Relieved that she would feel that way, Connor nodded. “I understand the sensation. As jaguars, we come home to roost, so to speak, from time to time. It’s as though the craving to be here is in our blood.”
He would hate it if she didn’t want to return with them when they came here in the future. Yet, the fact that they had no idea how often she would shift or when bothered him. What if it took years before she could get it under control? What if she could never control it? He couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to visit the jungle then. Maybe they could buy a boat or visit a location closer to home. Belize bordered Mexico. A rain forest existed there, too, and it was closer to Texas and another haven for jaguars.
“I’m not sure about flying home,” Kat finally admitted.
“I understand,” he said, running his hand over her arm. He was worried about it, too, not at all sure they would make it. He was thinking of checking into other options in the meantime. “I’ll get dressed and call the airlines to see if we can book a flight.”
“All right. I’m going to take another shower.”
The water was cold, even though the sun would warm them somewhat. Thinking of the water sluicing down her tan skin in the shower brought a smile to his lips. He couldn’t help thinking how he could warm her up in there again. Trying to get his lascivious thoughts under control, he slipped into his boxers.
He pulled out his phone and called the airlines while Kat disappeared into the shower. One flight would accommodate them best, a one-and-a-half-hour trip to Bogotá, Colombia, from Santa Marta. One stop. He was certain that Kat could make that trip. Then they would have a five-hour layover in the city. Maybe they could find someplace to hide out for a while. After that, it would be a little over a five-hour flight to Houston. It was the shortest flight plan he could find.
He heard the water shut off and cursed softly under his breath. He had wanted to join Kat in the sunny shower before she finished.
He walked into the bathroom to see her wearing only a towel around her head. He smiled, hurriedly ditched his boxers, and gathered her in his arms before she could escape. “Don’t you need to… rinse off a little more?”
She laughed. “No, but do you want me to soap up your hard-to-reach spots?”
He pulled the towel off her head and tossed it on the towel rack, then turned the water on and moved her under the showerhead with him. “Only if I get to soap up all your hard-to-reach spots.”
“Hmm, jaguars love to play in the water,” she said and stroked his swelling cock.
Chapter 22
Maya had taken a nice long nap in her comfortable air-conditioned cabana. She thought she had heard Kat and Connor making love, if the muted love cries were from them and not from howler monkeys or something else that was imitating them. She smiled, satisfied that she had brought Kat and her brother together and that her plan had worked. She’d had some iffy moments over the past few days.
Now if they could only get Kat home to Texas without further incident. Early evening was upon them, the blue sky and wispy clouds turning violet as the warm yellow sun sank beneath the brilliant foliage, and Maya was starving.
She didn’t want to disturb Kat and Connor, but she wasn’t waiting.
She dressed in jeans and a flowery shirt and strappy sandals. Feeling more human, she left her cabana and headed down the quaint stone path that wound among more cabanas hidden away in the dense jungle foliage. When she reached the white building with blue awnings stretched over its long narrow windows, a toucan was sitting in a cocoa tree near the entrance and Spanish music drifted from the building.
Her mouth watered at the aroma of cheeses and fish and chicken and beef cooking in the kitchen.
When she stepped inside the large tiled room, which was bustling with tourists and what looked to be regulars, a hostess seated her at one of the empty square tables for four. The air-conditioned air felt good, but circulating fans whirling high above helped to move it even more. She felt like she was in a breezy, chillier place than South America.
The sound of laughter and splashing came from outside where the pool was located, though she couldn’t see it as she took her seat. She smiled up at the dark-haired miss who handed her a menu, but the owner of the establishment, Garcia, caught her attention. His face was dark and grim as he listened to a man speaking to him, the stranger gesticulating at the resort. Garcia’s forehead was sweating, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides, and she caught a whiff of the smell of sweat on him as the fans carried it to her.
Three other men were crowded around Garcia—all of Spanish descent, dark haired, and scruffy looking—standing too close, in his space, and extremely intimidating. The one who was speaking shoved a photo at him. The owner looked at it for a long moment, then shook his head and handed the picture back. Did the interrogator see the fleeting look of recognition on Garcia’s face like Maya did?
That’s when she noticed the man had a gun half-exposed by his camouflage vest. This was bad news.
The waitress returned with Maya’s glass of water.
“Are those men from around here?” Maya asked, knowing she shouldn’t stick her nose in where it didn’t belong, but she was both curious and annoyed that the men were bullying Garcia. He had been so pleasant toward her brother and Kat and her, and so accommodating, making sure they could have their cabanas right away despite their grungy appearances, the odd hour when they had arrived, and their having had no reservations.
She would have loved to have taken the men on in her jaguar form and scared them like they were scaring Garcia.
The waitress glanced back at the men and quickly returned her gaze to Maya, her eyes huge. She vehemently shook her head.
Did that mean she knew them and they weren’t from around here? Or that she didn’t know them but just knew their type?
“What are they doing here?” Maya asked.
The woman shook her head again, too afraid to speak and draw the men’s attention.
Maya wanted desperately to take them to task, but she knew it was best to cool her heels. No sense in making waves that could involve Kat, who didn’t have her shape-shifting abilities in hand.
“Are you certain Kathleen McKnight is not staying here? An eyewitness said he had seen her come in here to…” the man said to Garcia, his voice dark and threatening, prompting Garcia to finish the statement.
Maya’s blood chilled to ice.
There were only two things Kat might have done when she arrived here—eaten at the restaurant or taken a room.
Maya glanced back at the owner, fearing he would tell the men where Kathleen was staying, but he just shook his head, saying no.
Oh, God. He was helping them, but it could get him killed, she feared.
She had to warn Connor and Kat.
Her heart thundering, Maya said to the waitress, “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. Can you cancel the order?”
The waitress looked bewildered.
Maya repeated her words in Spanish, but the woman still seemed surprised. Maya rose from her chair, trying not to catch the men’s attention. “I’ll be back later, if I can.”
She handed a tip to the woman, then with a forced easy stride, she left the restaurant, raced up the path to Connor and Kat’s cabana, and barged in without knocking first.
Connor and Kat were dressed at least, both their mouths gaping as they turned to stare at her in disbelief.
“Someone’s asking about Kat. Men like the ones we saw in the jungle. The owner is buying us some time, but they’re at the restaurant now, and he told them he’d never seen the woman in the photo they had of her.”