Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Nope,” she said, scratching the remote and then sitting back down. She cast him a teasing sideways look. “You’re an ass man and I challenge you to prove otherwise.” Scooting up against the headboard, she took the sheet with her and pulled it to her neck. Her teeth chattered as she flipped through the channels. “You turned the heat down again.”

  “You weren’t complaining last night,” he pointed out, sitting up on the side of the bed. He was referring to the marathon sex they’d shared mere hours ago.

  True enough. She wasn’t complaining one bit. Well, except for the honey. It had been great until after the orgasm—okay, two orgasms. Then, it had been sticky.

  “Will you turn it up now?” she asked, a little plea in her voice.

  He stood up, displaying all his taut muscle and naked glory. Would she ever be tired of seeing that man without clothes? “You didn’t have to ask,” he commented. “I was headed there now.”

  Inwardly, she smiled at that. “Thank you.”

  He winked at her and a thrill raced up her spine. Such a minor thing. It would have zero impact coming from someone else, but it set her on fire coming from Constantine. She couldn’t seem to sate the desire. Somehow, it simply burned hotter.

  She watched him cross the room, feeling surprised at how caring he could be, despite the darkness he carried inside him. No male in her life had ever given her a secure feeling. That Constantine could do so under such extreme circumstances said something. She wasn’t sure what. Maybe she’d been hungry for a human connection, maybe they both had, and the situation had made it possible.

  She refocused on the television and flipped through the stations, stopping on the weather and turning up the volume.

  “There is no dodging this bullet for the Texas coast, as had been hoped. The good news is the storm has weakened to a category two with winds of one hundred and twenty miles per hour, expected landfall late tomorrow afternoon. Evacuation—”

  Nicole muted the sound, more interested in what Constantine had to say at that point. The threat of the storm had left them in limbo or they’d already be at his boat.

  “You said anything over a category one would put us on the road again,” she reminded him. “So this means we’re leaving, right?” He’d told her he wanted to make just one final stop, claiming the more they moved around, the more chance of making a critical mistake that gave away their location.

  “Right,” he agreed, messing with the thermostat before giving her his full attention. “As soon as we take care of some critical business.” Offering nothing more, he headed toward the bathroom.

  She gaped at his back. “What does that mean?” But she was talking to air. He’d disappeared around the corner, and a second later, the shower came on.

  Nicole shoved aside the blanket and shivered. Hugging herself against the cold, she stomped into the bathroom, finding Constantine already behind the curtain. “What critical business?” she demanded. “There’s a hurricane coming. A big one. We have to leave.”

  The curtain moved and he peeked out at her, water clinging to his long, dark lashes. Then he disappeared without a word. She flung her hands out to the side. Unbelievable! She climbed into the shower and faced him, instantly finding herself pulled into his arms, one of her legs lifted to his hip, his body fitted to hers. He was aroused, and suddenly she was, too.

  She gave him a frustrated look, pretending to be unaffected by their naked bodies pressed together. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  Mischief danced in his eyes. “Because I knew you’d get in the shower if I didn’t.”

  Secretly, she was thrilled at his response. “Answer now.”

  “First and foremost, we have to make fast tracks down to the boat and pick up the money and supplies, before we can’t get to it at all. Then, we do some fishing, prior to disappearing until the trial.” His hand slid around her backside, fingers trailing the crease low enough to make her moan.

  She reached behind her and covered his hand, struggling for coherent thought. “Stop. I can’t think. What the heck are you talking about? Fishing?” Surely, he was joking.

  He grinned, apparently pleased with that answer. “Then don’t think.”

  That wasn’t an option and he damn well knew as much. “Explain!”

  A low, sexy chuckle slid from his lips. “We’re going to catch us a bad guy,” he said, derailing any further questions by kissing her, a fiery kiss that carried her into oblivion.

  For only a moment, he raised his head, giving her a sizzling look before saying, “This is one of those times you have to let me do my job.” The words had barely left his mouth, when he penetrated her, sliding his long, hard erection inside her and stealing her breath. Suddenly, the meaning of his words wasn’t clear.

  Did he mean, trust him to do his job, to get them out of here safely? Or trust him to give her an orgasm? Because as he began thrusting in and out of her, she was quite certain, the orgasm part was a sure thing.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Nicole sat next to Constantine, in the little Mazda he’d produced from who-knew-where, eating burritos from Taco Bell. The wind whipped furiously around the car; the clouds were dark and ominous, but no rain fell. According to Constantine, they were about ten minutes from the boat, having stopped to eat, and then they would begin the business of “fishing” for the truth. Translation: setting up Flores. She finished off a bite of food, listening to his plan to lure Carlos into the open and prove Flores to be innocent or guilty.

  “It sounds dangerous,” she stated, wiping sauce off her hand.

  Crumbling a burrito wrapper, Constantine tossed it in the bag. “Less dangerous than going public at the trial without dealing with this.”

  Reluctantly, she agreed, wishing their fantasy hotel stay could have lasted a bit longer. There were no easy answers to any of this. No putting off reality.

  She inhaled and exhaled. “Okay then. What do I do?”

  “I shipped Flores a prepaid phone—”

  “You’re kidding! When? Won’t they track the address you mailed it from?”

  He gave her a reprimanding look. “You’ll never learn to trust me, will you? I bought the phone on the road the first night. I tossed a few bills at the clerk, and he mailed it for me.”

  Tension rushed from her shoulders. “You really thought ahead.”

  “You learn to do that when you live fighting for your life. I know Flores has the phone because I called him.”

  “When?” she asked, surprised by this news.

  He patted the car’s dash. “While I was nabbing our ride. He thinks things between the two of us are cool.”

  “But that’s not the case.” As much as he wanted to defend Flores, she’d seen the darkness in his eyes when the man’s name came up, seen the doubt.

  A muscle in his jaw jumped, his teeth clenched. “We’ll know soon enough.” He seemed to take stock of his emotions and, adopting a more businesslike, rather than bitter, tone, he said, “Here’s how this will play out. I’ll call Flores and tell him I need cash, that I can’t get to my funds, but that I’ll get back to him with the drop location. As soon as I hang up, you call him. Tell him I’m in a convenience store and you grabbed the phone. You’re scared. Tell him I’m on a vengeance trip, hunting Carlos, planning to kill him. Tell him you need help, and then give him the boat’s location.”

  She considered the plan. “You think he’ll send Carlos?”

  “If he’s on their side, yes.”

  “And then we bust Flores and arrest Carlos.”

  “Right.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before slowly letting it push past his lips. He was avoiding eye contact. What else was he avoiding? The truth? She didn’t want to believe that.

  True, they’d only spent a short while together, but she liked to think they’d come to an understanding. They’d talked about personal things, done personal things. Heck, she’d told him details she never would have told the man she’d called her husband. About h
er father, her mother, even her self-hatred over the past.

  She touched his arm. “You are going to arrest him, right? Or is there more truth than fiction to the story I’m feeding Flores?”

  Still, he didn’t look at her. His lips thinned and tension crackled in the air. Finally, his lashes lifted and he fixed her in a level stare. “I’ll try, Nicole, but if it comes down to him escaping…he won’t be escaping. I won’t let him walk away.”

  Nicole felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She’d asked for the truth, and he’d given it to her. Now she wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. She didn’t want to be faced with answering questions later and having to choose Constantine over the truth.

  When she said nothing, he opened the compartment between the seats and pulled out a phone. He dialed Flores’s number to set up Flores for Nicole’s call. When the call ended, Constantine offered the phone to Nicole.

  She reached for it, but he didn’t let it go. “Carlos will hunt us down and kill us, Nicole. He can’t go free or we’ll never be free.” He released his grip on the phone.

  Didn’t he see? If she had any more blood on her hands, she wouldn’t be free, either.

  But she didn’t say that. She turned away from him and faced forward. “What’s the number?”

  He didn’t immediately respond, the heaviness of his stare bearing down on her with leaden intensity. “Nicole—”

  Shoving her hair behind her ears, she cast him a sideways look. “What’s the number?” If he dared tell her what to say again, she’d quit the whole scheme.

  He gave her the number and zipped his lips. Smart man. She dialed and did her best job of acting panicked.

  Flores questioned her, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “How did you get this number?”

  “I heard him call you. He went into a quick stop and left the phone. I thumbed through the numbers.” She hesitated. “Oh, he’s coming back. Pier thirty-nine. A boat called Adiós. We’re only about an hour away.” She disconnected and let out a breath before handing the phone to Constantine. “Now what?”

  He gave her a steady look. “You did good.”

  She bit back an urge to ask why he would think she would do otherwise. “Now what?”

  He shifted in his seat and started the engine. “Now we go get those supplies, find a place to wait, and see who shows up.”

  15

  IN THE SHORT DRIVE to the pier, they didn’t speak. Constantine didn’t know why he’d tried to explain himself to Nicole. She didn’t like lies, and it wasn’t his problem if she couldn’t deal with the truth. So why did it feel like his problem? He quickly whipped the car into a parking spot that offered a view of the boat. It also left them exposed. Not that he had options.

  The parking garage across from the pier had been closed because of the approaching storm, and he didn’t have time to waste finding another space. Carlos would be close by; he operated out of Padre. Exactly why they’d come here in the first place. Carlos would never expect him on his home turf.

  Constantine debated. Leave Nicole in the car or bring her with him? A debate that ended when he admitted he couldn’t risk her being in danger without him by her side.

  He reached over Nicole, grinding his teeth against the sweetness of those barely parted thighs. Opening the glove compartment, he pulled out a gun, slammed the compartment shut and handed the weapon to Nicole.

  “Where am I supposed to hide this?” she asked, referring to her thin shorts and T-shirt.

  Good point. When all else fails, improvise. He grabbed the Taco Bell bag and dumped the contents. “Use this.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief, but she took the bag. “A purse would be so much better.” Her gaze skimmed his shorts. “What about you?”

  “Bag in the back,” he commented. “I want in and out of the boat in no more than ten minutes.”

  She nodded. “Got it. I was thinking. How are you so certain that Carlos himself will be here today? Couldn’t Flores send someone else? Maybe Carlos isn’t near enough to get here in time?”

  The question he’d expected her to ask before now. She wouldn’t like the answer. “I’m a gambler, remember?”

  “And I’m not a dope, remember?”

  Inwardly, he smiled. Damn, she was tough. “He’ll be in the area.”

  A frown on her face, she turned to him. “How would you know that for certain?”

  “I spent three years in his world. I know how to bait Carlos.”

  He cut off further conversation, reaching for his door. “We’re wasting valuable time that could get us killed. Let’s get this done and over with. Stay close to me.” He hesitated. “I don’t want you in the open any longer than needed. Count to ten once my door shuts. That’ll give me time to grab my bag.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he stepped out of the car, the wind gusting at him with the intensity that would throw Nicole around like a feather. Damn it. He hated exposing her to danger of any type, but the idea of letting her out of his sight twisted his gut in knots. Not a feeling he cared to analyze right now, either. Instead, he focused on the horizon, where a dark wall of clouds was looming.

  He squatted down beside the seat, eyes level with Nicole’s. “Forget counting. Wait on me. I’ll come get you. And forget the gun. The wind is too strong for you to try to hold on to it, let alone fire.”

  A grim expression on her face told of her understanding, so he pushed to his feet, slammed the door shut and scanned. By the time he retrieved the bag from the backseat, he’d inventoried the area. A total of five cars in the parking lot. To his right, a patrolman, a Padre Island police officer, talked in animated fashion to a young couple taking pictures, obviously trying to run them off. On the dock, two men worked to secure a boat, and Constantine frowned. The storm was ready to swallow them whole as it was.

  He rounded the rear of the vehicle to help Nicole. Obviously aware of his location, she shoved open her door a second before he would have reached for it.

  The minute she stood up, her hair blew in wild array around her face, and Constantine wished she had it pulled back as he did. She needed a clear view of what might be coming at her from both Mother Nature and man.

  “We need to get out of here!” she hollered.

  “Not without those supplies,” he said, offering her his arm.

  She slipped her arm under his elbow, not bothering to argue further. “You mean not before we get Carlos.”

  He planned to ignore her comment. She seemed to read his mind, refusing to be dismissed. She squeezed his arm and shouted into the howl of the wind. “I want him, too!”

  Acceptance of his agenda shouldn’t have been important, but somehow it was. Somehow, she’d known he needed to hear those words.

  His hand closed over hers, silent appreciation of what she’d said, but he had to stay focused. Time was critical and so were the instructions he had given her. They needed to move. He pulled her forward, and they managed all of one step before a wind gust slammed into them. Constantine muscled up against the impact, and Nicole clung to him to keep from stumbling, yelling something he couldn’t understand. He pulled her forward, fighting through the weather to get those supplies before Carlos arrived. He had a safe on the boat with enough cash to last a month. He figured it wouldn’t be necessary. A month from now, she would be home, the trial complete. Or so he hoped.

  Watching for trouble, holding on to Nicole and fighting the weather, Constantine charged toward the boat. As they walked down the dock ramps, water splashed and it didn’t take long for them to be drenched.

  Constantine climbed onto the wildly rocking deck of the Adiós and deposited his bag on the floor, before grabbing Nicole and pulling her to safety. Once he was certain she had a grip and steady footing, he retrieved his bag and guided her down a small staircase into the cabin.

  Now, he had to fetch the money and supplies and get the heck out of Dodge. Easy. Fast. Yeah, right. Every nerve ending in his body tingled.

  This jui
ced-up, edgy feeling was more than readiness; it was his inner alarm for trouble—the one that had kept him alive many a time. And he didn’t plan to make this time any different.

  * * *

  THE BOAT CREAKED from side to side, forcing Nicole to cling to the wall. Constantine moved aside a picture and opened a safe, removing a smaller safe, which he shoved into his bag.

  The inside of the boat was small and Nicole didn’t like it. But she didn’t have time to panic. Not now. Nicole inhaled; the cabin smelled warm and masculine like Constantine. The scent comforted and she focused on that feeling. He’d spent time here. This was his boat. “Is this your home?”

  “Buying a boat had advantages. Mobility for one. And for a few bucks a year, I pay someone to do general maintenance.”

  If Constantine had been anyone else, Nicole would have asked if the person maintaining the boat could betray him. But she knew very well that Constantine would never let that person know his real identity. Not when she suspected this boat was his escape route in times of trouble.

  He opened a cabinet and pulled out a couple of telephones and various other items that went into the bag. Ammunition, she thought. “The boat allows me to disappear if I need to,” he commented, confirming what she’d been thinking. More times than not, he did that—finished her thought, answered a silent question. After a few days, she almost expected as much. He continued, “And it would have been the perfect escape if not for this storm.” Moving to a closet, he pulled a rain slicker off a hanger. “Catch.” He tossed it to her.

  She snagged the shiny black jacket, noting the puddle of water around her feet. The ocean had drenched them far worse than the rain in the woods. At this rate, she would end up permanently shivering.

  While she slid the oversize jacket into place, and rolled the sleeves up so they were manageable, Constantine strapped a shoulder holster around his body and shoved a Glock inside. He covered the weapon with a rain slicker matching the one she now wore.

  Next thing she knew he was by her side, crisscrossing a small satchel over her chest and shoulder. He patted the bag. “Now you need a gun. Don’t try to fire in this wind unless you absolutely have to.”