by Angie Sandro
Anders and George wait in front of the observation room, with a clear line of sight to us exiting the bathroom together. George gives me a dirty look and nudges Anders in the side. They fall in line beside Elizabeth, flanking her like a security detail protecting royalty. She tips her chin to them in acknowledgment.
“LT, is everything okay?” George asks.
The harsh glare she gives him would leave any man cupping himself for protection. I’ve got to give credit to the kid for not running in the opposite direction. He averts his eyes and whistles a disjointed tune under his breath.
Elizabeth’s back stiffens even more.
George clears his throat. “So how are we gonna do this? Sheriff Keyes won’t let us walk out of here with Estrada.”
“We go by the book for as long as we can.” She heaves a sigh. “I’ll call the sheriff and update him on what’s going on. Victor’s probably monitoring our traffic, so we’ll limit radio use to a secure channel.”
She starts to walk off, but pauses when they attempt to accompany her. “I don’t need a babysitter holding my hand all the way to my office. Go prep Estrada for transport. If Sheriff Keyes authorizes the operation, we’ll leave immediately.” Elizabeth glances in my direction but doesn’t meet my eyes. Her fingers give a tiny flicker of a wave. “Lafitte, you’re with me.”
Relief swells my chest, and I throw a smug smile at the guys. They’re about to shit their pants. I counter George’s scowl with a wink, then stretch my legs, easily catching up to Elizabeth’s retreating form.
I lean down to whisper in her ear, “I’m yours to command, ma’am.”
A disdainful sniff is her only response. She pushes open the door to her office and gestures toward a chair. “Have a seat.” She doesn’t wait to see if I obey, just heads straight for the coat tree in the corner. She has her shirt unbuttoned before she reaches it. A few seconds more and she stands before me in a pale pink silk camisole. The fact that she’s stripping comes as less of a surprise than the ladylike color or the frilly lace around the neckline. I had never imagined this much sexy beneath the ugly uniform. ’Course, I’m in for a whole new level of shock when she drapes her bulletproof vest over a prong on the rack and turns around.
My gaze drops to the tops of her breasts peeping over the edge of the lace border, hypnotized by the motion of them rising and falling with each breath. The longer I stare, the faster she breathes and the harder her breasts strain against the fabric.
She asks a question. Her voice tickles the edge of my mind—a whispery, breathless sound that doesn’t make a lick of sense, as if I’d forgotten how to understand the spoken word. Moans, I’d understand. Her crying out my name as she comes, hell yes. But I don’t understand what she asking, ’cause all I can think about is how good she’d taste.
“Ferdinand!” Her voice cracks like ice over my mind, and I freeze.
Oh shit! My hand cups her right breast. When the hell did I move? I don’t remember crossing the distance or slipping my hand beneath her camisole. Her wide, dilated eyes meet mine, and I swallow hard. I can’t move. Each time she inhales, her soft skin rubs against the pads of my fingers. I itch to give her a squeeze.
“Don’t breathe,” I whisper, closing my eyes and gathering my self-control one tattered strand at a time. I grit my teeth and pry open my fingers. Good, good. I take a deep breath. Now pull away from her breast before you do something you’ll regret. My hand tingles as it drops to my side, and I sigh. “Damn, woman…”
“Don’t blame me. You damned us both the night you chose your queen over us.”
Her words strike harder than a slap. She blames me. I get it. She’s made her position quite clear. Truth be told, I deserve any form of punishment she chooses to dish out, especially if it helps her to forgive me. What hurts is she’s also torturing herself.
The shimmer’s back in her dark eyes. I hate to see her in pain. “Don’t you dare cry over me, Bess.”
Her spine stiffens. “Ha, never.”
She rips the dry cleaner bag from a shirt hanging on the rack with shaking hands and stabs her arms through the sleeves. I give her an arched look. “Need help again with the buttons?”
“I’ve got it.” Liar.
She turns her back to me. Maybe it helps steady her, because she’s buttoned up tight by the time she faces me again.
I fall into the leather chair in front of her desk with a grunt and stretch out my legs. The stress of the last week is catching up with me. All I want is a king-size bed and Elizabeth spooned against me. But first I need to get her safely to the bayou.
“I have a safe house we can use for Estrada,” I say.
Elizabeth frowns. “If you’re talking about the place where Dena hid out, it’s been compromised.”
Her honeysuckle scent tickles my nose, and I inhale. A shot of heat races through my body. Maybe sitting this close isn’t a good idea. “I understand your concern. I wouldn’t suggest using it again, except it’s situated directly on an axis of power. My men have secured the breached areas and tightened security. Once I fix a heavy-duty protection spell on it, Victor won’t be able to break in again.”
“I don’t trust magic.” Or you. At least she doesn’t say that part out loud.
Her eyes drift to a picture on the bookshelf, and I squint at the image. The man’s dressed in the same uniform as she is, and he’s holding a little girl in his arms. Her husband and daughter? Her gaze firms and, when she looks back, locks with mine. “I have a better place in mind.”
She heads around the desk and stalks to the bookshelf. With a deft flip, the picture faces the wall. She saunters. Yeah, that’s about the closest I can come to describing her walk. Or maybe she slinks…Her hips are a thing of beauty. Her curves even make uniform pants sexy, conforming to her shape like a well-worn glove. I itch to peel her out of them.
I drag my eyes upward and get captured by her gaze. Elizabeth’s voice drops an octave, turning husky. “The place I’m thinking about is private, secluded. No one else knows it exists.”
“Where—”
“Like I’d tell you my secrets.” Elizabeth straddles my legs, then slides onto the edge of her desk. She so close that if I lean forward, I can bury my face in the hot vee between her thighs. Only a zipper stands as a barrier to my tongue exploring her sweet, honeyed goodness.
I lick my dry lips at the thought, and it hits me. For the first time in years, I’m enjoying the chase, the push and pull of my unwitting seduction. I’m falling for her, and I want to see how deep this connection between us goes. Hell, I want to find out if I even have a chance of forming a relationship with this woman.
Elizabeth crosses her legs, as if she reads my mind. “Don’t get any hinky ideas. This is business, not pleasure.”
“Why can’t it be both?” I give her my most seductive smile. Her shoulders wilt a little and, for a brief second, I think I’ve charmed her. Then she stretches her arms over her head and arches her back, thrusting those gorgeous breasts in my face. What the hell is she trying to do to me?
I lunge from my seat, slamming my hands down on her desk on either side of her. “God, woman. You’re getting off on torturing me, aren’t you?” Her head tips backward, and I stare into the ink pools of her eyes. The tiny pink nub of her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Fuck it.
My head dips forward. Her eyes half shut in anticipation. Two can play at this torture game. My breath brushes against her pout, but I don’t give her a taste. I brush the tip of my nose up the length of hers, then kiss her forehead.
Her eyes pop open when I step back. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Don’t you have some arrangements to make?” I use my pinkie and thumb to mime holding a phone to my ear. “I’ll go check on Dena and Landry. See if they or Ms. Jasmine have been in contact with Mala.”
I close the door and lean against the wall to catch my breath. I wanted to teach her a lesson, but I’m the one left wanting more. If I’m not careful, this woman’s going
to be the death of me. Curses come from inside the room, and I stifle my laugh. I might get a shoe tossed at my head if don’t. That, or she’ll take her Taser to my backside.
I find Landry and Dena in the break room. Landry paces in front of the big-screen TV on the wall. The caption scrolling on the five o’clock news tells of the kidnapping. Must be a slow day if this town made CNN.
I pour myself a cup of black coffee and sit across the table from Dena. “Any news from Mala?”
Landry lets out a low growl, like a caged lion. Sweat dots his forehead, and he grips his injured arm against his chest. Pain etches the corners of his red-rimmed eye.
Dena bites her lip and shifts in her seat. “Not yet,” she says. “The drug must not have worn off yet. Or he’s keeping her dosed. Do you think he knows she can, uh, what did you call it? Slip her skin?”
“Victor and Ivan don’t know anything about magic. They’re hired goons who did Magnolia’s wet work.” My gaze flicks to Landry, and I raise an eyebrow.
Dena’s lips tighten. “If you’re asking if Landry knows about me and Anders, then yes. But hey, thanks for looking out for us. I guess you’re really good at keeping secrets.”
I flinch at the hurt lacing the sarcasm in her voice. “Are you ever gonna get over the fact that I—”
“Lied? Pretended to be my friend?” She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms. “This whole situation is your fault. You know that, right?”
A commotion at the door interrupts us before I can answer the accusation. Though what can I say? I never expected Victor to go after Mala, or Eva.
Bessie steps into the room. “Let’s hit the road, gang. We’ve gotten the go-ahead from Sheriff Keyes. We’ll break into two teams.”
Dena raises her hand. “I’m going with Anders.”
“As I was saying, Anders and George will ride in the transport van with Estrada. Ferdinand, Landry, Dena”—Elizabeth closes her eyes for a brief second—“and Jasmine, will be with me, since you’re civilians. We’ll be caravanning together for now. We’ll divvy up the responsibilities of searching after we get to the safe house.”
Landry heads over to Elizabeth. “Ms. Jasmine says thanks for including her, but she’s got other means of transportation. Let’s go. I’m sick of doing nothing.”
We follow Elizabeth outside. Anders and George have Estrada between them. He’s no longer handcuffed, and the outline of a bulletproof vest shows under his shirt. They’re all hypervigilant, scanning the area for threats. So am I.
The squeal of tires breaks my concentration. A black SUV barrels into the parking lot. It swerves a bit, having taken the corner too fast, but corrects itself before it can plow into the flagpole, then screeches to a halt. Anders practically throws Estrada into the transport van, while Landry drags Dena under cover behind it. George and Bessie point their guns at the vehicle, yelling orders for the driver to stick their hands out the window.
The tinted windows make it impossible to see more than the silhouette of the driver. The door opens, and two hands pop over the edge. Black combat boots hit the ground on the other side of the carriage “I’m not armed,” a high voice yells from inside.
I step forward.
Elizabeth blocks me. “Driver, keep your hands up where I can see them,” she yells. “Now, slowly step out of the vehicle.”
My stomach plummets as a girl folds herself from the SUV. She stands just shy of six feet. Her black hair is slicked back in a ponytail, which spills tight, spiral curls down the length of her back. She peeks over the hood, waving her upraised hands. “Hey, it’s cool. Everything’s fine. You can put down your guns.”
I sprint forward, yelling. But then, so is everyone else.
George reaches her first. He grabs for one of her hands, but she twists away and tries to run in my direction. Faster than a striking rattler, he grabs her by the waist and lifts her up. She lets out a shriek and kicks her feet, but he plants her chest-first against the side of the SUV. She stops struggling, breathing hard. Our eyes meet, and hers shoot fire in my direction. Crap! This won’t end well.
George’s hands…Hell, he’s pat-searching her for weapons, but all I can see is him running his hands down her legs. Steam boils up inside. I cross the distance between us and grab his elbow, dragging him off her before I do something I regret, like punching him in the face.
Ivy frowns up at me with the sea-green eyes she inherited from her grandmother Sophia. “Damn it, Dad. Mama saw the news. She sent me to bail you out of trouble.”
A dark shadow hovers near my side, and I hear Elizabeth say, “Son of a bitch, you’re married?”
CHAPTER 5
Bessie
Walls Come Tumbling Down
No good, sweet-talking…Heat flushes my face. It feels as if my head will explode like a Fourth of July rocket, and I wish I could aim it for the hind end of the lying jerk beside me. My jaw clenches, and I force out my words between gritted teeth. “Is this woman your daughter?”
Ferdinand drops George’s arm as if burned and throws a wide-eyed look in my direction. “Yes! Ivy—”
My chest tightens with the pain, which pisses me off even more. I shouldn’t be surprised, or feel like an innocent victim hoodwinked by her cheating boyfriend. Ferdinand showed me exactly what kind of man he is months ago. I just never thought I’d be the kind of woman who’d keep falling for his bullshit.
After Ferdinand releases his arm, George continues to search the woman for weapons. With each touch, Ferdinand’s expression grows more and more volatile until he snaps forward, yelling, “Get your hand off her ass, Deputy Dubois.”
I step in front of Ferdinand and slap my palm against his wide chest. He staggers to a halt. “I’m the law around here, and I give the orders. Not you, Lafitte. Let him finish doing his job.”
I can’t believe I kissed him. Married. With a grown kid. The whole time. I can’t even…
My eyes slide down the woman’s slender body. Black cargo pants, tight, black top that’s too short, something a teenybopper would wear. But she pulls it off with her athletic build. High cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes shout out Ferdinand’s contribution to her DNA. She inherited all of his good genes. Even if he wanted to deny being her father, he couldn’t.
Ferdinand takes advantage of my distraction to try to step around me.
I block him again and meet him glare for glare. “How about you simmer down so…Ivy, is it?” His daughter nods. She also gives a fanny wiggle against George’s crotch that turns his face bright pink. “George, focus on the task at hand. Ivy, your father’s about to have a stroke. Let’s move things along and put the men out of their misery.”
Sweat beading his forehead, George finishes his search and steps away. “She’s clear, LT.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Poor guy. I’ve never seen him flustered by a woman before. Not even his worthless ex-girlfriend, who left him for another man while he was hospitalized.
Ivy gives him a saucy grin. “Are you sure about that?” She runs long fingers up the back of her neck and pulls a thin stiletto from her ponytail. She wiggles it in front of him. “You missed this.”
George lunges toward her, but she dances out of reach, laughing. The knife drops to the ground and clatters as it bounces off the asphalt.
“Enough!” I hold in my sigh, unhappy with the sympathy rising up for Ferdinand. His daughter’s obviously a handful. If she takes after her mother, maybe there’s a reason why he never mentioned them. “Ivy, tell us why you came barreling into the parking lot like a bat out of hell.”
Ferdinand shakes his head. “She always drives like that. No matter how many times I’ve told her—”
His daughter rolls her sea-green eyes. “Come on, old man. Don’t embarrass me in front of your friends.”
“We’re not friends,” I snap. “And this isn’t a good time for you to be playing games. Ferdinand, get rid of her. We’ll be waiting in the car.”
Ivy frowns and pops up on tiptoe so she can whispe
r in her father’s ear. Whatever she says shoots a steel rod up his spine. He straightens, scans the road, and then grabs his daughter’s arm. “She’s coming with us.”
“Like hell she is.” My response came instinctively, but his sudden wariness broadcasts itself to me in myriad micro expressions flitting across his face. “It’s not safe—”
“It’s not safe for her to stay here alone either. Don’t let them know we’re onto them.”
Onto who? Where? My heart rate kicks up a notch. I study the buildings lining the street for a suspicious vehicle or person, but see nothing out of the ordinary. “Are these the same people who were sent to assassinate Dena?” Where are they?
Anders has Landry and Dena in the transport van with Estrada. They’d be pinned down in an attack. “Should we move everyone back inside?”
“Stop looking over your shoulder, Bess. Act natural,” Ferdinand says. “I don’t know what their objectives are, other than observation. If they wanted to take us out, they would’ve made their move already. They’re on a recon mission. Nothing about our plan changes, except we can’t let them follow us to your safe house. Once we’re on the road, can you lose them?”
“Of course.” I glance at Ivy, who has a dreamy smile on her face. The girl’s not right in the head. “Are you sure—”
“Dad’s right. We’re safe for now.” Her head cocks to the side. Her gaze drifts over me, starting at my feet and ending by meeting my eyes. “So, you’re the infamous Elizabeth Caine. The woman who brought Ferdinand Lafitte to his knees.”
The memory of smashing a lamp across the back of Ferdinand’s skull flashes through my mind, but I keep my expression free of the guilt welling up inside me. Not my finest moment. He told his daughter about that?
Ivy laughs as if I spoke my thoughts out loud. She flicks a teasing grin toward her father. “You’re smaller than I imagined. Pretty, though. Tough, too.” Her smile slips. “Now I understand how you broke my dad’s heart.”
My mouth drops open, and I can’t seem to remember how to shut it.
