Page 60 of Javier

Nada.

Nuns?

On the way.

Why the hell did you get us the honeymoon suite?

Honeymoon suite?A pause and almost thirty seconds went by before he added.I now understand your problem.

You understand shit. I pounded the keys.This is your fucking fault.

Negative. I didn’t request the honeymoon suite. I requested restricted access, best defensible position, and the safest location available on the grounds.John Allen, the head of security, must’ve decided that was it.

Now I felt like an idiot.

Have you made contact with Allen?King asked.

OMW.

I headed for the bar instead.

Behave, Goof. Kai’s text reached me as I pulled out a stool. You’re on the clock.

Fuck me. Now I had King lecturing me on top of everything else. All I needed to calm down and get back to my amiable self was a shot of whiskey or two or three, but King wasn’t wrong. I shoved the stool back into place and, laptop in hand, cut across the lobby.

I met with John Allen in his office. He was an old, grizzled Marine with the face of a rottweiler who was in charge of the resort’s security. He struck me as a seasoned veteran who knew his stuff. Given that the rich and famous visited the resort often and the paparazzi tried to trespass all the time, Allen’s security was top-notch.

We went through all the extra measures he’d put in place after King contacted him. He showed me the property’s map and explained how his patrols worked. Then we reviewed the profiles of all staff and guests he’d compiled. I asked him to email me thelist. I wanted to do my own review and not necessarily follow the privacy rules that limited his range.

When I was done with Allen, I did my own recon. I identified all accesses to the resort, walked the grounds, scouted the trailheads, and engraved a 3-D map of the place in my brain. The place was extensive, and the resort abutted a national reserve, so it took a while.

By the time midnight came around, I was bone dead. I grabbed a burger at the bar and washed it down with a beer, because, well, why not? I talked to some of the guests, joked around a little, blew off some steam. I met lovely Rozina, a brunette beauty looking for fun and a vacation hookup.

Since I’d gone over the list of current guests with Allen, I knew she was a cop from New York. She had all the attributes I looked for in my bed partners. Curvy. Busty. Sexy. Lusty. She put the moves on me, and honestly, taking her up on her offer made sense. It would’ve done wonders for my mood and maybe even cure the severe case of blue balls torturing me.

Then I remembered I was on duty and trying to be my better version. Instead of rounding out the night with a fast, hard fuck in Rozina’s room, I made some lame excuse and headed back to the treehouse. The truth was I didn’t feel like having sex with her. Me. Mr. Always Ready. Missy had done a number on me earlier, but had she also killed my usually hyperactive libido?

Negative. My libido was just fine, thank you very much. The problem was, I didn’t want Rozina. I wanted Missy.

The night was crisp and the stars were out, but not even the vigorous walk relieved me of the tension that tightened my gonads. When I got to the cabin, Pedro’s replacement sat by the private walkway.

“Todo bien?” I asked.

The man nodded. “Sin problema.”

The suite was dark and quiet as I stole inside. Draped in the translucent netting, Missy slept in the big bed. After checking the tray and confirming she’d eaten her dinner, I detoured to the bathroom. Under the light of the moon, I stepped into the circular outdoor shower. Working up the suds, I massaged my muscles to release the tension tightening my shoulders. I flirted with the idea of getting myself off, but once again, it wasn’t my hand I craved.

After the shower, my reflection in the mirror showed me a bunch of bruises. With my beard out of control, I looked like a damn Neanderthal. I took my time shaving, and then rewrapped the stitches Missy had embroidered on my biceps, courtesy of Snake.

Snake. I trapped a growl in my throat. I was gonna get that son of a bitch, and when I did, he was gonna regret hunting Missy and meeting me.

Rummaging through the suitcase King had packed for me, I found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and put them on. As I approached the bed, I spotted the red petals piled up in the wastebasket. No more heart on the sheets and yet the bed was still enticing if only because Missy was in it. She was curled up under the pristine white covers, her eyes closed. She looked even younger with her face relaxed and her red braid spilled over the pillows. I got a whiff of fresh soap and flowery shampoo coming from her. She smelled so damn good.

I ambled to the other side of the bed, pulled the netting aside, and folded down the covers. Beneath the sheets, I spotted the long line of her bare leg and a glimpse of her creamy ass cheek, peeking out from beneath the T-shirt she wore.

My dick turned to petrified wood.

I couldn’t share a bed with Missy. I couldn’t stand the notion of her laying soft and half naked next to me. If I touched her, there would be no returning from that.

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