by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
Rio hauled her back by the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I have to check.” She shrugged from his grip while swatting at his hand. “I have to—”
“No!” He grabbed her arm. Too hard. He instantly knew she’d have bruises. “Don’t touch anything.”
“I have to.” She turned on Rio, outright terror and pleading on her face. “Rio, please.”
In that instant, Rio understood that she knew the man. Ray. She’d called him Ray. Ah, hell. Rio blocked the sight of the other man with his body and pushed Cassie back by the shoulders, while scouring the outer office behind her for threats.
“There’s nothing to check,” he said while she struggled against him. Trying to fight her back with the numbing meds wearing off his arm and a threat still somewhere nearby stretched his temper thin. “You don’t need to see—”
“But, Rio, you don’t understand—”
“He’s dead!”
She flinched. Hiccupped a horrible sound and shrank from him. Pulled against the hand circling her biceps. He didn’t let go but pulled her into him, secured his arms around her, and softened his voice. “They’re dead. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do for them now.”
She clutched at his T-shirt, face pressed into his chest, and cried.
The sound of her sobs, the heat of her tears, the jerk of her body as sorrow racked her were too familiar. Too painful. This was all too damn wrong. This whole thing—Saul, Fermin, the terrorists, the women, Alejandra and Santos dead, Cassie dying inside. At times like this, the whole damn world seemed wrong.
He kept one arm tight around Cassie’s shoulders and used the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe his prints off the door handle. He put his gun away, pulled the phone off his belt, and dialed the emergency operator.
“I’ve got…” He had to pause and consciously change the words that wanted to come automatically: a double homicide. Cassie was too sharp. She picked up on his slips into cop tendencies too easily. “Two dead bodies…in an office. The address is 815 Avenida Heraldo.”
By the time he got Cassie outside, she’d stopped crying, but the hot midday sun didn’t add any color to her complexion or stop her shivering.
“Oh God, Ray,” she murmured. “And that poor woman. Ray… Ray was…” She gestured helplessly with her hands but couldn’t come up with any words, then blurted out, “Such a sweet man. Who would want to…?”
She stopped short. Her gaze tortured but distant, as if her mind was far away.
“Come on.” Rio guided her toward an island of grass in the parking lot and a curb beneath a lush palm tree. He wasn’t feeling so great himself. He was sweating and freezing and light-headed. “We’ll sit in the shade until they get here.”
“Saul?” she murmured as he lowered her to the curb, then crouched in front of her. She looked right through Rio in a way that made the chill inside him deepen. “Did Saul…do this? Could he…could he really do this?”
The realization hardened in her eyes until they shone like polished glass. Every plane of her face went taut. Every angle sharpened. And Rio saw on Cassie’s face all the same rage, all the same hatred, all the same venom Rio had built for Saul over the past year.
There couldn’t have been a worse time for this epiphany. The first police car jerked to a halt across the drive, followed by another.
He gripped her arms hard. “Don’t jump to conclusions that can get you hurt. Didn’t you just tell Paco you had legal documents limiting his ability to get a ransom for you? How difficult would it have been for him to make one phone call after he left the café? Send someone over here to put an end to those documents?”
Her gaze swung up, a hint of confusion seeping in. She stood. So straight, so fast, Rio tipped backward and caught himself with one hand on hot pavement as she loomed over him. “Did Saul do this because he was afraid I’d get Mamà’s will changed? Did you…oh my God…did you know about this?”
He stood and reached for her. “No.”
“Don’t.” She stepped away, hands up in a stand-off gesture. “Don’t. I…I don’t know what’s happening.”
The cops spilled from their vehicles. Three headed for the office, guns drawn. A fourth stayed outside on the radio, making his way toward Cassie and Rio. Cassie shifted her weight and inched backward.
“Cassie, stop and think about this.” If she didn’t calm down quick, her suspicions would get back to Saul before Rio could even get her home. And he never knew when Saul would just snap; when Cassie’s interference would put her squarely in line as Saul’s next victim, as it had here with Santiago. “Santiago has hundreds of clients. It could have been someone with a grudge against him. It could have been anyone for any number of reasons. This is not the time to be talking shit to the cops.”
She narrowed her eyes, tightened the cross of her arms over her chest. “Are you threatening me?”
Okay, that just pissed him off. “Cassie—” He stopped himself from blurting out…something. Something he’d regret. “You are maddening.” He stepped close, lowered his voice so the cop wouldn’t hear him. “This would be a really bad time to piss Saul off with unfounded accusations.”
He turned away before he had time to read her expression—purposely. He didn’t think he could take one more glare of suspicion from her today. Instead, he intercepted the cop. Fielding questions and offering a statement gave Cassie time to think about what he’d said, let the shock wear off, and allowed her logical mind to start working again.
He watched her from the corner of his eye. She wandered ten yards away, leaned her shoulder against a tree, and rubbed her forehead. Rio answered the cop’s standard questions—what he saw, what he did, etc.
More cops arrived, an ambulance, men in plain clothes, and, wonder upon wonders, Fermin. He stood from the car and headed directly for Cassie.
“Excuse me.” Rio walked away from the cop taking his statement but didn’t intercept Fermin before he’d approached Cassie.
“Cassandra.”
She jumped, dropped her hands, and stepped back. Missed the curb, stumbled. Fermin reached out for her, clasped on to her arm in what was meant to be a helpful gesture, but one that had fear leaping in Cassie’s eyes.
As Rio approached, Cassie’s gaze darted between him and Fermin as if trying to decide whether to give herself to the mountain lion or the jackal.
“Chief.” Rio strode directly between them, forcing Fermin to release her.
“Rio. What brought you and Cassandra here?”
“Cassie had an appointment.” He glanced at her as she rubbed her arm and sidled away from them both. “As you can see, she’s still a little shaken up. I’ve already given a statement, but I think Cassie needs a rest before she’s ready to give hers.”
“No.” Cassie’s chin tilted in a familiar show of determination that made Rio clench his teeth. “I can give it right now.”
Rio sliced a warning gaze her way, but she didn’t look at him.
“Fine, Cassandra,” Fermin said and pulled a notebook from his pocket. “Now…”
He asked Cassie questions identical to the ones Rio had fielded, and she answered them just as he had. Only he delved deeper into why she’d been here and what services Santiago had been providing. Cassie kept her answers benign and simple, just as Rio would have instructed if she’d been open to taking his advice. Only Cassie went one step further. She lied and told Fermin she’d hired Santiago to create her own will and finalize some property transfers.
Rio had just started to relax when Fermin asked, “Do you know of anyone who would have motive to harm either Señor Santiago or his secretary?”
Rio’s shoulders tightened up again. He didn’t look at Cassie but stared down at the grass where they stood beneath the shade tree. His hands curled into fists where his arms were crossed over his chest.
When she hesitated, Rio wondered how fast he could get her to the border. Wondered if he’d have to fight Fermin and the other cops to get cust
ody of her.
“No,” she said, finally. “I don’t.”
Cassie sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, staring out at the ocean. She rested her head in her hand and didn’t even try to stop the tears from pouring. Tears of frustration, loss, futility, anger, fear. She’d pulled the box of tissues from her nightstand to her side and blotted her face and blew her nose as her mind turned and turned around problems and options. Pored over resources.
She couldn’t call Natalie to talk, because she would freak out and pressure Cassie to go home. And if she decided to leave, she’d do it on her own.
Cassie slumped the rest of the way to the bed. Her head hit the pillow as she reached for her cell on the nightstand and dialed her last hope.
“Hey, beautiful,” Mike answered, his voice as smooth as always but edged with worry. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, Mike. I…” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask a favor. And if you can’t do it or if it’s in any way going to cause you problems, please just tell me no, because—”
“Cass,” he cut in. “What?”
She sniffled, wiped her nose, and clenched her teeth, hating herself for doing this. Hating Rio for making her do this. “I asked Natalie to check someone out—”
“Santana. She told me.”
Rio’s last name made her stomach tremble. In a complex but good way. “Yeah. Look, I think, I mean, from things you’ve told me in the past, stories and things, I think he may be, you know, a…um…cop of some kind. He’s American, not Mexican like I first thought, so—”
“Like what kind of things?”
“Like…” She sighed, covering her eyes on a splash of embarrassment at this crazy lifeline she’d grabbed for. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it, but the way he says things, the way he handles his weapon. Most of the time it’s nearly imperceptible, more a look or the way he walks or stands or the tone of his voice. He just… God, he sometimes reminds me…”
“Of what?” Mike prodded, his voice tight.
“Of you.”
Silence.
Cassie winced. He surely thought she’d finally lost it. “Hey, I’m so sorry to bother you with this, it’s really stupid—”
“What’s his full name again?”
Cassie told him. “I’m sure it’s my overactive imagination, Mike. Just forget I—”
“How old is he?”
Heat slid over Cassie’s ribs. Mike’s direct, rapid-fire questions meant he was taking her seriously. Which meant she’d said something that spoke to Mike. He was way too busy, way too savvy to go digging and pulling in favors for anything less than credible. Did she dare hope?
“Um…thirty to thirty-two maybe,” she guessed.
“What else do you know about him?”
“Very little. I haven’t gotten any more real information about him since I talked to Natalie.”
“Appearance?”
Gorgeous. Hot. Sexy. She ground her teeth. Her stomach tightened. “Six-one, about two-hundred pounds, muscular. He’s Hispanic; at least I think he is. Black hair, green eyes, dark skinned. He speaks Spanish and English fluently. But I also heard him speaking something that sounded, I don’t know, Arabic or something. When I asked, he said he speaks four languages fluently and three passably. He claimed it was for his work for Saul, but that’s bullshit.”
“Scars? Marks? Tattoos?”
She swallowed, envisioning every amazing inch of his body and breathed, “No. None.”
Mike hesitated. “None that you can see…or…none?”
A strangled laugh bubbled out of Cassie’s throat, “None.”
“Shit. Cass…” He wanted to lecture her like the big brother he’d become in their friendship; she could hear it in his voice. But he fell silent again. Then sighed. “I’ll find out who he is.”
Cassie’s throat closed with a mix of gratitude, relief, and fear.
“Cass,” Mike said. “Until you hear from me again, don’t cause him trouble.”
“Hey,” she complained, trying for a playful response. “Who said I’m—”
“I know you.” He was not having her denial. “If he’s good and undercover, you’re both in danger. We don’t send guys down there for little shit. If he’s bad—and we have our share of American cops go bad—you are in extreme danger. Until I figure out which, don’t get in his way and stay out of trouble.”
Cassie disconnected and stared at her phone. Her heart told her Rio was one thing. Her mind told her he was another. But either way, it was far too late for Cassie to think about staying out of trouble.
Rio paced the surf, staring at his phone in one hand, gripping a handful of his hair in the other. Inside, he raged at the senseless deaths of Santiago and his secretary. He had no doubt Saul had sent someone to end whatever work the attorney had been doing on Cassie’s behalf, and had never wanted to empty his clip into someone so bad in his entire life. Considering the scum he’d spent most of the last decade associating with that said a lot about the depth of his pure hatred for this man. But right now, Rio had to focus on the deal.
He had only a couple of days left to wait for the terrorists to dock. Once they’d been transferred, Saul would get what was coming, and Cassie would be safe. If only the next couple of days didn’t feel like such an eternity.
Since Cassie had bolted from the Jeep as soon as he’d stopped in the estate’s driveway like she couldn’t stand another second in his presence, he’d considered calling Tomás for a kick in the head so he could get his perspective back; he’d considered going straight to Kollman and calling the man himself, even though it was strictly against protocol. He’d even considered telling Cassie everything on their way to the border.
Since none of those would do shit to solve his problem, he checked his watch, calculated time zones, and dialed Ahmed. As the phone rang in Syria, Rio dropped his head back, and let the cool sea air whip around him. A critical turning point was imminent, he could feel it looming, but he had absolutely no control over any of the key players: Cassie, Saul, or Paco.
“Yes, yes.” Ahmed’s growl was both irritable and acquiescent.
“Update,” was all Rio had to say.
“They have encountered some weather.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they will most likely come in ahead of schedule.”
An unexpected burn traveled across the back of Rio’s neck. “Early? Are you sure? How early?”
“The winds and currents are erratic. The captain couldn’t say for sure. He’s calling me every four hours with reports.”
“He must have an estimate.”
“Depends on how long the storm lasts. Could change the delivery time as little as twelve hours; could drop them as soon as tomorrow.”
Rio stared out at the water, but his vision glazed over as his mind churned in thought. “This could be perfect,” he murmured.
“Then you tell Flores this news,” Ahmed said, his voice becoming increasingly agitated. “He’s arrogant and condescending, and I don’t want to speak to that man again. That wasn’t part of the deal. I told you up front I work with one man in an organization and one man only. Fewer complications, fewer misunderstandings.”
Rio stopped pacing. Alarm burned his gut. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Flores. He’s called me directly twice in the last week. Is there something going on there I should know about? If I send these men into an uncontrolled situation and something happens to them, I’m a dead man, do you understand?”
Saul’s break in his fastidious rule of remaining unsullied by contact with the middle men sent up a neon-red flag.
“What did he want?” Rio asked.
“He wanted all the details of the transaction I already gave you.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The same thing I told you.” Ahmed’s voice rose in frustration. “This isn’t what we agreed. I told you I want to work with one man, so there is no confusion
. What is going on?”
“Everything on this end is handled, Ahmed. What you need to remember, above everything else, is that I am the only one who can authorize the payment transfer to your bank account. Not Flores.”
“Then why is he telling me he’s in charge? That you work for him?”
Rio was suddenly exhausted. He often forgot what Saul’s purpose was in this deal as well. He’d tried to develop Ahmed as a terrorist smuggling contact separate from his work with Saul with a plan of lying to Saul and developing a separate op for the terrorists. But Ahmed didn’t feel Rio was reliable enough as an individual and he’d been forced to do the deal under Saul.
But everything had become so convoluted over the last few months that he had to occasionally remind himself that there were many in Saul’s circle who would also have to be taken down. That this was both about the gangs and the terrorists and many relationships needed to be developed for law enforcement to reach deep within the gangs’ core structure. Saul was a conduit to those other, more important relationships.
“Because I do work for him,” Rio said. “Remember, we’re playing by your rules. You insisted on a proprietor with ties to the community, a long-standing successful smuggling history. You got that. You didn’t say anything about him being a nice guy.
“The drop is getting close, and he’s probably just double-checking the arrangements,” Rio reassured. “If Flores calls you again, just make sure you only give him the information you and I have agreed on. Because if you don’t, Ahmed, you will never see your money. Got it?”
“Yes, yes.”
Rio disconnected and stared out at the ocean. How many things could go wrong before they called it off? Before their safety was compromised beyond an acceptable limit and the integrity of the mission was shot to hell?
With stress wearing on him, Rio traversed the beach toward Cassie’s room and dialed Tomás.
“I don’t get it,” Tomás said after Rio snarled a hello at his partner. “You’ve never had this much trouble getting into a girl’s pants before.”
“What the hell…?”
“You wouldn’t be this pissed if you were gettin’ some.”
