The Story Of Us Part 4

"That's true. Maybe I'm a serial killer, and Finley and I have this big elaborate plan to make you our next victim."

Maverick grins. "Serial killers, huh? That would mean you've done this many times before, right?"

"Yep. Tons. We use aliases and everything."

"And the jellyfish sting?"

"All part of the plan. A way to lure you in."

"Hmm. Well, I'd have to say you're doing a great job. Never once have I suspected my life was in danger with you."

"We're experts."

"Definitely, yeah. I'm scared now. Terrified." Maverick stops walking and faces me. "I guess if we're doing the whole confession thing, it's my turn to come clean. I work for the Central Intelligence Agency, and I've been tracking you and Finley for two years now. You girls are as professional as it gets. You don't make mistakes out there. No prints, no DNA, no evidence. It's impressive."

"Wow," I say, staring down at the drink in my hand. "I've been caught. So where do we go from here?"

"We're at quite the impa.s.se."

"That's a problem."

Maverick moves in closer, just enough for me to feel heat waft off his body. "A big problem."

He lifts my chin, and our eyes lock. Gooseb.u.mps break out along my arms. Maverick's gaze is to blame, I know. The way it's anchoring me into place.

His mouth lowers to mine, and when our mouths meet, the moment is over too soon. A soft, quick brush of lips and he's gone. I open my eyes slowly, still feeling him on me. It's been a year since someone kissed me.

I liked it.

Maverick grins. "Maybe we can work out a plea bargain or something."

"I could deal with that. Finley might fight it, though."

"She's out of the country, out of my jurisdiction."

"So am I."

"I guess you're free and clear, then."

Maverick sits down on the sand, and I do the same, our legs barely touching. The moon reflects off the ocean, leaving a path of silver dancing on the ripples of water. It's so beautiful I wish I had my sketchbook.

For a moment, I study the angles, shapes, and hues of the scene in front of me. It would make a gorgeous tri-split black-and-white.

"What are you doing?" Maverick asks, leaning forward.

I don't realize I'm drawing with my finger in the sand. I stop, my gaze flitting to his. For a second, I'm not sure what to say. "Drawing."

"Drawing? Is that a hobby of yours?"

"Sort of," I answer, brus.h.i.+ng my hand over the doodle to erase it. "It's like therapy. A way to soothe the soul, I guess."

"You don't have to stop."

"I don't have paper or pencils. There's not much I can do."

"ALI!"

I twist at the sound of my name being screamed in a happy sort of way. It can only be one person. The one who ignored my calls.

Finley has her shoes in one hand and is skipping across the sand toward me. She's not alone either. Her laughter rings out through the night, and it's easy to tell she's had a few too many. The guy trailing her is carrying more drinks.

She falls to her knees behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and kissing my cheek.

"I love this place!" she squeals. "Can we live here?"

"What happened to the check-in rule?" I ask.

"I'm doing it now, see?" she says. "Check in! I'm allllll gooooood." Then she looks at Maverick. "Maverick, right? I'm Finley."

"Nice to formally meet you."

"Very nice." She bites her lip as she regards me. She's nodding, her eyes doing that thing where she thinks we have a telepathy connection. We kinda do. She's thinking about the list she made for me, specifically number one.

Finley's date finally reaches us. He's not the guy who informed her of the party. This guy has dirty blond hair and lacks the killer tan of the original date. Finley never gets stood up, so I wonder what happened for her to change partners.

Before she has a chance to introduce him, Maverick chin-ups in his direction. "What's up, Jake?"

"Not much, man. You?" Jake says.

"Same."

Finley's brows furrow in confusion. "You know each other?"

Maverick motions toward Finley's date. "Alieya, this is Jake, one of the guys I came with. Also law. Jake, this is Alieya. I helped her with a jellyfish sting earlier. Finley is her best friend."

Jake nods. "Cool."

Finley crawls around me and sits down, quickly disregarding the connection between her date and Maverick. "We're on our way back to the party. You coming?"

"Um..." I look over at Maverick, but he's talking to Jake. "I don't know."

Finley waggles her brows, and I know what she's about to ask. "So are you going back to his room tonight?"

Bingo.

I elbow her in the ribs. That's number one on her Ali-in-Cancun list: to get laid. I didn't approve the list.

"Guess that means our room will be occupied tonight, then?" she asks.

"Just by me."

Her eyes cut to Maverick then back to me. "One night, Ali. Why not?"

I think about the too-short kiss earlier. His warmth. The fire in his eyes. It's been so long since my heart has pounded like that. So long since I felt wanted.

No, not wanted. Important. Adored.

"I don't know, Finn," I say. "Because maybe he's worth more than just one night?"

Chapter 7.

Present Day 2:22 a.m.

The hallway stretches out in front of me in miles of linoleum and plastic walls. Doors on either side that lead to nowhere. My footfalls sound like weights dropping. They echo in my ears, each step seemingly louder than the one before.

I only know what the receptionist told me-Mav is in surgery. She couldn't tell me more. She directed me to the ICU and said they'd have more information for me there.

I replay our morning together. Had I known, I would have thrown my arms around him and told him how much I loved him. I would have said, I'm sorry.

Instead, I just watched his back as he left me alone in the kitchen. Now that image is burned into my mind. I'll fight with myself to change it, but it's part of the past, unchangeable.

I've always seen life in pictures, and the next one that emerges in my mind isn't better. No, it's worse. It's Maverick. Maverick in what's left of his car. Head against the steering wheel. Arms at unnatural angles. Gla.s.s piercing his skin, clothes torn, legs crushed, blood, blood, blood.

G.o.d, no!

My chest hurts, and I want to fall asleep and make it all go away. I'll only wake up again if I'm in Maverick's embrace. See him smiling at me like he used to, before the accident, before work, before life happened.

But I won't, because that's not reality, and Mav needs me.

The sign ahead says the ICU is to the left. I turn the corner to a set of double doors. Mav won't be behind them yet, but he will be soon.

I take a deep breath and push the door open. A new wave of nausea hits my senses at the odor of sterilizing chemicals.

I stand there, door wide open as I search for where to go. The nurses' station is only a few feet in front of me. I walk forward. The desk is foreign to me with all of the charts and computer screens and monitors with information known only to those who work here.

There's only one nurse, and she stands up when she sees me. "Can I help you?"

I swallow and nod. "Maverick Tavare. He's my husband."

She types on her computer, then looks at me. "I'm sorry, but I'll need to ask you a few questions. What's your husband's date of birth?"

"It's on his license. Is he okay? When I can see him?"

"I know, and I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't use drivers' licenses for identification."

"It's, um, November sixth."

"Do you know his social security number?"

I'm fl.u.s.tered and it takes me three tries to remember.

"Does he have any medical concerns, on medication, or allergies to medications?"

I shake my head that he doesn't.

"Okay. You can have a seat in the waiting room, and we'll come get you as soon as we can."

"No," I say, shaking my head in fast movements. "No, you don't understand. I have to see him. I have to know he'll be okay."

"I'm sorry. He's still in surgery."

"For what? What are they doing?"

"I'm sorry. I don't have that information. The doctor will be out to speak with you as soon as they can."

"Please," I beg. "Anything. Can you tell me anything?"

"I'm sorry," she repeats.

I'm sorry? Sorry, sorry, sorry.

I'm not interested in apologies. I push away from the counter, covering my mouth to contain a frustrated sob. Now, all I can do is stew in my fear.

I scan for the waiting room the nurse directed me to, but instead I find Officer Arrent. He's off to the side, by the doors. The nurse had no information. He won't either, of course, but he was at the scene.

"How did it happen?" I wonder if he's already told me and I just can't remember.

"It's still under investigation, but it looks like the other driver fell asleep and crossed the yellow line."

"What happened to him? The other driver?"

"Also unresponsive."

I lower my gaze to the floor.

Officer Arrent's walkie goes off, and he answers, "Copy that. I'm on my way."

Concerned, he focuses on me. "I hope your husband will be all right."

I nod. "Thank you. Today was our one-year anniversary." I don't know why I say the last part. Officer Arrent has been kind enough to stay with me, which probably isn't normal protocol.

"I almost forgot." He pulls a small white envelope out of his pocket and hands it to me. "Here, I found this. There was a bouquet of roses in the vehicle."