Temptation and Treachery (Dangerous Desires)

by Roberts, Sahara

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. What was it? She looked back, knowing the man in the corner was the cause.

  “Victoria,” the interrogator called.

  “Celeste,” she replied without thinking. Then it hit her. That imposing way he stood there, arms crossed, practically taking up the whole wall. She rose. The interrogator pushed his chair back, circling the table when he saw her take a few tentative steps. “Sit back down, Victoria.”

  Those arms. His stance. Her reactions every time he came near. The truth barreled through her, leaving her lightheaded. “Rio?” The giant didn’t even twitch, but the other guy stopped in his tracks. No. This couldn’t be. God, please let me be wrong. But those arms. She’d spent so much time surrounded by them. “You’re Rio, aren’t you.” She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. He reached behind his head, pulling off the goggles and mask in one swipe, tossing them to the interrogator without taking his eyes off her.

  “No.” Her voice broke on the single word. She could have been pelted with freezing rain the way her body temperature shot down. “No. No. No.” The words grew stronger as her father’s voice echoed in her head. Men will use you to get to me. Every memory, every touch. The days she’d thought to be the best days of her life. Men will use you… They were all a lie. “How could you?” He crossed his arms again, staring down at her with disdain. Something snapped inside her. She smacked his forearm, the slap echoing around them. “How could you do this to me?” Her other hand followed. Tears broke through, and her body trembled. But she couldn’t stop. “How could you?” He didn’t budge. She fisted her hands landing blows on his arms and chest. Anger turned dark, aimed directly at him, and a part of her brain realized she’d finally learned to hate. “Bastard. I hate you!” Then she pulled back and went for his face. She struck his jaw before Rio moved.

  Strong hands grabbed her from behind, throwing her into the wall. With tears blurring her eyes and Rio’s arm under her ribs, she could barely breathe. “I’ve got her.” The voice that had murmured such sweet and dirty things to her was now hard, dispassionate. Her heart crumbled.

  “Don’t touch me.” She pushed back, shoving her hair out of her face. Hating her body’s reaction to him. He reached out, and she shot her arm out to brace against his chest. “No.” Anger spurred her to strike again. “You bastard. You don’t get—”

  “Enough.” His voice boomed over her, but she struck him, then pulled back to do so again. In one quick move, he ducked and caught her in the midsection, with his shoulder. She went flying over, losing precious air. “St-stop.” Blinded by her hair and the shadowy corner, she kicked and swung back to catch his head. She twisted sideways, slipping off his shoulder and plummeting toward the floor, catching the back of the metal chair square in her chest. She knocked what little wind was left in her lungs clean out and finished the fall on her hands and knees.

  Cursing under his breath, Rio grabbed her, jerking her off the floor. “No. Preg—” Panicked she clawed at his vest, desperate to keep him from throwing her over his shoulder again. “Preg…” she wheezed, struggling for breath, “…nant.” Too late. She landed hard. Her lungs started a slow burn, enough that she could feel the outline of each one. Try as she might, she couldn’t suck in air. The world tilted, and she opened her mouth to scream.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pregnant. Rio went dead still as he absorbed the word. Was this some trick to try and escape? His instincts warred against each other. She’s cartel. She’s pregnant. She’s cartel. Celeste, here. Pregnant. Cartel…

  Celeste stopped struggling, only her fingers moved, clutching at his vest. Her body jerked, and he swung her forward, catching her in his arms. Her hair cascaded off her face, and she blinked rapidly, her mouth open as she tried to drag in air.

  Oh hell. What had he done? The thought got him moving, his legs dragging as if they were pushing through knee-deep muck. Flicking his wrist back, he twisted the doorknob, pulling until he could kick the door open the rest of the way. She needed the medic… Parker would know what to do. Fuck, what if she traveled with Ayala. “Parker!” No, he had a leg wound. First aid should have been quick. Unless there were others. She might have stayed behind to patch up someone else. Gatlin hit the door at the end of the hall ahead of him, bellowing into the twilight.

  Celeste jerked. Dropping her legs, he leaned in, pinching her nose before he put his mouth to hers and blew hard, hoping to get air into her lungs. She swallowed, drawing in a shuddering breath. He scooped her up and took off. Gatlin held the door as he approached. Slowing down, he moved through the doorway with care so he wouldn’t clip her head on the way.

  The rapid crunch of caliche underfoot drew his attention to the right. Kari Parker ran toward them, assessing the situation as she swung off her backpack. “Kari.” Sweet relief. He’d never been so happy to see the smart-mouthed medic. “I… Please…” He looked down, his gut twisting at the sight. Celeste still struggled to fill her lungs, her skin looking pale under the new tan. “I knocked the wind out of her.”

  “You hit her?” Kari ran her hands over Celeste, her brows flattening in a frown. Gatlin held back, letting him do the explaining.

  “No.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling like a giant spotlight burned into him. How could he admit the truth? She’d moved in, focused solely on him, braless, emotions shuffling across her beautiful face. His head registered Celeste, the woman he’d fantasized about for endless nights, not the detainee they were questioning. And his body just wanted to fuck the anger right out of her. “I tossed her over my shoulder.”

  Kari’s eyes flicked to him, disapproval shadowing the icy blue glare.

  “She’s pregnant.” The realization washed over him in a thick curtain. There was a narrow chance the baby wasn’t his. After all, she’d omitted a big part of her life. But he knew with an unerring certainty that he was the father. Strangely enough, he was good with that.

  Kari muttered under her breath, reaching for her backpack. “Let’s get her to the infirmary.” Gatlin grabbed the pack out of her hand, leading them to the nearby building. “Why didn’t you stop him?” she hissed. Gatlin just shook his head and kept walking, earning himself a backhanded smack to his bicep.

  Celeste tensed in his arms. “Put me down.” The words came out in a pained rasp.

  “We’re almost there.” Wedging in an elbow, she pushed against his chest. He tightened his hold. “That’s not gonna happen.” She glared at him, her barely covered breasts rising and falling with exertion.

  They entered the building, and he maneuvered into the infirmary, setting her gently on the bed. She reached out, bracing herself on the mattress, refusing to look at him. “Please leave.”

  Kari glanced over her shoulder from where she was washing up. “You might want to head out.”

  No. Regardless of what she was going through, she was a prisoner. “Just go,” Celeste reiterated. Kari gave a quick nod as she pulled on a rubber glove. Gatlin walked away, holding the door open as he exited.

  “I need to—”

  “Get out,” they said in unison, glaring at him. Okay, time to retreat. The last thing he needed was to have both women turn against him.

  Determined not to make matters worse, he made himself walk away, his footsteps echoing in his head. Gatlin caught his arm, his eyes shifting to the wall before he stepped back in the room, letting the door shut until only his fingers poked out.

  “I’m staying, Parker,” Gatlin said with authority. “She hasn’t been cleared.” Rio felt a quiet surge of gratitude for Gatlin’s quick thinking. He’d have to answer a lot of questions for this unasked favor, but it was worth it to get some answers.

  The medic huffed. “Fine.” Followed by some muttering. “I’m Kari Parker,” she said, in a more personable tone.

  “I’m Celeste.”

  “How far along are yo
u, Celeste?”

  Rio closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, straining to hear the subdued voices. Less than a minute ago both women had been yelling at him, now they could barely muster a whisper.

  “I’m… I can’t be sure.” His eyes snapped open and doubt hammered his heart.

  “You know who the baby-daddy is?”

  Rio stopped breathing, waiting for her next words.

  “I’ve been under a lot of stress and, well, I haven’t had access to a doctor to be sure I’m actually…pregnant.”

  He frowned. Did the old man know his daughter was pregnant?

  “And if you are?” He waited, glad for once that Parker was so fucking persistent. The silence stretched out until Rio was sure he would bust back in the room demanding an answer.

  “Then it’s three weeks and two to three days.”

  “That’s pretty precise.” He could hear the smile in Kari’s voice.

  “I don’t have any doubt on the time frame.”

  “How about we track down a test so we can know for sure?” Parker suggested in a soothing tone.

  “Yes, I think I need to know.”

  “Good, my bodyguard over there can help out with that. Now, let’s get a chart started for you.”

  Rio exhaled in a rush. Well, it was a hell of a thing. The woman he fell for was cartel, and she might be carrying their baby, and she hated his goddamn guts for being law enforcement. Wait till she found out he put a bullet in her father.

  Chapter Twelve

  The clock was pushing midnight when Gatlin walked into the office where Rio was working, carrying a filing box. Several of his men trailed behind him, depositing the load on a heavy table across the hall.

  “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Gatlin said with a frown.

  Rio looked from him to the boxes and back.

  “Hang on.” Gatlin checked the labels, choosing a box of items confiscated at the ranch.

  Rio pulled off the top, intending to empty the contents on the table so he could document them. They’d already cataloged the weapons, some still streaked with blood, a password-protected laptop, and a half dozen cell phones. But he stopped short when he recognized Celeste’s oversized purse.

  Gatlin shut the door, keeping a hand firmly on the knob. “She claims she’s not a part of her father’s cartel dealings, though she does receive money from several custom broker’s offices inherited from her grandfather. Kris’s checking into the office and whoever runs it, but so far everything’s legit.”

  Rio leaned back. If Ayala had one legal business, he had others. They’d have to dig into Celeste’s background to see what else they could find. “She gave me her phone’s pass code.” Rio reached into the purse, plucking out the phone only to find the battery dead. Sitting in a dead zone, with wifi closely guarded, not many bothered with a cell. Which meant he’d need to track down a charger. Gatlin reloaded the box, putting it across the hall with the others, then locked the room. Cataloging the rest of the belongings could wait until morning. He paused as he went by, smacked his palm on the frame. “By the way, Kris brought the thing for Parker.” Then he was gone.

  Rio stared at the now empty spot in the doorway. Brought the thing. The test that would tell him what his future would hold, or not hold. He pulled a Post-It Note, wrote Celeste’s name, and stuck it on the board. The yellow square stood out among the pictures of rough men and jaded women. More so against the brutal scenes of death and destruction Ayala’s organization had left across the Mexican countryside. A dozen states had seen his and Guerrero’s bloody brand of warfare over the past few years.

  Kris joined him, silently walking up beside him. “She says those aren’t his.” He pointed at Mazatlán, Tampico, and Monclova. All places where innocent blood had covered the streets.

  “Of course not,” Rio replied flippantly. “I’m sure he was at a church retreat those times.”

  Kris’s expression remained disturbingly neutral. “She knows what he does. Her body language says she isn’t comfortable with admitting what or who he is.”

  “She does realize he pays men to do that shit for him, doesn’t she?”

  Kris’s gaze moved from pin to pin. “Why choose only three incidents?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question? It made no sense, but he couldn’t afford to ignore it or the unsettling possibilities it would raise if true. Both men stared at the map as the silence stretched between them. Kris was right, obviously, but he didn’t have to like it.

  Rio studied the pins indicating the locations on the map. At least one didn’t include Guerrero’s people among the bodies. He’d have to research the others. “She just volunteered information?”

  “Seemed more like she had to get it off her chest.” Kris pinned Celeste’s DMV picture next to Ayala’s. He added her name and “daughter”, double underlined.

  Questions danced around Rio’s head. Apparently Kris was done sharing, so he’d have to ask. Because if he had to wait for the guy to say something else, he’d likely die of old age. “How is she?”

  “Pregnant.” The word was delivered in his usual no-holds-barred manner. “Other than that, fine but exhausted, according to the medic.”

  She was carrying his child. The knowledge settled within him.

  “You’ll be about two months behind us.”

  Rio did a double take. “Tessa?” Kris gave a satisfied grin. He was a perfect example of how things could work out even when life and the cartel were against you. Kris had found Tessa in a cartel safe house, claimed her, and never looked back—regardless of the consequences. “Congratulations, man.”

  “Thanks.” Kris turned back. “How are you doing with her and the pregnancy?”

  Rio drew in a breath. “Well, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Turned up in her father’s ranch house. She’s pregnant with my baby. And now she hates me for being law.” Kris’s expression turned grim. “Oh, let’s not forget I not only arrested her father, I shot him for good measure.”

  “Ah, shit.” Kris shook his head. “Under any other circumstances I’d be congratulating you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “This place is yours to run,” Kris said, setting one leg on the corner of the table. “But why did you bring her here? This is supposed to be a black site. You’re not set up for interrogation or detention.”

  Rio stared into space, remembering the drive. “I asked myself the same damn question the whole trip back.” He exhaled, bending his head and running his fingers along his temples. “Nothing makes sense when I’m around her. I do the stupidest—”

  “Ohhh, man. You have no clue how deep you are or the shit-storm that’s about to hit.” Rio frowned, looking up to find Kris chuckling. Amused. “Get used to the idea you’re gonna be apologizing to the woman on a regular basis. You won’t even know why yet. But if you don’t want to lose her, start thinking about how you can make things right.”

  “What?” Rio cocked his head. Had Kris lost his mind? “She’s one of them.”

  “Is she? ” Kris waited, letting him absorb the question. “For now, get some rest. You’ve got a lot to do. Talk to her. See what you can find out.” He crossed his arms. “I was going to turn Ayala over to the locals tomorrow, but I’ll figure out some way to stall. Damian is going another round with him, then he’ll upload the video for you. Give me a call once you see it.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something doesn’t sit right, but I’m not sure why. Hell, he could just be a good liar.” Kris pushed off from the desk. “You know more about the guy. Maybe you’ll see what I didn’t.”

  …

  With sunrise still hours away, Rio crossed the yard, his boots crunching on the caliche. The nearest sentry acknowledged him as he continued to the main building. The night had dragged by while he stared at the ceiling, trying to smother the memories fighting to come alive in his mind
. Restless, worse than anything in the past few weeks, he’d accepted he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. Not when Celeste lay in the next building, a few yards away. Correction. Celeste and their baby. He approached the infirmary, managing not to stare at the dark windows. Was she okay? He had no idea what pregnant women needed, never having been around one. His muscles tightened past the point of feeling strain.

  He regretted his choice to skip the workout gear, even though he could use a run. Lately, only a hard workout burned off the restlessness. But with the op just hours before, the men had earned time off. Especially considering the brutal pace he’d set since he got back.

  He walked into the office, going straight to his laptop. Anticipation surged through him, heating his blood and sharpening his focus. He typed in his password and saw what he was waiting for. Sitting forward, he clicked on the first of the three videos Damian uploaded. Ayala filled the screen, looking calm in his suit, despite the fresh wound in his leg.

  Sunrise came and went with Ayala choosing what questions to answer. At times he talked as if he were conversing with a business associate, going on about points of interest in areas Damian brought up to him. With a businessman for a father and a teacher for a mother, he’d grown up with a decent education before graduating to street thug.

  Then Damian hit gold with a single word. Victoria. Ayala’s polite mask slipped, and his response set off alarms in Rio’s head. Needing confirmation, Rio paused, pulling back the cursor then hitting play. “She’s an American. You have no right to drag her down here to bait me.” Drag her down here? Rio listened again. He stopped the video, focusing on Ayala’s face. No, focusing on her father’s face. He pressed play. “Every day she’s in the country she’s deeper in danger.” Yet Celeste had said her father called her to come meet him.

  His gaze went to the board, studying faces, profiles, and pictures of the deceased. Some of the questions he skipped revolved around violence Celeste claimed hadn’t been his. Doubt pierced his certainty, breaking the timeline down to a series of assumptions. He needed to review the reports, talk to witnesses and interviewers. Every event made the board because they were Ayala’s doing. Some by Ayala’s own admission. But looking back at the video, he wondered at the truth of those admissions. The man on the screen had presence. He wasn’t ranting or cocky, talking up his exploits or copping an attitude with Damian. He could easily be in a boardroom, allowing his second in command to run the meeting while he looked on. So what did that mean? Did one of his men go rogue?