Her lower lip popped out. “That’s a shame. I look forward to our time together. Is everything all right?”
My gaze dipped to the floor, where I toed a discarded paper clip. “Yes . . . yes, it’s fine. I’ve had a last-minute opportunity to attend an art conference in Mexico City.” I picked up the clip and flipped it through my fingers. Outside of Natalya, I didn’t want anyone to know my destination. I used the same art-conference excuse I did with the Silvas and Pia.
“Sounds like a lovely adventure.”
I grimaced. If she only knew.
Carla moved around the table and fiddled with a flower bouquet. She snapped off two wilting daisies. “Would you like me to watch your sons while you’re gone?”
My brows arched. “Um, no . . . but thanks. The boys are staying with friends. I wanted you to know that we’ll be gone for a few days. We can do two lessons next week.”
She patted the flowers, shifted a few stems. I spotted a sticky notepad on the table and jotted down the Silvas’ phone number. “Just in case you need to get in touch. You already have my cell.”
She read the note and put it aside. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days, then.”
I sure hoped so, because that meant my ass hadn’t been hauled to prison, or I hadn’t been refused entry back into Mexico. My chest clenched and palms dampened just thinking about everything that could go wrong over the next five days.
“Before you go . . .” Carla pointed at a room off to the left. “I’m having the devil of a time with my wireless connection. It keeps cutting out. Will you take a look for me?”
I glanced at my watch. “Sure,” I said, and followed her into the guest room.
Five Years Ago
August 14
The captain announced our descent into San Jose and soon we were taxiing to our gate. I’d called Natalya during the layover in Los Angeles as soon as I went through Customs. The officer had scanned my passport, asked the nature of my stay (visiting family), where I was staying (downtown San Jose), and the length of my visit (four days). After a brief moment of eye contact, he stamped my passport and welcomed me to the United States of America.
Natalya and I both heaved a long sigh. She even laughed off the nervousness. But I had to wonder. How the hell did Thomas create a new identity for me in such a short time frame? He had the paperwork in Imelda’s hands within a week or so after my accident.
After a short diversion to the men’s room, I called Natalya again on my way to baggage claim. She picked up after the second ring. “You made it!”
“I made it.” I sighed dramatically and she laughed.
“How was the last leg of the flight?”
“Quick. My seatmate left me alone this time.” On the flight to Mexico City, the woman sitting beside me could tell I was nervous. She was gorgeous if caked makeup and tamale-red nails was your thing. She kept offering me gin and tonics to calm those nerves.
Natalya laughed. “Good thing, else I’d have to come rescue you. So . . . the plan is . . .”
“The plan is: shower, eat, bed.”
“It’s only two in California.”
“Yeah, I know.” I scratched my stubbled cheek. I hadn’t slept at all on the plane or during the layovers. “I’m going to pick up the rental car and drive around for a bit. I’ll find Aimee once I get my bearings.”
My luggage flipped onto the carousel and I snagged the handle, releasing it and dropping the bag wheel-side down in one motion. “I’ll call you tonight,” I said, walking through the automatic sliding glass doors to the arrival pickup zone and straight into Thomas. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Dressed in a slate-gray suit, arms crossed, Thomas lounged against an obsidian-black metallic Tesla. He gave me a short wave and a tight-lipped grin.
“What time do you think you’ll call?” Natalya was asking. “I’ll make sure I’m back from the beach.”
Every nerve inside me hummed at full throttle. Blood roared in my ears. My heart slammed against my sternum. How the hell did he know I was here?
“Nat, I’ll call you back.”
“Wait. What?”
I disconnected the call.
Thomas uncrossed his ankles and pushed away from the car. His hands slid into his trouser pockets. “Hello, Carlos. Welcome to California.”
CHAPTER 15
JAMES
Present Day
June 27
Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii
Julian and Marc climb into the rear seat of Natalya’s open-top Jeep Wrangler. It’s not lost on James she drives the same type of vehicle Carlos had owned. Claire grimaces when James orders Marc to scoot to the center. He insists Claire sit with the boys. “You wanted the chance to catch up with them.” He smirks.
Natalya glances at him when he settles in the passenger seat. He buckles up and smiles over at her. She blushes before her gaze slides away. She slaps on a sunscreen-stained, flat-billed cap with the Hayes Boards logo, which is a surfboard riding the company name where the letters H-A-Y-E-S are styled to look like a wave. She shifts the Jeep into gear, her movements rough, and the vehicle jerks forward.
Other than responding to his questions in clipped phrases, Natalya is quiet during the forty-minute drive to Princeville. Her reception as cool as her tone the other day on the phone. James reads her signals loud and clear. She isn’t in the mood to talk . . . with him. He turns his interest to the passing scenery. From azure waters, airbrushed clouds, Jurassic Park–like mountains, and skyscraper palms, the Garden Isle is breathtaking. After six months in the dry Mexican heat, the last place he expected to find himself traveling to is another beachside community. But this island is different, almost effortlessly beautiful. He can feel the mana. The spiritual vibe is almost tangible. The air is heavy with humidity and the scent of plumerias. He sees now why Natalya wanted Carlos to visit. Kauai is magical. A living painting.
Natalya keeps her gaze focused on the Kuhio Highway as they curve around the island. She doesn’t willingly talk to him so he steals glances at her profile. The freckled constellations across her cheekbones and nose intrigue him. The defined limbs that tell him she can probably keep up with him running trails as easily as she surfs the waves. And the hair that spins madly around her head like Indiana Jones’s whip. It all fascinates him. As does the woman. Would she be the same as the image Carlos painted in his journals?
Her row of sterling bracelets jangle as she downshifts, turning off the highway. They cruise through Princeville to the hotel, leaving the Jeep idling at the lobby doors. A valet assists Claire from the vehicle.
“Are you all staying with us?” the valet asks James when he unfolds from the car.
“No, just her.” He nods in his mother’s direction and slips the valet a bill after he points out her bag.
“Do you want me to pick you up later for dinner, Carla?” Natalya asks.
She hooks her purse strap on her bent elbow. “No, thank you. I’ll settle in here for the day. How about I join you in the morning for breakfast?” his mother asks Natalya, but her eyes are on James. He really doesn’t want her joining them for anything, but what can he say without raising questions he isn’t prepared to answer? Julian’s watching him closely, that inquisitive mind of his ticking.
James shrugs and walks to Natalya’s side. “What time should I pick her up?”
“Don’t worry about me,” his mother dismisses him. “I’ll take a cab.”
“Breakfast is at eight.”
“Wonderful.” Claire waves good-bye to his sons and gestures for the valet to follow.
Julian thrusts a chin in her direction and Marc waves back. “Buenos días, Señora Carla.”
“Do you mind waiting a second?” James asks Natalya.
She points to an empty spot in the parking lot. “I’ll be parked over there.”
James claps the door’s open window edge twice. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Natalya drives away and James goes after his mother. He places his hand on her midback and shuffles her into the lobby. The valet hurries behind with the luggage.
“James,” Claire says between clenched teeth when he directs her off to the side. The valet hovers nearby.