Page 26 of Wrecked With You

As we walk past a spa with low-lying ground cover, Tony takes my hand. When I glance toward him, he tilts his head to indicate the small, steaming pool. Immediately, I feel my breasts tighten as I watch a completely nude woman arch back in ecstasy from her perch on the stone coping. A man in the water up to the waist is bent over, his head between her legs as another man bends over the first, his hands busy beneath the water, clearly stroking the first man’s cock.

Tony loosens his grip on my hand enough so that he can brush my palm with his finger, and it’s all I can do to keep my knees from going weak from the anticipation of being alone with him.

“There’s a lagoon-style pool on the other side of the building,” Mindy tells us. “And dancing on the deck at night if you prefer an outdoor environment rather than the nightclub. The nightclub requires clothes, but that pool never does. And if you prefer ocean water, there’s a path to the right that leads to the beach.”

She pauses, presumably for us to nod and look interested, which we do. Then she ratchets up the smile again and continues talking and walking. “During the day, we offer a variety of classes—everything from yoga to SCUBA to sailing. At night, we light the torches on the perimeter of the area and anything goes. You can check out beach towels from guest services. And, of course, there is always a staff member nearby to bring you whatever you might need. From condoms to cocktails, just say the word.”

She flashes a toothy smile, as if she’d just rattled off the island’s slogan. For all I know, maybe she did.

“Let’s see,” she continues, obviously running through a checklist in her head. “If you take that path to the right, you can follow the trail around the perimeter of the island. Be sure not to go past the barrier. We wouldn’t want to lose you in the jungle.”

We laugh in appreciation of her little joke as she nods toward a more civilized-looking path. “This way takes us to Wanton. That’s the section of the resort where your cabana is. A great location. Very secluded.”

We walk a few more feet, then pass a pool with a sandy, beach-style entrance. Several women are sunbathing nude, and when I glance at Tony, I can see he’s noticed, too. I feel a slight tug of annoyance, and tell myself it’s not jealousy.

“Do most of the guests mingle with the people they came with?” Tony asks, and I have to fight that tug again, even though I know he’s asking the question in order to suss out how best to find his contact.

“Oh, no. At Debauchery, everyone has the opportunity to get to know any other willing guest in an intimate way.”

I glance up at Tony with what I hope looks like lust in my eyes. He reaches out and squeezes my hand, helping me put on the proper show.

“This is our first time at any resort like this,” he says. “If we wanted to get to know somebody, how would we go about that? Are there events? Any sort of organized mingling? To be honest, we’re both a little shy. The idea of going up to someone in the pool and inviting them back to our cabana is a little overwhelming.”

“I hope we don’t sound like total amateur newbies,” I say, then try out a silly, girlish giggle. Honestly, I’m not sure I pulled it off.

We aren’t actually trying to hook up with another couple. Or with anyone for that matter. Instead, we’re trying to figure out the most efficient way of finding The-Asst. Because God knows the woman herself didn’t bother to set up an organized meet.

After my close-but-no-cigar almost-orgasm, Tony and I had spent over an hour on the plane discussing a plan for locating his contact.

“You really have no protocol in place whatsoever for locating this woman?” I’d asked, after he gave me a detailed rundown of how The-Asst had reached out to him on a dark web message board.

“None.”

“Why did she choose Debauchery?”

“Not a clue. She set the date. She disappeared.” He grimaces. “That’s about the sum of it.”

“No solid information and no clear plan for finding your contact, and yet here you are. You know that this could be a trap, right? Hell, it might be a trap that has nothing to do with your past. I’m sure you made enemies working at Deliverance.”

He’d flashed a well, duh look my direction. “Do you think that didn’t occur to me? I told you I didn’t need arm candy. I need a woman who can take care of herself. With brains and skills.” His smile was so sincere that it shot right through me, tingling all the way down to my toes. “That’s why I brought you.”

“Well, that shows some good instincts at least,” I said dryly. “But honestly, you’re taking one hell of a risk.” We both were, but I didn’t say the last part.

“It’s the first lead I’ve had in over a year,” he’d said. “I can’t not follow it.”

I’d nodded, but said nothing. What was there to say? I understood completely.

And now here we are in paradise, where we’ll either find out if the lead pans out or end up fighting for our lives. With both options equally possible. And that is part of why Antonio Sanchez is so fascinating to me. The way he simply dove into this mission, even with such a limited amount of information.

I’ve leapt before, of course. But always in the midst of a mission, when there’s a plethora of other facts that you can cling to like a life raft. He’s diving in at the beginning—and not only is there no raft, for all he knows, the damn pool is empty. It’s ballsy as hell. And exciting, too.

“There must be something you’re not telling me,” I’d insisted right before we landed. “Something else that brought you here. Some other bullet point on your agenda.”

He shook his head. “On the contrary. I’ve told you more than I tell most people.”

I’d studied his face, played back his voice in my mind. And by the time we touched down, I’d believed him.

Which has, frankly, left me with a niggling bit of guilt since I haven’t told him the truth about my interest in The Serpent. Then again, what’s it to him? He wants me here because of my skills. He never bothered to ask if I had an agenda of my own.