Page 11 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Burying the memories, I drained the last of my coffee, then went to dress. Distressed shorts, a white halter-neck crop top, and flip-flops were my vibe for the day. All designer, of course. But I couldn’t face putting in my contacts or wearing the dark wig; sunglasses would hide my eyes just fine. I twisted my hair up, shoved a floppy hat on top, and called it good. Time to explore and grab me more coffee.

I wandered down to the hotel lobby. The space was bathed in hues of nature, a delightful mix of ocean blues and soft sage greens. The foliage rose in organic swirls, while large photos of seascapes and marine wildlife decorated the walls, adding to the illusion of a coastal dream. The place was palatial—a fancy, upscale establishment.

‘Morning, Ma’am,’ a concierge greeted with a polite smile as I passed, and I nodded courteously as I escaped through the door.

The heat blanketed me, penetrating down to bone—it was delightful. Above, the sun hung in the sky like a wishing well of molten gold, and the warm, sweet, salty air embraced me like an old friend—I was swimming in the briny aroma. I strolled to the beach past swaying palm trees, and flip-flops in hand, walking barefoot, my feet sinking into the soft golden powder. As I walked, the murmuring of the waves, which gently drenched the sand, was a lullaby for the soul.

I decided today was for exploring—the target wasn’t due for another two days.

Tomorrow I’d slip back into assassin mode. But today, I needed to chill, and I needed a gift for Guinn.

I meandered along the boardwalk, lined with pretty boutiques and local art shops, checking out displays. Jewellery sparkled in glass cases, colourful clothes billowed on racks, gifts of all types, and handmade crafts tempted from every corner. Eventually, I spied a cutesy purple cropped sweatshirt with a dolphin motif. Guinn adored dolphins. I paid, tucked the sweatshirt into my small designer backpack, slung it over my shoulder, and resumed the hunt—for coffee.

‘A double espresso, please,’ I said to the barista, who repaid me with a Cheshire cat grin.

‘Coming right up.’

I took my coffee to an empty bistro table outside and sat, sipping the dark roast while checking Google maps on my private phone. I only ever used that one for Guinn.

‘Mm, this coffee is divine,’ I murmured to myself.

‘Hey.’ Came an unexpected voice. I looked up to find a tall, dark, surfer-type sitting in the chair across from me like he belonged there. He placed his drink on the table and gave me a cocky smile. ‘So… Tell me about yourself.’

What a nincompoop.

I pointed to my face. ‘Does this look like the type of girl who wants company?’

His eyes rounded, and without a word, he scraped his chair back and pissed off. Good choice.

I returned to my phone and shot a quick message to Guinn.

“Hey, baby. How’re you? What you been up to? I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but I should know soon. We’ll see that movie when I get home ”

Guinn would reply when she got the chance.

‘More coffee,’ I muttered to myself, grabbing my cup and leaving my sunglasses on the table as I headed back inside.

I was half-glancing at Google Maps in one hand and clutching my fresh coffee in the other when it happened: I caught my foot on a wayward chair—the one the surfer-nincompoop had abandoned—and went flying. My coffee launched skyward, my phone slid from my flailing hand, and my hat whipped off, releasing my hair in a chaotic tumble.

Shit.

Before I landed face-first, I collided with something solid—very solid. My face bounced off a hard chest—and I almost broke my nose. I recoiled, wild-eyed, pressing a hand to my face.

‘Yikes, what are you made of? Marble?’ I grumped, eyes darting around for my phone and hat.

I spotted the phone under a nearby bistro table and stepped towards it—only for that immovable chest to block my path again.

Seriously?

Feeling anger thrum under my skin, I peeled my eyes up the chest, landing on a face. The planes and angles of his face were attractive in a harsh sort of way, but damn if he didn’t wear that scowl like a weapon.

His expression was pure menace.

Hands opening and closing at my side, I glowered at him. I had a fast and loose approach to danger—this part of me needed punching in the kisser—and an uncontrollable tickle of anticipation fluttered up my spine because this guy looked dangerous. But I calmed myself; beating on a muscled guy was not in my persona. I’m not submissive, not even close, but I was playing a part: a quiet divorcee. Harmless and forgettable. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath through my nose.

Taller than me by about three inches, put him around five-eleven, but his bearing and muscular frame made him seem much bigger. I went to step around him again to get to my phone. He stepped with me. Again.

‘Good gracious, what’s your problem?’ I asked in an amused voice. ‘Are you hangry? Aww, you’re totally hangry, aren’t you?’