Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  12

  ON THEIR WAY back to the car, Nicole felt Constantine’s hand on her arm, gentle, protective. She appreciated it more than the heat he fired within her. Nicole appreciated his presence, his strength, his willingness to risk his life to save her. They were in this together, and she needed to act that way.

  Once they were settled, Constantine locked the doors. Silence filled the air, unspoken words between them thick with the need to be voiced. Nicole took the lead. “I guess I don’t want this to be real. Intermittent denial.”

  “You don’t seem to have that issue where your sister is concerned.” It wasn’t a question.

  Looking after her sister had always been a priority. Their parents had pushed them both so hard. He had no idea how much truth rested in those words, or maybe he did. The man survived undercover by reading people.

  She laughed, nervous about how easily he saw through her, saw things no one else did. “I know. It’s crazy. I blame it on the need for food and sleep.”

  Quickly he turned the engine over. “I can fix that.”

  She wasn’t ready to end this conversation. Not yet. Her hand went back to his arm, drawing his gaze to hers. He went still, utterly still, his scrutiny so intense she found that the attention stole her breath.

  Somehow, she forced herself to speak. “Thank you for what you’ve done to help me. For what you’re doing to protect me and my family.”

  Silence followed, thick, potent. Finally, he said, “You know how you can thank me?”

  Why did this seem like a trick question? “By convicting Alvarez?”

  “Like this.” He moved then, pulling her close, those strong arms embracing her, that firm, perfect mouth slanting over hers. That possessive, sensual tongue sliding against hers. One hand slid to the side of her face, his fingers entwined wildly in her hair. Nicole decided that agreeing with Constantine, as she just had, came with perks. He might be bad for her in theory, but he was oh-so-good in many other ways. And right now, with all that was going on, all that they faced, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to deny herself this man. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, trust him. The future be damned—for all she knew, she wouldn’t even have one.

  Seconds passed as they kissed, sultry seconds where his mouth seduced her into surrender. And, damn, surrender felt uniquely sweet, a pleasure no other had ever given her. When he tore his mouth from hers, he leveled her in a sizzling stare.

  “There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

  In a barely audible voice, she agreed, “At least that many.”

  “You’re a control freak.”

  “So are you.”

  “We can’t both run the show.”

  That made her smile, her mind going to the cave, to their power struggle. “It was fun trying the first time.”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Which brings me to my point.” His mouth brushed hers, as if he couldn’t resist one more taste, one more touch. “We’d be better off leaving what happened in that cave, in that cave.”

  “Right.” She squeezed her legs shut, those memories sending an ache straight to her core. “Better off.”

  Neither of them pulled away despite their declarations that they should resist one another. Their lips lingered a breath from touching, electricity darting around them, through them.

  “But the truth is,” he admitted, “I’ve got too many other fires to put out to fight this one. I want you, Nicole. How do you feel about that?”

  Wet. She felt wet. And ready. Like they were on the same path of satisfaction, both in mind and body. “I feel…ready to go back to the hotel.”

  Approval glinted in his eyes, and he scooped in for one last brush of her lips before reluctantly releasing her. He shifted gears and turned on the radio.

  “Hurricane Ed appears to be headed straight for the Gulf of Mexico and speculation puts Texas in the line of fire.”

  Constantine cursed under his breath and Nicole knew why. It appeared passion wasn’t the only stormy weather they had to ride out. Even Mother Nature seemed to be aiding Alvarez, stealing their safe zone. Because now there was no way they could hide on Constantine’s boat, their ultimate destination, in the middle of a hurricane.

  Nicole couldn’t help but wonder how big this storm was going to be before it was over.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE HOTEL, Constantine curbed his more primal instincts, at least for a short time. He had business to get done, critical issues, like a shower so he wouldn’t stink to high heaven. Most importantly, there were phone calls and plans to be made—when to return to Austin, how to do it safely. The best steps to take to ensure Alvarez was convicted, not freed. Not that any of that made him forget that long, hot kiss in the car. How could he? Nicole was on the bed next to him, and despite the room-service cart in front of them, a bed was a bed, suggestive as ever. And her shorts allowed him to admire those long, sexy legs more readily.

  He glanced down at his tropical shorts and grimaced. She’d gotten quite the laugh when he’d appeared wearing them, so much so, he’d had the feeling something was up. When he’d said as much, she’d admitted buying them to spite him. Her amusement had been, well, amusing. He didn’t get amused. But then there was nothing normal about what he felt for Nicole.

  He had to have her again.

  Nicole had somehow managed to eat her strawberry waffle in between calls to her father, her sister and now her boss. Constantine finished off a biscuit loaded with butter and honey right about the time she ended the conversation.

  “That sounded encouraging,” he commented before licking a drop of honey off his thumb, erotic images of licking honey off Nicole’s body sending his pulse racing.

  She tossed the cell phone on the bed, oblivious to how hot she made him without any effort, which somehow only made him hotter. “It was,” she agreed. “Dean not only said I should remain on the case, he promised to fight to make it happen. He’s calling the judge personally with a promise that he will take over if I can’t make the trial—which is, of course, almost unheard-of. It will speak volumes to the court about how important Dean feels I am to this case. But it also means a delay of two weeks because of his wife’s cancer treatments.”

  Constantine brushed crumbs from his hands, pleased with the announcement. “And my testimony?” he asked.

  “He was sold before I brought it up. A guy named Nelson called Dean this morning. Told him if you were alive, you were needed.”

  Constantine paused, a glass of orange juice halfway to his mouth. He set the glass back down. “Why would Nelson be calling instead of Flores? If this Nelson is who I think he is, he has been working a drug task force in the Houston area, only helping with aiding the Alvarez takedown. No direct involvement.”

  Nicole continued to recount her conversation. “Dean mentioned something about how that came about. Flores took a bullet in his shoulder and spent the night in the hospital. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. So Nelson transferred into the Austin office and assumed his duties.”

  The food in his stomach downright rolled. “Wait one damn minute. Filling in for Flores or replacing him?”

  She hesitated. “Dean used the word replace. I admit that seems a bit odd.”

  “You can say that again.” Constantine rubbed the back of his neck, a weight exploding onto his shoulders. He’d met Nelson once when he’d been arrested along with a bunch of the Alvarez gang. He’d known Constantine’s identity and he’d maintained the necessary secrecy throughout the process. But he couldn’t trust him. Not when someone on the inside was dirty.

  Nicole pushed the breakfast cart out of the way to face him, one knee on the bed, one foot on the ground. “I know you trust Flores, but is this an indication someone else doesn’t? That they think he’s the leak?”

  He wanted to say no, but that would be a lie. “Either that or they want a fall guy in case things turn sour. You know how the story plays. This is high profile with lots of press.
Someone has to go down if the operation fails.”

  She didn’t immediately respond, the scrutinizing look she leveled his way a little too probing for his comfort. He scooted back against the headboard and kicked his legs onto the mattress. He let his head drift backward, lowering his lashes, withdrawing into a shell so he could deal with what he’d learned. His mind raced wildly with the implications of her news.

  Suddenly, Nicole was there, refusing to be dismissed. She straddled him, sitting across his lap. His head shot up as her hands settled on his chest. Despite his state of mind, instantly he was hard, the thin shorts they each wore offering no barrier between their bodies. He could almost feel the damp heat of her body. Was she wearing panties?

  Nicole hugged herself, covering her breasts and successfully drawing his attention to her face. “Are we okay?” she demanded. “Should we leave? What did she say?”

  Hands by his sides, he resisted touching her, resisted reaching for her on all levels. Life had taught him to remain guarded. Caring meant pain. Loss. But she’d offered him insight into her life that a file folder couldn’t give him and he wanted to know more. And right now, he didn’t care that he’d have to share his own feelings to get to hers.

  “Who betrayed you?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked.

  Yes. “It matters.”

  Shadows floated in her eyes, seconds passing, and he began to think she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “My ex. It was my ex. Only not in the way you might think. It wasn’t about other women. I let him pull me into his world and convince me it was mine. In the end, it was his, and what I wanted didn’t matter. I was a tool to get to my father. Ironically, he never needed me for that. He’s still my father’s protégé.” Pain flashed in her expression before she refocused on him, her hand brushing his jaw. “So you see. I hope Flores didn’t betray you. It’s clear you don’t offer trust easily.”

  He didn’t deny the truth. Nor did he point out their similarities in that way. Instead, he found himself taking her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and then peering up at her from where his lips prepared for another taste. “Did you love him?” He didn’t know what in the hell made him ask the question, nor did he know why her answer felt so important. But it did.

  A hint of tension betrayed her body. He kissed her knuckles again, then her wrist. Slowly, her muscles softened, her expression softer now, too. “I guess it depends on how you define love. I said the words. I thought I meant them. Now…now I don’t know. The only love I know for sure is for my family, my sister especially. We’re very close. My parents don’t approve of my life so it’s strained.” The tone of her voice said she regretted that last admission and she quickly fired a question at him. “Have you ever been married? In love?”

  Constantine searched her face, saw the loneliness in her eyes. He knew then, that part of their connection was that solitude they both had lived. He pressed her palm to his, thinking how petite and somehow fragile she was, yet how brave in actions and spirit.

  And when he would have dodged this question from another, he found himself answering honestly. “No, to both.” Guilt twisted in his gut over the lie he’d told in the cave. Lying to her in that bar had been survival. Lying in that cave had been cowardly, his way of hiding from what he didn’t want to face. He tried to shove it aside, and focused on telling her what she wanted to know. “I’m thirty-five and have spent my entire adult life in the FBI. My job doesn’t exactly make me Prince Charming.” He hesitated, recognizing some internal need to clear the air. “I lied to you.” She gave him a startled look and he blasted forward, continuing before he could talk himself out of it. “I have a brother.” He had spoken in the present tense before he could stop himself. But talking about Antonio as if he were gone bothered him.

  “What? You said—”

  “I know what I said. It’s an automatic answer I give. It’s easier than saying he’s dead.”

  She sucked in a breath, understanding filtering into her expression. “How?” She whispered the question.

  “He arrested a guy named Martini, not as heavy an operator as Alvarez, but still a big fish. Based mostly in San Antonio.”

  He hesitated and she commented, “I remember hearing about that case.”

  He continued, eager to get this off his chest. “Martini was released on a technicality and…” His voice trailed off. “You can guess the rest.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God.” Her voice shook. “He killed your brother.”

  Constantine’s gut twisted in knots. Years had passed and this still tore him apart. He couldn’t speak, so he nodded.

  She leaned forward, hands gently cupping his cheeks, the tenderness in the act squeezing his heart. It had been forever since he’d told anyone about his brother, years since he had felt a touch like this one, so caring, so understanding.

  “That’s why you threatened to kill Alvarez and Carlos,” she said, her gaze searching his, pouring into his, reaching into his soul.

  Somehow he found his voice, and confessed the sin that devoured his sanity every day of his life. “I was in deep with Alvarez when my brother died. I couldn’t go to the funeral.” To his horror his voice cracked. “I should have been there.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “He was my kid brother. I should have saved him.”

  “Oh, Constantine.” She brushed her lips across his. “Don’t do that to yourself. I know it’s torture, but you can’t carry that blame all your life. It’ll tear you apart.”

  He was surprised to see tears in her lovely blue eyes. “Easier said than done. We both know you blame yourself for getting a man off who killed again. I’ve seen how you turned your life around because of that case.”

  “That’s different.” Her lashes fluttered, her eyes lowering to his chest, gaze averted. “You had nothing to do with your brother’s death. I got a high off being the best at my job, at being the most successful defense attorney in Texas.” Her lashes lifted, tears tumbling over her cheeks. “I was self-centered and greedy, and someone died because of it.”

  She swiped at her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m tired and emotional.”

  Regret filled Constantine. He should never have brought this up. He didn’t blame Nicole for being a defense attorney, nor did he blame her for being good at it. The system was the system and he was frustrated with it. Perhaps, had he met her before, he would have felt differently about her. But they were the same in what they ultimately wanted—justice for the victims of Alvarez, and those like him. Nicole’s regret over the past was eating her insides out and he knew this. Just as his past had left a hole in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize how raw this was for you.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath. “Don’t apologize. It’s hard to get past the blame, Constantine, but you won’t do it by pretending it doesn’t exist. I know from experience that if you don’t deal with what you feel, it gets worse.”

  Noting the stronger tone of her voice, he recognized her effort to pull her emotional armor into place. He didn’t want it in place. They had a lot in common, the two of them. They were both alone, both torn up inside. Right now, he wanted only one thing. To get lost in her. To forget everything but this woman.

  His hands went up her back, molding her close, easing her mouth to his. “I’m going to make love to you, now, Nicole.” His mouth slanted over hers in what he meant to be a gentle kiss…but they were both wound tight, both in need of a release, a place to put the pain and loneliness. Outside a storm threatened their hiding place. Inside, passion thundered, threatening to take him to a place he’d never traveled before. A place he didn’t dare name. A place he didn’t dare go. A place he burned to make his own.

  13

  CONSTANTINE KISSED Nicole with a fiery passion borne of pent-up emotions. Why they’d surfaced now, why with this woman, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Because he felt her giving herself to him, felt he was her escape as much as she was his.

  For every stro
ke of his tongue, every touch of his hand, she gifted him with some unique response: a sigh, a caress of her tongue, a nip of her teeth. Yes, he was hers for sure.

  He barely remembered removing his shirt, though he remembered every caress of her hands on his bare skin. She sat back, facing him, her lush backside framing his cock, teasing him with delicate pressure. Silky blond hair fell around her face in sexy, wild array. She wore no makeup, her ivory skin flawless.

  Eyes the color of a perfect sky stared at him, eyes brimming with a message—with freely offered passion, with tenderness he’d never accepted from another, yet he wanted it from her. There would be no games, no battle for control this time.

  Her fingers latched on to the hem of her shirt, and she tugged it over her head, tossing it to the floor. She wore no bra, her high, full breasts displayed for his viewing. Her nipples swelled and tightened under his inspection. But when he would have reached for her, he held back, willing himself to refrain from making demands, to enjoy every moment of her, every way possible. For now, he was savoring the view she made, which was tightening his groin.

  A soft sound escaped her lips as she took his hands, pressing them to her breasts. Her mouth lingered near his. “I need you to touch me,” she whispered, her teeth scraping his bottom lip, arching into his palms as he kneaded.

  The boldness of her actions shot fire through his veins, but it was her words, and the passionate way she stared at him, that ran over him like a firestorm. Need. She needed him. Who was he to deny her?

  He pressed her breasts together, using his thumbs to tease the erect rosy-red peaks of her plump breasts. She rewarded him with a moan, the response rocketing to his cock, thickening it with demand.

  Burning to hear another, to pleasure her, his head lowered, his tongue lapping at one pert nipple and then suckling. Her hands went to his head, fingers sliding into his hair. She covered her other breast with her hand, aiding his efforts. He pulled it away, his mouth finding the unattended nipple, lavishing it with attention.

  She whispered his name, and he lifted his mouth to hers, somehow knowing a kiss to be her demand. Her lips were sweet, her tongue caressing his with careful strokes. He traced the gentle curve of her jaw with his fingers, before traveling the sensual line of her neck.