Page 181 of Beat of Love
Black slacks.
Scarlet blouse.
Elaborate bow.
And red fucking devil shoes.
And heheardtheclick-clackof her shoes climbing the cracked steps, then vanish through the double doors like she was striding into a palace — not a crumbling mansion on the edge of the fucking jungle.
He recalled where he’d seen that house before.
An oil painting hanging over the fireplace in the destroyed compound.“A happy memory,”she had replied when he’d asked after the place.
“She’s inviting me to join her,” Rafferty stated with utter clarity. And to protect the tremendous thing he’d been blessed with, he would do Kamila Carvalho’s bidding for one last time. He’d go to Brazil. “But that place, the old mansion …that’s a ruse. Kamila always had a plan within a plan.”
51
Transitions
The legal documents didn’t arrive until a little after five that afternoon, pushing their return to Texas to the following morning. Rafferty had been all for hightailing it back that night, but Brandy-Lyn had talked sense into him. “Today’s been an emotional day for Connor and Nadie, sugar. And it’s better for them” — she’d tilted her head toward the bedroom where they sprawled on the bed, watching television while waiting for room service — “to arrive at their new home in the daylight.”
Besides, the man was as wound up as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs after the day he’d had. What he needed was a good night’s sleep before stepping into the next chapter of his life.
After his pow-wow with the KS guys, Rafferty had headed out to join the sheriff for a second interview — well,interrogation— with the teenager who’d slipped the note onto her Yukon. The kid had sung like a canary when faced with not just a sheriff who didnotappreciate being misled, but a man ready to burn down the world.
The outcome: the miscreant had been handed the cigarillos stubs and the note the day Rafferty arrived — back when Kamilawasstill in town — with instructions to dump the stubs and place the note on his vehicle the following day. But being an unreliable punk, the kid had blown the five hundred bucks on dope and only remembered the instructions once he’d crawled out of his drug-induced fog.
It was sheer chance it ended up coinciding with her arrival.
But that led to a far more unsettling realization — Kamila had known about her, the redhead,beforeNebraska. How? It was something King Security was investigating.
And it all added fuel to Rafferty’s decision to go back to Brazil and face the nightmare head-on.
The thing was — she understood his reasoning. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
Truth was, she hated the idea.
Because he might not come back.
Rafferty paced the length of the room, bare feet whispering against the carpet, hands flexing like he didn’t know what to do with all the nerves eating at him.
“Raff,” she said gently.
He didn’t stop pacing.
“Rafferty.”
This time, he halted. Shoulders stiff. That tension radiating off him like heat from a sunbaked road.
“I know your head’s all over the place.” Her voice was quiet, steady. “But I don’t know what happens once we’re home, and I cannot pretend I’m not worried.”
He turned toward her, the frown still etched deep.
“You’ll be going to Brazil soon,” she said. “And I get it, I do. But we’ve got tonight, Raff. Maybe just tonight before it all changes. Before life throws us under again.”
She held out her hand to him.
“So come to bed. Not to sleep. Not yet. Just … come be with me.”
