Crazy Ever After (23 page)

Stop. She had to stop those thoughts. She’d made a mistake, but now she’d had a little slap in the face, and she was back to reality. Travis was still ambitious and determined to take over. He’d thrown her a bone by letting her be involved. Fine. She would show him. She’d show them all she knew what she was doing. She’d build that frickin’ traceability system. She’d save them all kinds of frickin’ money. And she’d go to frickin’ Matagalpa and find out what her father had been doing there. She’d finish it and make the company more money that way.

This battle wasn’t over yet.

Chapter Sixteen

Samara handed her passport and declaration forms over to the Matagalpan customs official, and he eyed her carefully before turning to his computer screen. He took his time, clicking through various screens, looking at her, then back at the monitor.

“The purpose of your trip?” he asked in lightly accented English.

Samara hesitated. “Business,” she finally said. “I import coffee.”

He nodded. “Cedar Mill Coffee Company.”

How did he know that? Apparently her life was an international open book. Whatever. She had nothing to hide. “Yes.”

He typed something into the computer, paused, then typed again. He finally stamped her passport and handed it back to her. Without a smile, he said, “Enjoy your stay in Matagalpa.”

She tucked her passport into her bag and walked through to the baggage claim area to find her lone suitcase. Once she had that, she cleared the last part of customs, stopped at the rental car kiosk to get her car keys, and strode out of Santa Anjelita International Airport, into a thick blanket of muggy heat. It was the rainy season in Matagalpa, but at the moment, the sun shone brightly, the temperature probably about eighty degrees. She shoved her long hair back, feeling it turn to frizz in the humidity, anxious to get to her hotel and have a shower. It had been a long trip from Portland, with a five hour layover in Houston before the flight to Santa Anjelita.

It had been years since she’d been to Matagalpa, and the last time she’d been there, her father had accompanied her. She’d been traveling after finishing college and had thought nothing of trekking through Central American countries alone, but now she was acutely aware that, although this country was incredibly beautiful and the people extraordinarily friendly, the political unrest and violence were always there.

Broad daylight made things seem safer as she drove the busy streets to the Corazon Palace hotel, not far from the airport. She loved this hotel, reminiscent of a Spanish villa with its creamy stucco, arched windows and red tile roof surrounded by lush greenery and flowers. The security gate she had to stop at also made her feel safer.

The valet took her car, and she checked in, her last minute internet reservation having thankfully worked then finally dragged herself and her suitcase into her room. The hotel was five stars, luxurious and cosmopolitan. She’d stayed there with her father and had loved it so had booked her room there. Besides, she didn’t know anywhere else, and this was a safe and comfortable place.

This was where he’d been staying before he’d died. This was the hotel whose staff had packed up his belongings and shipped them home, including the valuable laptop. Could she find who was responsible for that and thank them?

Maybe later.

A shower was the first thing she wanted, so she unzipped her suitcase, found her toiletry bag and headed into the spacious bathroom. The marble floor cool beneath her bare feet, she dropped her bag onto the stone counter next to a trio of creamy candles. Arched windows above the marble sink gave a view of the Tipcualpo volcano in the distance.

A lukewarm shower washed away the sweat and travel dirt she felt coating her body, and she emerged into the dim hotel room with a thick towel wrapped around her body, damp hair hanging down her back. She pulled the curtains and let the sun light up the room with bright afternoon warmth, spilling across the carpet in a glowing rectangle, illuminating the golden sateen fabric on the chairs.

She sat on the bed covered in a white puffy duvet and worked a brush through her wet hair. What would her first move be? She knew she had to find Javier Alvarez. She was going to have to drive to Ciudad Lupita to find him. Through the jungle. Alone.

Her stomach tightened, and she willed herself to relax. There was no point in being afraid. She’d always been alone, and that’s the way she liked it. She’d been here before, had a sense of the lay of the land, and was quite capable of doing what needed to be done. She didn’t need anyone else.

She gathered her damp hair into a ponytail at her nape then released it and blew out a breath. Tomorrow she’d head to Ciudad Lupita. Right now, it was too early for dinner, so after blow drying her hair and dressing in a cotton sundress, she went for a walk. She strolled the lush gated grounds, past the turquoise swimming pool where other guests sunbathed on white lounge chairs, beneath the spreading Schefflera trees and along the paved walk through ferny Jacarandas and exotic flowers she didn’t know the names of.

She pushed away thoughts of Travis and the expression on his face when she’d refused to talk to him and had retreated to her bedroom alone, with the door locked. She shook her head at her own contrariness and her disappointment when he’d let her go so easily. Damn him.

Her heart ached, but she resolutely straightened her shoulders. She’d known she and Travis had no future together since that night seven years ago. It had been a mistake to get sexually involved with him. Yet, she couldn’t regret it. It had been the most amazing sex of her life. No, it had been more than that. Much more.

Thinking of things like that led nowhere, so she took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent of damp earth and greenery, and returned to the pool area. She found an empty chair and nudged it into the shade. Her fair skin wasn’t made for the tropical sun of Matagalpa, and at this higher elevation, it was even more dangerous. She’d packed sunscreen but hadn’t put any on before she’d left her room.

She leaned back and tried to relax, the voices of kids playing in the pool and splashing water blending into the background as she closed her eyes. But a few moments later, a feeling like she was being watched had her eyes popping open. She looked around.

Nobody was paying any attention to her. A hotel employee in black pants and white shirt was stacking thick white towels on a shelf. Families laughed and played in the water. Other people stretched out on chairs baked in the sun. Only one man there was dressed, as was she, and he sat on a stool near the bar. He held a glass lightly in one hand and said something to the bartender then laughed. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, and he wore beige khaki pants and a blue polo shirt.

She watched him, and sure enough, he turned his head. Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, she knew he was looking at her. She dropped her lashes but didn’t move, trying to appear unaware. He was an attractive man, dark haired, with a tanned complexion and a hard body, but she certainly wasn’t there to pick up men.

She lowered her own sunglasses from where she’d pushed them to the top of her head and watched him surreptitiously. After a few moments, he finished his drink, stood and left the pool area.

She breathed out a long breath. There’d been something about him, about the way he’d looked at her that made her uneasy, but that was crazy. He was just some guy probably looking for some female companionship, and she was the only woman there alone.

Alone. Again, that feeling twisted inside her, and she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes again. Why did she keep getting these little pangs of anxiety? She was more than capable of fending off advances from a stranger if she had to, perfectly able to look after herself.

Alone was the theme of the day. She was the only person dining solo in the plush hotel restaurant, and she ate quickly, wishing she’d ordered room service. As she passed by the bar, she hesitated. She could be alone in her room, or she could be alone in a room full of strangers.

She chose the room full of strangers, at least for a while, and wandered in to the bar. She sat in a leather club chair at a small round table and picked up the menu. A martini sounded perfect.

When the waiter approached her, his olive face lighting up with his broad smile, she requested the martini, and he nodded and disappeared.

She leaned back in her chair and let her eyes move around the bar. A group of men sat at a table in the corner, wealthy businessmen from the looks of them, talking and laughing. A couple at the table next to her held hands and made lovey eyes at each other. Samara looked away. Then her gaze fell on the man she’d seen earlier at the pool. She frowned.

He was obviously a guest at the hotel, and it wasn’t surprising he’d be there in the bar too. Now he was no longer wearing sunglasses, she could see his sharp cheekbones and deep-set dark eyes. He had an air of strength and danger about him that made her shiver.

She tried to ignore him but was acutely aware he was watching her too. Oh, for Godfrey’ss sake, this was crazy. She drained her martini glass, the strong alcohol tracing a fiery trail down inside her, tossed some pesos on the table to cover the bill, and rose to her feet. If she was going to be all wimpy and freaked out by a guy looking at her, she’d be better off in her room, making her plans for tomorrow.

She hurried across the vast lobby, her flip-flops thwapping on the marble floor in a rapid rhythm. She stabbed the elevator button with her forefinger, then stood there waiting.

“You should go home.”

She started and whirled around, a hand going to her throat. It was the man who’d been watching her in the bar. Her heart tapped in her chest as she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You should go home,” the man repeated. His brows drew down over deep-set eyes. He didn’t smile. “Whatever you’re doing here, you need to leave. Trust me.”

He turned and walked away. Samara’s breath seemed stuck in her chest. The elevator doors slid open, and she stumbled in and pressed the button for her floor then the button to close the doors. Close, close, please close. She half expected the stranger to follow her into the elevator, and panic clawed at her insides.

But he didn’t. She made it safely to her room, where she locked and bolted the door.

* * *

Travis could have chewed up rocks and spit them out. Fury boiled inside him as he waited to disembark the Airbus on the tarmac at Santa Anjelita airport. He’d been fighting it the entire trip from Portland, but now he was only minutes away from seeing Samara, and it had surged up inside him again.

What the fuck did she think she was playing at, jumping on a plane and coming to this crime-ridden country all alone? Jesus Christ! He rubbed his aching jaw.

Passengers began moving slowly off the plane, and he resisted the urge to shove them out of his way, his body humming with pent-up energy as he inched his way down the aisle, down the stairs and across the tarmac into the terminal.

He’d tried to tell her not to come here, but as usual, she hadn’t listened. He was going to have to tell her the goddamn truth now, and who knew what kind of trouble that was going to get them into.

Shit.

After impatiently clearing customs and grabbing his luggage, he strode to his rental car and tossed the suitcase in. He’d only been to Matagalpa once before, back in the days before he and Parker had teamed up as partners. He’d enjoyed traveling and meeting the growers, but that had been Parker’s area, and he’d left him to it. Santa Anjelita was much more developed than he remembered, with tall buildings defining the skyline on the outskirts of the city. Funded by drug money, no doubt. Travis frowned.

He assumed Samara would stay at the same hotel Parker had, and he hoped he was right.

He was. The front desk clerk confirmed she was a guest there but, of course, wouldn’t give her room number. Then his optimism took a punch when the clerk said, “She went out early this morning and hasn’t returned yet.”

Travis turned away from the reception desk, trying to focus. Had she already gone to Ciudad Lupita?

He rubbed his chest. Was he having a heart attack? No, he was too young for that, surely. It was Samara. She was going to kill him, for Chrissake. If she didn’t get herself killed first.

He longed for a shower and a bed after traveling over twelve hours, but dammit, now he had to get back in that car and drive all the way to Alvarez’s farm. He tossed his suitcase into the room with barely a glance at the palatial accommodations then descended back to the sumptuous lobby. Jesus, this place was mind-boggling. He crossed the gleaming marble floor toward the front entrance, past thick white columns supporting a soaring arched ceiling, and guests sitting on elegant chairs grouped around mahogany tables. He headed toward the valet stand to ask them to bring his car and came face to face with Samara.

He stopped short and stared at her.

She stared back.

His breath froze in his throat. Her face was so pale the faint golden freckles on her nose stood out, and her eyes blinked at him rapidly. She thrust a trembling hand through her thick auburn hair. Relief surged through him that she was okay, followed by a white hot blast of returning fury.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Chapter Seventeen

He reached out and curled his fingers around her upper arm and started walking to the elevator, almost dragging her along with him.

“What’s wrong, Samara?”

“Nothing’s wrong, other than you manhandling me across the lobby.” She tried to wrench away, but he tightened his grip on her. “What are you doing here, Travis?”

He paused in an alcove off the lobby and glared down at her. Hoo, he looked pissed. Her insides fluttered. Her nerves already thrummed like a live wire. She didn’t need this on top of everything else. She dug deep for control.