Chapter 4

4

Bea

H e’s a bad man.

Thirty-one.

A bad man.

Thirty-two.

As bad as Uncle Emiliano.

Thirty-three.

The looping thought played over and over in Bea’s mind as she swam lengths in the pool.

She’d had her doubts at dinner. Something about Rogue, about the way he’d looked at her with those strange, magnetic wolf-like eyes—eyes that looked like they could see through any disguise—had almost fooled her. Somehow, for a moment, she’d felt as if he cared. Right.

Stopping herself just short of snorting, she turned her head, lifting her face just enough to clear the water surface and inhale. By the time she exhaled, her face was already underwater again, her left arm gliding smoothly into the water, the movement automatic for her, she’d been swimming for so long.

But just because a man had beautiful, clear gray eyes, didn’t mean he was a good person. Because appearances could lie. She knew that first hand, saw it every time she stared into the mirror. She might look sweet and innocent on the outside, but, inside, she was a coward and a liar.

She was glad she’d come back downstairs last night, after her uncle thought she was in bed. She’d made it just in time to see the two men shake hands. Rogue might look like a wolf, but he was a desert jackal. He was the kind of man willing to sell his principles—assuming he had any—for two million American dollars. And while she didn’t know what exactly her uncle had asked him to do, she knew enough to know it couldn’t be anything good, because honest work didn’t pay two million American dollars, and because her uncle never gave anything for free.

Thirty-seven.

Bea reached the end of the pool, grabbing on to the edge with one hand while she cleared water from her goggles with the other hand. She looked up to see a pair of white chinos making their way towards her.

“Keep going, girl. Still a long way to fifty,” Emiliano said, taking a sip from the undersized porcelain cup in his hand.

Bile rose in her throat but she forced it back down. This wasn’t the first time her uncle had come to watch her exercise. He was, after all, the one who’d come up with the magic number. Fifty laps, every morning, before she had her breakfast. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the edge of the pool once again. She knew better than to stop before she was done. She swam for all she was worth, as if she were pushing away not only water but also everything else that was wrong in her life.

By the time she reached fifty , her heart pumped hard against her chest and her arms and legs felt like jelly, her feet barely able to hold her as she stood up and pulled off her goggles.

Her uncle looked at her from a small rattan table on the side of the courtyard, where he sat eating an enormous breakfast of poached eggs, arepas con queso , and ham. Bea looked away quickly, her stomach roaring painfully.

Opposite her uncle, a cup of dark coffee and a laptop in front of him, sat Rogue. He was dressed in what looked like the same pair of jeans and black T-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. He didn’t look up from his laptop as she climbed out of the pool, but she felt his presence as keenly as if he’d jumped into the water beside her. What the hell is wrong with you? He’s as corrupt as all your uncle’s friends.

Her uncle stopped eating and put his linen napkin down, right over the split egg yolk. Bea stepped out of the water and picked up her towel, which she’d purposefully left as close to the pool’s edge as possible.

“ Quieta, ” her uncle ordered. “Let me look at you.” His eyes left her face, roaming down her body, eating her up with his eyes. The white one-piece suit she was wearing was as modest as bathing suits came, but her uncle’s perusal made her feel as if she were naked.

Bea pulled her shoulders back and clenched her teeth defiantly, though every muscle in her body wanted to pull the towel tight around her. Finally, the man nodded.

“ Muy bonita . What do you think, Rogue?”

“What do I think about what, Emiliano?”

Rogue’s eyes were still on the screen in front of him, but something about the tense line of his neck and shoulders told Bea he knew exactly what her uncle was referring to.

“The girl. Do you think she’s pretty?”

Rogue finally looked up from his screen. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, and he let out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s your niece, Emiliano. What do you expect me to say?”

For a moment, her uncle’s face was stone. Bea breathed in sharply. She’d seen her uncle hurt men for less. Finally, though, Emiliano’s face cracked into a smile.

“Good answer, Rogue. I always knew you were a smart man.”

Bea rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps. It wasn’t that cold, but lately she was always chilly.

“Look here,” Rogue said, his attention back on the laptop in front of him. “I think I have something.” Neither man was looking at her now, and Bea took the chance to wrap the towel tightly around her body, like a suit of armor.

She almost laughed out loud. Protection. Safety. Warmth. Those were the things she yearned for most, in the world, but they weren’t things she was going to find in a towel.

“ ?Te vas a quedar ahí todo el día, Beatriz?” Are you planning on staying there all day? Her uncle’s words pulled her out of her daydream. Bea shook her head quickly.

“I’ll go upstairs and get ready, Uncle.”