6
Razorback sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, watching Jackie traipse back and forth in yoga pants and a tank top as she cooked him and her daughter breakfast, her hair thrown up in a bun.
The room was an eclectic mixture of knotty wood, marble, and Mexican tile that should have seemed haphazard but looked expensive, like it had been done by a designer. Come to think of it, the whole resort looked that way, and he wondered if she’d done the work herself or had more money than he’d first assumed.
If she was wealthy, she wouldn’t have called in a favor from a dying man’s old Navy buddy, and that wasn’t the only reason that call was strange. They’d been summoned to another country after a minor break-in, an extreme reaction to such a small event, unless there was more going on here than he knew about, which was damn near nothing.
He had to get Jackie to open up, and he wished she needed something simpler like a hernia repair or an appendectomy. Talking had never been his strong suit.
He couldn’t figure out which was more uncomfortable—the awkward getting-to-know-you conversation they were currently having or her daughter staring at him critically from beneath her lowered brow. The girl was pretending to color, her small fist jutting out to mark the paper whenever he turned to look at her.
Kids were a mystery, and not one he intended to solve. They didn’t like him before the accident that had disfigured his face, and they sure as hell didn’t like him now. Children required emotional investment, and Razorback invested in no one but himself.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was tired. He’d been outside all night, keeping watch while Sloan and the females slept. After careful observation, he could say with a reasonable amount of certainty there was no one else on the property, and he wondered again exactly why he and Dvorak were here.
“Have you been out of the Navy long?” Jackie asked, cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Two years. Almost three.”
“And this HERO Force, how long have you worked for them?”
“October will be a year.”
“Are there a lot of ex-military working there?”
“Every last one of us in the New York office. I believe Atlanta has a couple of odd men out.” He stole a glance at Selena, and her arms shot out to draw a big red smear. “How old are you?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him. “Seven.”
“Do you like to color?”
“No.”
He grinned, the first genuine smile to cross his face since boarding the plane for Mexico. She had tightly curled brown hair and caramel-colored skin, with full pink lips and shapely brows just like her mother. He wondered about her father. What kind of man would Jackie Desjardins take to her bed? His mind happily illustrated the question, filling in the blanks with a man who looked a lot like Razorback himself.
He took a sip of scalding hot coffee and scowled, his moment of happiness abruptly over. Sure, Jackie was a good-looking woman, but she was not for him. When he got back to the States, he’d find someone. It had been too long. His body’s physical needs asserting themselves at an inappropriate time was clear evidence of that.
There was no shortage of women interested in screwing a Navy SEAL—even one who looked like he did—and a good fuck was all he wanted.
Jackie brought over plates and a skillet full of scrambled eggs, spooning some onto each dish. She had bruises along her jaw and the vestiges of a black eye he hadn’t even noticed last night. He took the plate she passed him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She ran water in the pan. “Looks like the sun might actually make an appearance today.”
So, they were onto the weather now. Small talk was one of the levels of hell. “Looks like.” He forced eggs down his throat. “Sunrise was pretty this morning.”
She turned. “Was it?” She clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry I missed it. The sunrise is one of my favorite things.”
Aww, imagine that. She probably loves puppies, too.
His eyes shot to the clock. He’d only been sitting here for twelve minutes. He needed to make more of an effort if he wanted this woman to trust him. “So tell me, what made you come to Mexico from the States?”
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “I just loved the lifestyle. I always dreamed of living on the beach.”
He could feel Selena’s stare and turned his head quickly to catch her. Her eyes went wide, the green crayon darting for the paper as she looked away.
“Then Bill moved down after he retired,” she continued. “It just made sense to stay.”
“Was he family?”
