The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(92)

My phone rang in my purse nonstop for the last hour. Ryker was calling me. Vera never called. She texted. My mom and dad checked in with me once a week. If I didn’t answer, they left a message.

At some point, I needed to answer his call, but I hadn’t figured out what I wanted to say. I didn’t own him. I couldn’t ask him to change his life for me. Rationally, I should use his career to put a wedge between us, and walk away from him forever before everything exploded in my face.

I tried to unravel my feelings for Ryker.

Love.

Hate.

A perverse psychological attachment to my former captor.

Friendship.

Attraction.

A mixture of all of the above was probably the correct answer, but recognizing the complexity of my feelings didn’t offer any enlightenment. Not really. Instead, the lead weight pressing against my chest felt heavier, suffocating me until I couldn’t breathe. I’d done what thousands of women had done before. I fell for a man I believed would change and become somebody better for me. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my head on my knees.

Gravel crunched behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I didn’t need to turn around to know Ryker was standing behind me. My body lit up like a stick of dynamite any time he came near me.

“Hattie?” he said in a hushed tone.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. Go away. I need to think,” I mumbled without lifting my head. Just hearing the velvety rumble of his voice ignited a tug of war between hate and desire in my mind.

He dropped a black duffel bag on the end of a bench. “No,” he answered without further explanation. He shook out a red and black plaid blanket and held it up in front of him like some sort of peace offering.

“I’m fine,” I lied through chattering teeth.

“No, you’re not. Your lips are blue, and your clothes are completely soaked.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I snatched the blanket out of his hands and draped it over my shoulders.

He sat next to me and stretched out his long black-clad legs in front of him. His shirt highlighted the contours of his broad chest and narrow waist. His spicy sea-salt scent wafted into my lungs, and my heart skipped a beat or two.

He opened and closed his legs, pressing the length of his thigh into mine. Even that small, insignificant ghost of a touch made me want to forget everything Evan told me. I didn’t trust myself to hold onto my anger long enough to confront him and hear his explanation.

Words spun wildly through my mind one after another, catching in my throat. I had so much to say and ask, but I didn’t know where to start. I felt like I was crawling through a never-ending labyrinth, leading me to one dead end after another.

“How did you find me?”

He squeezed my arm. The subtle contact caused a fiery jolt of lust to rush through my arctic veins. “Process of elimination. You weren’t at Vera’s, the library, or my house. This park was the next stop on my list.”

“Great. I’m predictable,” I mumbled.

He smirked. “A little. I’ve noticed you like to have a routine.”

I nodded as I drew circles with the toe of my shoe in the mud.

“Where have you been all day?” he asked after an awkward pause. “You haven’t answered my calls.”

I stared forward, determined to ignore his piercing gaze. “What did you do today?” I snapped.

He slid his hand up and down my thigh. “I worked, but I already told you that this morning,” he answered.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Worked? Does that mean you were busy making phone calls and raising funds for some illusive candidate?”

His hand paused mid-stroke. “No, but I think you already know that, or you wouldn’t be asking me for details.”

I turned my head to him and narrowed my eyes. “So you’re not actually a campaign bundler.”

“Sometimes, but I don’t spend a lot of time doing it. I use the position to gather information about clients, people, and politicians. When I raise money for politicians, I discover a lot of information they’d prefer remained quiet.”

I sucked in my lower lip. “So Evan wasn’t lying. You are a political fixer.”

He bent forward and rested his arms on his knees. “You saw Evan today?”

“Don’t change the subject. Answer my question.”

He rubbed his chin between his thumb and his index finger. “Yes. I’m a fixer of sorts. Not just for politicians though.”

“Does that mean you get rid of dead bodies and beat people up?”

He flinched. “Not generally, but I’m not going to lie to you. My job isn’t sunshine and roses.”

My stomach rolled with acid. I closed my eyes, unable to look at him for another second. His strong fingers curled around my shoulders and he brushed his lips against mine, back and forth. Each touch sent equal frissons of lust and disgust zipping through my endorphin starved synapses.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his warm minty breath wafted across my face.

“I can’t.” I shook my head and squeezed my eyes tighter. I couldn’t look at his face. I was afraid I’d see a depraved monster instead of the man I craved more than my next breath. What did it say about me if I was falling in love with a terrible person?