Across the lawn Parker’s back was to him. He couldn’t see her face, but he could clearly see her body pressed up against Milo’s and her arms around his shoulders. Milo had his face buried in her hair at the side of her neck and his arms wrapped tightly around her body as the two of them swayed slowly from side to side. The happy reunion made Garrett sick to his stomach, so he turned back around and realized Brady had come up behind him and was taking in the same tender scene across the way.
“This is a lot for her mind and heart to process all at once,” Brady tried to reason. “She’s been through a lot today, and I’m sure she’s just confused. Once things settle down and you two have time to talk it through―”
Garrett unholstered the gun, grabbing it by the barrel, and pushed the butt of Parker's weapon into Brady's chest so he would take it. “Don’t waste my time with your psychobabble bullshit. Make sure she gets her gun back and keep an eye on her.”
Garrett walked around Brady, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
“What are you going to do?” Brady called to Garrett’s retreating form.
“Burry that son-of-a-bitch,” Garrett responded.
Brady shook his head and sighed as he watched Garrett disappear from sight, wondering if he was referring to Fernandez or Milo.
Milo always felt out of place in life. He always felt like there was something better waiting for him just out of his reach. One day, eight years ago, he found out what that something was.
He had a father.
Not the man his mother had left him with that used him as a punching bag. He’d celebrated the day that asshole drove his car into a tree and felt an enormous amount of satisfaction that his life had been snuffed out.
No, he had a real father. The kind of man you could look up to. The kind of man a son could be proud to share a bloodline with. Milo had been understandably upset when he found out his father allowed for him to be abused all those years by a man that hated the very sight of him, but he understood it now. He saw the big picture and realized that his suffering and years of torment would all be rewarded.
Milo had spent most of his life being envious of the people around him, people like Garrett McCarthy who had the world handed to him on a silver platter, who had parents that fawned over him and gave him everything his heart desired. Day in and day out he watched his so-called friend succeed and have the perfect life without even trying. Soon the envy Milo felt burned through him like a raging inferno, turning his heart and soul to ashes and his jealousy into the kind of deep-seeded hatred that he’d never be able to break free from.
It was his turn now, his turn to get everything he wanted.
Standing next to a palm tree in the Dominican Republic, holding his unconscious former fiancé and waiting to hear from his men that Garrett’s team had been eliminated so he could leave, Milo felt vindicated. He’d always known Garrett had a thing for Parker. He knew it that first day in the coffee shop. But he had his orders, and he would not fail. It felt good to take something from that smug bastard for once, to finally have something that Garrett desired more than anything. He never loved Parker. She was just a means to an end. But she was his. And he would be damned if he let Garrett have her.
Milo hugged Parker’s limp body tightly to his chest and put a few well-placed kisses on her cheek and the side of her neck, making sure she still had a pulse and keeping up the ruse at the same time. He knew Garrett’s people would be watching him. Subduing Parker with a syringe full of Ketamine was risky but necessary. Milo made sure he’d backed her under the cover of a few palm trees before palming the needle in his pocket and then throwing his arm in a flash up to push it in. He thought she’d go with him easily.
He thought she’d be happy to see him no matter what his father had told him the last few weeks.
“Your American woman is quite the hellcat in bed, my son. Did you enjoy years of pleasure between her thighs or did she save the best for Mr. McCarthy?”
Milo had been listening to his father regale him with every single sordid detail of what Parker and Garrett had done in the bedroom and pool during their stay. His hands were clenched into fists, and he felt the edges of his vision blur with rage.
“Tell me, did the lovely Parker ever shout your name in ecstasy like she did Garrett’s?”
His father laughed, pleased with the torment he was inflicting on his son. Milo knew this was a test. His father was just baiting him, making sure he was strong enough, dedicated enough. He knew he could show no weakness, no matter what the man said or did.
Milo’s nostrils flared as he watched his father signal to one of his guards seated at the desk in the security office where they stood, surrounded by more than a dozen monitors that showcased every inch of the palace grounds.
The guard pressed a few buttons on the console in front of him and soon the room was flooded with the sounds of passion.
“Touch me.”
“Oh God, yes!”
“Let go, baby.”
“Oh God…Garrett…fuck!”
“Come for me, Garrett. I need to feel you.”
“Ungh, more, more…”
“Garrett…Garrett…Garrett…”
“ENOUGH!” Milo bellowed.
Milo’s father placed his hand on the guard’s shoulder and the man immediately cut off the tape.
“Rodriguez, you are dismissed.”
At his father’s command, the guard quickly stood and exited the small room.
Milo knew he’d made a mistake, but there was no taking it back now. Listening to his father tell him how much Parker and Garrett enjoyed one another made his blood boil, but hearing the sounds of their moans, the creak of the bed, the splash of the water as their bodies moved against one another made him feel murderous.
Before the door clicked shut behind the guard, his father had crossed the room to him. He felt the man’s fist connect with his mouth before he even saw it coming. When Milo’s hand flew up to cover his busted lip, his father took the opportunity to throw another punch to his ribs.
Milo doubled over when he heard a distinctive crunch, knowing one of his ribs had cracked. He kept one hand pressed against the cut on his lip from where his father’s ring connected and the other hand held tightly to his rib that screamed out in pain.
“No son of mine will allow a woman to bring him to his knees. You show too much weakness for a whore and do nothing but snivel and whine about the unfairness of your life and how Garrett McCarthy received everything that should have been yours.”
Milo listened to his father berate him as he spit blood out of his mouth and slowly stood up to face him. He should have known better. He should have been stronger and more in control. He never deserved the beatings the man who raised him had given him each day, but this was warranted. Milo wanted to make his father proud and show him he was worthy to stand by his side. He stood tall in front of his father, ignoring the throbbing pain that cut into his side and the blood that dripped down from his lip.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Milo replied.
“I permitted another man to raise you in the hopes that it would make you stronger so when the day came and I needed to call on you, you would be ready. Maybe I made a mistake eight years ago in telling you about your heritage and bringing you into the fold. Maybe you weren’t ready,” his father said pensively.
Milo bristled at his father thinking he couldn’t do the job at hand. He’d been preparing for this for years. He was ready.
“Sir, I’m sorry, sir. I will not show any weakness again. I am ready to finish this and make you proud. I will not let anything stand in my way,” Milo promised with firm resolve.
His father removed a small square of white cloth from the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed it to Milo.
“I have rewarded you with all of the riches and beautiful, young girls you could imagine. I have brought you into my family and my business in the hopes that one day soon you will take over and lead. I have shown you a life you never knew existed. I expect never to regret this decision. Are we clear?”
Milo had pressed the cloth to his busted lip and nodded solemnly.
“I will do what needs to be done. I will make you proud.”
Confident in Milo’s promise, his father had nodded and turned to leave the room, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.
“Take care of the problem. They’ve gotten too close. It’s time for you to show them who you really are. The whore’s father arrived in the Dominican today. That man knows too much. Lucky for us, he decided to step foot on my land. End him before he tells them everything. After that I’m sure you will enjoy executing the two lovers.”
Milo had watched his father leave the room and had mentally prepared himself for what was to come.
Milo’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Pressing Parker firmly against him with one arm, he reached into his pants with the other and flipped open the phone.
“Status?” Milo questioned.
“All clear, sir. Three SEALS are dead, two are incapacitated,” came the reply.
“Why aren’t they all dead?” Milo questioned angrily.
“No time, sir. We need to leave now. The car is waiting out front.”
“What about McCarthy?” Milo asked.
“He wasn’t with the others. He went off on his own and we haven’t seen him since. Castillo and his men have the place surrounded. They’ll kill him on site.”
“No!” Milo shouted into the phone. “No. Leave him for me.”
Milo hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. He bent down and slid his arm behind Parker’s knees, scooping her up into his arms easily and walking towards the lobby. He smiled at several guests and a few resort employees, laughing about how his wife had a little bit too much to drink, easily explaining her unconsciousness.
His father would be angry since he hadn’t killed Parker immediately, but Milo had other plans for her.
Garrett had been on hold waiting for Risner to come on the line the entire time he walked to the villa Marshall, Conrad, and Vargas shared. He stopped in his tracks as he came up the walkway, pulling the phone slowly away from his ear.
“Hello, Mr. McCarthy,” the woman greeted him nervously as she stood up from the chair next to the door.
“Margarita Fernandez?” Garrett replied in shock as he stared at the wife of Fernandez standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make our meeting earlier. I believed I was being followed, so I had to turn around and go back to the palace,” she told him.
Garrett looked at her in confusion, having absolutely no idea why this woman, who supposedly didn’t speak a lick of English, was standing there at the resort talking to him like it was no big deal and speaking his real name instead of the undercover one he’d been introduced to her with.
On instinct he quickly reached into his waistband and pulled out his gun, leveling it at her chest. It made no sense to Garrett why she was here unless it was some sort of set-up.
“You have thirty seconds to explain your business here before I put a bullet through your heart,” Garrett told her menacingly.
Margarita quickly raised her hands in the air and a look of panic washed over her face.
“Please, I’m not here to harm you. I left a note at the front desk for you this morning saying I needed to talk to you and would be here this evening at ten. Did you receive the note?” she asked hurriedly.
Garrett recalled the note in question, the note they assumed was from Joe since he was the one who knocked on their door around that time. Now that he thought about it, Joe showed up thirty minutes before the note stated.
“You’re the one who wrote that note?” Garrett asked.
Margarita nodded her head and Garrett slowly lowered his gun. He still didn’t trust her, but there had to be a very important reason for her showing up. Fernandez would kill her just for thinking about talking to him.
“I thought you didn’t speak English?” Garrett asked.
Margarita looked around nervously and began to wring her hands.
“Could we go inside please? I don’t feel safe out here.”
Garrett looked around as well but didn’t see anything amiss. Against his better judgment, he walked past her and unlocked the door to the villa, holding it open for her to enter. As she walked into the room, Garrett made a quick call to Brady and got his voicemail. He left him a message to have one of the men meet him at his villa immediately
Garrett disconnected the call and shoved the phone in his back pocket. He indicated with his hand that Margarita should take a seat at the end of the bed while he pulled a chair up close to her, his gun resting on his thigh, pointed in her direction.
“You understand why I can’t put my gun away,” Garrett told her as he watched her stare at the weapon nervously.
Margarita nodded, quickly moving her eyes away from the gun and onto Garrett’s face.
“Tell me what you’re doing here and why the entire U.S. government and this country think you don’t speak English,” Garrett demanded.
“It’s a long story,” she replied quietly.
“I’ve got time.”
Margarita cleared her throat nervously, her hands folding and unfolding in her lap, giving her something to do with them.
“My name hasn’t always been Margarita.”
Garrett raised his eyebrow. “I gathered that considering before you married Fernandez you didn’t exist.”
She smiled sadly. “Oh, I existed. If that’s what you want to call it. I was born and raised in the United States. When I was in my twenties, I worked for a large engineering company as a marketing assistant. I met a delivery man that came into the office several times a week. We fell in love and got married. A year or so later I was sent here to the Dominican for work. During one of the meetings, Emilio Fernandez joined us. He was in his first presidential term at that time. He was larger than life. So charismatic, charming, and sweet.”