Libby’s voice softened a notch and she put a hand to her head, as if in pain. “I know where they are, where they’ve been all along.” She looked up at them, but avoided Jaxon’s direct gaze. “We need to leave for Belize.”
Ana moved toward Libby, her voice soft and reassuring. “Libby, we have no intel on Belize, it doesn’t make sense to start there.”
Libby laughed at that, the sound harsh as it echoed against the cold tile walls. “Doesn’t make sense? How the hell would you know what makes sense and what doesn’t? It was me they took three years ago. You have no idea what I went through. What they did to me—” Her voice broke and she fought back tears, but it was a losing battle. They sprang from her eyes, and she wiped them away impatiently. “I have marks on my body Ana, scars that were carved into my skin, and burned into my skin, and all because of him.”
She spat as she waved her fingers toward Jaxon.
“So don’t you stand there and tell me I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. It was me out there in the jungle, with those sick bastards.”
She paused, her eyes sweeping the stilled faces that regarded her in silence. Jaxon’s eyes had darkened and his mouth was tense, but he remained silent. When she spoke again, the coolly efficient woman from the past had stepped right back into her shoes with no effort at all.
“I’m leaving for Belize in the morning. Personally, I don’t give a shit if any of you come, but if you try to stop me…” Her eyes latched onto Jaxon’s, full of a venom that was barely contained in her next words. “I’ll kill you myself and save the DaCosta brothers the trouble.”
Chapter 15
Sweat ran down Libby’s neck.
She felt small rivers of moisture slowly drip their way over the sharp ridges of her spine and ribs, before sticking to her clammy skin. She fought the shiver that lay beneath the surface, trying to gather the heat that burned hard in her chest.
It hurt.
To be here with him less than a foot away hurt like hell.
A wave of nausea wracked her belly, and she clenched her lips, willing it to go away. She had no time to be weak. She was so over that.
Her shattered memory hadn’t just fallen into place quick and easy. It had blasted through her brain, bringing with it a bone-jarring agony, the likes of which she’d not had in a very long time. And that was saying something, considering most of the past three years was a blur of nothing but pain, physical and mental.
She’d been through it all.
She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, sensing myriad emotions from Ana and Declan, but more than that, totally aware of the shock that shrouded Jaxon’s shoulders. He was confused and angry. She didn’t have to look at him to know what he was feeling. It was coming off him in waves.
He moved toward her, and she shot him a venomous look. “Don’t.” Her single word stopped him cold, and she continued to glare at him until he stepped back.
She had no time to waste on Jaxon. She needed to find her son. She couldn’t even explain how or why she knew he lived. She just knew that he was alive. She felt it as a truth that was carved deep into her heart and soul. It wasn’t just a fanatical wish of a mother. Her little baby was out there.
And she would find him.
He had a name. Logan. It slid through her mind quietly, like a secret, and she turned on her heel, leaving stunned faces to stare at her back as she quickly made her way back up the stairs. Her side ached dully, but she isolated and put away the pain, something she was more than used to, and whispered to herself, “Mommy’s on her way.”
Reaching the bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind her, then leaned back against it and inhaled deep gulps of air.
The cold sweat that lingered on her skin swept the flesh in a sea of goose bumps, and she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to find warmth. Her torso was encased in an overlarge T-shirt, the only one she could find after washing the stench of Alexio from her skin.
The only one that didn’t hold the scent of Jaxon.
She couldn’t bear to have his clothes next to her skin. She felt a flush of anger begin to stain her cheeks as memories of the night before crashed into her.
Even now, her nipples ached and hardened as images of his naked body flashed in little picture frames across her brain. She groaned as her once cold and clammy skin began to burn with something other than the heat she sought.
It was a heat of want, need, and craving that fluttered in her belly, and Libby cursed the weakness of her body as she tried to block the memories from her mind.
She hated Jaxon Castille.
It made her sick to think that she’d let him make love to her, to know that her damaged, broken mind had allowed her body to betray her. It stuck in her gut like sour milk. She’d practically begged him for sex. And he’d been the one to walk away, as if it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
Hard anger washed over her, and she flung herself forward, drawn to the quiet night that lay just beyond the window. She opened it slightly, welcoming the soft breeze that wafted up from the lake below.
The night sky was dark, with few stars blanketing the canopy above.