Page 1 of Colombian Chemistry

CHAPTER ONE

Marcus

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The lime slipped down the neck of my bottle and plunked into my beer. Damn, I loved that sound. It meant the tourists had finally cleared off the beach in front of my cottage, and I could come out and sit beside the ocean and enjoy some peace and quiet for the evening.

The tourists preferred the daytime where they could soak up the sun and splash in the water. Not me. I spent most of my days hunkered down in front of my TV avoiding the hordes of brightly dressed people that flocked here on spring break. I’d chosen Columbia to retire because I’d assumed it wouldn’t attract many tourists, but the last two years the tiny little town I now called home had found social media advertising and bamboozled a bunch of US citizens into thinking Columbia was as safe to visit as the resorts dotting the Caribbean.

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.

Watching from my window, I’d witnessed more pickpockets rob vacationers of their valuables than I’d ever been able to count. Could I have stopped them? Sure. But screw that. I was retired. My days of getting involved with that sort of shit were long gone. I’d earned my right to sit back and let nature take its course.

Let the strong survive. I had, even though I’d come close enough to smell the dirt from my own grave at least a hundred times in the past decade. But now that chapter of my life was over, and I could enjoy the rest of my days sipping on beer and relaxing in this tiny little town in Columbia where the ghosts from my old life wouldn’t ever find me.

I kicked my feet up on the chaise lounge and lay my head back against the old pillow. A soft breeze blew off the water and shook the palm branches above me. A coconut broke loose and plummeted to the ground, but I ducked out of the way before it collided with my head.

That was close. Too close. I’d have to scale up there tomorrow and knock down the remaining coconuts. After surviving everything I’d survived in my life only to be taken out by a falling coconut, I’d be pissed. With a grunt, I knocked the little coconut off my chaise lounge, and it landed in the sand beside me.

Movement down the beach caught my eye. I focused on it and quickly assessed it wasn’t a danger. A woman. Her curvy silhouette moving through the ocean fray. Not that women couldn’t be dangerous. Christ. Some of the most dangerous creatures I’d ever encountered had concealed their lethal fangs behind lush, red lips. But this one moving closer and closer to my cottage looked like a tourist just making her way back for the evening. She strolled down the beach twirling her sandals in her fingertips as she gazed out over the moonlit ocean.

Movement in the bushes near her caught my attention, and this time the silhouette who appeared didn’t feel harmless. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I saw the man step out into the sand. A sixth sense I’d honed after all these years lit up like a flashing sign blinking danger. All animals had it, the inherent ability to sense peril, but most humans ignored their base instinct and wrote that sense off as being crazy or paranoid—a decision that often cost them their life. I knew to trust that feeling without question, and right now, my senses were all firing, warning me of a predator in the area.

A predator other than me.

I sat up in my chair and homed in on his movement. Each purposeful step he took brought him closer to the woman now materializing as more than a dark silhouette... a young, blonde woman, from what I could make out, as she neared my little cottage. Step by step, the man closed the distance between them, and step by step, she continued along her path, completely oblivious to the danger lurking behind her.

Civilians. So utterly unaware of the dangers surrounding them. Not me. I always knew every single threat in my vicinity, and not just because I was trained to notice everything and everyone in the blink of an eye, but because I’d already been like that most of my life. Hell, it’s part of why they had picked me.

Look behind you, blondie.

She didn’t. Of course. She strolled down the beach, twirling her sandals as she gazed out at the ocean.

My heartbeat slowed down as I watched the event unfolding.

Thump... thump... thump.

Instead of racing like most civilian tickers would in this situation, my heart slowed down when confronted with danger. An eerie calm washed over me as I felt all my senses snapping on like breaker switches. My muscles twitched at the ready.

Come on, blondie, turn the fuck around.

I didn’t want to get involved. The last thing I needed was the cops calling me in for questioning or some shit, but the closer I watched the man get to the woman—this incredibly beautiful woman—the more my instincts to protect her cranked up.

Don’t get involved, don’t get involved, don’t get involved.

I had a good thing going here, and calling attention to myself may mean I’d have to pick up and move again.

How can you not feel him behind you? Run, blondie!

He hovered just behind her now. One quick reach and he could have her in his clutches. The Sig Sauer hidden in the holster inside of my shorts pressed against my skin, begging me to pick it up again, tempting me back into my old life like it was desperate to come out and play once more. In less than two seconds, I could drop him to the ground, but I didn’t have a silencer on it, and the sound would alert everyone in the area and illicit an investigation.

His arm lifted, and I saw the glint of the knife in the moonlight.

Run, you stupid woman. Run!

But she didn’t.

Fuck!