Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He reached in his pocket and handed her a black wallet. She looked at it, confused. “Not Constantine,” he said. “Michael Rodriquez.”

  She opened the black leather cover and stared at her own picture next to the unfamiliar name. “Sarah Rodriquez?”

  “Right,” he said. “You’re my wife.” With that said, he motioned toward the elevator. “Let’s move.”

  She lagged several steps behind him, about to reach for his arm and demand they clear the air. But one look around the garage, cars lined up one after another, and she took off after him. Anyone could hide behind, underneath or even inside one of the vehicles.

  She caught up with him in a half run. “We have no bags. Don’t you think that looks funny? Even our clothes—”

  “Looks like we’ve been rolling around on the beach. Two lovebirds who can’t get enough of each other.” He kept walking. “Don’t overcomplicate matters.”

  She made a frustrated sound. “I’m just trying to survive here.”

  He stopped in front of the elevator and punched the arrow button. “Then do as I say.”

  He stepped into the elevator, faced forward and pushed the button to hold the door. She didn’t move; her blood boiled at the bossy arrogance of his attitude. He had made the act of entering that elevator some sort of submission on her part.

  A car sounded behind her. His gaze went beyond her shoulder and then back to her face. His voice was low, but as intense as if he had shouted. “Get into the elevator.”

  Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about someone approaching. She moved forward. When she turned and could see the garage again, she was relieved to notice only a woman and a small child getting out of a car. She let out a breath, thankful she was safe.

  Constantine let go of the elevator button, and stepped backward. “You relax far too easily. Everyone—man, woman and child—is a potential enemy. Don’t forget it.”

  If everyone was a potential enemy, was he? He’d lied to her and done a split-personality routine. She was confused, tired. She didn’t know what to believe at this point.

  The elevator doors opened to display a busy, though very average-looking lobby. People seemed to be everywhere. Nicole stared into the hustle and bustle with concern. “Shouldn’t we be secluded somewhere?”

  His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close to his side. The warmth of his touch seared her straight through her clothes. Anger apparently did nothing to lessen his impact on her senses.

  “Safety in numbers,” he said, leaning down so that his breath tickled her neck, warm and inviting. The sensation brought back memories of intimate moments, of forbidden touches.

  She tried to act like everything was fine. Like a woman would act with her husband. That almost drew a laugh from her. Marriage often came with tension. If her marriage had been any indicator, strain between her and Constantine would seem quite the norm.

  Nicole clenched her teeth. Being this bitter wasn’t what she wanted. And she really thought she had those old feelings beaten. She forced her demons away and smiled at the desk clerk.

  Minutes later, she stood next to Constantine as he slid a room key into a door handle. Awareness charged the air and defied the coldness of his demeanor. They both knew they might disagree on the justice system, but there was one area they agreed on completely—sex. Something their one-bed suite was going to make hard to ignore.

  11

  CONSTANTINE SHOVED open the door to the hotel room, as aware of Nicole’s nearness as he was of his next breath. More aware actually. Breathing came without thought. Every second he was near Nicole, he desired her. Hell. He could feel her body next to his even when he wasn’t touching her. When he wasn’t lusting after her, daydreaming over how he’d take her if he ever got her naked again, guilt nipped at his gut over what a complete, total ass he’d been to her, bringing up her past as he had.

  She’d slapped him down for walking outside the circle of acceptable that she’d drawn around herself—

  making him the bad guy, good enough to fuck and nothing more—and it pissed him off. Actually, he’d welcomed a reason to be angry, darn near desperate to put some distance between himself and Nicole. To stop whatever connection was forming between them before it clouded his judgment and he forgot how dangerous he was to her. People wanted him dead. Alvarez. Carlos. Plenty of others he’d taken down, too. She’d attacked his beliefs and given him the fuel to shove her away—and he’d pounced on it, holding back nothing. Living in Alvarez’s world had taught him how to be a coldhearted bastard, if it had taught him nothing else.

  He stepped aside, allowing her entrance into the room and motioning her forward. She hesitated, her gaze flickering over his face for a quick moment, as if she, too, knew the implications of the two of them alone, in a hotel room. Her chest lifted with a breath and she entered the room.

  His gaze drifted to the sexy sway of her hips and the pert lift to that lush backside. There was no escaping the attraction between them, and his groin tightened with the proof. He wanted her. His body didn’t care if they were from different worlds.

  This crazy attraction he felt for her wreaked havoc on his mind and body, had him rationalizing her resolve to follow the system as easily as he did for working around it. He was, after all, aware of the pain hidden behind that facade of prim and proper—he’d used it against her in their argument. Only she wasn’t prim and proper, and their lovemaking, like her past, proved as much.

  Following her into the room, he shoved the door closed and locked it. She’d positioned herself at the window, her back to him. The room shrank—if that were possible—as he eased toward the bed, sexual tension charging the air, damn near combustible in its presence. Staying in a hotel room with Nicole, and keeping his hands to himself, was going to be a real task. No. Worse. His own little piece of hell.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” he said, not that she appeared to be trying. She felt what he did. The room was small. Too damn small. “We need to go grab some clothes and food.”

  The curtain she’d been holding fell back into place as she turned to face him, her eyes going to his, avoiding the bed. “Is it safe to go out?”

  Her nipples pebbled beneath the cheap T-shirt and his gaze went where hers had not—to a king-size invitation to rip her clothes off and have his way with her. Was it safe to go out? Hell. Was it safe to stay in? His cock thickened, pressing painfully against his jeans. No woman drove him to this kind of insanity. He’d be dead a hundred times over if he let his damn dick control his decisions.

  He ground his teeth as his gaze inadvertently flickered across those tight little nipples again. His cock throbbed. With a verbal backlash, he took out his growing frustration on her. “I don’t plan to question your legal abilities. It’s my job to get us out of this alive. We’re safe. We’ll stay safe. And we will get to the right people to get the trial under way. How about you let me do it without questioning my every move?”

  He didn’t expect her to cower at his attack, nor did she. For an instant, the gentle curve of her brows dipped, and then her expression transformed to an outright scowl, her petite hands jabbing at her curvy hips. “You didn’t question my abilities?” she asked incredulously. “Do my job, you said, or you’ll take matters into your own hands.” Her tone mocked him. “In other words, you manipulated me into feeling I was responsible for either outcome. If that’s not an inference of you questioning my abilities, I don’t know what is.”

  “It wasn’t about questioning you,” he countered. “It’s about reality. Alvarez cannot walk free.”

  She opened her mouth to speak and then tightened her lips into a thin line. An inhaled breath followed as she appeared to consider her words. “I’m going to detour from a subject we obviously can’t agree on and say this. My life is on the line. Don’t expect me to blindly follow your lead. I have a right to be informed about my own safety. Would you expect any less if you were in my position?”

  They weren’t talking about him and
he almost said as much. Instead, he forced himself to consider her words. He wanted her to trust him, and, yes, do so blindly, because he was good at his job. But regardless she’d be foolish to operate without caution. Their history together had been a short, intense one, full of adversity.

  He softened toward her. What was it about this woman that could take the hardness inside him and tear it down?

  “Try,” he said, his voice gentle, the edge gone. What else could he say? “All I ask is that you try.”

  Her expression slowly eased. Anger and accusation disappeared as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was still on guard, but not on attack. “I will. I promise.”

  That was something, he guessed. They’d both compromised. Now he needed some space before softness turned into something else…maybe comfort, more likely sex, exactly what he was avoiding. Sex with Nicole was as big a distraction as a man could conceive.

  A quick glance at the clock told him it was only eight in the morning. “Let’s make this supply run fast. If we step it up, we can make those phone calls, eat and sleep, all by sunset.”

  “And then?” she asked, and laughed, realizing she was already questioning him again. “Sorry. I can’t help myself.”

  “I know you can’t,” he said, a smile tempting his lips, but he was too damn tired to see it through. But not too tired to admire Nicole’s smile. Disheveled and without makeup, she still glowed. “But I don’t have an answer for you. Not yet.”

  “Not until we know when the trial is.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “For now, let’s take care of ourselves and get some food.” Before I forget myself and feed my hunger with you.

  * * *

  NICOLE STOOD IN the tiny store watching as Constantine threw chips, candy and all kinds of junk into a small basket. “I thought we needed supplies?”

  “This is the critical stuff,” he said with complete seriousness in his tone, grabbing a bag of Doritos. He appeared to be a man on a mission—to achieve a heart attack. “We should pick out some clothes.”

  She blinked at that. “From here?”

  “Right,” he said, pointing toward several racks of souvenir-type clothing. Holiday garb at best. “Grab some T-shirts and shorts for us both. A couple of pairs. And shoes. No sandals. I’m a size twelve.”

  She reluctantly headed to the clothing racks, wishing for something more substantial, but thankful for anything at this point. A bath and clean clothes of any type sounded like heaven.

  Beside the racks, several tables held shirts and shorts. Nicole began inspecting the contents, selecting a few items. Two extra-large shirts for Constantine, two mediums for her, two pairs of print shorts for her. She picked dark blue parachute shorts for Constantine. His options were limited. It was either the dark blue kind or orange floral ones, which she couldn’t imagine him wearing.

  But then he deserved the bright neon flowers for taking those personal jabs at her. Smiling, she put the blue shorts back and grabbed two pairs of the orange.

  She was reaching for a pair of tennis shoes, when a voice beside her asked, “Souvenir shopping?”

  Nicole looked up to find herself staring into the interested eyes of a gorgeous, beach-blond god of a guy, not more than twenty-two. He towered over her at a good six foot plus and offered a charming smile. He was dressed in shorts and a tank top that showed off his picture-perfect body. Most women would be drooling—but not Nicole. She’d found a rather consuming interest in a certain tall, dark renegade, sporting a bad attitude and a hot temper.

  Still, a friendly face was welcome about now. Nicole returned his smile and answered his question. “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He reached for a T-shirt. “Gotta take gifts back to the family.” He studied her for a long, thoughtful, flirtatious minute…which was insane considering she looked like absolute hell. “I’m Rick.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rick.” His comment about family had her thinking of her sister. She so needed to hear her voice.

  “My mom is the hardest,” he commented. “I never know what to take her.”

  She thought of her own mother—another bad subject. Nicole barely knew her anymore. Leaving the family business had ruffled a lot of feathers. Nicole hadn’t even done family Christmas the year before, using work as an excuse. Her attention returned to Rick. “What’s so hard about buying for your mother?”

  “For one thing,” he commented, hand waving over the table, “she doesn’t wear T-shirts.”

  “No T-shirts?” Nicole teased, mustering a half smile. “Well, that only leaves you one option.”

  His brow lifted. “Which is?”

  “A coffee cup, of course. Everyone knows they get a T-shirt or coffee mug from a vacationer.”

  They laughed together. “You won’t convince my sister of that. She thinks shoes are the perfect gift, no matter what the occasion. If it can’t be worn on the feet, it isn’t worth having.”

  “Smart girl,” Nicole said, offering her approval. “A personal favorite of mine as well.”

  “Of course.” His expression said that was a given, a moment before he changed the subject. “How long you here for?”

  The question took a second to register, her mind still on her sister. “Um,” she said, trying to think how to answer, “I haven’t decided.”

  A disbelieving laugh filled the air. “You’re at the beach and don’t know how long you’re staying? That’s kind of unique. Most people come with a plan.”

  A hand touched Nicole from behind, sliding to the small of her back, branding her with possessive heat. Constantine stepped to her side, but she didn’t glance at him. Shock, and a hint of panic, rolled across Rick’s face. A look that only deepened as Constantine said, “She does have a plan.” His voice was hard, deep, sexy. “Being with me.”

  Rick gulped. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t… I mean…”

  Nicole opened her mouth to say something, anything, that might save the poor kid some embarrassment. But Constantine put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her under the nook of his chin. That contact stole more than her breath; it stole her attention from saving Rick. Constantine’s long legs pressed close to hers, electricity shooting through every inch of her body. It was a simple gesture commonly shared by couples but there was nothing simple about her reaction.

  “Sorry if I interrupted,” Rick said, his voice nervous as he started to back away, dropping the shirt to the table. Clearly he was ready for a fast departure.

  Why did Constantine find it necessary to intimidate such an innocent young kid? It made no sense. She didn’t take him as the kind of guy to throw around his strength in such a way. Anger began to build inside her.

  “We should be going,” Constantine said, his tone hinting at demand.

  “Me, too,” Rick agreed quickly, and he was gone, rocketing through the store as if he’d been set on fire.

  Nicole whirled on Constantine and would have stepped out of his reach but he grabbed her waist, holding her so close their legs were entwined, hips aligned. The heated words she’d been ready to spurt a few seconds earlier took extra effort to crawl past her lips.

  “What’s your problem?” she whispered.

  His tone was low, lethal. The look in his eyes full of impatience. “You don’t seem to get the message. Anyone and everyone is a potential threat.”

  “He was a kid,” she argued. “One you just about scared the hell out of.”

  “You’ve been in the system long enough to know what criminals are capable of. Alvarez isn’t above anything. He’ll do whatever it takes. Even pay an innocent kid to ID you.”

  “That kid was not with Alvarez.”

  A woman with dark hair and glasses walked past them. Constantine’s eyes followed her, suspicious, his expression cautiously assessing. Did he know something she didn’t? Tension slid through her body as the taste of fear thickened in her mouth.

  Nicole watched Constantine
watch the woman. And then watched his gaze slip back to her. Their eyes locked. Desperately, she searched his face, looking for a hint of what might come next. And what she found turned her fear to boiling hot anger.

  He was messing with her head, trying to prove a point. “Don’t do that.” She glared at him. “I despise stupid head games.”

  Leaning a bit closer, he said, “I assure you, this is not a game. Alvarez leaves a trail of bodies wherever he goes.” Seconds passed, the mood shifting in some indescribable way, still tense, still charged. And then, unexpectedly, Constantine’s attitude softened, much like it had in the hotel room. “I don’t want you to be one of them.”

  She gave him a dubious look, her throat suddenly parched. Was that tenderness in his eyes? Worry? Surely not. And why did the idea of such things warm her inside? They’d had sex. The smoldering tension between them said they wanted to have sex again. It meant nothing. Or did it? When she delved into the depths of Constantine’s eyes, she felt something more than attraction, a vague sense of kindred spirits that betrayed their exterior differences. Something that scared her as much as Alvarez did, simply in a different way.

  Pressing past her emotional questions, Nicole had to admit Constantine delivered a persuasive argument. She couldn’t be selective about her caution. She had to start thinking with the kind of ultraconservative mind-set she used in the courtroom.

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll be more careful.”

  A look of surprise flashed across his face before he gave her a quick nod. “Good. Let’s finish shopping and get out of here.” He turned away from her then, but not before Nicole noted the confusion in his eyes.

  At least she wasn’t alone in her emotional turmoil. It appeared Constantine didn’t know any more what to think about her than she did about him. They were trapped together for the time being, running from Alvarez. They could escape from Alvarez, she had confidence in that. But escaping whatever was happening between the two of them…she wasn’t sure they could.