by Nina Bruhns
“I want to talk to him now, Max,” Marisela said, grabbing the phone from Frankie once the connection was established. They sat side by side on the sand, their backs to the hacienda, looking to anyone who watched like lovers sharing a private conversation.
“He’s back in Florida. Pan took a turn for the worse.”
Marisela pressed her eyes closed tightly and fought the wave of nausea that swam through her stomach. God, she’d forgotten all about Pan and his injuries—injuries her incompetence had caused.
“Is he dead?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“No, but it’s touch and go. I’ll relay any messages to Mr. Blake. I anticipate I’ll have contact with him by morning.”
Marisela bit her bottom lip, willing herself to gain control. Pan’s injury was a regret she’d have to save for later. Right now, she had to figure out how to spirit Jessica off this now entirely fortified island without getting her and Frankie killed.
The events in the dress shop had been no random attack. She had suspicions, borne of the information about Elise provided by Javier, but would Max shoot her hunches down? Isolated on this island, she could never find out the information she needed on her own. With a deep breath, she decided to trust the organization she’d joined—or at least, the man who’d trained her for this mission. “Max, how well did Blake check out Elise Barton-Ryce before he took her case?”
“Extensively.”
“Into her finances?”
“In an operation this expensive, we have to make sure the client has the ability to pay. Why?”
Marisela glanced up at Frankie, his head cocked as he listened to her side of the conversation. “Perez said something tonight—something about Elise not having all the money people thought she did.”
“I can’t see how that’s possible,” Max answered and she could hear the blatant insult in his voice. He’d likely investigated the client himself and now here she was, some rookie operative, questioning his thoroughness on a gut feeling that was based on the word of a man who was a known criminal.
And yet…
“Can you check again?”
Ever the professional, the affront in Max’s voice disappeared. “What am I looking for?”
She sighed with relief “When we met with her on the Oceanus, Elise said that she wanted to get Jessica back before her eighteenth birthday because after that, she’d have no legal hold on the girl. That sounded so weird. Seems to me she’d wait until after her daughter turned eighteen to contact her because then, Jessica would be a legal adult. She could see whomever she wished, whenever she wished. For the record, Jessica believes that her mother gave her to her father. She’d testify to that in court, which would muddy any prosecution waters if Elise means to go after Javier for kidnapping. I can’t help wondering then what the time constraint is. What if some other event is tied to Jessica’s eighteenth birthday? Something financial.”
She glanced at Frankie, who was staring at her as if she’d sprouted a new head. Well, too bad. From the start, she’d doubted Elise’s motives for wanting to find her daughter. They had nothing to lose by digging a little deeper into the woman’s situation, not after what they’d just learned from Perez.
“Like an inheritance?”
Marisela shook her head. “I have no idea, Max. The only thing I know about inheritances is what I see on the novelas.”
Max chuckled. “I’ll trust your gut on this, Marisela. I’ll check a little deeper. What’s happening on the island?”
Frankie pressed the light on his watch. “Forty-five seconds.”
“Jessica is distraught,” Marisela explained quickly. “Perez will likely kick us off the island by morning if I can’t talk her down.”
“Any chance of an extraction before then?”
“Negative. He’s brought a second wave of guards onto the grounds and Jessica won’t be leaving anytime soon, not even for school. Any word on the guys who tried to grab her?”
“They were from Miami. Local thugs.”
“When did they arrive in Puerto Rico?”
“Two days before we did. They’d been camped out at the pier, reportedly watching Perez’s movements.”
And Jessica’s.”
“Apparently.”
“Any closer to finding out who paid them?”
“There’s no paper trail,” Max admitted. “They paid cash for everything they bought while they were here and nobody’s talking in Miami. It’s a dead end.”
“What are our orders?” Marisela asked.
Max didn’t reply immediately and Marisela could hear his fingers flying over a keyboard on the other end of the phone. She hoped he was already looking into her request for more information about Elise’s finances.
“Try not to get kicked off the island,” he responded finally.
She grinned. “We’re working on it.”
“We’ll talk again.”
Max disconnected the call and Marisela handed the phone to Frankie, who pocketed the device.
“You’re concerned about what Perez said,” Frankie said. “Could be nothing but bad blood.”
Marisela nodded. “But bad blood is all we have.”
“You think Elise tried to snatch her kid today?”
“I don’t know. Why would she? She already has us inserted into the organization. We’ve got the best shot. Those pendejos who took Jessica today could have gotten her killed.”
“And you don’t think she’d risk her daughter’s life?”
Marisela snickered. “Of course I do. That woman is a viper, no matter how much she tried to sway me with her crocodile tears.”
“And the locket.”
Marisela half-grinned. So he’d noticed that she still had the jewelry with her, tucked safely inside a tiny leather pouch she wore around her neck.
“I don’t like to be manipulated.”
“Never?”
The spicy scent of Frankie’s cologne, so expertly intertwined with his natural musky scent, drew her awareness. The balmy breeze rustling the palm trees and the insistent, lapping waves provided a lush music that blocked out the cacophony of suspicions, fear, and plans flying through Marisela’s brain. It was so easy to lean into his body and let his heat burn away her troubles for a few precious moments.
“Depends on who is doing the manipulating.”
He took her invitation exactly as she intended, slipping his hands slowly down her back and then cupping her backside in his large, muscular hands.
“Muchas gracias,” he said, his words caressing the shell of her ear.
“For what?”
“I know what you did for me today.”
“Oh, you mean putting your life in danger by letting Jessica get snatched when I wasn’t looking? You’re welcome.”
He trailed a path of hot kisses down her neck, making her wish he’d stop wasting time and simply unzip her blouse, remove her bra, and get to work right here, right now.
With deft fingers, he fulfilled the first part of her wish. The sensation of each tooth of her zipper pulling apart from its partner reverberated against her. She concentrated so intensely on the delicious, anticipatory vibrations that she nearly missed what he said next.
“He wouldn’t have killed me,” Frankie claimed.
“If he’d thought you were involved? He would have strangled you with his own hands.”
His tongue dipped low to the skin between her breasts. The heat of the night caught in her throat when her breath spiked in response.
“Me…or someone else.”
Despite her overwhelming desire to surrender to his touch and forget all about the case and the danger for a few stolen moments, Marisela pulled back, her eyes hardly able to focus. “What are you talking about?”
“I understand your reason for suspecting Elise might have ulterior motives for wanting Jessica, but that doesn’t mean she was behind today’s attempt. What if one of Javier’s lieutenants is attempting to stage a coup?”
> “You mean a traitor?”
“I’m not sure. But someone within the organization could have used our presence here as a smokescreen. Taking Jessica would give them leverage. With Perez off-kilter, he’d let down his guard.”
Marisela blew out a wavering breath, realizing that in their quest to infiltrate the Perez organization, they might have stepped into more trouble than they’d bargained for. “But the guys today were amateurs.”
“And they also weren’t known by anyone in Puerto Rico, which means if the plan failed, no one could trace the betrayal back to anyone here.”
Marisela ambled away, immersed in the dangerous possibilities Frankie presented. His suggestion was clearly valid and with her concentration focused on making friends with Jessica, she hadn’t paid a lick of attention to the men who followed Perez around like obedient puppies. Maybe one of them was tired of licking his boots. Maybe one of them wanted to be top dog.
“Do you suspect anyone in particular?”
Thunder suddenly rumbled above them. Great. A storm. At least Perez’s security would have something to blame for the communications anomalies.
“No,” Frankie answered. “They all act completely loyal, but that doesn’t mean they are. While you’re working on repairing the damage with Jessica, I’ll make the rounds of the boys, see if I can find anything out, though I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to slip up to a stranger.” The lightning flashed again, this time with a crack that seemed to break open the clouds. Thick drops of water splattered all around. Frankie pulled his jacket over his head and held out his hand. “Let’s get inside.”
She shook her head, then scanned the shoreline for anywhere they could go that wasn’t under Perez’s watchful eye.
“Not yet!”
She dashed in the direction she’d gone when she and Jessica had left the island that morning to shop. The boat ramp. Frankie followed, cursing all the way.
She guessed a guard would be posted at the boathouse, so she wasn’t surprised when they confronted the man hulking under an awning barely large enough to shelter one person, much less three.
“¿Qué pasa?” he asked, his rifle tucked solidly beneath his arm.
“The rain!” she exclaimed. She let Frankie explain to the man that they’d been taking a romantic walk on the beach when the sky opened up and drenched them to the skin.
He offered them the inside of the boathouse, but only after making radio communication with his superior. He unlocked the door, clicked on a dim overhead light, directed them toward the kitchen where they might find towels, then made himself scarce.
The boathouse reeked with the stench of seaweed and fish and motor oil. A vast collection of rods and reels hooked onto the walls testified to Perez’s obvious obsession with sport fishing. A boat, a good thirty-footer, hung suspended from a sturdy collection of winches and steel cables. For an instant, Marisela wondered about using the vessel to execute a quick getaway—until she noticed the gaping tear in the hull.
Besides, the boathouse, while situated on the edge of the water with a large bay door that allowed the ocean to splash beneath the boat, was fairly closed off. The minute they attempted to activate that door, she was certain the whole of Perez’s security force would swarm down on them. And she couldn’t ignore the fact that neither she nor Frankie were cowards. They had a job to finish, no matter the odds.
With ceiling fans swirling the tepid, moist air, Marisela peeled off her shirt and wrung the cotton material out onto the floor. Frankie removed his jacket and tossed it onto a barrel by the door.
“Trying to give the security guards a thrill?” he asked, glancing up at the security camera mounted in the corner of the room.
Marisela looked down at her sexy black bra, then spared the security device a glance. “If Perez’s guards have any decency, they’ll turn the cameras off while we’re here. We are a married couple. Guests of their boss. I don’t think Señor Perez would approve of his men peeping in on us instead of watching for real threats.”
As if on cue, the tiny green light at the base of the camera faded to black.
“You don’t trust that, do you?” Frankie asked, removing his shirt and then using the semi-dry material to wipe off his face and hands.
Marisela slipped her thumbs into her back pockets, arching her back until Frankie’s eyes brimmed with hunger.
“If we can’t trust the man who’s hired us to eliminate his enemies, who can we trust?”
Dirty Little Secrets: Chapter Nineteen
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Marisela said, her skin prickling despite the steamy heat in the boathouse.
His eyebrow quirked. A smile lit his eyes. Damn. In perfect keeping with the dance they’d established so many years ago, he closed in on her hesitation. He offered her his shirt and when she didn’t accept, he balled it up tighter and proceeded to wipe the moisture off her face himself.
“Maybe what isn’t a good idea? Drying off?”
He smoothed the cotton over her cheeks and she couldn’t help but tilt her face into the fabric. His scent curled into her nostrils—a powerful elixir of male musk and fresh rain and body heat. When he patted the shirt lower, dabbing at the moisture glistening across the top of her breasts, her nipples hardened and ached for his touch.
“Making love,” she said.
“Who said we’re going to make love?”
He stepped closer, his erection brushing her belly, proving she wasn’t mistaken. She and Frankie were alone, in the dark night, in a storm. What else would they do?
She cocked a brow.
He chuckled, the deep, throaty sound oozing over her skin like warmed honey. “We can’t seem to keep our hands to ourselves, that’s true.”
After tossing the shirt aside, Frankie twined his fingers with hers even as she struggled to keep them at her sides. What was this force that drew them together? Chemistry? Familiarity? A little bit of both?
“Hands, lips, tongues, assorted private parts,” she admitted, even as he coaxed her palms onto his butt where she could squeeze his tight muscles through snug, damp denim. “The minute we’re alone, we go back to being teenagers again.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. I never could do this so fast when we were kids.”
In a split second, her bra popped free, his deft fingers working their magic even as she relished the feel of his strong body against hers. She shrugged her shoulders and the lingerie fell away, freeing her breasts for his hungry gaze. She stared at him wide-eyed—and aroused.
“If I remember correctly,” she said, “you were faster than a speeding bullet in the backseat of your mother’s car.”
“That’s just because I didn’t want to get caught. I can take my sweet time when the incentive is right.”
With a flash of lightning from outside, her arousal spiked. He pushed her up against a support beam for the boathouse, dropped to his knees, and proceeded to unsnap, unzip, and peel her jeans off her body.
She didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. She had the strength to fight anyone but him. His power over her loomed like a bad omen of their past, but she couldn’t form the words to tell him to stop, not when his mouth trailing up from her knee to her inner thigh, evoking all the sensations she craved. With Frankie, she’d do anything, because she knew intense pleasure would be her reward.
“You rescued Jessica to save my life today.”
“Mmmm,” she replied, concentrating so much more on the sensations of his breath and tongue across her heated flesh.
He shifted higher onto his knees so he could move his kisses upward, just along the edges of her black lace panties.
“You care about me that much?”
“I wouldn’t want you to die on my account,” she managed, but the long string of words cost her. With his hands sliding up and down her legs, she could hardly breathe. Her nipples tightened, and the pain stabbing through her body could be soothed only by Frankie’s tongue. Yet his mouth was engaged elsewhere an
d she wasn’t about to complain.
She tangled her fingers into his thick hair and eased his face closer to her concha, so she could feel his hot breath diffuse through the lace and enflame her creamy skin.
“You deserve a reward for your bravery,” he murmured.
She swallowed deeply, nearly cooing when he pressed his tongue against her, delving into the cleft between her legs until she thought her knees might buckle. She might have whimpered. She wasn’t sure. When his hands inched up and removed the lace barrier, she thought she’d scream in triumph, but instead she held her tongue until his assault pushed her over the edge.
And even then, he didn’t stop. No matter how she begged, no matter how convinced she was that she had no more left to give, no more left to feel, he pushed harder. He drove his fingers deep within her and when that threw her into a spiraling orgasmic vortex, he shucked his pants and filled her completely.
He grabbed her hands and stretched them high over her head so he could suckle her breasts even as his thrusts milked her dry. Marisela tried to focus, tried to grab him, touch him, but he denied her, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was going to come again whether she liked it or not and he didn’t need anything from her to make him hard but her complete and total surrender.
She gave it. God help her, but she couldn’t resist him. Not now. Not ever.
* * *
The teddy bear sealed her fate. Marisela blew out a shaking breath and closed Jessica’s door quietly behind her. She wasn’t cut out for emotional scenes. No amount of training from Titan could prepare her for a confrontation with a vulnerable woman-child like Jessica. In the cool, dry dawn in her own room, wrapped in Frankie’s strong, warm arms after a night of lovemaking, Marisela had made a decision.
One that could get them both killed—or save a mission that was dead in the water.
