“Oh, that I do.” Mya playfully scowled. “I’d love to hear more about Carter though. He’s such a wild card. A mystery. And if he’s like you . . .?”
“Carter is . . . well, Carter.” And that was all they were going to get, huh? Yeah, she really was like Carter, then. Camila went for a quick subject change and said, “I’m surprised he didn’t bring Dallas with him here. Doesn’t he always travel with his dog?”
“Lately, he has someone back in Pennsylvania watching Dallas on ops, so he doesn’t have to worry about something happening to him,” Sydney explained.
“Ah, that makes sense. He loves that animal more than he likes most people.” Camila grinned. “Can’t say I blame him.” She turned to leave, but then went still and released a deep breath. “How well do you know Elaina?”
Ohhh. Hmm. Now she was the one with questions. “Not well,” Sydney shared. “Why?” Was she remembering Elaina’s words to her last night? Did they spook her?
Camila’s profile was to Sydney, so she couldn’t get a great read on her as she said, “It’s just interesting how we all managed to be here. How everything is connected. And she seemed to know it would work out this way.”
“But she couldn’t intervene. Not yet, at least,” Mya said. “But I’m guessing Elaina felt the need to come to Chile now because she has to step in and help us at some point?”
Sydney peered at Mya as she waved a hand in the air as if still processing the last two days. Meeee too.
“And Elaina’s visions, they’re always accurate?” Camila slowly faced them, lowering the leather notebook to her side, eyes moving to Sydney this time.
“From what I know, but . . .” Sydney’s eyes thinned as she studied her. “Was she wrong about you? Are you not like her?”
Sydney was pretty sure Camila’s smile was the first fake one she’d seen. Her eyes didn’t crinkle around the edges like all the other times. “No visions like hers, no.”
Why does that feel like a loophole answer? But Sydney wouldn’t prod. It wasn’t her business.
“It just amazes me everything that has transpired because one eccentric billionaire is obsessed with Capone and the twenties. And had he never visited that club, your friend Beckett would never have come to Mexico . . .” Camila’s words faded a bit into the air.
“A crazy string of events and all that jazz that brought us together,” Mya added on while snapping her fingers.
“Yes.” Camila nodded. “Destino.”
Fate.
“Wait . . . jazz.” Mya nearly bumped her head on the bed above her as she jumped to her feet. “Sydney, remember your grandfather’s eightieth birthday party? Your dad’s dad.”
“How could I forget? It was a month before he died. Why?”
Mya set a hand on the top bunk, her eyes going to the floor as if working through her thoughts. “Your grandfather asked you to sing at the party. None of us even knew you could sing. And you didn’t want to, but you’d do anything for him, so you sang his favorites.”
Sydney smiled at the memories. Her dad’s parents were so different from her own, and she was grateful they’d had a hand in raising her while her father had been busy building his empire.
“The songs you sang that night,” Mya said while circling her hand in the air as if Sydney was supposed to understand her point but was still not on the same page. “The ones you said your grandmother taught you were—”
“From the twenties,” Sydney finished for her, starting to understand where she was going with this.
“Ah, I see,” Camila said with a nod. “If we can find a way to get Jorge’s attention, that might be our chance to get close to him without getting killed, like I apparently would have yesterday had I gone near his house.”
Sydney pointed at her chest, still damp from sweat from their early morning run. “You want me to sing? What, at the club Wednesday night?” No, that was crazy. Give her a gun. A bow. A target to take out. Sure. Sing in public again? No, that was a one-time-only thing because she adored her grandfather.
“There’s a twenties band that will be performing, and I’m pretty sure the event sign I saw in the hotel lobby advertised a female singer.” Was Camila really agreeing with Mya’s idea?
Sydney adamantly shook her head and folded her arms. “We’re not going to kidnap the lead singer so I can take over for her. How would that even work anyway?”
Camila reached for Sydney’s forearm, setting it there while looking into her eyes. “Money talks. Carter has plenty. He can buy this woman off. Ask her not to show up.” Her eyes gleamed as if the plan was brilliant. “You happen to be at the club, and Jorge will be disappointed when the singer is a no-show. Then you stand up and offer to sing. This will catch Jorge’s attention.” She was nodding as if the scheme was already a done deal. “You seduce the man with your voice by singing his favorite songs.”
“Right.” Mya snapped her fingers. “And if he happens to invite you to his table after, that’s our way in.”
“But you’ll say you’re with your boyfriend and friends, and you can’t leave them out, so you turn him down.” Camila was smiling now. “A man like Jorge will love a challenge. A taken woman that saves his night by singing . . . he will want you. He’ll insist we all join his group.”
“So, I’m bait, huh?” Sydney laughed at the absurdity.
“It’s worth a shot. Your teammate, Jesse, will be there. You’ll have some of us with you as backup,” Camila offered. “My four men are still staking out the hotel. So, we have them too.” She nodded. “This might be our only way to get our foot in the door in the literal sense.”
Sydney palmed her cheek, feeling the heat rise to her face. “Let me cool off and shower while I think about it.”
Camila let go of her arm, and Sydney grabbed her shower kit from her luggage. “Destino,” she said behind her. “There is no question now. It is all fate.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Flustered and still heated from her run, despite the fact it’d been barely fifty outside that morning, Sydney rushed to the closest bathroom in the hall. She clutched her shower kit to her chest while reaching for the door handle but nearly fell as the door opened inward.
“Whoa,” Beckett said, grabbing hold of Sydney’s arm as she almost crashed straight into his brick wall of a naked chest.
She stepped back into the hall and nervously looked around for Gray or even Jack. But they were alone. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled, releasing her arm and setting a palm to the doorframe, his muscles on full display.
“I guess it’s your turn to be half-naked around me lately, huh?” She swallowed, trying not to remember when she’d gone to his bungalow and found him showering that night. And now here they were, Tuesday morning in Chile, and he was shirtless, his body still wet from his shower.
She worked her gaze from his chest to his full lips, then on to his dark, slicked-back hair. Hair she wanted to thrust her fingers into and tug at, urging him to draw that mouth of his to hers.