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66
MARGO
Negal looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what she was implying. Was it a language barrier?
His English was perfect, including a general American accent that wasn't regional, but he'd said something about being from Portugal, so maybe English wasn't his native language, and he didn't get some of the phrases and idioms.
It was either that or he was naive, but that couldn't be the case. The guy looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, was as gorgeous as a god, and moved like one, too. There was no way he was inexperienced.
He was also very clearly attracted to her, so it wasn't like he didn't know what she'd been talking about.
"So, no one touched you sexually," he said. "You are sure of that?"
"Yes." She smiled and took his hand. "Let's go, or the others will think that we are doing something inappropriate."
He didn't need her to lead him back to the table, but it felt good to hold his hand, and she wanted more of the contact.
"What do you mean?"
She shook her head. "Never mind."
It must have been a language thing.
He looked down at where their hands were conjoined and then back up at her, but his eyes were hidden behind the dark sunglasses, so she didn't know what he was thinking.
Maybe it was not something he was comfortable with?
"I'm sorry." She let go of his hand.
"No, don't be." He reached for her hand and clasped it. "I like it. It's just that I don't know the local customs all that well, so I'm not sure if it's common for strangers to hold hands."
"We are not strangers." She started walking to hide her embarrassment. "You saved me, and I'm grateful. That's how I show my gratitude."
That was such a load of baloney, but if he really wasn't familiar with American culture, he might take her word for it.
"It's nice," he said.
"You sound so American. Are you really from Portugal?"
"I've lived there for a while, but I also travel a lot. My friends and I are flea market bargain hunters."
"No way." She stopped and looked up at him. "How does a bargain hunter become a cartel mob buster?"
"I was a soldier back in the day." He resumed walking.
That explained so much.
He could be from a military family that had traveled all over the world, and then he had become a soldier himself. Negal's English was good, and he sounded like a native because it was his first language, but because he had traveled and lived all over, he hadn't learned all of its nuances.
"Were you homeschooled?" she asked when they entered the dining room.
Frowning, Negal pulled out a chair for her. "I don't know what that means."
"Your mother teaching you to read and write," Kevin said. "I was homeschooled. First by my mother and then by tutors."
There was a buzzing sound and Kevin pulled out his phone. "Oh, good. We should get ready. Our pickup is on its way."
"What pickup?" Jasmine asked. "I thought we were leaving in the helicopter."
