She nodded. "Do you have a bottle of water? That will help."
"I won't be long." He pulled the bottle from the war bag and then kissed her gently. "Please stay here, Airiana." His fingers found her hair of their own accord. He was so far gone that he couldn't just walk away and take care of business. He detested leaving her when she looked so vulnerable.
She touched his face. "I don't think I could move if I had to. Just find us a place to rest. I'll be fine."
"I've been here before. I can get us anything we need," he said with confidence.
He'd used the resort on three occasions over the past five years. All three times he'd been hunting and had used the resort as his base. He'd established his cover--a businessman from the United States, Max Walberg, and all three times, he'd been successful in ridding the world of three very dangerous men. One had been a Russian mobster, another a Colombian drug lord and the third had been a senator from the United States.
The three men had all died of "accidents." He was very good at slipping in and out of the shadows without being seen. And he was especially good at establishing a rapport with owners of small resorts.
His clothes were worse for wear, but they were more damp than wet thanks to the warm wind and the long walk. He entered the tiny office. The family who owned the resort actually resided there and the office was in the front of their residence. The moment he entered a bell rang.
Jorge Estrada never appeared to sleep. Maxim always arrived in the middle of the night, and Jorge always greeted him within minutes, fully dressed, alert and with a welcoming smile. Over the years Maxim had made certain to recommend the small resort to "friends," and Jorge appreciated the business. Maxim was also a heavy tipper.
"It's been too long," Maxim greeted the man. "How's your family?" The resort was a family-run business with uncles, aunts and cousins helping out. Jorge had three beautiful little girls who sang songs as they followed their mother around.
"Good. Good. But I don't have your room ready. There was no reservation." Jorge looked extremely distraught. He prided himself on his efficiency.
"What?" Maxim looked shocked. "My secretary made all the arrangements. This has been a horrible day. I got married, Jorge. I've brought my bride here for our honeymoon. I told my secretary to make certain we had the honeymoon cabana."
Jorge looked more upset than ever, shaking his head.
"We got in a car accident," Maxim added. He held up his hand when Jorge looked as if he might have a stroke. "We're both a little beat up but fine. We're just tired and hungry and now this. Do you have anything open?"
The honeymoon cabana was set apart on the beach. It was kept for big spenders, the jewel of the resort, and it was exactly what Maxim wanted. There were no other huts close, and he'd be able to see the enemy coming a mile away. He always carried money in his war bag, extra clothes and weapons, and in this case, the money would come in very handy.
"I told my wife all about the honeymoon cabana. She'll be disappointed, but she'll understand."
"No. No. You must have it, Senor Max. There is no reservation until two nights from now. I can find something else for them."
"But this works out perfectly," Max said, very happy, all smiles, pulling out his wallet and handing over a huge sum of money without so much as glancing at it. He was beaming. "We can't stay more than a couple of days. That's why it was so important to me; I've got another trip I have to make and I didn't want her upset cutting our honeymoon so short. This is great, Jorge, thanks."
Jorge handed over the key. "Are you hungry?"
"Anything would be fine, Jorge. You know me, a burrito will do the trick. Whatever you've got."
"What about your wife?"
"Anything you have will be fine."
"I'll bring you something in a half hour."
"That sounds great. Thanks." He'd established Max Walberg's easygoing personality five years earlier. The staff liked him and always went out of their way for him because he never complained and he always thanked them both verbally and with his money.
Maxim made his way back to Airiana slowly, his eyes finding her in the darkness. For a moment, he had to stop, love overwhelming him. It rose out of nowhere, that intense emotion he never thought he'd feel. She was curled up like she often did, her knees drawn up in the chair, her chin on top of them. She was alert, just as she promised. Every few moments she'd lift the bottle of water to her mouth and take a sip to keep herself awake.
"Everything is set, baby," he said as he approached her.
She looked up at him and smiled. Just that. A smile. His heart reacted with a strange twist that was actually painful. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered--and it had little to do with her looks.
"How far is it to our cabana?"
"Honeymoon cabana," he emphasized.
She lifted her head with an effort and pushed back her hair. "Wow. My dream honeymoon. I'm looking like a drowned rat, and you're all perfect again."
His eyebrow shot up. "Perfect? It's nice to know, when you aren't thinking of kicking me, that you think I'm perfect."
She held up her arms, forgetting all of her former objections to being carried. She was evidently too tired to worry about appearances. She slid her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face against his throat.
Maxim carried her to the honeymoon cabana, his heart pounding hard with every step. He hadn't known a man could feel the way she made him feel. He hadn't known he was capable of such an intensity of emotion.
The cabana was built solidly, although the roof appeared to be straw and grass. The inside was nice, beautifully laid out for a man like him. The windows were large for views and he could see several quick exits should there be need. He set her down in the center of the room and looked her over.
He'd never felt so possessive of anything--or anyone--in his life. In that moment, he realized his woman had less choice than he did. He would never let her go now that he'd made up his mind he would stay with her. He would love her with everything in him--and he would guard her with a ferocious passion that would probably drive her crazy.
"Do you have any idea what you've gotten us into?" he asked, still half angry that she could change his life in the blink of an eye.
She smiled. "Right now, Maxim, all I want to do is lie down and sleep. Can we talk about relationships later? If that's what you're referring to."
"Come here. You need to get in a warm shower. Jorge will bring food in twenty minutes and he's usually very prompt. I'll want you to stay out of sight until he's gone. I need to check your feet again, make certain there isn't sand in those cuts."
She took the two steps to him, standing in front of him, looking up with so much trust in her eyes he nearly groaned. "I used air to cushion them as we walked."
"Damn it, honey. You're killing me." He didn't tell her why. What was there to say? He'd already made up his mind she was his, and he was taking her whether he deserved her or not. Whether it was a good idea or not. "Lift up your arms, I'm going to take your shirt off."
Airiana's sky blue eyes met his. She blinked and complied with his command, allowing him to tug off the wet, salty T-shirt, revealing the massive bruises over her ribs where Gorya had kicked her. He expected her to cover her breasts, but she didn't. She just stood in front of him without a murmur while his hands dropped to the fastening of her jeans.
He had been thinking only of getting her warm, clean and in bed where she could rest, but seeing the look of absolute trust sent an unexpected rush of heat through his veins. Trust such as hers was a precious gift few ever received in their lifetime. She'd gone into the sea with him when she didn't know how to swim. She'd shot more than one man for him. He'd given her a crash course in using a tank beneath the water and she'd been terrified, but she'd done it.
Without a doubt, if he insisted on having sex with her, no matter how exhausted she was--or afraid--she would give herself to him. He could see her consent--her gift--in her eyes. She'd been sho
wing him all along what love was and he hadn't gotten it. He had wanted to reach for it with both hands, yet he hadn't, and that hadn't stopped her from giving to him the same unconditional trust that she was giving him now.
She offered him the world, right there in her blue eyes, and he'd thrown it back in her face. His offer to her had been more of an order, a command. Her choices were gone--taken from her--almost as though, without realizing it, he was retaliating against her. He'd been arrogant, so certain he knew better than anyone else, yet truthfully, he'd been afraid to love, to have so much to lose all over again. He'd been striking out at the person who had offered him a priceless gift instead of treasuring her.
He shimmied her wet jeans down her legs, wincing when he saw the stark bruises there as well. It was a wonder she'd walked so long. He'd sustained bruises like that during fights and knew firsthand how painful movement could be.
He stripped and threw his clothes on top of hers. The resort had a laundry service and perhaps they could save the items. At the moment, he only cared about getting Airiana into a shower to get the sea off of her and then into a bed to rest.
Taking her hand, he led her into the bathroom, surprisingly luxurious for a cabana. The water was warm immediately and he tugged to bring her under the spray. When he glanced down at her, she was frowning. His heart jumped.