“Damn,” Mya repeated, her eyes bright.
“Back at ya.” Sydney smiled when Mya took her turn to spin, holding out the sides of her skirt. Their dresses were identical except for the color of the sash. Mya’s was red, the bold color fitting for her friend’s personality. Spirited. Sexy. Confident. Take charge.
Mya was able to win over everyone—from cartel thugs to New York suits—and in the process, had them confiding their deepest secrets, armed with only a defiant lift of her chin and a sharp gaze.
But she was also kind. Vulnerable. Sensitive. Willing to share her emotions, unlike Sydney.
They were both alike in some ways. And yet so, so different at the same time.
“Beckett’s going to lose his mind.” Mya’s words had Sydney playfully scowling.
“And Oliver?” Sydney teased. “Has he seen you in your dress?”
“Not yet. And he can pour on the flattery, but I refuse to forgive him for slapping a hand over my mouth and yanking me into that hole. Even if that was all your doing.” Mya’s smile had Sydney wanting to call bullshit on her supposed “animosity” for Oliver. “I still can’t believe this day happened. I mean, we went from relaxing on the beach to the bottom of a cenote to escape cartel shooters. And everything else since then.” Mya walked past her and sat on the bed.
Sydney lifted the skirt of her dress slightly before heading toward Mya.
“So, are you okay?” Mya repeated. “I swear, I could kill Alice. Well, not actually kill her like”—she made a fist and mimed stabbing a knife at her chest—“stabby-stabby. But you know, I’m just . . . pissed.”
Sydney let go of the skirt while shaking her head and smiled because only Mya’s cheeky sense of humor could lighten her up at a time like this.
She needed to stitch herself together after talking to Levi, and she had no desire to pull at a thread and find herself unraveled again. “I’m okay. You know me, I don’t care about Alice or Seth. Just Levi.”
Mya frowned. “When did the Seth-and-Alice thing start up again?”
“I don’t know. Levi saw them together a few weeks ago, but he didn’t say anything to me until the other day.” And then he saw them again today. “But Seth’s ill-timed and ‘important’”—Sydney made air quotes—“phone call makes me think Levi confessed the same news to Seth just today.” The achy sensation in her stomach returned. “Levi was so mad at Seth after the affair. It took him a long time to forgive his dad, and I just don’t know what this will do to him. Seth promised him that it’d been a mistake four years ago, and he’d never meant for anything to happen with Aunt Alice. Well, that’s how Levi referred to her back then.”
“He calls her the She-Devil now when he mentions her to me,” Mya said with raised eyebrows. “Levi is strong, and he’s older now. Plus, he has you.”
“Yeah, except I’m here working, and I should be there with him and—”
“Stop.” Mya jumped up and gestured with her hands, calling up her Italian ancestry. “Levi loves the work you do. He admires you so much, and I don’t think you see that because Seth-the-fucktwat is always in your head.”
Mya’s spot-on assessment had chills crawling up Sydney’s spine, and it felt like she was wearing a corset that had been cinched too tight. Fuck, it hurt more than she cared to admit, but only because her pain was for her son.
“Levi just wants me to focus on being careful during this job.” She pointed to her phone on the bed. “We just talked. He’s doing his best to pull himself together, but I know if he thinks I’m falling apart, it’ll be harder on him.”
“You don’t fall apart. So, no worries there.” Grabbing hold of Sydney’s forearm, Mya continued in a softer tone. “But honestly, ever since you left your dad’s company, Levi has been happier. I think he saw how much you hated working at Archer, and he knew it wasn’t what you wanted. You know, he thinks of you like you’re a Marvel comic book hero in the flesh. He knows you’ll get through this new challenge, and he will too.”
Sydney set her free hand to her abdomen as a tingling sensation fluttered across her skin.
“Everything will be okay. I promise.” Mya lightly squeezed her arm. “I jumped into the . . . well, more like I was forced into that cenote today. And if I can do that, anything is possible.” She winked playfully, trying to lighten Sydney’s mood. Something few people could do. “Fate. The Universe. The Cosmos. Whatever you want to call it. Something bigger than us is going on right now, don’t you think?”
Sydney nodded, a bit spellbound by her friend’s new outlook on life. That book by Joe-something-or-other had really made an impact.
“Let’s look at the facts,” Mya said, sliding into journalist mode, and began counting by slapping her fingers against her open palm as she listed evidence to defend her stance. “I chose Tulum to meet with my Sinaloa contact.” Slap. “Beckett happened to trace his ex’s sister to Mexico, and she’s connected to the same cartel.” Another slap. “Then, while we were on the beach talking about that hot hunk of a cowboy sheriff, he shows up.” Slap, slap, slap.
Hot hunk of a cowboy sheriff? Sydney smirked as the image of Beckett wearing only a towel had her pulse pounding. And that hug. And the almost-kiss.
“And then, to top it off, this crew of vigilante hotties saves us. Their leader, Martín, happens to know your boss and owes him a favor. And it’s his mission to take down the same freaking cartel we’re after.” Mya opened her palms and lifted her chin to the ceiling as if she had a direct line straight to the Big Man in the sky. “Someone is pulling our strings, leading us on this path.”
“When you put it that way . . .”
Mya lowered her gaze to meet Sydney’s. “What if this is also fate’s way of bringing you and a certain someone together? Have you considered that?”
Before Sydney could respond, there was a knock at the door. “It’s us,” Beckett announced.
Mya waggled her brows as if to say, Mmhmm, and here that certain someone is now. “Shit.” She set a hand to her forehead. “My Botox is wearing off if I can do that.”
Sydney chuckled. “You’re too young for that,” she tossed out while starting for the door.
“Hey, it’s preventative. Just planning ahead.”
Sydney looked back and smiled before opening the door.
Beckett and Oliver stood on the porch, and it appeared Martín had provided them with new clothes as well. Unlike the traditional Mexican dresses she and Mya were wearing, they wore khaki linen pants, button-down shirts—Beckett in black and Oliver in blue—and loafers.
Sydney swallowed as her gaze connected with Beckett’s a moment later. They remained quietly studying each other, and it took Mya nudging Sydney in the back to “get a move on” for Sydney to budge.
“Hm. I guess you’re capable of cleaning up nicely,” Mya commented, joining Sydney on the porch. She had to assume Mya was teasing Oliver, but how could Sydney look anywhere other than at Beckett?
She freed herself from his eyes only to trail them down the column of his tan throat to where the top two buttons of his shirt were open.