by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
When his attention locked on to her, Cassie’s stomach corkscrewed. Damn he was…sexy. Incredibly sexy. And if she hadn’t been standing in that street just minutes ago, she wouldn’t have believed that man and this could be one and the same, which made her wonder just how many sides he had—and which was real.
Chapter Twelve
Rio shoved his truck into Park and waited as Cassie gathered her things from the Jeep and headed into the house. She didn’t look back, which, while not surprising, still annoyed the shit out of him.
The sun had started to sink over the ocean behind the house, and Rio yearned for a good, long, mind-numbing swim. The exercise would help ease sore muscles, and the cold would hopefully dull the pain in his chest.
Something had happened at the clinic shortly after they’d arrived. Cassie had pulled so far away from Rio she’d acted as if he didn’t exist the rest of the day. He would never have guessed her indifference could hurt more than her anger, but he ached with it now.
And he still couldn’t figure out what had caused her to close off so completely, though he was sure it had something to do with Nina. He’d endured the girl’s cool attitude and half-nasty, half-fearful looks the entire day. Her friendliness to Raymie and the other workers made it clear her problem was with Rio, but he couldn’t remember ever interacting with her. He could only figure that she’d heard about his reputation, which could very well explain Cassie’s distance.
Convincing himself that was for the best wasn’t working so well after spending the day listening to Cassie’s sweet voice and occasional laughter, or looking up to see her walking down the hall. The further she pulled away emotionally, the more desperately he wanted to do something to pull her back.
He didn’t know if he was coming or going with this woman. Had never been in such an impossible situation in all his years of undercover. Had never had so much at risk.
Leaning forward, Rio crossed his arms on the steering wheel, rested his chin there, and watched her disappear behind the front door.
“Suck it up,” he murmured. “Couple weeks and it’ll all be over.”
Cassie would be safe, and she’d have everything she wanted. Saul would be out of her life for good. The home she loved so much would once again be her own. Then she’d go back to San Diego, vacation here on weekends, never another worry in her perfect little world.
And why the hell would she want to continue any kind of relationship with him? She was beautiful, successful, had more money than God. He’d be nothing but a memory from a time in her life she’d rather forget.
Which he told himself was for the best, because Cassie had him thinking in terms of relationships—something that was impossible for someone in his position. The pain of that encroaching reality brought out a darker side of Rio. The side that whispered take her while you can. There won’t be any future to worry about.
He climbed from the truck, wincing at the pull of tired muscles but grateful for the distraction. All in all, it had been a great day. Honest work, good progress, fun company. When had he degraded into a chump who could let a woman’s mood ruin his enjoyment?
He was cursing himself in four different languages when he walked into the main house and found Saul waiting for him.
“My office, Rio.”
Like an obedient dog, Rio followed. His patient undercover persona was wearing thin. He might need to take a break before accepting another assignment after this. That or think about an even bigger change, because he was damn sick of playing all these games—with Saul, with Fermin, with the gangs, with everyone. But especially with Cassie. She made him think about taking a long-ass break from undercover and never returning.
He was hot, sweaty, tired, irritated, and horny as hell after looking at her all day, and Saul’s inquisition was not on the top of Rio’s interest list.
His boss stood behind his desk, looking out at the ocean as Rio closed the door.
“Tell me what happened in town today,” Saul said. “I’m getting mixed reports.”
“The Muertos heard about Cassie as soon as she got here. There have been rumors of a planned kidnapping. When they approached us in the street, I thought it was the perfect time to piss on my territory for the Muertos and indebt Cassie to me.”
“And the results?” Saul asked without turning around.
“The Muertos are clear on ownership. That should keep them off our backs for a while. Cassie, however, is another story.”
“I know.” Saul faced Rio, leaned a forearm on the back of his leather desk chair. The frown on his face and tension in his muscles added another layer of concern to Rio’s tense mood.
“What’s bothering you?” Rio asked. “What happened today?”
“Munoz confirms your beliefs about the fideicomiso. He hasn’t been able to find a way to negate its validity. We can’t change the fact that if Cassie dies, Alejandra’s fideicomiso provides for all remaining assets to be liquidated and donated to that goddamned orphanage in Mexico City. But neither can he negate the fact that she cannot simply kick me out, regardless of whether or not she finds out about the prostitutes.” He didn’t move. Remained staring at his desk. “Why was she at my office?”
“You know why, but she didn’t find anything. The place was locked up tight.” Because Saul’s mood was as piss-poor as Rio’s, Rio had to lighten up. “Listen, she’s agreed to let me work at the clinic. I know the contractor. After she sees that he and I can handle the rest of the construction, she’ll probably hightail it home. Those Muertos scared the shit out of her, and she doesn’t like me much right now either.”
“I know her. She won’t go home. And you’re going to have to work harder to change the way she feels about you, Rio. If she’s angry with you, she’ll hide things from you. If she dislikes you, she’ll avoid you. Then we’ll be in the dark again. The reason we know things now is because she’s letting you in. But believe me, I know from past experience how cunning and secretive she can be.
“Her inquiries need to stop. Now that Fermin is on alert, the minute she gets too close, he’ll have her killed. He doesn’t care what happens to this house or us.” He looked out the window again, his jaw working. His hand fisted, released, fisted. “Had things gone the way I’d planned…” “The way you’d planned?” Rio had that shifting-sand sensation beneath his feet again. “What do you mean? Did you do something you didn’t talk to me about? We discussed this. I can’t be effective if you don’t—”
“This was years ago, Rio.” Saul waved away his concern. “Before you came on board. What about the accident the other night? What does she know?”
Great, now he had to dig up information from years ago? “Tomás says he and Pedro were in the shadows, wearing hats. She won’t be able to identify them.”
Saul glanced over his shoulder. “Pedro didn’t say anything about shadows or hats. In fact, he said Cassandra would know him if she saw him again.”
“Christ. Who are you going to believe? That loco sonofabitch or me? You need to decide, Saul, because if it’s going to be him, then you should just give the idiot my job.” Rio planted his hands at his hips. He wasn’t losing it; he’d lost it. But he’d already dug his grave, and honestly, giving Saul a little attitude was long overdue. Especially over Pedro, the asshole who continued to add to Rio’s headaches. “When you talk to that shithead behind my back, you undermine my authority with him. If you undermine my authority, I can’t do my job. If I can’t do my job, your empire crumbles.”
Saul turned fully toward Rio, assessing him.
Rio crossed his arms. Just one wrong word, asshole. Just one. He was so in the mood to take this grinding frustration out on someone.
“I can see being with Cassandra all day has taken a toll on you, amigo.”
“Sure as shit,” he muttered, trying—and failing—at contrite. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“She has that effect. Believe me, I know.” Saul turned the chair and sat. “Give me an update on the mules.”
&n
bsp; Rio’s mind switched gears, relieved to be off the subject of Cassie. “Tomás and Pedro are talking with coyotes in Mexico City, Tijuana, and Juarez. The replacements are coming. As for the Syrians, there’s a huge Arab community in Guatemala. They could get off the ship there, blend in, and lay low for a couple weeks—”
“No!” Saul jerked forward in his seat and slammed his palms on his desk. “I told you I will not bend to that woman!”
Rio clenched his teeth until his jaw cramped. When Saul’s anger built like this, boiled and boiled with no release, he eventually exploded. And when Saul exploded, people died. Like that smuggler. Like Alejandra and Santos. Rio had no doubt there were more he didn’t know about. Many more.
“This is a critical time,” Saul said. “This opportunity is finite. Suarez will swing back into town within months, maybe even weeks. I have to stake my claim now. I’m going to own the terrorist smuggling rights in Baja.”
“This is a huge step,” Rio said. “Smuggling poor women over the border is a no-brainer. Smuggling terrorists into the US is entirely different. If it goes bad, we’ll have Hezbollah-trained terrorists and the CIA on our asses.”
Saul’s hands clenched repeatedly as he tried to get his temper under control.
“If you don’t want the tangos to stop in Guatemala,” Rio continued, “there are several places in Argentina and Chile they could dock for a few days. The time to change plans is now. Once they pass Chile, there’s no going back.”
“There is already no going back. Onward and upward, amigo. We’re not postponing, and we’re not giving up our foothold. The terrorist trade in Baja is mine.”
Rio knew that look on Saul’s face. There would be no changing his mind, no reasoning with him now.
“By the way,” Saul said, his fury gone, like a receding wave. “I’ve hired someone to take over your duties as my driver and bodyguard until Cassandra is no longer an issue.”
Rio straightened. “What?”
“Xavier Alvarado. He’ll be acting as a short-term chauffer. Pedro and Tomás will be too busy with the mules, and it’s a good time to start trying out some new men for future employment.”
“Alvarado is brainless muscle. If you need someone to drive you, let me choose.”
“I know, I know.” Saul made a careless gesture. “Typically, I wouldn’t take on these menial tasks, but in this situation I have to do what I have to do. As soon as this transfer goes through, we’ll bring more men on board. Expand.”
“Alvarado isn’t appropriate. He may hinder your safety rather than ensure it.”
“He doesn’t have to be Einstein to drive me from one meeting to the next and carry a gun. The planning commission is gearing up for their first phase of reviews on the community center. I’m going to be very busy, and he comes highly recommended from another city council member. ”
Holy shit. Rio pulled a hand over his face. Talk about impending disaster.
“You’ve got important things to handle, Rio,” Saul said. “Crucial elements to our future success I can’t trust to anyone else. You leave Pedro and Xavier to me. I want your focus on getting those mules across the border, transferring the Syrians, and keeping Cassandra under control.”
Cassie’s hands trembled as she attempted to spear her earlobe with a diamond stud and managed to stick herself with the gold post instead. “Dammit.”
Once the earring was in place, she smoothed her hands down the silky fabric covering her thighs. The thought of facing Rio at the dinner table tied her nerves in double knots. She couldn’t shake the feeling of trying too hard when she shouldn’t be trying at all.
Her cell rang, and she turned toward the desk so fast she tipped on one spiked heel. She caught the edge with one hand, keeping herself upright, and reached for the phone with the other.
“Natalie?”
“Who else?”
“Tell me you found something.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not an international specialist. And if you could give me a little more than his name, description, and current residence, it might go faster. You know, something minor, like a social security number, a birth date, a birth place. Even some employment history would help me out. Do you have any idea how many Rio Santanas exist in Mexico? Never mind. You don’t want to know.”
“I don’t think getting close enough to ask those kinds of questions would be in my best interest.”
“No?” Natalie said. “I think that plenty-full tool chest could be very much in your best interest.”
The innuendo in Natalie’s tone made desire pulse through her body. Cassie pressed a hand to her overheated forehead. “I discovered he’s got a few other things stuffed down his pants.”
Natalie sputtered a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“A gun. He had a gun stuck in the back of his jeans under his shirt.”
“Whaaaaaat?” Her friend drew out the word with more interest than horror.
“Great, right? I know how to pick ’em.” She was seriously beginning to consider she had psychological issues as she inspected herself in the full-length mirror. “He’s lucky he hasn’t shot his balls off.”
That got a full-bellied laugh out of Natalie. “Oh my God, I used to tell Mike that all the time. He does the same thing with his gun when he goes undercover. I swear if his S&W didn’t have a safety, my hope of ever having kids would be…pardon the pun…shot.”
The skin on the back of Cassie’s neck tingled. Her chest kicked. Mike. That was where Cassie had heard the tone of voice Rio used that morning with the Muertos on the street.
“Cassie?” Natalie’s voice made Cassie realize she’d gone silent. “You still there?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She drew a breath. Found her chest tight. Tingly. “Hey, is Mike home?”
“Yes, why?”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Why?”
“Please, Natalie?”
Her friend pulled the phone from her ear and called to her husband, who picked up another line. “’Sup beautiful? Sick of Corona yet? ”
“Nat?” Cassie said. “Can we have a minute?”
Natalie grumbled but hung up the second line.
“Mmm.” Mike murmured around something he was drinking, and Cassie envisioned him watching football, his big body deep in the corner of their leather living room sofa. “You can have way more than a minute. Where do you want to meet, beautiful? Give me twenty minutes to get away from my wife—” A slap sounded over the line. Mike laughed through an, “Ow.”
Cassie was too wound up to play with them like she normally would. “Mike, does Mexico have undercover cops, you know, like the US?”
“Sure. Every police force has some sort of undercover. Why?”
Cassie hated the dual emotions of hope and dread swelling in her chest. “Are they…you know, good?”
“You mean ethical?” Mike snorted. “Hardly. That government is worse than Hussein’s ever was. If you mean skilled, I’d guess they are, considering how much drug money they have for weapons and training.
“It’s big business. We’ve got several divisions at SDPD dedicated to Mexican crime because it so commonly crosses our borders. We’ve got gang specialists undercover, tracking members between here and there, border enforcement agents posing as human smugglers, narcotics infiltrating cartels. That place is screwed, babe, which is why I agreed with Natalie when she suggested someone go down there with you.”
Cassie’s hope bubble burst, giving the dread room to expand.
“What’s going on Cass?” Mike asked, his voice shifting from casual to cop. “Are you in trouble? I can be there in a little over an hour.”
She forced a laugh, but her heart was pounding in her throat. “It’s a two-hour drive.”
“Not for me, honey, and sure as hell not if I have to get to you.”
An unexpected wave of emotion caused a knot in her chest. “Thanks, Mike, but I’m fine for now.”
Natalie said something in the background, and Mike respond
ed with, “So what? Every man, woman, and child down there probably owns a gun, and eighty percent probably carry. The cartels and their gangs have turned that place into a death trap.” Then into the phone he said, “Say the word and I’m there—International guidelines for cops be damned. I know every guy on duty at that border crossing.”
“Thanks, Mike.” The walls were starting to close in on her, and she didn’t need Mike showing up in the middle of this mess. “Will you stall Natalie for a bit? I’m late for dinner and I—”
“Don’t have time for a lecture. You got it, honey. Stay safe.”
Cassie disconnected, set her phone on the desk. So much for that little fantasy. Even if Rio did—on the off chance—happen to be a Mexican cop, with the corruption rate and his alliances with Saul and Fermin, his already shitty reputation kept rolling downhill.
She took a deep breath, which did nothing to settle the tremble in her hands, and examined herself in the full-length mirror. The strapless dress hugged her body; the bronze color brought out the richness of her skin and brightened her eyes. Still, she viewed her reflection critically. Even after her wounds from Sharpe had healed and the bruises had long faded, the ugliness inside lingered. Only when Rio looked at her did she feel attractive. And desirable. And so very…female.
She walked down the hall with Nina’s words echoing in her head. He killed a man. A strange mix of nerves jumped in her stomach—anger, confusion, anxiety. Yes, she was wildly attracted to Rio. Yes, she felt safe with him. Yes, she even trusted him. But she’d felt safe with Sharpe too—right up to the moment he’d grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and put a knife to her throat. She believed Rio was a far better man, and watching him waste his God-given potential by working here for Saul made impotence smolder at the center of her chest.
In the living room, Rio stood at the windows, nearly blending into the night beyond. Black shirt, black pants, black shoes, and that thick, wavy black hair. The way his clothes fit his lean, muscular body made her chest heavy with want, but one with far more anxiety than she’d had while he’d been kissing her earlier in the day.
