Maybe Never (Maybe #2) (17 page)

I sigh. I should have known the FBI would know where I went. I can never really get away. I’ve been on duty every day for five years. You would think I could get a month’s vacation without being interrupted.
 

“Why?”
 

“We moved up the trial date for Lee Felton, and we need you back to prepare your testimony. We don’t want to take any chances that you are going to blow it, like you did at the girl’s trial.”
 

“Wait…what? I thought I had a month off. I thought his trial wasn’t for another two months.”
 

“Things change. You know that better than anyone. Just get your ass back here.”
 

I sigh in frustration. “Give me another week, and then I’ll be home.”
 

“Not good enough. We want you back by Thursday.”

“That’s tomorrow.”
 

“Yep.”
 

Shit
. I pace back and forth.
 

“Just book a flight home, Byrne.”

I hang up the phone and I walk back to my room without speaking to anyone. I push the button on the elevator to get me to the top floor where my room is and wait for the elevator. The doors open and I walk in. I turn, but I’m no longer alone. The blonde from earlier joins me in the elevator.
 

I press the button for the top floor since I am closest to the elevator panel. I ask, “What floor?”
 

She smiles at me and bats her eyelashes. “Top floor, same as you.”
 

I frown at her. I highly doubt that she is on the same floor as me, but I don’t argue with her. She can ride the elevator back down by herself when she realizes that she isn’t going to get anywhere with me.
 

The doors shut, and she waits to make her move when we hit the top floor. She drops her towel on the floor, which forces my eyes to look at the sudden movement. She seductively walks to me in her white bikini top and thong bottom. I notice she’s wearing heels for some reason. The only reason I can think that she would be wearing heels is to seduce men in elevators.
 

Normally, I would jump on the chance that she is offering me.
 

She walks until her body is just inches from mine. She smiles at me and then confidently runs her hand down my chest, like she has done this hundreds of times and has never gotten a no. I hate to disappoint her, but she is about to get her first.
 

I glance over to see the elevator is just two floors below the top.
 

I smile. She thinks I’m smiling at her. The doors open, and she holds on to my arm, like I’m her escort.
 

I shake my head. “Sorry,
señorita
, but I’m not interested.”
 

I step out of the elevator and she follows me with confusion on her face, and that’s when I realize she doesn’t speak English very well. I’m not sure what language she does speak. Spanish? French? Russian? I don’t know, and I’m not going to wait around to find out. So, instead, I guide her back to the elevator. I shake my head again and then leave her there alone to ride back down. I feel bad, but I’m sure a woman like that doesn’t have any difficulty with finding a warm bed and a man to keep her comfortable at night.
 

I walk to my room and unlock the door with the key card in my hand. I glance around the luxurious room I paid to relax in for the week, but now, I won’t be spending more than one more night in here. I walk to the bathroom and flip on the faucet in the large stone shower. I take off my swim trunks and then hop into the shower, not waiting for the water to warm up.
 

The cool water is refreshing as I let it pour down my face, washing away the salt and sand from the beach along with my sweat. As I shower, I try to decide what I’m going to do because I know, as soon as I step out of this shower, I’m going to have to decide.
 

Do I just go back to Las Vegas tomorrow, like the FBI wants?
 

Do I stay here and say fuck the FBI so that I can finish what I came here for?

My gut tells me to stay—at least long enough to follow this last lead. I need to find out whom her father met with here the week before he died. Once I know for sure that this is a dead end, then I can go back home. Then, I will know that I did the best I could as an FBI agent. Then, I will know that I kept my promise to Kinsley’s father.
 

I get out of the shower and towel off. I wrap the towel around my waist before pulling my cell phone out of the safe in the room. I walk out onto the balcony, trying to enjoy the last bit of sunlight as I make the first of two phone calls.
 

“Hello?” Juan says on the second ring.
 

“I need to meet tonight.”
 

“That’s not how this works.
Señor
Clavé will be available tomorrow night. He can’t just change to tonight. He has other business and other clients he works with.”
 

“I am no longer available tomorrow night. It’s got to be tonight, or you can forget my business.”

There’s a long pause.
 

“One thirty then. We will call you to tell you the place.”
 

I glance at my phone, seeing that it’s already a quarter till one. “Just tell me now. It will take me thirty minutes to get there.”
 

He laughs. “No, no. Not one thirty p.m. One thirty a.m.”

I roll my head back and forth. It’s going to be a long night if I agree to this.
 

“Fine.”
 

“Done.”
 

I end the call and then immediately call to schedule my flight for tomorrow afternoon. When that’s done, I climb into bed for an afternoon nap. I’m going to need it if I’m not meeting these guys until one thirty a.m.
 

***

I climb into the cab at one a.m. They still haven’t called me back to confirm where I’m supposed to go.
 

“
Adónde
?” the driver asks, wanting to know where to drive me.

“Downtown.”
 

“Downtown. More specific?”
 

“No, just drive me toward downtown.” I assume that is where we will be doing business. In the heart of Cancún, not near the tourist hotels and resorts where I am staying.
 

The driver begins driving, and I hold on to my phone in frustration. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into or what Mr. Felton was doing here before he died. It doesn’t make sense.
 

My phone rings five minutes into the drive.
 

“Hello.”
 

“Tell the driver to take you to Fourth and Juárez.”
 

The line then goes dead. I tell the driver more specific directions, and as I do, I know I’m going to regret this. I reach for my gun, making sure it’s still hidden away in my pants leg. As the driver takes me further into the shadier part of town, I’m afraid I’m going to need it.

The taxi suddenly comes to a stop outside an abandoned-looking building. I read the meter and hand the driver the money.
 

“
Señor
, are you sure this is the correct address?”
 

“
Sí
,” I say, stepping out of the car.
 

I walk toward the abandoned building, but stop and watch as the cab speeds off the second I’m out of the cab. I begin walking again slowly toward the building when the cab is out of view. All of my training as an FBI agent is telling me to run, to run fast and as far away from this building as possible, but I ignore my instincts and keep walking.
 

I get to the door, and then my hand reaches to push the cracked door open. It is less of a door and more of a piece of wood lying against the doorframe.
 

Voices stop me from entering. The voices are saying all the wrong things and confirming suspicions that, if I’m honest with myself, I have had for at least a year, possibly longer.
 

I was very wrong. Kinsley isn’t safe. She’s the furthest thing from it.

I slowly back away from the door and begin walking down the alleyway, away from the building. I couldn’t go into that building without backup, and I’m not sure I can trust the FBI with the information I just heard, not if I want to keep Kinsley safe.
 

So, instead, I keep walking away from the building and hope I’m not followed. Not because I care about my safety. My life means nothing, but Kinsley’s life means everything.

“That’s a wrap,” the director says.
 

Scarlett walks over to me but not before she winks at the director first. If I wasn’t here, she would be all over him.
 

“Thank you so much for doing that. You looked great in the commercial.”
 

Scarlett flips her brown locks back over her shoulder as the director walks by. “It was my pleasure.” She’s not looking at me.
 

“Come on,” I say, grabbing her shoulder and her oversized purse, and leading her out of the lobby of the Felton Grand hotel where the shoot took place. “Let me buy you lunch.”
 

“But…”

I shake my head. “That man is twice our age. You are not sleeping with him.”

“But he’s hot,” Scarlett whines.
 

I roll my eyes. “No.”
 

She pouts. “Since when did you get so bossy?”
 

“Since I’ve been stuck running a multibillion-dollar company and finding a way to keep my family from ending up in jail.”
 

Scarlett sighs. “Well, that is a depressing answer.”
 

“Just get changed and meet me for lunch at…” I glance over at Scarlett, but she isn’t listening to me.
 

Instead, she is flirting with some frat boys who are eyeing her boobs beneath her bikini top.
 

“Scarlett, go change,” I say, pushing her toward the restrooms just outside of the lobby and handing her her purse where she put her clothes that she came to the shoot in.
 

She looks down at her bikini top and ripped jean shorts, but doesn’t take her purse from me. “Why?”

“Because the restaurant won’t let you eat without a shirt on.”
 

“You own the restaurant. They will let us do whatever we want.”
 

“Change,” I say sternly, holding her purse out to her again.
 

Scarlett rolls her eyes at me but walks back to the lobby and over to the rack of wardrobe clothes. I watch from the hallway as she grabs a sheer tank top. She pulls the shirt on.
 

“Ready,” she says, bouncing back over to me. She, finally, takes the purse from my hands. “Come on, bitch. I’m starving.” She grabs my arm, and we walk to the Mexican restaurant in the hotel.

The restaurant is calm. Only a couple of other people are here since it’s a quarter after two in the afternoon. It’s not late enough for the evening crowds to start yet, so we easily get a nice booth. We take a seat, and I look over the menu.
 

“Can I get you two something to drink?” our waiter asks.
 

“I’ll have a water,” I say.
 

Scarlett’s eyes widen at my order, and she shakes her head. “We will each have a grande margarita. Thanks.”
 

“I have to go back to work after this. I don’t need a buzz when I’m dealing with figuring out how to implement the new marketing plan.”
 

“It’s exactly what you need. You need to relax. Who cares if the company goes under? Your grandfather deserves to have his company destroyed after what he did.”
 

My mouth drops open.
 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Scarlett immediately says when she realizes what just came out of her mouth.
 

She’s always been honest though, and I won’t fault her for that. Not again.
 

“No, you’re right. My grandfather doesn’t deserve to make any more money off the company, but the employees here don’t deserve to lose their jobs because of my grandfather.”
 

Scarlett nods. “I guess that makes sense. It doesn’t mean you have to give up your life to run a company you don’t even want to run. You can hire someone else and make it their problem.”
 

I nod as the waiter places the margaritas in front of us.
 

“Are you two ordering any food or just drinks?”
 

“Definitely food,” Scarlett says, glancing at the menu. “I’ll have the steak fajitas.”
 

“I’ll have the nachos,” I say.

Scarlett and I hand the waiter our menus.
 

I glance back to Scarlett. “I just don’t know what I want to do, Scarlett. I’ve never had to decide before. I’ve never even thought about it. And until I decide, I want to do a good job here.”
 

“Have you heard from Killian?”
 

I take a sip of my margarita. The alcohol immediately calms my nerves. Scarlett was right. I needed this.
 

“No, Killian hasn’t called. I don’t expect him to. I told him I couldn’t handle dating someone who hurt my family, but I was wrong. I don’t have a family. I want him, but I think I pushed him away.”
 

“He’ll come back though.”
 

I nod. “He’ll come back for my grandfather’s trial, but that’s exactly why he won’t date me either. He can’t date me and work for the FBI. They are still investigating my family.”
 

Scarlett sucks down half of her margarita. “God, your life is so messed up. I don’t know how you deal with it, Kins. The hardest decision I have to make is what clothes I’m going to wear in the morning.”
 

I remember that life. I remember not having to decide on anything, but I wasn’t happy. I asked for this. I asked to run the company. I asked to make decisions about my own life. And, now that I get to do that, I’ve made even more of a disaster out of my life.