Page 59 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

“Don’t let your pride cloud your judgment.”

Deacon again.

I hated that man for making me contemplate things I shouldn’t.

“And I’ll help you.” Humphries let his hand rest against my shoulder. As if I hadn’t noticed. His thick lips trembled, struggling to hold back his smile. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

“Humphries?”

“What?”

“You believe that God provides, right?”

“Always.” He nodded smugly.

“And sometimes the doors that open aren’t the ones you expect.”

“All the time.” He lifted his voice like a preacher. “God works in mysterious ways. He’s too creative to take the route most expected and too big to perform the same miracle twice.”

“So… even if that door might lead somewhere dangerous, I’ve got to walk in and trust that I’m making the right choice.”

He frowned as if catching my drift. “It depends. Doors that lead to psychotic island owners are ones you should probably stay away from.”

“Miguel!” I hopped up.

Humphries scrambled to his feet too. “Why are you calling him? He’s deaf, remember?”

“Right.” I charged across the boat, holding my arms out at my sides to keep my balance when it bounded over a big wave.

Miguel stood at the helm. He was in an outfit similar to the one he rocked last night—brown shirt, rolled up khakis and sneakers. His long, brown hair and bushy beard looked even more matted out in the sunlight.

Our eyes locked and a corner of his thin lips curled up in welcome.

I had no idea how to sign or communicate with someone who couldn’t hear so I enunciated my words and spoke slowly, praying that I wasn’t being insensitive.

“Are we close to San Pedro?”

He nodded.

I hoped he wasn’t just pulling my leg and he really understood. Holding my phone up because I figured props would get my point across, I tried again. “Signal?”

He nodded.

I checked my phone, half-expecting the network bar to be empty as it had been since we left Deacon’s mansion.

But it wasn’t.

I grinned and dialed my mother’s number.

As it rang, I chewed my fingernail and stared at the outline of San Pedro. It was stunning. Boats danced near the piers. Mangroves dotted the yellow shore with greenery.

No wonder this island was dubbed ‘La Isla Bonita’.

The line clicked and my mother’s voice sounded over the line.

I jerked my gaze away from San Pedro and said, “Good morning, Mom.”

“Hi, baby.” She yawned loudly in the phone. “Your dad said you’re coming home today. Do you have enough money for a taxi? If not, just head straight to the hospital and I’ll pay the fare.”

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