Page 38 of The Witness

He crushed me to his chest, and I felt small, precious, and utterly boneless. Every ounce of stress that I’d stockpiled over the last few days evaporated. Down in the depths of my soul, my reserves of strength were renewed. It was spectacular. Probably temporary, but still an improvement.

“There is nothing like incredible sex. Beats a margarita or a hot bath.” I nuzzled his chest, the sprinkling of coarse hair tickling my face.

He chuckled and stood, scooping me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. “We should find the bathroom in this place.”

We did, and I was pleased to find the bathroom had lovely water pressure, fluffy towels, and a sturdy vanity that withstood our vigorous second round. He was not only well endowed but for a man of his age fast to recover—my superhero.

My stress level at an all-time low, all things considered, we unpacked in our respective bedrooms and ordered room service. My blonde hair was a good disguise, but I’d be staying in the room until tomorrow. No reason to court added danger or remind Michael how much he hated Gunter’s plan while I was still enjoying my endorphin buzz. I focused on the mundane act of unpacking and tried not to think about my situation or the plan and all the million ways it might go off the rails.

Our food arrived, and we sat across from each other at a small table near the windows. The server set us up with a white tablecloth, candles, and a chilled bottle of wine in an ice bucket. The romantic scene only increased the awkward silence between us. I should have tried to find a radio or something because now the only sounds were our silverware clanking and us chewing. It made my skin crawl.

The meal could have been good, bad, or indifferent for all the attention I paid the food. I took a long sip of my wine and looked out the window at the sunset. In the distance, the beacon on top of a lighthouse blinked to life at the mouth of the harbor.

So yeah, this was why you either stumbled home after a one-night stand or passed out. I discarded the uncharitable characterization of our tryst as soon as I thought of it. What we’d shared had been nothing like a one-night stand.

I trusted him.

Exhibit A: no condom. Any other man, any other situation, I’d have never taken such a risk. But he’d been earning my trust since the first moment we’d met.

I put down the wineglass and cleared my throat, determined to break the silence, but Michael beat me to it.

“I’m sorry.” He pushed away his plate, the meal half eaten.

“For what?” An uneasy sensation caused me to shift in my chair. I reached for my wine and braced for bad news, something I was getting far too good at.

“Your restaurant, I should have told you.” He stared at the napkin in his lap, unwilling to look at me.

“You knew before we left?” It was like a kick to the solar plexus. He’d known. He’d lied to me. So much for the euphoric relaxation I’d been enjoying.

“Yeah, Smith didn’t want you to know. It was for your protection.” He looked guilty.

“Of course it was.” I took a swig of the wine. Michael’s need to protect me was becoming debilitating. First he didn’t want to hear Gunter’s plans, now this.

“Look, I didn’t agree with Smith, but he had a reason. Well, two reasons.” Michael sighed and rubbed his temples like he too was developing a headache.

“Which were?” I hid my balled fists in my lap. I wanted to punch something or someone. So much for trusting Michael. Maybe.

“First, he knew if you got cold feet those pictures would reignite your anger. And second, the reason I went along with Smith’s plan was truly to keep you safe. There wasn’t a way to keep you from Viande short of locking you in a cell if you knew what happened. Sandoval’s people wanted you to show up and inspect the damage, so they…” He trailed off, unwilling to speculate on the fate Sandoval’s people had planned for me.

But I knew.

In the photos, I’d seen shell casings scattered across the floors and the bullet holes in the walls. So many bullet holes—more than enough to end me.

My protest caught in my throat, lingered, and died. He was right. I’d have moved heaven and earth to inspect the damage firsthand. My safety wouldn’t have been a consideration. Had I been anywhere but Cuba, I’d already be in a boat, plane, or car heading to Miami to start repairs.

“Damnit.” I banged a fist on the table, setting the china to rattling. As much as I wanted to be mad, the anger faded fast. Fear for your life had a way of providing clarity. “Is Smith always right? How can you work for him? It’s got to get frustrating.”

“He is diabolical. At times I’m sure he sold his soul to the devil. But the same foresight that led him to hold back the information on Viande from you led him to hire me. And I’ll forgive himalmost anything for the chance he gave me.” Michael shrugged and refilled both our empty wine glasses.

“You are two hundred and fifty plus pounds of muscle. Everything about you screams ass-kicking bodyguard, from the tats to the granite jawline. I assume you are a no-brainer hire for a security company.”

He paused before he answered. A deep wrinkle gouged into his forehead, making him look tired and stressed. With a wince, he dug his fingers into his shoulder muscle, working on a knot of tension.

“When Smith met me, I was in handcuffs and Miami PD was booking me for murder.” With a long sigh, he finally looked at me. He was dead serious.

“Murder?” When he’d offered to kill Sandoval for me, I’d brushed it off as exaggeration, but suddenly his offer seemed far more ominous.

Chapter 18

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