My dad waved his hand in front of his face. The three of us sat in silence. His expression held no sign of judgment. I listened to the low hum of restaurant, picking up fragments of conversation from nearby tables.
“Hattie, are you happy? Does he make your happy?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.
I nodded. “Yes. Very much.”
My dad leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the white tablecloth. Every thud sent my heart higher and higher until every frazzled beat vibrated at the back of my throat, suffocating me.
He blew out a breath. “That’s all that matters. Why didn’t you bring him tonight? Do we know him?”
“His name is Ryker and he’s out of town right now.”
“Are you living at his house?”
“Yes.” I shrugged. “For now. He’s out of town for a couple more weeks, and I still don’t have anywhere to live. It made sense.”
“Right.” My mom nodded. “What does he do?”
Here came the unanswerable questions. My body sagged like someone had placed a hundred-pound weight on my head. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed. “Is he employed or does he plan to live off you and your family?”
My anger flared, but I bit the inside of my cheek, pushing back the emotion. I didn’t want to pick another fight tonight. “He does consulting. He doesn’t need your connections or your money.” I lifted my chin. “Neither do I.”
“Those are big words for a girl who doesn’t have a job and hasn’t finished her master’s,” my mother said.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, which was fitting. My mom excelled at low blows. “I’m fine. You and dad don’t need to worry about me. My life is back on track again. I know what I want.”
I looked over my shoulder, and my gaze collided with Noah’s. He didn’t even pretend to blend with the other patrons at the bar. All of his attention was focused on my family and me. I flashed him a small, quick smile and turned back to my parents.
Desperately seeking a diversion, I lifted my menu, concealing my face. “What’s good here? I haven’t had a thing to eat since breakfast. I’m starving.”
My dad smiled. “You do seem happier than you’ve been in a long time.”
“I am.”
My dad nodded. “I can’t wait to meet the guy who changed your life.”
“Soon,” I promised, even though I didn’t know if it would ever happen.
So many things had to come to pass before we could be together. Did it make me a terrible person that I didn’t care who we had to hurt to get what we wanted?
My mind whirled with a million and one questions. I shook my head and pushed it all away. I was getting too far ahead of myself. I needed to move forward one step at a time, and step one was making it through dinner with my parents.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ryker
Yellow, pink, and orange streaks tinted the late afternoon sky. Rever’s bright yellow convertible Porsche darted in and out of traffic along the coastal highway, drawing more than a few stares. Wind tunneled through my hair and the smell of exhaust burned my nostrils.
“Couldn’t we have driven something less conspicuous?” I yelled.
“Nah,” Rever responded without looking at me. “Everyone knows this is my car.”
“Exactly my point,” I grumbled.
Rever chuckled. “Everyone will stay clear of us when we’re driving home. It’s perfect.”
“Right, but everyone will know our whereabouts tonight. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“They’ll know we’re in Playa del Carmen for dinner, but they won’t know anything more than that. It’s the perfect cover.”
“I hope you’re right,” I mumbled more to myself than him.
A wide grin stretched across his face as we darted across traffic, earning more than a few honks and angry hand gestures. “Trust me. You’ll see. Besides, if our suspicions are correct, it won’t matter in a couple days.”
“I have a feeling you’ve done something like this before.”
“Not exactly.” His tires squealed as he slammed on his brakes and reversed into a tight spot next to the high-curbed sidewalk.
We both got out of the car, and Rever pointed to a restaurant with an open-air patio. “I hope you like Italian food.”
I shrugged as Rever greeted the hostess. “Does it matter?”
“Not really. We’ll sit down for five minutes, then make our way out the back door of the restaurant. Nobody will suspect a thing and if they do…fuck ’em.”
“If you say so,” I said as we strolled through the restaurant to a table near the kitchen.
Heads turned in waves, watching every move we made. Murmurs and hushed whispers followed us like ghosts. I kept my chin up, and my eyes focused on the back wall. I couldn’t imagine a day when I would get used to the attention of being affiliated with the Vargas Cartel. For the most part, Ignacio confined me to the compound as a child, but on occasion he took me out and flaunted our connection. I still hated the way stares filled with fear followed me everywhere.
I settled into the chair across from Rever, stretching my legs out to the side with my back pressed into the wall. Rever was confident our high profile would shield us. I didn’t agree. The war with the Alvarez Cartel had eroded some of Ignacio’s power. Killing Enrique Alvarez had halted the power shift, but it left us susceptible to challenge.
Rever scanned the menu, commenting about the food he liked. I didn’t respond. Instead, I watched the restaurant staff and fellow patrons studiously avoid eye contact. Even the tourists avoided looking our way despite the fact that they were generally oblivious to the ugly side of Mexico. They viewed Mexico as a relatively inexpensive vacation with free flowing alcohol and long sandy beaches. As an unspoken rule, the cartels didn’t allow the violence to spill into tourist areas, but it happened on occasion.
“Why is everyone starting at us?”
Rever looked up from the laminated menu and tapped the corner of the wooden table. “Get used to it.”
“How do they know who we are?”
“The staff probably knows or suspects something and the rest of them are sensing the tension.”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.
Rever stood. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”
“How far is the walk?” I asked, following him.
“A couple of blocks. Maybe less, but either way he won’t have any idea we’re coming.”
I fingered the top of my gun under my linen blazer. Sweat trickled down the middle of my back, and I wanted to strip off the jacket and dump it in the trash, but Mexican gun laws were really strict. I didn’t want to be caught on the wrong side of the law right now. Ignacio had plenty of governmental officials on his payroll, and he could make the charge disappear with one phone call, but I couldn’t stomach being indebted to him for anything else.
Five minutes later Rever paused in front of the blue door of Emanuel’s house. He slipped his gun from the holster behind his back. “I’m going in first.”
I nodded. “I’ve got your back.”