Finally Gabe held up his hand. “TM-fucking-I, Chess.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you have to stop treating me like I’m the teenager you left at home when you went off to save the world. This happened. Get over it. Nothing has changed because of it.” Maybe she’d slipped off her Little Sister Pedestal, but that had to happen sometime. “And nothing will change because of it.”
“Are you kidding?” Gabe thrust the listening device in her face. “This changes everything.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing she found it,” Mal said.
“We didn’t reveal anything,” she added. “We’ve been over our conversation.”
“Replayed the whole thing for old time’s sake, did you?” Gabe snarled the question, his look far darker than any obscenity-laden diatribe he could fling at them. Instead, he turned to Mal. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Mal closed his eyes. “I thought she was…with the agency,” he said.
He did? Chessie’s heart stumbled at the admission, but Gabe’s eyes sparked with raw fury. “And you threw her on her back and plowed her to make sure?”
Mal was in his face in a second. “Shut the fuck up.”
Gabe brushed him off, his nostrils finally flaring with the anger Chessie expected. “You’re defending her?”
“Hell yes, I am. She did nothing wrong, and I—”
“Took one for the team.”
Mal grabbed Gabe’s T-shirt collar so fast, Chessie sucked in a shocked breath. “Not another word, Rossi.” He had Gabe by an inch in height and more trips to a real gym. “Not one more word about your sister and not one more idiotic middle-school comment about what we did.”
Gabe stared at him, his laser-blue eyes slicing through Mal. “What kind of a bottom-feeder screws the woman he thinks might be following him?”
Good question. Chessie could feel herself backing away, this news pressing hotter and harder than the sunshine. He’d thought she was a spy and—
“Shut the hell up.” Mal’s hand fisted and drew back, his arm nearly vibrating for a fight. “It wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then what was it—”
“Stop it!” Chessie got right in between them, fury and disbelief nearly blinding her. “Both of you, just stop it. It’s done. We’re…done.” So, so done. “Let’s figure out Plan B and get to Cuba, find your son, and get out fast. I’d like this whole thing to be over as soon as possible.”
She could have sworn Mal flinched. Well, too bad. Her own puzzle pieces clicked together…comments finally making sense, subtleties in their exchange fitting into the big picture. The big ugly picture.
He’d thought she was one of the spies after him and he’d…screwed her. In every sense of the word.
“Even if you lost them before you left Atlanta, they could have followed Chessie when she left your room,” Gabe said. “Shit, they could be on the property right now.”
“They’re not,” Mal said.
“You don’t know that, but just in case, why don’t you knock on a few doors and see who you can bang some information out of?” Gabe stabbed his hand through his hair. “We’ll accelerate the schedule. Change the flights. Send you through another country and get you to Cuba by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good thinking—”
Gabe glared at Mal, shutting him up. “I don’t need your fucking approval, dickface. In fact, I don’t need you at all. Pack up and head out. I’ll figure something else out and—”
“Gabe.” Mal’s voice was low and harsh. “That’ll take more time. Do you really want to spend even one more day wondering about this kid? You need me, man. And Chessie needs protection. I’ll guard her with my life, I swear to God I will.”
Gabe opened his mouth to spew some more venom, but nothing came out. The fire in his eyes didn’t disappear, but his chest rose and fell with a slow breath.
Chessie fisted her hands, Mal’s promise to protect hanging in the air, along with his determination to keep Gabe from going to Cuba. That alone was a point in his favor, along with his defense of her.
“Come on, Gabe,” Mal continued. “Let me do this for you. Let me find the answers you have to have.”
Chessie’s heart warmed at the plea, which seemed genuine and was surely the right way to look at this.
And Gabe closed his eyes in silent resignation.
“You know it’s the right thing to do,” Mal finished.
Gabe inhaled and exhaled, fighting for control and common sense. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m going to put you on a plane to Cuba with my sister, and you’re going to do what you have to do, keeping your paws to yourself, and then you can come back and kindly stay out of my life.” He threw a look at Chessie. “Come with me. I need to talk to you.”
Mal moved closer to her as Gabe walked away, but Chessie put her hand on his arm. “Let me hear what he has to say,” she said. “Brother to sister.”
“Chessie—”
“Please, I know what to say to him.”
“You already said plenty.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m not a spy,” she said dryly. “Even if I can pass for one.” Without waiting for some lame-ass apology, she headed to the back patio, where she found Gabe still breathing hard, staring at the listening device.
“Look, Gabe, I know I let you down, but—”
He shook his head, stopping Chessie’s speech before it started. “I acted like an asshole.”
“Well. The first step is admitting it,” she said in a teasing tone.
He puffed out a breath. “It just…surprised me. And, yes, you’re right. You’re a grown woman.”
The statement stunned any argument out of her. “Thank you, but you don’t have to worry about anything. The chances of it happening again are less than zero.” At his doubtful look, she added, “Please. He put the moves on me because he thought I was a spy.” The reality of it tightened her stomach into a ball of self-loathing. And Mal-loathing.
“I’m sure that’s not the only reason, Chess. Plus, ‘I went to his room’ doesn’t exactly sound like this was one-sided.”
Shit, why had she told him so much? “It doesn’t matter. Now I know why he turned on the charm. I’ll avoid…him.” On a mission to Cuba.
Gabe looked at her as if he was thinking the same thing.
“Look.” He held up the broken device. “This is why you need to avoid Mal. He’s got a target on his back, so he’s not the guy you want.”
“I’d already figured out he’s a spy.”
Both of Gabe’s brows lifted. “You didn’t find that out through some computer search.”
“No, I didn’t.” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “Just used my God-given Rossi intuition.”
He nodded slowly, impressed. “I knew you had the chops.”
“So get off my case and let me do this job,” she said. “Trust me.”
“I do, but, listen, Chess, about Mal. About a relationship with Mal.”
“There won’t be one,” she assured him.
“Good, because there are people who’d like to see him behind bars doing ten more years not behind a picket fence mowing the lawn and having backyard barbecues with the neighbors.”
“That’s what you think I want?” She tried to sound put off by the suggestion, even though…it wasn’t far from the truth.
He lifted a brow. “You told me last time you were down here how much you want to have a family. How much you want to settle down and have a life and a home like the one we grew up in. So much you were willing to march down the aisle with douchetastic Matt. Did you think I wasn’t listening?”
“I thought you weren’t impressed by those mundane goals. I figured that’s why you want me down here. So I can learn the business and go all badass like my siblings and cousins.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Look at Vivi. Badass and pregnant. Married to that stick in the mud Lang, who probably pulls
out a rule book every time he takes a shit to make sure everything’s coming out in the right order.”
She bit back a smile. “I like Lang.”
“As you should. He’s the kind of guy who would be good for you, much as it pains me to admit it. But Mal? No. Not what you need, Chess.”
Irritation squeezed her again, but she was more curious than angry at Gabe for making sweeping decisions about her life. “I know he’s got a record and that he went to jail for a serious crime.”
“Yeah, the crime of stupidity.”
“Stealing money from the government is stupid,” she agreed.
Gabe looked hard at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Listen to me,” he said. “He’s never going to have a normal life. He’s a risk.”
“And yet you’re willing to send me to a foreign country on a secret mission with him.”
“He knows every inch of that island, and you won’t be there long. I still think he’s the best guy for the job.”
Of all the bruising former military guys he knew, he had to pick one who turned Chessie’s hormones into a sizzling pot of need. But she’d cool off…every time she thought about why he seduced her.
Gabe put his hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze, “Don’t fall for him, Chessie. You’d never have a normal life.”
She snorted and wormed out of his touch. “No worries there, big brother.”
And, really, she’d never meant anything more in her whole life.
Chapter Ten
Sunset washed Barefoot Bay in a mellow golden glow, dimmed by a rain shower that drenched the sands and bathed paradise in a dreary gloom. It suited Mal’s mood just fine. Gabe and Nino had gone out, leaving Mal behind with the aroma of the older man’s latest tomato-saucey creation wafting through the little bungalow.
Mal wasn’t the least bit hungry.
He was tense, pissed, and itching to square things away with Chessie before they got on that flight to Cuba. But she’d disappeared and didn’t answer her door when he’d knocked around dinnertime.
When the downpour let up to a misty drizzle, Mal decided to try again. From the cul-de-sac, he walked east through the small farmette that served the resort and along a deserted beach toward her villa, where he’d try one more time to set things straight.
He had to tell her that by the time she’d come to his hotel room, he knew she wasn’t a spy. Would she believe him? Would she understand that he had to be suspicious of everyone?
The rain made his T-shirt stick to his chest and back, so he stripped it off and tossed it on the sand to let the mist wet his chest. It wasn’t quite dark enough to take everything off and swim off his frustrations, but the sunset-tinted water looked inviting.
He got closer to the cluster of the villas where she was staying, smaller than many others on the property, but still luxurious and private. This grouping all backed up to the beach, so their pools had unobstructed water views, and guests could walk right out to the sand.
In the distance, a woman caught his attention, emerging from the water wearing a black bikini.
Not a woman. The woman.
Chessie twisted water from her hair, then scooped up a thigh-length white shirt and slipped into it, the cotton immediately clinging to her wet body. She bent again and grabbed a hat from the sand, perching it on her head, a red scarf around the brim floating down her back.
She stood still, apparently unaware of him, staring out to the water and the lone orange ball about to disappear below the horizon.
Even a football field away, Mal felt a primal response to Francesca Rossi, and it wasn’t just the normal reaction of a man who’d spent four years celibate in prison. This was a deeper hunger. A craving for…more.
Maybe it was better if she believed the worst about him. Better if she thought him a thief who’d tricked her into sex. Because if she felt anything like he did, if she wanted another night in bed as much as he wanted it, then they weren’t going to get from Havana to Caibarién without pulling over and giving in.
She glanced in his general direction, but he noticed she didn’t have her glasses on, so she likely didn’t see him. Or she was just ignoring him—a very distinct possibility.
She walked along the water’s edge in the other direction, her bare feet kicking up wet sand. The hat protected her from the drizzle, but the light rain only made the shirt completely transparent, which made him more anxious to…peel it off her.
She stopped after about twenty feet, letting the gulf water swirl around her ankles. She seemed not only oblivious to the rain, but kind of enjoying it. As if the outdoor shower were washing away crappy thoughts, ones he put there because of his broken ability to trust anyone.
He approached her soundlessly from behind, trying to think of an opening line that would make her laugh or take down her guard. Maybe something that would—
“I know you’re back there.”
He stopped, fighting a smile.
“Do you really think you can sneak up on me?” she asked, still not turning around. “I was raised in a family of bodyguards, cops, FBI agents, and investigators.”
“And one particularly cagey spook.”
“Definitely made for interesting dinner conversation with a table full of tough talkers, that’s for sure.”
“I bet you talked some of the toughest.”
She snorted softly. “I was the overprotected baby, as you surely figured out during our lovely exchange with my brother.”
He came closer, but stayed behind her. “And how do you feel about that?”
“The exchange with Gabe or life at the bottom of the Rossi food chain?”
He’d meant their conversation, but both topics interested him. Hell, everything about her interested him. “Let’s start with how you feel about your unfortunate birth order in your family of overachieving world-savers?”
“Funny.” She gave a soft laugh, toeing the sand and water. “I was just asking myself the same question.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he waited, staring at her back and the lines of neat muscles curving down to her ass, all revealed through the wet shirt.
Yeah. Gonna be a tough few days in Cuba together.
“So,” he prompted when her silence lasted too long. “What’s your answer?”
She sighed. “Being the youngest of five siblings, plus two just-as-protective older cousins who were raised with us, is my lot in life, I guess. I will be forever viewed and treated by them as the baby. That pisses me off. Gabe pissed me off.”
“Hey, he’s your brother and he cares about you. Anyway, let’s talk about who you’re really pissed at right now.”
She slid a glance over her shoulder, just enough that he could see a bemused expression under that hat rim. “There are no words.”
As he suspected.
“Did you come to apologize?” she asked, finally turning to face him.
“Define apologize,” he replied, slipping into one of his favorite ways to deflect a conversation he didn’t really want to have.
“Usually it starts with ‘I’m sorry’ and ends with ‘I owe you one.’”
He took a step closer, tempted to lift the hat so he could see her face without shadows. “Well, I’m not sorry,” he finally said.
Her mouth opened so far it was almost comical.
“Let me rephrase. I’m not sorry that you had the ‘best sex of your life.’”
She dropped her head back with a disgusted grunt. “I knew my little rally cry for independence was going to bite me in the ass.”
“For the record—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “If you say that was the best sex of your life, I swear to God, I’ll hit you.”
“Why?”
“Because you had an agenda, Mal Harris,” she ground out. “How good could it have been when it wasn’t anything but…but…a job to you? An exploratory mission? Or, worse, a little vendetta?” Each word exploded in his gut.
“It wasn’t any of those t
hings,” he insisted, earning a sharp bark of disbelief. “I swear, Chessie, once I knew for sure—”
“You never really knew,” she said, marching away to walk along the water. “Not until I told you my name.”
“I knew before that,” he insisted, following her. “When we were in the hotel lobby, there was something in your eyes. Something real. Innocent, even.”
She snorted. “Please. There was nothing innocent about that encounter. We were eyeing condoms like little kids in a candy store.”
“Okay, innocent is the wrong word,” he allowed. “But, when we were in that store, I knew. I knew that I had let my inability to trust anyone get in the way, and I knew right then that you were exactly who you said you were, and I…” He reached for her, turning her around to face him. “I wanted to be with you more than…more than…” He swallowed the admission, only because he didn’t want to sound desperate. “Anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice speech. Did they teach you that at Langley?”
He bit back a curse, shaking his head. He deserved this. “If you hadn’t come to my room, I’d have probably knocked on every damn door in the Marriott till I found you.”
“And then our room wouldn’t have been bugged,” she said wryly.
“And you might not hate me.”
“I don’t…” She stopped herself, her gaze dropping over his bare chest, then she shifted her attention to the water. “Jeez,” she muttered.
“Jeez, what?”
“It’s just my luck to have my very first field job with the same person I had my very first hookup with.”
The confession surprised him only a little. “I could tell,” he said.
She scowled at him. “I wasn’t a virgin, Mal. I’ve had sex before, but not with a perfect stranger I was pretty sure I’d never see again. No, not part of my life plan. Never was, anyway. And never will be again.” She shook her head vehemently. “And this whole thing is proof that shit goes down the drain when I go off plan.”
“Look, the first thing I can tell you, field rookie, is that plans are nothing but contingent out there in the real world.”
She sliced him with a challenge in her eyes. “Sex with me was a contingency plan?”
Barefoot With A Stranger Page 10
