“How could you possibly know that?” Sydney asked, more than a hint of speculation coming through her tone.
From the corner of his eye, Beckett spied Martín smiling. “Call it a feeling. My ancestry can be traced back to the Mayans who once ruled this very land. They were excellent archers.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind us staying with you tonight?” Sydney asked after a quiet moment had passed. “I’m sure we’ll be okay at the hotel. We shouldn’t be identified. My team handled the security cameras.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed with us. Mi casa es su casa,” Martín replied without hesitation. “Besides, my wife, Valentina, loves any excuse to host a dinner party. You’ll make her happy. And a happy wife means a happy life. You must agree, sí?” He peered at Beckett and tipped his head in Sydney’s direction. “You two are married?”
“Us?” Beckett stopped walking, trying to understand how this man with his excellent read on people thus far had drawn such a conclusion. “We barely know each other,” he explained as his eyes connected with Sydney, who stood still as well, quietly staring back at him.
When Beckett focused back on Martín, his brown eyes gleamed as if he knew something they didn’t. “El corazón no miente.” Martín grinned. “Neither do the eyes.”
El corazón no miente? The heart doesn’t lie. Hell yes it does. Over and over again. And his relationship with Cora was proof of that.
Beckett cleared his throat and checked for a reaction from Sydney, but she was already on the move again. Instead, it was Oliver he’d discovered looking his way with a smile parked on his face.
Beckett waved his hand, motioning for Oliver to lose that stupid grin and walk.
As they followed Martín back to the hotel, he shared a few more details about the Mayans and their history.
Once they exited the jungle, Martín looked up at the helo still chopping the air, signaled something, and then the helo veered off in another direction.
“If you would like to get your belongings and meet my driver out front in fifteen minutes?” Martín suggested once they were by the archery targets. The grounds were still eerily quiet, and he assumed guests and staff were lying low until the bodies were removed, and they trusted the danger was gone. “Is that enough time?”
“Sure.” Sydney set the bow and quiver down on a table nearby as if she hadn’t used it to shoot a man not long ago. Her clothes appeared to be drying in the heat, same as his, but when she faced him, he spied her nipples through her white top, and he had to gulp and look away.
“See you soon, then. And glad you’re all okay,” Martín said before sharing the driver information for their pickup. Then he twirled his finger like a helo blade to rally his team to part ways.
“Did this really happen?” Mya looked around in disbelief once they were alone. “Is this a regular day at Falcon Falls? I mean, I know what Mason and the guys do is dangerous, but I’ve never been in the field to see it, so.”
“At least Mason has some sense,” Oliver mumbled, which earned him a scowl from Mya.
“I wouldn’t say this is a regular day,” Sydney answered a moment later as Mya opened her purse and dug around, probably looking for her phone to see if it survived their swim.
Beckett was fairly certain his phone was dead since it’d been in his pocket the entire time. He’d need to call McKenna and Ella from the phone in the hotel room before they left.
Shit, scratch that. If the cartel traced any outgoing calls to try and figure out their identity . . .
“Sydney, your cell phone is in your room, right?” he asked, remembering she’d only had her Apple watch when joining them at lunch.
“Yeah, you can call your daughter from it if you’d like,” she answered, reading his mind.
“Let’s get a move on.” Oliver set his hand on Mya’s back, motioning for her to walk, and Beckett and Sydney quietly followed them toward the hotel. Not a single guest, staff member, or police officer in sight yet.
The bar area emerged on their left as they neared the main part of the hotel by their suites, and Oliver tugged at Mya’s arm. “Don’t look,” Oliver warned at the sight of the bodies still lying on the ground. “I’ll walk you to your room so you can grab your things,” he offered Mya once they were inside the main building. Still no sign of life. “And don’t argue.”
Beckett waited for the two of them to part ways, then followed Sydney up the back stairs to her room, neither speaking a word, which suited him just fine.
Once in her suite, he let go of a heavy breath, trying to wrap his head around the last twenty-four hours. From the 1920s club to being saved by “ghosts.” He was pretty sure no one would believe the story even if he tried to sell it to the Enquirer.
“At least the keycard still worked.” She set the piece of plastic on the dresser in front of the mirror and began untangling her hair, working the strands loose from the braid that had miraculously stayed in place. “I could use a quick shower before we go. You?”
He looked down at his dirty, mostly dry clothes. He’d love nothing more than to wash off the craziness of the day.
“Not together,” she tossed out as if worried he may misinterpret her words.
Of course, after feeling like a pinball getting whacked around every which way today, sex shouldn’t have been on his mind. And yet . . . thoughts of Sydney straddling him in that cave earlier pounded his exhausted mind.
“I can be alone. You don’t need to babysit me. Plus, I think you’ve seen me partially naked enough for today.” That bit of humor, or maybe it was sass, had him smiling.
“I’d feel better if we stick together.” He shoved a hand in his pocket in search of his keycard, assuming his would work since Sydney’s had. “I can go grab my bag and come back.”
“Okay.” She handed him her keycard. “Take this in case I’m still naked”—she briefly squeezed her eyes closed—“I mean in the shower when you get back.” She pointed to the bed where her phone was and gave him the four-digit passcode to access it. “Feel free to call home when you return.”
“Thank you.” He waited for her to disappear into the bathroom before heading to his own suite. He locked the firearm into the weapons case and collected the rest of his belongings before making his way back to her room.
After discarding his bags by the door, he removed his boots and socks and let out a sigh of relief before grabbing her phone.
He listened to the running water from the bathroom while waiting for the call to connect with his sister, doing his best not to imagine Sydney naked in there.
“Sydney?” Ella answered, and Beckett forgot she’d most likely have Jesse’s teammate’s number saved. “Did something happen?”
“No, it’s me. Everyone’s fine.” He walked toward the terrace and shifted the curtains to the side to check for movement down below.
The resort was still a ghost town. Literally. Los fantasmas. Beckett spied two of Martín Gabriel’s men who’d rescued them earlier walking the beach as if standing guard.
“I had a weird afternoon, and my phone took a swim in a river, so that’s why I’m calling from Sydney’s line,” Beckett finally shared.