Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Call him on his boldness, Nicole told herself, and demand an apology. That is what she should do. Just as she should be indignant, appalled. Instead, Nicole found herself savoring his seductive claim of a shared secret, remembering the bliss of his hands caressing her skin, seducing her until she was ready to melt. Upset at herself over the way he’d tricked her, she reached for that ripe anger, still burning inside her, and let it expand in her chest. The man was leading her down a passion-filled path to trouble, awakening a dangerously erotic part of her that had once ruled her life. She should walk away. But she couldn’t. Not with so much on the line. Not when Constantine might really be the key to Alvarez’s conviction.

  “I’ll hear what you have to say,” she said, because it was her only option. “On one condition.” Constantine arched a brow in silent question. She shoved at his chest. “Let go of me and do not touch me again.”

  Her body might still remember the pleasure he’d delivered, but she wasn’t a fool. This man was trouble. And now he’d had the audacity to use that big body of his to force her to listen. She didn’t like it. It was time he learned he wasn’t in charge anymore. No seductive prowess was going to change that, either, she vowed.

  4

  NICOLE GOT TO HIM in a big way—a way no woman had done in far too long to remember. So much so, that her anger challenged him, made him want to kiss her into submission.

  Let her go or kiss her? A tough call. Her lips were full and red—tempting lips that he already knew tasted sinfully sweet. Yes, kissing her would be a delicious distraction from the hell he called his life right now. But then, it wouldn’t work toward earning her trust, nor would it aid his efforts to put Alvarez into permanent retirement.

  Constantine ground his teeth together, accepting the inevitable conclusion that he must behave. He gave her lips one last wistful look before forcing himself to release her and step backward.

  Nicole immediately crossed her arms in front of her body in a guarded stance. The act thrust her breasts high, giving his eyes yet another delicious distraction. Damn, the woman was killing him.

  He sat down on the arm of the couch, which served dual purposes. It put Nicole out of reach and brought the two of them closer to eye level, so he wouldn’t tower over her. The goal was trust, not intimidation.

  Their gazes connected, silent tension filling the air. She was angry and probably embarrassed, though he doubted she would admit that part. “I think you should know,” he said, attempting a path to a truce, “no one knew I was following you, nor do they know about what happened between us.”

  “How long, exactly, were you following me?” she asked, her boot doing a slow tap on the floor, telling of her agitation as much as the steely look in her beautiful eyes.

  Inwardly, he cringed before he answered. “Two days.” He left out how much he’d enjoyed watching her those two days, how many ways he’d fantasized about making love to her. He figured it wouldn’t help his situation any.

  She made a frustrated sound; her hands dropped to her sides—perfectly manicured hands with pink nails curling into her palms. “Two days.” The words were flat, her cheeks flushed. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she mumbled, “Two days and I never suspected a thing.” It wasn’t a question. It was more a statement of disbelief directed at herself. Her chin lifted, eyes latching on to his with accusation. “You expect me to believe the feds let you disappear for two days without any idea where you were?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to pull out of Alvarez’s operation until the last minute. It left me less risk of exposure. But three years of my life were on the line, and I know how easily Alvarez corrupts people. I didn’t care what your file said. I needed to get a sense of who you were myself. Alvarez is going to find someone in the middle of this to corrupt, I promise you, if he hasn’t already.”

  “I know Alvarez’s type,” she quickly asserted.

  “Sweetheart, you only think you know his type.” Constantine had seen things—hell, done things himself during these past few years—that would bring grown men to their knees. “Murder is worthy of popcorn and a soda to Alvarez. As for corrupting someone inside this case, he’ll do whatever it takes to get out of that jail cell. Even threaten the lives of their families.” His voice softened. “I approached you that night as a means of survival. What happened from there was pure chemistry.”

  Her lips thinned. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. “I need my briefcase from the car. There are questions—” A slight sound on the roof sent her gaze upward and Constantine to his feet. “You heard that, too, right?” she asked, worry etching in her lovely face.

  He had heard all right. Which was why his hand now rested on his side, ready to draw his Glock. “Most likely the wind,” he stated, but it wasn’t. He’d grown up here and he knew every sound, every nuance.

  Two knocks sounded on the front door, a code for his men before entry. A marshal known as Smith entered, his big body tense, his expression grim. Constantine cursed under his breath, knowing the news was bad before it was even spoken. “We have company,” Smith stated, confirming Constantine’s assumption.

  “What does that mean?” Nicole asked.

  Drawing his gun from the holster on his shoulder, Constantine ignored her question, focusing on getting the facts. “How many?”

  “I wish I knew,” Smith said, no longer hiding his weapon. It was in his hand, ready to be put to use. “We have movement on the roof. Two spotted coming up the west side of the property by foot. Probably more we have yet to identify.”

  “Oh, my God,” Nicole whispered. “I did everything Agent Flores told me to do.”

  And Flores had tailed her to make sure she wasn’t followed. Someone had betrayed him, not that Constantine found this surprising. That’s why he had an escape plan plotted. And even that was only partially shared with Agent Flores, who he trusted as well as he trusted anyone. Truth was, he trusted no one completely. Not after everything he’d seen these past three years. If he got her to the woods, he could get her to safety.

  He turned to Nicole, hands going to her shoulders; he fixed her in a steady stare. “How they found us doesn’t matter. What matters is our safety. And as you’ve already seen, I don’t take chances. I plan in advance. I can get us out of here.”

  She seemed to be weighing his words, then said, “I know how to fire a gun.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he said, thinking that not much about this woman did. He bent down, removing a lightweight Wesson 35 from a holster around his ankle and handing it to her. “Six rounds, one in the chamber. Got it?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I got it. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do.”

  Constantine wished the same thing, but he had to admire her courage. No tears for this one.

  He turned to Smith and told him, “Cover the east side of the cabin so we make it the woods.” He grabbed Nicole’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen window.

  “What if they’re right outside?” Nicole demanded as he opened the glass.

  “Smith and his men will cover us,” he assured her.

  “The same ones that made sure no one found us?”

  He hiked himself up on the counter. She had a point, but he didn’t say that. “I’ll go first so I can make sure it’s safe.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “Don’t fret. No one knows these woods like I do. I grew up here.” He let his hand drop. “And I put up with three years of Alvarez’s shit. I have no intention of either of us dying before we make that sorry bastard feel some pain.” Then, he lowered his voice, his words full of promise. “Trust me.”

  * * *

  ON THE RUN, the very man who had betrayed her the week before now held her hand, leading her through the wilderness—her lifeline from those who hunted them. And on the run they were. For hours it seemed. They’d run and run some more.

  Long ago, Constantine had broken off the heels on her boots, but not before painful blisters had formed on her toes. Still, she wasn’t c
omplaining. They’d had a close call with a couple of Alvarez’s men near the cabin, barely ducking out of sight. That was enough to make Nicole thankful to be alive—blisters be damned. Right now, she had only one thing on her mind, and that was staying alive.

  Constantine drew abruptly to a halt, pulling her to a squatting position behind a cluster of bushes. Nicole obliged, struggling to catch her breath, the humidity making the air thick and hard to inhale. Her hair clung to her neck, sticky and uncomfortable. There was no wind, so the heat was a stifling wall of discomfort. Thunder rolled in the distance, warning of rain, and right now, she welcomed the relief it would bring.

  With a silent look, Constantine let her know his intentions—he was going to scout ahead as he had several times before. She barely inclined her head and he was gone, moving with a silent, stealthlike agility that a man his size shouldn’t possess. But then, he’d stayed alive inside Alvarez’s gang. No doubt, that had to have taken some fancy footwork. Three years of living that life was a long time. That he had a backup plan, a hideout no one knew about, shouldn’t surprise her. She imagined those three years had made him resourceful.

  Alone now behind the cluster of bushes, she peered into the darkness, searching for trouble, her ears straining for any sound that might signal danger. Nicole sucked in a surprised breath as Constantine was suddenly behind her, no sound warning of his approach. Every time he touched her, awareness teased her nerve endings, taunting her with her inability to control its presence. She rotated around to face him, her thigh aligned with his, pressed close. Their eyes locked, the connection hitting her with lightning force, attraction sizzling around them despite the danger they faced.

  But there was more than attraction that lured Nicole to Constantine at present. Crazy as it was, this stranger, a man who’d lied to her only a week before, offered comfort and security that she desperately needed right now.

  “Not much farther,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper.

  “Shouldn’t we call someone?” she asked, matching his low tone, wishing she hadn’t left her cell phone back at the cabin.

  “No need. A rendezvous is set up with Flores in the event I run into trouble. A time and location not far from here. We just need to get underground and safe until then. Besides, we don’t know who we can trust, and any call could be monitored.”

  “If I don’t show up tomorrow, they might do something crazy to delay the trial. I know you don’t want that.”

  “What I want is to stay alive.” He pushed to his feet, staring down at her as he offered her his hand.

  Nicole took a moment to stare up at the foreboding, but oh-so-sexy male, before slipping her palm into his. His cheeks were chiseled, his jaw strong, something in those dark eyes wary and lonely. He was a stranger who’d snuck past her guard in far too many ways, an undercover agent who oozed danger and sex, with no telling what kind of sordid past. Yet in just a week’s time, she’d put both her life, and her libido, in his hands.

  Hands she hoped were as experienced at surviving in the wild as they were at giving pleasure.

  5

  RAIN FELL SLOWLY, steadily, and seeped into Nicole’s clothes and cooled her skin as she followed Constantine through a heavily wooded area. Tree branches and bushes had to be shoved aside and dodged. For a stormy night, the sky was remarkably bright, the way a sky was lit before a tornado. Nicole didn’t want to think about that now. She focused on keeping pace with Constantine, pushing herself as hard as she could. That was until her foot hit a rock that bit through a sore spot on her sole. Pain rocketed up her shin, and to her complete dismay, her ankle twisted to the side.

  Constantine grabbed her arm to steady her. Suddenly the deadly sound of a rattlesnake filled the air. “Don’t move, cariña,” he warned, his voice low, tight. “Don’t move.”

  “Oh, God,” she whispered hoarsely, fear shooting adrenaline through her body and telling her to run. Somehow she stayed still. “Where is it?”

  But he didn’t respond with words. With agility and speed, Constantine somehow pulled his gun and fired. Her body stiffened, ready for the snake’s strike if he missed.

  Instead, she found herself engulfed in his strong arms, his hand sliding down the back of her head. “It’s over. It’s dead.”

  Nicole blinked up at him as the words sank in, and then she abruptly whirled around to see the proof. Constantine shined his penlight so she could see the snake. She breathed calmly at the sight of the dead rattler, but it didn’t last, as his arms dropped away and he grabbed her hand, and told her, “We need to move. That gunshot just announced our location.” He had no sooner spoken the words than he tugged her into motion.

  Her heart pounded in her ears; her adrenaline, still high from her snake encounter, now shot beyond her control. Constantine was relentless in the path before him, half dragging her, clearly compelled to get distance between them and where the gunshot had sounded.

  Several branches snapped to their right, and Constantine stilled instantly, pulling Nicole down into the bushes. Nicole’s stomach churned. Oh, no. They’d been found.

  Constantine motioned to other bushes that formed a circle and pulled her into its center. There was barely room for the two of them. Next, he retrieved the Wesson revolver again from his boot holster, where it had been secured while they were on the run. He pressed it into her palm and then slid his cheek against hers, his lips to her ear. “This is about staying alive. Don’t talk yourself out of pulling the trigger.” Leaning back, he searched her face, showing his in the process. A chill raced down her spine. Those warm, chocolate-brown eyes of his held fiery determination and strength; she could see he was willing to demand the same of her but he didn’t have to. She’d do anything to protect herself. She drew a breath and nodded her understanding. Satisfaction filled his gaze.

  He leaned close again, the warmth of his body penetrating her wet skin, the stubble of his chin brushing her cheek with an intimate touch. “Don’t come out until I say to.”

  The contact disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving Nicole with a fluttering heart. Constantine shifted his weight, poised to dart away, then male voices sounded nearby—one she recognized.

  Nicole grabbed his arm, relief flooding her. She whispered, “That’s David Wright. He’s an FBI agent. A good one.” They were saved. She started to move, ready to get the heck out of the woods.

  About to stand, she quickly found herself yanked downward. Suddenly, her back was molded to Constantine’s chest, his chin on her shoulder, lips next to her ear. “Trust no one,” he warned. “No one.”

  Irritated at being manhandled, she half hissed her low reply. “I know him. He’s honest.”

  “You can’t know that. Not with Alvarez involved.”

  “I do,” she insisted. Her instincts were rarely wrong, and they’d served her well in her job.

  “And if his family is threatened, then what? Would he protect you over them?” He didn’t give her time to respond. “Choose now. Trust me or trust David. But if you go to David, go with your gun drawn because you’re going to need it.”

  He let go of her with such abruptness, she barely steadied herself from tumbling over. She maneuvered around to face him, and the look he fixed on her was hard with steely anger.

  Time seemed to stand still, just as it often did in the courtroom when she found herself under fire, when she was forced to make an educated gamble. She had to roll the dice here, and her money was on Constantine.

  Her chest was tight with conflicting emotion, but her decision was made. She settled back down on her heels, planting herself, silently telling him she was staying. The voices were coming closer. Out of her peripheral vision, she realized Constantine had drawn his weapon and was aiming it through the cover of the bushes. She followed his lead and did the same.

  “Damn it. Where the hell are they?” It was David. He was close enough that Nicole could see his face through the branches.

  “Relax,” the other man said. “The gunshot
puts them within reach. If they aren’t already dead, we’ll make sure they get that way.”

  “Relax?” David’s voice was filled with disbelief. “My wife, my children…everyone I care about has been threatened.”

  “Alvarez gets what he wants no matter what it takes. You should have taken the money he offered you and ran. I did.”

  Nicole felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t news that someone like Alvarez would stoop so low, but the magnitude of his reach was downright chilling. If she wanted to stay on this case—and all this experience did was make her more determined to put the brakes on Alvarez—she would have to go underground until the trial. And she would have to do so with Constantine. The one person she knew she could trust to help her stay alive. She slowly inhaled. A man who was dangerous to her for reasons that had nothing to do with this case.

  David and the other man exchanged a few more words before splitting up. For long minutes, neither she nor Constantine moved. He was like a statue—

  completely, utterly still, yet somehow alert, ready.

  Abruptly, he pushed to his feet and stared down at her, his expression hard, his anger toward her obvious. “Let’s move.” And he took off walking. This time there was no offer of his hand. He was pissed.

  Nicole watched in disbelief as he pushed through the bushes and walked away. How could he be pissed? She had every right to doubt him, every reason. He turned back to her, and glowered. “Now.” His voice was low, but, oh-so-lethal.

  She glowered at him and then did what she had to do—marched forward. What choice did she have? Right now, he had the upper hand. She needed his ability to survive against Alvarez and his thugs. She’d gain back some control though—somehow. This was about more than surviving this night.

  She didn’t want to die, but then, she didn’t want to lose Alvarez, or even the careful confines of structure she’d put around her world. Not now, not ever. And certainly not because of some hot Latino man with attitude who thought he could steal her orgasm under false pretenses as if he had every right as long as he cloaked it in work-related precautions. Well, he hadn’t the right. And they hadn’t fully explored that topic yet, but they would. Oh, yes, they would.