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South Padre is less than two hours from my house, so I decided this morning to meet with him.
I could be walking into a trap. He could very easily be employed by some federal agency. I could’ve just driven away from my house for the last time. I might be waking up in a cell in the morning.
You’d think that knowing all of this, understanding that Lauren may be tied to my bed until she dies, would stop me.
It doesn’t. I only drive faster.
I see Lauren Vos as no different from cancer. She has somehow sneaked inside of me, eating away at parts of me. Even though I know now what she’s done, she took over so thoroughly, I know she’s going to be the death of me.
I don’t want to go to prison, although anyone who knew all my secrets would think I belong there. By legal standards, I guess I do. I’m a criminal. There’s no other way to look at it. I know Lauren has committed crimes, done things she’d never get away with if they were committed on US soil, but her actions were for the greater good.
I just kill people when working because it’s the easiest way to get paid and get back home.
So, yeah, prison would suck, but I realized her being at my house is just another form of prison, one I openly welcomed by pulling her from Mexico.
I put myself in this situation, and I need to learn from my mistakes.
The thought of getting incarcerated and leaving her to rot on my bed makes my stomach turn. She dies, she needs to be just as beautiful as she is while living, my marks painting her skin rather than shriveling up from lack of nourishment.
It also makes me take a moment’s pause after parking my truck at the beach.
Even though it’s winter here in Texas, there are still a handful of people walking close to the water. It wouldn’t be impossible to kill the man I’m meeting, but those people pose a risk.
Seagulls cry out overhead as I climb out of my truck and make my way to the sand.
I’m honestly surprised to see Liam sitting on the beach ahead of schedule.
He emailed about being in Chicago, but didn’t complain when I scheduled this meeting this morning for the same day.
It either means he’s very eager, or he was already closer to me than he claims.
My suspicions immediately go up, despite him sitting in the speedo I suggested he wear.
The noise of the water and the ever-circling gulls will prevent anyone nearby from overhearing us, and the lack of clothes makes it harder to hide any type of surveillance equipment.
I sit down beside him without a word, and to his credit, he doesn’t look over at me as I scan him. No jewelry, watch, or sunglasses despite the bright afternoon sun. He isn’t even wearing shoes.
Brilliant blue eyes stare out at the water, sandy blond hair whipping around in the breeze. The stubble on his jaw adds a little mystery, but overall, he’s a very unassuming person. He looks like one of those bro-dudes that would wear boat shoes and is always holding some sort of frozen, fruity drink.
People look at him and see him as either trustworthy or uncaring. Either way, it works in his favor.
“Are you a fed?” I ask directly.
A slow smile spreads across his face as he turns to look at me. “Do I need to pull this speedo off?”
My jaw clenches. I’m already annoyed to be here, and ready to get back to Lauren. Knowing it keeps my feet planted on the damp sand.
“I didn’t ask if you were wired. I asked if you were a fed.”
“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I said no.”
“You’re correct.”
His smile only grows wider. “What can I do to prove that I’m just a guy with a certain set of skills in need of a job?”
“Nothing,” I answer quickly.
He nods, his attention going back to the water, and eventually I turn my eyes that direction as well.
