Page 70 of Cavern of Silence
A tear drips down my cheek. "I'm... I'm not a liar. They make a lot of money by people crossing the border." I turn to the back. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, I swear."
"It's okay," Vanessa says and leans up to embrace me.
I can't contain my emotions any longer and sob on her shoulder.
My door opens, and Vanessa releases me. Ryker pulls me into his arms. It only makes me cry harder. "I'm sorry."
"Shh." He strokes my head. "Hunter, your turn to drive."
He leads me into the back seat.
"Where am I going?" Hunter asks.
I sniffle. "Straight for ten miles then turn left. There's a two-track path that will take us to the coast. Omoa will be east."
Ryker holds me close and murmurs, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"I've never seen them before. I swear. I didn't know. I've crossed it at least a hundred times with no issues."
He releases a breath. "Shh. I shouldn't have yelled. That scared me. I didn't know what they were saying, and you could have gotten hurt."
Reggae music fills the air. It's happy and carefree, but I feel nothing of the sort.
I failed. Again.
I put everyone in danger.
Hunter is never going to trust me.
Vanessa could have had another panic attack.
But the one person I care most about, who I want to see me as something other than a liability, is Ryker. After what just happened, there's no way he can.
I've once again proven I have nothing to offer.
Miguel financially ruined me in the divorce.
My career is in the toilet.
Now my word means nothing.
Ryker holds me tight, quietly telling me he's sorry for yelling and not to cry. When we get to Omoa, he asks me to go into the store with him. We need to look up their friend, Tinker's, address in the phone book. And it is in Spanish, so he needs me to help him.
I get out of the Jeep, and before we step inside, he stops me.
"What—"
He firmly holds my head and crushes his lips to mine. And I don't think. All I do is react, kissing him back, as if my life depended on it.
Because it does.
He is the life I want. Like the air I breathe, I need him. He gives me hope. As if every broken piece of me, he will glue together, and I'll somehow be whole again.
When he pulls back, he murmurs, "I thought I was going to lose you back there."
"I'm sorry. I—"
"Shh. No more sorries. You told me there are parts of you that you don't like. I said I had them, too. You just saw it. And I wish I could redo how I responded to that situation. But I acted like that out of fear. I couldn't protect you back there. And I freaked. Because I can't handle losing you. You mean too much to me. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
