap. It was the last one of the day.
* * *
I checked my phone. Battery dead. Well, double crap.
It was nearly noon and the air smelled of roasted dirt. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my tongue felt like sandpaper.
Oh no! My backpack! I spun around and peered down the road, the way the bus had gone. There it was, a tiny orange mound. Thank you! I shouted in my head to the kind woman who sat next to me. No doubt she’d realized I’d left it and pitched it out as the bus moved on.
I rushed to retrieve my pack, then moved further down the street to find a patch of shade and plopped down in the weeds. Now what?
I dug around in the side pocket of my pack and pulled out a map. Yep, too far to walk. Especially in this heat.
The town I was in—if you could call it a town—consisted of about thirty houses or so, all relatively the same size, some made of block or adobe, some of them lean-tos. A few trees grew amid the tiny yards. Laundry was strung on lines, the shirts and dresses the only bright colors in a landscape of green and brown.
It all spread from a crossroads where three buildings lined up next to each other—a grocery store, a beauty shop and a bar—with a mechanic’s garage across the street.
In both directions, beyond the last house, were rolling hills covered in a patchwork of green. Vegetables mostly. But higher up on the hills, poppies. Not good.
The police station and jail were housed in a small brick and adobe building at the end of a dirt road, two blocks down. If I got desperate, that’d be the place to stay the night.
I turned to the dog, who’d followed me down the road. “We need to get out of here,” I said. “Before nightfall.”
I’d been traveling south to meet my best friend, Chris, who was waiting for me at a seaside resort about twenty-five miles away. He’d invited me to Mexico—more like demanded, actually—for a much-needed vacation, to get away from my job, to relax. The Caribbean, I’d said. Or Greece. We could meet anywhere in the world. With his airline job, he flew free, and I used his cheap buddy passes. I’d even suggested Hawai’i. Nope. Had to be here.
Why Mexico, I had no idea. He had some surprise for me, and had sent directions to meet him—a hundred and fifty miles south of Puerto Vallarta. Well, fine. I hadn’t put up too much of an argument. After all, I did need a break. Too much in my head. Too many decisions to make. And I really just needed some time with my best friend. I didn’t care where we met. Mexico wasn’t exactly the safest place. But honestly, I’d traveled the world enough to know how to handle myself.
I’d taken the red eye and gotten a cab, then the bus. I only had three days off. Once I arrived at the resort, I planned to enjoy myself. Sit on the beach. Drink a margarita. Forget about life for a while.
As soon as I got there.
Now, looking over my shoulder at the men milling about, casting glances my way, I wished I had stayed on the bus.
I took a sip from my water bottle and turned to the pup.
“I don’t suppose you’re gonna return the favor, protect me now? Do you know any kill commands?”
The pup cocked her head to the side and looked at me intently, trying with everything she had to understand what I was saying.
“Yeah, you probably don’t even have a name, do you, girl?”
She cocked her head to the other side. Then when that didn’t help, she eased down to the ground, stretching her front legs out in front of her and laid her head on her paws.
“We’re going to have to hitchhike, I guess.” I glanced both ways down the road. “If anyone ever comes by.”
As if on cue, from around the corner came a man riding a burro. He had the weathered skin of one who’d spent his entire life working the fields, wore the straw sombrero of a farmer, too. He rode my way, staring at me with curious eyes. When he got close, he brought the burro to a halt and raised a finger, pointing down the road, from where I had come.
“La parada de autobús está ahí abajo.” The bus picks up down there.
“Gracias, señor. Lamentablemente, he perdido el último autobús del día.” Thank you, sir. Unfortunately, I’ve missed the last bus for the day. Of course he’d know that.
He gave me a wide grin, revealing two teeth. “Hablas muy bien español.”
I nodded. The old campesino was genuinely amused by my ability to speak Spanish.
“Necesito un viaje al sur, a unos treinta kilómetros. ¿Me puede ayudar?” I need a ride south, about thirty miles. Can you help me?
“No, no,” he shook his head, slowly, as he patted the burro. “Esta vieja no lo sobreviviría.” This old girl would never make it.
It was my time to grin. “No, señor. Quiero decir, ¿conoce a alguien que pueda ayudarme? ¿Con un coche?” I meant, do you know anyone who might be able to help me? With a car?
He thought for a moment, looked down the road. I followed his gaze. The man who’d sold me the dog still stood at the corner of his lot, watching.
“Puedo pagar,” I added. I can pay. Advertising, once again, that I had money in my pocket wasn’t a great idea, but I also needed to get out of here.
“Habrá otro autobús mañana,” he said. There will be another bus tomorrow. And with no discernible signal, the burro started walking again.
“Gracias,” I said to his back. My schedule wasn’t his concern. Nor where I was going to sleep tonight.
I turned back to the dog. “Someone’s got to pass by eventually. We just need to be patient.”
I wished I really felt as confident as I was leading the dog to believe.
The delicate, gurgling twitter of a painted bunting arrived with a breeze. The male fluttered amid the branches of a bush—a blur of blue, green, and red—then landed on a fence post across the road. It made me smile.
“See there,” I said to the dog. “It’s a good omen.”
Maybe this was a test. Some kind of divine intervention. Instead of spending three days in a beach chair pondering my relationship woes while sharing margaritas with my bestie, I’d be killed on some backroad of Mexico by some drug cartel.
Do you really have what it takes to be in special ops, McVie?
I had the title, but I’d gotten it in a not-so-traditional way. Actually, it was more like the fast-track express. A couple of senior agents had been working a case in Costa Rica and needed a female agent posthaste to join the operation and play the wife. I fit the bill—which meant I had breasts, a trait not common among U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service agents—so off I went. I’m not complaining. The mission was for Special Ops. My dream job. The one I’d been working toward for years. But I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms.
My new partner, Special Agent Dalton, wanted nothing to do with me at first. He’s a Navy SEAL, a follow-the-rules kinda guy, and my approach to undercover work is, let’s just say, unconventional. But in the end, we busted the kingpin. And Dalton and I have come to respect each other. Like each other even. Okay, things have gotten a little heated between us, in more ways than one. Until the last op, we’d managed to keep it professional, in spite of our attraction for each other, but then things got, well, out of hand. Problem is, fraternization is strictly forbidden. Then, to complicate things even further, he and I got appointed to a Presidential Task Force, which we’re supposed to report to on Monday. Together.
That is, if I don’t get myself lost, or worse, here in Mexico.
I glanced down the road. Nothing coming our way.
The eyes of the locals still lingered. I felt like a sitting duck.
Life is funny sometimes. Here I was, on vacation to figure out how to forget about Dalton and all I could think about was how, if he were here, he’d have my back.
I grabbed hold of the edge of my T-shirt and flapped it about, trying to get some airflow underneath, dry the sweaty patches. Then I unfolded the map again. The location Chris had given was on the beach, but there wasn’t a main road leading to it. The resort was obviously in an area they probably advertised as ‘off the beaten path,’ telling tourists it was the perfect place to ‘get away from it all.’ Fine by me. Where was Uber when you needed them?
Over an hour later, a dust-covered pick-up truck—its brand and original color unidentifiable—rumbled down the road toward me. I jumped to my feet and stepped into the road, waving my hands for the driver to stop.
“¿Conduce al sur?” I asked as it rolled to a stop next to me. Are you headed south?
Two young boys, ages ten or eleven, sat on the tailgate, their legs dangling over the side. The bed of the truck had wooden slats for sides. A dirt bike was strapped to one side with bungee cords. A few bales of hay and a cardboard box were stacked against the cab.
The young man in the passenger seat, about age eighteen, said in perfect English, “You need a ride?”
I nodded and held up the map, pointing at the spot where Chris had said to meet him. “How much to take me here?”
The boy eyed the map, a look of amusement on his face. He took it from me, held it for the driver, a man about my father’s age, to look at. The man shrugged. The boy turned back to me. “There’s nothing out there but jungle.”
I was sure of the location. I’d double-checked with Chris, thinking the same thing at the time. But he’d assured me. It was possible these men didn’t know about the resort. “Nothing?” I said. Something didn’t feel right.
The boy consulted with the driver again, mumbling something I couldn’t make out, then he turned back to me, rested his elbow on the window frame and leaned out a little. “He thinks there’s a bar on the beach there.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it.” Chris had said to meet at the Tiki bar. “How much to take me there?”
He grinned. “Eighty pesos.”
I glanced down the street once more. The man was gone, but now the woman was pacing in front of the house, broom in hand, watching.
Getting in the truck with these men wasn’t the best option. It could have been a set up. By the old man on the burro. By anyone who’d been watching. But what options did I have? I had to get to Chris somehow. And, more importantly, get out of here.
My dad told me once: people are people the world around. Most are good. Trust your gut.
A sarcastic voice inside my head said, “What could possibly happen?”
Shut up, I told the voice.
The thing was, I could take care of myself. I had martial arts training, not to mention, I was a federal officer. But still. I was alone. With no backup.
“You drive a hard bargain,” I said to the guy. “Eighty pesos it is. But the dog goes, too.”
He shrugged.
I handed him the money. He quickly pocketed it and the driver put the truck in gear.
I bent down, scooped the dog up in my arms, set her in the back of the truck, tossed my backpack in beside her, then crawled up in after her.
A cloud of dust swirled behind us as we bumped along the road.
Not a half mile south, the truck slowed and the two boys hopped off the back, waving as the truck continued.
The dog’s claws were dug into the rusted truck bed, a look of terror in her eyes.
“At least we’re on our way,” I said.
In another mile, the truck slowed, then turned off the main road into a meadow and came to a halt. The driver slammed it into reverse and backed into a mound of dirt.
The dog leaped off the tailgate and shot down the side of the mound like her tail was on fire.
“¿Qué pasa?” I asked as the young man on the passenger side piled out and slammed the door shut behind him.
He came around to the back of the truck, and with one step on the mound, he was in the back with me.
I immediately shifted to a defensive stance, my feet and body aligned, elbows bent, hands out in front of me. His demeanor seemed carefree. His hands were free of anything—weapons or otherwise. Nonetheless, I was in the middle of nowhere. Alone.
“You are bonita, señorita,” he said, his eyes all flirty, in no hurry to explain why they’d stopped. “You should not be out here all alone you know.”
I stared back at him. Was he a harmless teenage boy with the bold swagger typical of Mexican men or should I coldcock him right now and take the truck? The driver might be a problem. He was the wild card. I tried to catch a glance inside the cab, but the back window was so dirty, I couldn’t see anything. I scanned the surrounding area. Meadow, a fence line choked with bushes. No one in sight.
When I didn’t answer, the boy looked insulted. With a flick of his hand, he unclipped the bungee cords from the dirt bike, took hold of the handlebars and wheeled it backward onto the dirt mound, then down the other side.
He climbed onto the bike, kicked it to start, revved the engine, then turned to me. “Are you coming or what?”
“With you? On the bike?” He had to be kidding.
“Do you want the ride or not?”
On a motorcycle? He could take me anywhere. Far into the wilderness where I’d never be found. Or right to the Tiki bar.
And what was I going to do with the dog? I couldn’t leave her out here in the middle of a field.
The driver put the truck in gear. Crap.
I slung my backpack over my shoulders and hopped from the truck.
“C’mon girl,” I called.
The dog gave me a wary look and stayed put.
“C’mon.”
Nope. I slipped off my pack and found a half-eaten protein bar. I broke off a corner and held it out. She dropped her head and took one step toward me. Then hesitated.
“It’s okay, girl.”
She took another step, then another, giving in to the scent of food.
When she licked and nibbled, I held it tight, keeping her close, then reached around and scooped her up in my arms. She wriggled and bucked but I held her snug.
“I can’t leave you here, so relax, girl.”
The boy smirked and shook his head with amusement.
I looked at the motorbike. With my backpack on and a wriggling dog in my arms, how was I going to get on the back of that thing?
He must have read my mind because he let loose a chuckle, then, to rub it in, he revved the engine.
“It’s okay, girl,” I said and slung my leg over the back of the bike. Somehow, I managed to get the dog situated with front legs on one side, back legs on the other, then I scooched forward, pressing her between us and wrapped my arms around the boy to hang on. “Vámonos!”
Chapter Two
I can report that the roads in rural Mexico are really a series of potholes. I’m not sure my hind end will ever forgive me. Neither will the dog. The entire ride she had those cartoon eyes—wide, round saucers with a glassy sheen of terror.
Our dismount from the back of the dirt bike wasn’t pretty either. The dog leaped from my arms, did some kind of triple salchow in the air, barrel-rolled to a stop, then scurried off to pee in the grass.
My hair was wound up into a nest so tight, if a family of swallows moved in, I’d never know it. I swear, every inch of me was coated in powdery dust save for the spots behind my sunglasses. Must’ve looked like a white raccoon mask. My stiff legs didn’t want to hold me up. I felt like a cowboy, home from a two-week cattle rustle.
But I’d made it. Late, but I’d made it. And in one piece. My vacation could officially begin. Three days of pure relaxation in sunny Mexico with my best friend.
The Tiki bar was right down on the beach, a ramshackle place with a roof that was one part palapa, one part corrugated tin, all sagging toward the middle. White plastic tables and chairs were stuck in the sand.
This was no five-star resort, that was for sure. I hoped it was the right place.
I thanked the boy for the ride.
“Be careful, bonita, this is Caballeros country,” he said, his gaze on my chest. Then he spun the bike around with one foot on the ground and sped off.
No kidding.
Chris must have seen me arrive because he was headed toward me when I turned around. I plowed into his arms.
No where on Earth feels as much like home. Chris was as close to family as I had since my dad died, and my mom, well, I didn’t need to go there right now. Chris and I were both military brats and had learned to find roots where we could.
I’d missed him. In fact, I hadn’t seen him for more than an hour since I’d graduated from training. He worked as a flight attendantparrothead
ing around the globe, and since I’d become a special agent with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, I’d been running from one undercover operation to the next.
He’d been right about one thing: I needed a break from it all. No bad guys. No getting shot at. No following orders.
He wrapped his arms around me and snugged me close, gave me the signature Chris squeeze. “How’s my Poppy girl? Besides late. I was starting to get all kinds of worried when you didn’t get off the last bus. I swear, I started to think you’d been kidnapped or something.” He tried to pull away, but I held on. I needed another moment. Just a little longer. Chris was my rock. And I needed my rock. I didn’t realize how much until right this moment.
“I’m okay,” I said and—I have no idea why—my eyes got wet with tears.
“Hey there, what’s got you down?” Chris said, all concerned.
“Nothing,” I lied. Well, not exactly. I didn’t feel down. Just relieved. Happy to be with him. “It’s this dry Mexican air.” I wiped my eyes. “Really. The dust.”
Chris stared at me for a moment with those soft, hazel eyes. “Uh huh.”
“I’ve missed you. This was a great idea, to meet here, get away from it all. It’s beautiful.”
It was true. Blue skies. Lush green foliage. Sandy beach. Eighty-five degrees.
“Yes, it is. And relaxing, which is the point,” he said, holding out his hand, gesturing for me to follow him to the table and sit. “What happened? What held you up? Wait, don’t tell me. It has something to do with the dog, right?”
The pup had circled back and jumped up on Chris, wagging her tail like they were long lost pals.
“Hey, I’m the one who saved you,” I said, hands on my hips.
“You’re so cute,” he cooed, rubbing her ears. “What happened?”
“She got caught chasing chickens.”
“Ah.” He touched his nose to her nose. “Well, aren’t you lucky Miss Poppy came along.” He looked up at me. “So, does she have a name?”
I shook my head.
“I’m going to call her Lucky.”
I unclipped the straps on my backpack and dropped it next to the table. Lately, I’d become accustomed to its weight, its feel on my back, like it was part of me, but it was a relief to shed the burden.
I saw an electrical outlet and took the opportunity to plug in my phone, then slumped into the chair across from Chris.
“You look like hell,” he said, taking the chair across from me. Lucky snugged up to his leg.
“It was quite the trek to get here. Two flights, one cab, three buses, one pick-up truck, one dirt bike, and—believe it or not—an offer to ride a burro, sort of. But I’m here.” I looked around the bar. “Where is here anyway?”
“Heaven.” He winked. “There are a couple private, posh resorts about fifteen or twenty miles north of here, but yeah, otherwise, we’re pretty much in the outback. I figured you’d like it,” Chris said, those eyes glued to me like he thought I might bolt.
I breathed in the warm, briny air. “Wasn’t what I was expecting, but hey, I’m going with it. This is your rodeo.”
The waiter arrived, johnny-on-the-spot, handing us our menus.
The dog instinctively skedaddled.
“Two cups of your famous tortilla soup to get us started,” Chris said.
“Y dos copas de rojo,” I added. “Lo que usted recomienda para emparejar con la sopa.” And two glasses of red. Whatever you recommend to pair with the soup.
The waiter bowed with a smile, but lifted his head slowly. “Lo siento. No tenemos vino. Pero podría hacer una llamada—” I’m sorry. We don’t have any wine. But I could make a call—
Chris held up his hand to silence the man. “You ordered wine, didn’t you? I might not speak Spanish, but I know you. This isn’t really a wine kind of a place.”
“Right. Man, am I tired.” To the waiter, I said, “Dos cervezas, por favor.”
That brought a smile and a nod and he headed for the kitchen.
“Don’t let the decor fool you,” Chris said. “This place has the best food. That’s how they make it go. They draw the tourists from so far.”
“Good, because I’m starving. I’m going to pig out, then find a hammock on the beach and sleep for three days.”
“I know you’re kidding. You’re incapable of sitting still.”
“I am not.”
“And you invite trouble.” His eyes went to the dog who’d found a couple three tables over who were dropping scraps for her. “What are you going to do with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t think it through, huh?”
“They would’ve killed her.”
He nodded in understanding. “Swear you’ll try to relax.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Swear it. On my honor. No trouble.”
“Besides the dust. And your hair,” he smirked, “You look like yourself again. How’s it feel to be back in your own clothes? You little bohemian-chic princess. Your face has healed well. Your arm and leg feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, attempting a dismissive tone.
He frowned. “And Dalton? He’s recovering well?”
I nodded. The damn tears threatened to surface again.
Dalton and I had just come off an operation in Alaska where we’d been undercover as a brother and sister team on a grizzly bear hunt that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. I’d come home with a few bumps and bruises. He’d suffered a lot worse. “You know how Navy SEALs are. Indestructible. At least according to him.” I had to change the subject. I wasn’t ready to talk about Dalton. “But we didn’t get them all. There are still poachers out there killing bears. That’s what hurts.”
“Well, that’s just your ego. You’ll survive,” he said with a wink.
A smile sneaked onto my face.
“Remember. You’re officially on vacation. That means no talking about work. Got it?”
“Got it.” I nodded. “Except,” my finger shot up. The plane. I needed him to check the flights. I had to get back in three days. Nope. I wasn’t going to say anything. He knew.
Chris looked at me for a long moment. “Except?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine.” He leaned back in the chair and eyed me. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I thought for sure you’d bail on me at the last minute.”
“What? Why?” I frowned.
“Because I know you.”
I shook my head. “I promised, remember? Besides—” I moved to the edge of my seat “—I’m dying to hear this big secret. Now give it up.”
“Patience,” he said with a sly grin. “In good time. Let’s eat first.”
“You’re quitting your job, moving here and buying a Mexican restaurant?”
He grinned.
“Training to be a yoga instructor?”
Chris shook his head, amused.
I crossed my arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve found religion.”
That one made him laugh out loud.
The waiter appeared with our soup and plastic cups filled with beer. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.
“We’re not in a hurry,” Chris said, waving him off.
“Wait,” I said. I picked up the menu and pointed. “Some of these, please.”
He nodded with a grin and left us.
I turned to Chris. “I love Mexican hospitality. It’s too bad about all the negative publicity, the rise in crime. It’s going to kill tourism here and good people will be the ones to suffer.” I picked up my spoon and slurped in a mouthful of spicy yumminess. “My god, that’s good.”
Chris held up his beer and spread his arms wide. “Look at this beautiful place.”
Ocean waves lapped on the shore, sparkling with reflections of the sun. “What better spot to relax and simply enjoy time with your bestie?” he said and held out his cup.
I picked mine up and smacked it against his. “To a no stress, laid back, do nothing vacation.”
“Now you’ve got the idea,” he said and took a swig.
I leaned back in my chair, drew in a long, deep breath. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
“So, tell me what’s going on with Dalton.”
My stomach clenched and I shifted in my chair.
“That bad, huh?”
“As usual, we were arguing. He was worried about the hunt, you know, whether I’d be able to pull the trigger. And then he said—” What had he said? Something about wishing he could see the world the way I do. “I don’t know. We kissed.”
Chris propped his elbows on the table and lowered his chin to his clasped hands. His eyes bright, he said, “And?”
“Stop it.”
He sat back in his chair. “What’s the big deal? You’re both adults. It’s about time.”
“He’s my partner. I could get fired. It’s not like he works two cubicles down and it’s just some office policy thing. We let our guard down. Our cover was brother and sister for god’s sake.”
“Well, some families are kinda—”
“Chris! This isn’t funny. We damn near got killed!”
His grin disappeared. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“What am I going to do?”
“I think you’re overthinking it. I mean, honey, we love who we love. Besides, you’re so damn cute together.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
The waiter arrived with a tray loaded with tortillas and salsa and plates of beans covered in melted cheese. I picked up a warm tortilla, filled it with spiced black beans, rolled it up and shoved the end into my mouth. “So good,” I muttered with my mouth full.
Chris grinned. “That’s what I love about you.”
“What?”
“Uninhibited.” He made himself a bean tortilla, took a bite, then swallowed before he said, “You want to know what I think? I think once you two hook up, I mean, let a little steam out of this”—he gestured up and down my body—“hot mess, and you’re not walking around all the time on the verge of bursting, the undercover stuff won’t be an issue.”
“Are you not hearing me?” I crossed my arms. “This is my job we’re talking about. Just last week I heard about two field agents getting fired. The agency forbids fraternization. Period.”
“Yeah, for what reason?”
“Ooooh, you’ve gotta try that salsa,” I said, pointing to the salsa verde. “I don’t know. If you’re a couple, I guess they’d worry you’d care too much about the welfare of the other person rather than focus on doing your job.”
“What? You aren’t supposed to care about your partner? Isn’t that the point? You’ve got each other’s backs?”
“Well, yeah, but…” I shrugged. Hadn’t Dalton tried to explain this very thing to me once? His justification for keeping women out of combat? “I think it’s more about the men, feeling like they need to take care of a woman, distracting them from their own jobs. Or maybe it’s the way people are when they’re dating, you know, all focused on each other at the expense of everything around them. I don’t know. Or maybe it’s… It’s just not acceptable, you know. It clouds your judgement.”
“You sure are trying to convince someone.”
I sat back. Was that what I was doing?
“How would they ever know?”
Like that hadn’t crossed my mind. I opened my mouth to remind him again about the agents who’d been fired last week, but he cut me off.
“You know what? I’m sure you’re right,” Chris said. “Dalton really isn’t the right guy for you anyway.”
“Don’t give me that reverse psychology crap.” I grabbed another tortilla and slapped it on his plate, then took another one for myself. “I can see it a mile away.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’m just saying. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time together lately. Sometimes attraction comes from proximity, you know.” He spooned some beans onto his plate. “Some time away might be a good thing. Maybe he won’t seem so attractive.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
He set down the spoon and looked at me. “I think a date is in order. Maybe a blind date.”
“No. God no.”
“You know you could…” He left the thought hanging out there.
“What? I could what?”
“You could start things up again with Noah. I bet he—”
“Oh, no. Nope.” I shook my head.
Noah Kingston. Just the mention of his name made my insides melt and set my brain afire. When I was with him, all sense of right and wrong went out the window. He was an animal activist I’d met in Costa Rica while on my first undercover op. Actually, to be more accurate, I’d have to call him a renegade eco-warrior. He was intense. We’d hit it off, to put it mildly, but I’d called it quits when the op was done. It was how it had to be. “Another mistake.”
“Why do you say that?”
I frowned. “That man is nothing but trouble. I mean, it’s like, when we were together, I had no impulse control or something. No. Bad news.”
“You’re older and wiser now.”
“It was, like, three months ago.”
“I don’t understand you sometimes. That man was fine. And more than a hot biscuit. Brains, passion, money. Are you sure—”
I leaned forward, kept my voice low. “I slept with him while I was undercover and I damn near lost my job because of that.”
“But now that the op is done,” said Chris. “I think you could—”
“Nope. It was unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional,” Chris said with an eye roll. “There it is again. They never said that about James Bond, you know.”
“Yeah, but there’s the whole gender double-standard thing.”
“Right. There’s that.” He took a swig of his beer. “Well, since you work twenty-four seven, I don’t know any other way you’d meet someone.”
I shoved the tortilla into my mouth. Me neither.
“So, back to Dalton then,” he said, his eyebrows raised. “The kiss. It was…?”
A grin crept across my face.
Chris smiled. “But the job.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what are you gonna do?”
I sighed. How the hell did I know?
“Let’s order some margaritas,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He waved to our waiter.
“You know what my job means to me, Chris. I’ve finally got what I wanted. I’m a Special Agent. I can’t mess this up. I’m holding on by a thread as it is.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of, etcetera, etcetera. But I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just a difference between me and you. I wouldn’t let the job stand in my way.” He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “But then again, my job is just that. A job. I know yours is about your passion in life. Believe it or not, I understand your conflict. I’m afraid I don’t have any good advice.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling deflated.
“Except that you should make a point to go out with some other guys. Just for fun. Let off a little of that steam.” He eyed me. “Maybe that would help clarify your feelings all around.”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Well, we’ll just have to find you one,” Chris said. “That’s what vacations are for, right?”
“No. This vacation is to spend time with you. Just the two of us. I’ve been neglecting my friend too much lately. That’s what I’m going to focus on from now on. No men. Period.”
The waiter arrived.
“Two margaritas,” Chris said, then a quick, “Make that a pitcher.” He rose from his chair with a smile spread across his face. “Ah, here he is.”
I spun around. A guy walked toward us, smiling at Chris. He seemed familiar. I knew him, somehow.
He came right to our table, wrapped his arms around Chris and planted a big kiss on his cheek. Then it hit me. “Doug!”
He nodded, grinning at me. “In the flesh.”
I’d met Doug on my first undercover op. The op where I’d met Noah, in fact. They’d both been involved with the same activist group. And Chris had been there, too.
I rose from the chair. “You’re…? I mean, the two of you?”
They were smiling like jackals.
“So in Costa Rica you two… and now you’re together?”
Chris said to Doug. “She’s quick, really. Any second now it will kick in.”
Doug’s face fell. “You haven’t told her about me yet?”
“Poppy’s been really busy. She can be quite focused when on the job.” He turned to me. “You can be quite focused when—”
“All right”—I held up my hands—“I’m such a bad friend. I can’t believe this. I’ve been so clueless.” I gave Doug a hug. “But I’m happy for you. Really. Wow,” I pulled back and looked at him. “Doug from Costa Rica.”
I searched my memory for details. An aspiring actor, bartender. He had a rugged handsomeness, all muscles and clean-cut—that all-American boy look. He stood a few inches taller than Chris and had a good thirty pounds on him, with the arms of a man who’d thrown his share of hay bales. Chris was his opposite, with his olive skin and alluring eyes. They were adorable together.
Chris grabbed him by the hand and guided him to the chair next to him.
I plopped back down in my chair and waved to our waiter. “Otro vaso, por favor.” Another glass, please.
“Margaritas,” Chris said to Doug. “Poppy’s working out a serious dilemma. We figured a little tequila was in order.”
“I see,” said Doug. “Anything I can help—”
I glared at Chris. “Enough about me. Tell me all about how you two got together. I mean, obviously I missed it. So, fill me in.”
Their eyes met and—I swear to God—twinkled.
“Well, it was that morning, at Noah’s treehouse,” Chris said, the words gushing out. “Tell her.” He nudged Doug.
Doug turned suddenly shy. “You tell her.”
A hint of disappointment crossed Chris’ face. He nudged Doug again. “C’mon, don’t be that way.”
Resigned, Doug started. “When I got there and saw Chris for the first time—”
“He couldn’t take his eyes off of me.”
Doug nodded. “He was playing with Clyde. It was so sweet.”
Clyde was a white-faced capuchin who’d been taken captive as an infant and made a pet by a wildlife smuggler. He’d become part of the activists’ group, their mascot. Everyone loved him.
“I miss Clyde,” I said.
Doug gave me a warm smile. “He was a good little monkey. And I’ll never forget seeing him and Chris together.” He turned to Chris, his eyes shiny with bliss.
“It was love at first sight.” Chris glowed with joy. “And you, carrying a watermelon. Like Baby in Dirty Dancing. All shy and sexy as hell.”
Doug let out a little laugh. “That’s how I felt, too. My tongue wouldn’t work to form words.”
“I thought it was adorable,” Chris said.
The waiter set the pitcher of margaritas and three glasses on the table. He lingered a moment, his eyes on Doug, a discomfort in his manner.
I waited for him to be gone from earshot. “That was odd,” I said.
“We’re used to it,” Chris said, blowing it off.
“Guys like us, being open, isn’t exactly commonly accepted here in rural Mexico,” Doug said. “Well, anywhere for that matter.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I muttered. Though the waiter hadn’t looked at Chris that way. Only Doug.
I poured margaritas from the pitcher, and handed glasses to Doug and Chris, then held mine up. “To the love birds.”
We clinked our glasses and I downed a hefty swallow of the citrus-infused tequila. Yowza, that was potent, but I welcomed it. All this lovey-dovey talk was making me feel worse about Dalton. Totally selfish, I knew. I was happy for Chris. Really. But Chris always had his act together. Of course he’d meet someone who adores him and they’d have a wonderful relationship.
Aw, hell. Buck up, McVie. Be a good friend. I said, “And then what happened?”
“You sent us shopping.”
I had. They’d played a part in my undercover op.
“Poor Jack,” said Doug, unable to keep his eyes off Chris. “He must’ve felt like the awkward third wheel.”
“He was a good sport,” Chris said.
“But then, when you stood up to that crook, I mean, you had him by the short hairs, and I knew you were made of steel.”
Chris glanced at me. “I was terrified, actually. It was all part of the act.”
Doug put his arm around Chris and snugged him closer. “If he’d’a laid one hand on you, I’d’ve beat him to a bloody pulp.”
“Well, I didn’t know that. You were only playing my bodyguard, remember?” He grinned. “You made great arm candy though.”
Doug turned back to me. “I guess we have you to thank for bringing us together.” He held up his glass. “To Poppy.”
“Ah,” I said and welcomed another belt of tequila.
“So, the tequila, is it helping?” he asked.
“What?”
“The dilemma,” he said.
Chris shook his head. “Nothing can help Poppy out of her own head.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, decided another gulp might. “It’s a work thing. A rule I might’ve broken.”
Chris smirked. “Since she’s such a rule follower.”
“Hey, I carry a badge.”
“She’s got man troubles,” Chris said. “Bad.”
Doug hesitated, his eyes flitting from Chris to me. “Did you already tell her—”
Chris made a tiny shake of his head.
“Hey, there’s lots of fish in the sea,” Doug said, all cheery and optimistic.
I think I scowled, but I managed to turn it into a hopeful grin. Not sure I fooled either one of them though.
I stared at my glass, giving it a turn, then another turn, then I looked back at them. “How is Noah?”
Chris stifled a grin. I wanted to smack him. It was his fault I was thinking about Noah—Noah with the tummy-tingling smile, the athletic, lithe body and the I-live-life-the-way-I-want-the-rest-be-damned attitude.
“Good. Good,” Doug said.
“What’s he been up to? Since I saw him last?” Have a girlfriend already?
“Well, you know, he’s been good,” he said, nodding uncomfortably.
Yeah, I shouldn’t have been asking anyway.
“So,” I pasted on a happy face. “I’m so glad you’re dating. What a wonderful surprise. The big secret revealed.”
Doug turned to Chris. “Shall we tell her?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“What? Tell me what?”
Chris gazed at Doug, all smitten, then looked back to me. “We’re engaged!”
“Oh my gosh.” Oh my gosh! “Congratulations!” I leaped from my chair, knocking over my margarita.
“You devil!” I lunged into Chris’s arms again. “Not a peep. I can’t believe it. I’m so happy for you two.”
I hugged Doug, too. Then Chris again before I sat back down.
The waiter rushed over to wipe up my spilled drink.
“So when’s the big day? What’s the plan? I’m so out of the loop.”
Chris laced his fingers together. “I was hoping you would help me plan it.”
“Oh, Chris.” I blinked back my emotions. God, I was a mess.
“As soon as we’re married, I’m going to build Chris his dream house.”
Chris swooned. “Doug’s been taking a class in carpentry.”
“Are you done eating?” Doug asked, looking at his watch. “Ready for the rest of the surprise?”
“There’s more?”
“I’ll pull the Jeep up to the door,” he said and was gone.
“Are we in a hurry?” I asked Chris.
“Just running a little late is all,” he said with a grin.
“Right. My fault. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” He tossed some money on the table as he rose from his chair.
I got up to follow him. “Doug’s a great guy. He’s obviously madly in love with you. I’m really happy for you.”
“I know. I keep pinching myself.” He smiled wide, happier than I’d ever seen him.
* * *
I sat in the back seat of the Jeep with Lucky the dog on the seat next to me. The top was down. I had to tuck my hair under a hat to keep it from swirling around my head, but the fresh air was worth it.
About ten miles down the road, Doug turned the Jeep off the main road, if you could call it that, onto a two-track that curved through a lush valley, then back to the seaside. Finally, he pulled into a grassy lot, killed the engine, flung open the door and piled out.
“We walk from here.”
“Where are you taking me?” I asked for the forty-seventh time, tightening my backpack straps.
“Still a surprise,” Chris said. “But I guarantee you’re going to love it.”
A hundred yards down a narrow path, the entire length of which we shoved palmetto fronds out of our way, we came to a wooden post with a hand-carved sign that read, “Sea Turtle Conservation Camp.”
I came to a halt, giddy with excitement. “Turtles?”
Chris nodded. “Doug has been working here for a few months. When I came to visit the first time, I knew right away that you had to come, too. You’re gonna love it.”
“Yes, yes I am!”
“And you couldn’t have timed it any better,” Doug added. “We expect an arribada any day now. Conditions are ripe. High tide, new moon coming.”
“An arribada?” I asked. “I’m not familiar with that term.”
“It’s a mass nesting of olive-ridley turtles. Thousands, could be tens of thousands, simultaneously crawling out of the ocean, sometimes scrambling over each other to find a place on the beach to bury their eggs. The great part is, because this beach is so remote, they’ve managed to keep it a secret from tourists.”
My mouth must have dropped open.
“I told you you’d like it,” Chris said, all grins.
I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re the best.”
“Let’s go then,” he said. “Pick up the pace.” He winked and turned to continue.
Another fifty yards down the trail, we emerged from the jungle onto a beach where rolling waves folded over and lapped up onto the sand.
To our right, the undergrowth had been cleared above the highwater line and a camp built in the shade of the tall trees. One sturdy cabin was surrounded by several palapa-covered platforms with hammocks hanging from wooden posts.
“It’s a little rustic, but Chris said you could hang,” Doug said.
“Yes, of course.”
“The gang’s probably eating down in the cooking area. We eat a late lunch, then have personal time before we head out on patrol,” Doug said, gesturing for us to follow. “There’s a wood-fired stove. We take turns cooking the meals for our little crew.”
A small group of volunteers were gathered around a picnic table. Three young women and two guys, college students, for sure. And Noah.
Noah with his confident, movie-star stance, looking at me with those eyes, those all-passion-all-the-time eyes. “Noah?”
He rose from the table. “Poppy.”
My breath caught at the back of my throat. “Noah.”
He smiled and a warmth flushed through my body.
“Poppy.”
I spun around and shot Chris a you-didn’t look.
He winked.
I spun back around. “I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I said, the words sticking to the roof of my mouth. “I mean, I didn’t know you were here.” My god, McVie, you are smooth. “What I mean is, Chris dragged me down here as a surprise. I had no idea.”
Noah looked right at Doug. “Well, that makes two of us.”
His eyes came back to me.
I rushed forward and gave him a hug. “It’s nice to see you.”
His arms around me, his body pressed to mine, felt so…right.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said with that husky voice, the one that stimulates that hormone that turns off my brain and makes me want to—
“These are our student volunteers,” Doug said. “Tyler and Justin. And Molly and Nikki. And Rosie is here all the way from the U.K.”
“Ah, that’s great,” I said, shaking their hands with way too much enthusiasm, trying not to look at Noah.
I let my eyes go there, to his, for a moment. Okay, it could have been half a second, could have been five minutes. I don’t know.
Finally, I broke away, back to the students. They stared at me, amused looks on their faces.
Yeah, whatever. We had a thing. So what?
“Are you all studying to be marine biologists?”
I got shrugs, general shaking of their heads. “We just want to help save turtles,” Molly said.
They hovered over the dog, cooing and petting her while she wagged her tail like crazy.
“Good for you.” I glanced back at Noah.
Doug piped up. “We wanted you both to celebrate with us. After all, you brought us together.”
He and Chris wore their jackal smiles again. Chris winked. Again. Geez.
Noah didn’t seem to notice. “So. How are you?” he asked, his eyes locked on mine.
“I’m good.”
“Your job?”
“Good. You?”
He stepped closer, whispered, “The last time I saw you, you slipped away without a proper goodbye.”
A rush of guilt flooded through me. “You know I—”
“It’s all right.” His eyes held me in a trance. “I understand.”
The sound of his voice, his eyes, took me back to his treehouse and the night we’d spent together. That hot, steamy night. “Don’t let me keep you from your meal,” I said and stood there like a dope.
He eased backward, keeping his eyes on mine. “Yes, I admit, I’m ravished.” He blinked. “I mean famished.” He grinned. “You fluster me.”
“I do not,” I said but couldn’t stop my cheeks from blushing.
His eyes moved to my lips, held there.
Doug stepped forward. “Yeah, why don’t you finish your dinner. I’ll give Poppy the grand tour.”
Chris grabbed me by the hand and we were headed toward the cabin.
Doug and Chris couldn’t stop grinning.
My fists landed on my hips and I dug my heels into the sand. “You guys realize how obvious you are, right?”
Doug shrugged. Chris winked.
“And stop with the winking!”