by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
Natalie let out a heavy breath. “No,” she conceded. “You wouldn’t.”
“Listen.” Cassie moved forward with her instructions. “If you can’t trace the license plate right off or can’t get the IDs of the men from the video, pass it on to your investigator, Peter Calloway. I just wanted to make sure the information reached someone I trust.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized it sounded like she thought something might happen to her. And she wondered if the comment had been a Freudian slip.
“Promise me you’ll call.” Natalie’s voice rose into that protective, sisterly tone Cassie both loved and hated. “If you get into trouble, if anything feels wrong.”
“I promise.”
“You answered too fast. I don’t believe you. Once a day. Until this Saul shit gets straightened out, we’ll talk once a day. Deal?”
Cassie grinned. Waited. “Deal. Did I wait long enough?”
“Bitch,” Natalie quipped.
Cassie laughed and took a deep breath of the salty air. With the information from the accident in good hands, she let go of the defenses she’d been holding on to. Her smile fell under the sudden weight of everything she’d endured that day. That month. That year. “They buy and sell women, Nat. Just girls. These guys don’t deserve to be wandering free.”
“Focus your energy, Cass.” Her voice had shifted, responding to Cassie’s change in disposition, she knew. They were like that, she and Nat. Able to read each other that way. Now, Natalie took on the nurturing parental role. “Remember, you have to get your life straightened out before you can go back to saving the world.”
“Thanks.” Cassie didn’t have to work at the sarcasm that tainted her voice. “Needed to hear that.”
“Grieve your family, Cassie,” Natalie said, undaunted by Cassie’s snark. “Find your balance.”
“I know.” Cassie sighed. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She disconnected, then turned her face up to the dark sky—her sky, her shore. This was her home. But the estate hadn’t felt like home from the first day Saul entered their lives. And with Saul there, nothing about the estate felt like the joyous sanctuary she’d known as a girl.
A familiar emptiness weighed heavily in her chest, dragged at her shoulders, and throbbed in her head. Saul was going against everything Mamà believed in. He was degrading everything she loved.
She let out a throaty moan. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard. But being here made all her emotions dig deeper, cut sharper.
She watched the choppy surf and brushed at the hair whipping against her face. The gauzy, thigh-length cover-up she’d changed into after her shower blew around her legs. But the wind was warm, the sensation familiar, and she imagined the air collecting her anger, spiraling into the sky, and whisking all her problems out to sea.
She let her mind drift toward the memories of her teen years and so many nights she’d spent wandering the beach with Santos during tropical storms. They’d become unlikely siblings when her mother and Saul married. Santos had been just shy of seventeen and Cassie still half a year shy of her quinceañera. But as allies against Saul’s insane battle of wills, they’d become and stayed best friends.
And while Santos had moved out of the estate shortly after Cassie had gone away to college, he’d stayed locally in Ensenada, living the carefree bachelor’s life with a successful surf shop, a bungalow on the beach, endless friends, and even more girlfriends.
He’d moved back into a casita at the estate only a year ago, telling Cassie that Mamá had needed company with Saul traveling so much. When Cassie had pushed, he’d claimed hard times at the surf shop. And even though both her mother and Santos denied it, Cassie still believed Santos had been keeping watch over troubled waters between her mother and Saul.
Now, foam bubbled along the sand at her feet, the almost-full moon setting the grains of the secluded cove’s private beach sparkling like pixie dust. The sheer beauty intensified Cassie’s agony.
She tried to twist her mind the opposite direction, to embrace the happy, loving memories and compress them into tiny gems that she could store in her head and draw out during dark moments to keep her going. But the water extended to the horizon as a black mass broken only by growing whitecaps. The infinite sight tugged Cassie’s mind back to the reality that she would never see her mother or Santos again. Ever.
A familiar sorrow took hold. One that felt as if someone had stabbed Cassie’s heart and twisted the knife.
“Storm’s coming.”
Cassie jumped and whirled toward the voice. Her chest burned with a quick jab of fear, but the very real rocks nearby sliced the back of her arm. Pain lanced her triceps. Her phone flew out of her hand.
“Whoa, whoa.” His voice was soft, but his hands were firm. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. Rio.”
Cassie let out a whoosh of breath but didn’t completely drop her guard. The Rio she’d met inside was very different from the man she’d known at the cemetery. Just one more huge heartache to add to her life.
“You’re hurting me,” she said.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” His hands loosened but didn’t let go. “Come away from the rocks.”
When she’d put several feet between herself and one of the many cove outcroppings, he released her and leaned away. That was when she got her first good look at him. And, yeah, it was really good. He wore nothing but swim trunks, his body wet. Light from the moon fell across his torso and defined his muscle in a variation of shadows.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” She hugged her elbows and purposely slowed her breathing, struggling with the rush of emotions that didn’t make any intellectual sense.
“Just taking a swim.”
“At this time of night. In the dark. You’re” —an idiot—“crazy.”
“You aren’t the first to say so.”
He ruffled the wet, black waves of his hair in a careless, absentminded way. Cool seawater sprayed Cassie. A laugh popped out of her mouth, surprising her.
“Hey.” She held her hands up as if that would help keep her dry. “Stop it.”
He lowered his hand, grinning. A sheepish, slightly mischievous, tiny bit guilty, lopsided smile. “Are you going to melt?”
Cassie’s stomach squeezed and twirled the way it did when she’d thought about seeing him again.
Then he dropped his head and shook it. That wet-dog-just-out-of-the-bath shake. Water sprayed in every direction. Little arcs splashed Cassie, and she squeaked at the cold against her skin. Then laughed with the sheer pleasure of his playfulness.
And when he stopped and looked at her again, the smile cutting across his face tightened her chest. Wide and warm and happy, around beautiful white teeth and making his pretty eyes sparkle. A mirror image of how she felt inside. His laugh was deep and rich, easy and sexy. And so real. But it was the dimples that gave him that finishing touch, that something extra. God, dimples? Really? Like he wasn’t gorgeous enough without them?
Her joy must have risen too high, reached some internal warning level, because as quickly as it filled her, the happiness took on an edge. Something that nagged at her like anxiety.
She broke his gaze and lifted both hands to her face to wipe at the water. The back of her arm pulled and burned. Cassie hissed in a breath and twisted her arm to look at the back.
“Let me see.” His voice was close, and she looked up to find him there, already reaching for her arm, leaning in to inspect the scratch.
He eased her arm across her chest and turned her into the moonlight.
“It’s nothing.” Her voice came out breathy. She didn’t like sounding—or feeling—nervous. “I’m fine.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He dusted dirt off the wide scrape. “You said that about your knee too. At least this one isn’t dripping blood everywhere.”
His body heat reached out and filled the space between them, caressed Cassie’s bare arms and legs. He smelled like fresh s
eawater and something very unique, very Rio. Something male and alluring. Parts of her that she’d begun to worry were permanently broken started to function again.
“It’s not too bad, but it’s dirty.” His voice was near her ear, and either the sound of it or the heat of it raised gooseflesh along her neck. “Sorry I scared you.”
She turned her head and found her mouth just an inch from his ear. A perfectly shaped ear. One with a curl of wet black hair arcing over the upper curve. She should pull away, go inside where she was safe. Instead, she reached up and pushed the curl behind his ear with one finger. Let her touch slide down the side of his face before her hand drifted away.
He froze. His gaze darted toward her, then back to her arm. “And, I’m sorry about…earlier too. I wasn’t expecting anyone and—”
“I’ve thought of you…since the funerals.” The words just came out. “I would have…you know…called…but I realized later that I didn’t know who you were.”
Rio’s jaw muscles tightened beneath tanned skin and dark stubble. She wanted to lay her lips there so badly. Almost did. Then his eyes slid closed, and Cassie found herself staring at the length of his lashes, the beautiful curve of them against his cheekbone, amazed by the way the sight of them heated and softened her heart at the same time.
“Me too,” he said, voice low, rough. His eyes opened, but instead of looking at her, he focused on the sand. “Thought of you, I mean. But I didn’t think it was…I don’t know…appropriate, I guess, to call.”
The center of Cassie’s body glowed now. Before she could think of what to say next, Rio said, “I’ll get something to clean this.”
He lifted his head. Met her gaze for a brief second, their mouths just inches apart. Two very conflicting emotions warred—fear and desire. One should smother the other, but both feelings were so strong they continued to clash.
Cassie couldn’t help but think, kiss me. Please. Kiss me.
His eyes lowered to her mouth.
Yes.
Then slid away.
Damn.
“I’ll…um…” His voice rasped. “Just go get—”
Screw it. A spark of determination burned a millisecond before she put her free hand against his jaw and pressed her lips to his.
Chapter Three
Warmer than Cassie had imagined, softer than she’d expected, his lips felt wonderful on hers. Absolutely wonderful. And right. So right. He didn’t pull away, so she let her lips linger there. Let them slide. Let them taste.
A sound drifted from his throat. A sigh or a moan. Soft and pleased. He lowered her arm but didn’t let go. The move broke their kiss and brought them face-to-face. There, reality trickled in. Damn. She shouldn’t have kissed him like that.
Her sexy haze drifted into embarrassment. She took a step back, but Rio leaned in and slid an arm around her waist. A quick move. A deliberate, strong move that made her draw a breath. Made her body tingle. Made her mind go cloudy again. He eased her close, his arm tightening low on her back until they were pressed together, hips to chest.
And, holy hell, wow. Wow. She couldn’t think much beyond… Just wow. His body was hard. Cool on the surface, sending a shiver across her skin. Warm beneath, urging her to burrow closer. Her nipples tightened, and her breasts ached. Her breathing quickened.
She rested her hands on his shoulders, an awkward location, but she wasn’t sure what else to do with them. Her body urged her to do crazy things, urgent things she hadn’t done in a long time. Her mind struggled to understand her powerful response to him. And not a damn thing was meshing.
“I’ve been wanting to thank you”—she stared at his throat, rambling to fill the silence, but her voice gave away her nerves with a soft, uneven tone—“for your kindness…you know…at the cemeter—”
He bent his head and kissed her. She sucked in a silent gasp of surprise. Every muscle tensed. But then his lips moved on hers. Gentle pressure, firm, slow kisses. She softened against him, and he welcomed her with the strength of his body. The same way he’d taken her in at the cemetery, with warmth, acceptance, affection.
Oh, he had nice lips. Full, warm, supple. And he knew what to do with them. How to entice, to seduce. Not at all like the hurried, greedy men she’d been with in the past. Rio gave. He gave with the slow suckle of her upper lip, kisses to the corner of her mouth, the slide of his tongue over her bottom lip.
A soft moan slipped from her throat. His arm slid lower on her back, pulled her hips tight against a generous erection that had the potential to unsettle her again. But his other hand sweetly caressed the nape of her neck, and his palm settled there.
With his fingers deep in her hair, body aligned with hers, he tilted his head and opened his mouth. Cassie followed with a sigh. Without thought, without question. Met his tongue impatiently. Recklessly. Completely lost herself in a heady rush of lust, the heat of his mouth, the texture and talent of his tongue.
He tasted of tangy sea salt and male heat. And for the first time in years, she hungered for more than just this, just kissing. So much more.
His mouth abruptly pulled from hers, leaving her dizzy and frustrated. She tightened her hands on the skin of his back. When she’d wrapped her arms around him, she didn’t remember. And didn’t care. She just wanted that mouth back on hers.
“I have been thinking about this,” he whispered, his breath quick and shallow, his voice rough, “for months.”
She couldn’t absorb the meaning behind that statement. Especially not when his hand moved from her neck and cupped her jaw, his long fingers pressed so gently across her cheek. With the smallest movement, he made her feel precious and fragile.
But he didn’t kiss her like she was fragile. His mouth came back to hers with the kind of desire and need that set off a firestorm inside. She lifted to her toes and tried to keep up with him, to give back. But he was so good at it, he swept her away. From the erotic movement of his tongue to the smooth slide of his lips to the powerful movements of his body, he made the simple act of kissing both animalistic and artful.
Mind clouded, lungs burning, body aflame, Cassie broke away, whispering, “Air.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, and Rio held tight, both arms around her again. His mouth slid over her jaw, teased her ear, traveled down her neck and rested on her shoulder, his end-of-the-day beard an exciting contrast to those soft lips. And God, she was smiling. Smiling so big her cheeks ached. How long had it been since she last smiled like this?
She wanted him. But not only did she want him, she felt good about wanting him.
A little warning sounded in her head. Too fast, it whispered. Too happy too fast. It won’t last.
A sting of fear urged her to jump right back in. “Okay.” She turned her head and nipped his ear. “Plenty of air. I’m good for at least another twenty minutes.”
His mouth curved in a smile against her shoulder just beyond the strap of her cover-up, but then faded. And that little voice snarled, told you.
“Rio?”
He didn’t answer, and his body language had already shifted—muscles now loose, hands at her waist instead of arms circling her. And his teeth took the strap of her little dress and restlessly snapped it against her shoulder, over and over.
She forced a laugh, forced herself to keep it light even though disappointment and hurt had already stolen her smile. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”
Reaching up, she combed her fingers through his wet hair, thick and silky on her palms. If she knew more about seduction, she could draw him back in, make him forget whatever had put him in pause. But she didn’t. She was at a loss. And she hated feeling inept.
“Dios mío.” He breathed the Spanish words for “my God” and pressed his cheek tight against hers before quickly letting her go.
He met her eyes, but he wasn’t smiling. And he didn’t look the least bit happy. In fact, he looked…tortured. He shook his head once, put his hand on her jaw and his thumb to her lips, brushing them gentl
y.
She kissed the pad of his thumb. His lids lowered on a throaty sound before he took her face between both hands and kissed her. Hard. Thorough.
Lust spiked instantly, and Cassie covered his hands with hers, kissing him back. Just when she thought he’d gotten past whatever indecision was nagging him, he broke the kiss and released her.
He dropped his head into his hands and whispered, “Shit.”
Cassie flinched. “What’s…wrong?”
“I can’t…” His hands came away from his face, but his head stayed down. “I just… Let me get something to clean your cut.”
He walked past her.
Stunned, she stood there, staring at nothing, her brain one big knot. “What?”
The word barely reached the level of a rasp, and she wasn’t sure if she was asking him what he’d meant or herself what the hell had just happened.
Her stomach, so light and exhilarated just moments ago, now felt leaden. The wind, so warm and gentle earlier, now lifted gooseflesh on her arms.
What had gone wrong?
She turned and called, “Rio, I don’t need—”
She stopped when he headed left, toward a row of casitas, instead of right, toward the main house. He continued toward the last little guest house closest to the water, walked inside, and flipped on the light.
Her mind slid sideways, then righted with a painful jerk. “Sonofabitch.”
She watched Rio through the front window as he disappeared into the bedroom. “He’s my head of security,” Saul had said. Of course he was living here. Stupid. She hadn’t assumed as much. Key staff often lived on-site.
Then the fact hit her again, from a different angle. Rio lived here.
She sucked in a breath almost before she’d fully absorbed the deeper, uglier thoughts rolling through her mind—the prostitutes.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, her chest stone-cold as she thought back to her conversation with the private investigator. “Oh, shit.”
