by Bobbie Cole
Charlie stifled an indelicate snort. Wouldn’t that be a convenient way of ditching a relationship that no longer worked? But it had, damn it.
She still couldn’t keep from comparing mental notes, that both Martin and Seth had something in common…Mexico. What was here that drew both men? Business? Pleasure? A combination of both?
Wanda Schoonover had been adamant about George Martin’s reluctance to travel that day to Mexico, almost as if he was afraid of what might happen. He was supposed to have met with a party at the airport to give him his business information, since his boss, Damien Rogers, was out of the office that week. Rogers, however, had said that all Martin was picking up was his assignment and that the woman who had hired him as an escort had disappeared. That’s where the real confusion began. If the police and doctors felt Seth had been riding in the car with Lawson, where did that leave Martin? Could Seth have been sent to replace him with Lawson?
“You’re sure you don’t remember anything other than her face?” she called.
Seth turned to face her, leaned against the doorjamb and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No. Wish I did.”
“How about the shots Heather took for me of the men at the restaurant?” she asked hopefully.
He indicated the strewn papers on the table before her. “We’ve gone over everything at least twice—there’s nothing in there about me. Not much about her, for that matter.”
Charlie swallowed her disappointment. “Then we’re at a dead end. There’s no place to go from here except back to Houston.”
His face was unreadable, but his eyes held disappointment. “You want to get home that badly?”
Charlie shrugged. “Might as well, unless you can think of a reason to stay.” She bit her lip and turned back to face the table, aware of how provocative her words had sounded, even to her own ears. That wasn’t where she’d meant to go with him, not at this stage. He’d already turned her down once—she wasn’t about to try twice.
She felt more than heard him move away from the door, and her heart beat faster as he approached. The table was a mess, with the paperwork in no specific order, photos of his own accident displayed in a montage with copies of Lawson’s and Martin’s head shots, their own police reports, crime photos, records of phone calls from Lawson to no-name cell phones, the photos Heather had taken, a disarray of sticky notes… It was all a blur.
Then he touched her. His hands rested gently on her shoulders, his thumbs at the back of her neck, gently pressing, massaging. The fingers on her collarbone. Did she feel them tremble slightly? She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, less out of fear for what she’d see in his eyes than what he’d observe in hers. Her quandary, her damned insecurity, her need.
The pressure he exerted intensified slightly, and soon she couldn’t help but tilt her head in the opposite direction when she felt his breath against one side of her neck. Closing her eyes, she remembered, even if he couldn’t. She inhaled the musky maleness, the air as it softly escaped his nostrils, and her pulse jumped when she detected that he was as deep into the mist as she, that he wanted her, regardless of his doubts.
It happened so fast that she wasn’t aware of leaving her seat, of turning to face him. His arms were about her in a flash, lifting her, holding her, his head bending as his lips parted.
Charlie’s legs felt shaky, too limp to support her, and her arms were weak, barely able to cling to him as he devoured her, his breath mingling with hers, his lips setting hers afire with a blistering kiss that consumed all rational thought.
Groaning, he clutched her, his hands fisting at the base of her spine, pressing her into him, leaving no doubt as to his body’s craving. The thrill of feeling Seth’s hard heat burning her, his entire being melding with hers, was her undoing.
She didn’t care what happened at this point, as long as he didn’t stop kissing her. She didn’t care if he remembered her or not, as long as he held her like this, as if his desire for her was a never-ending well of want and need.
This time when he kissed her, she asked no questions, didn’t want to know, was too far gone. His touch was bliss, lifting her, carrying her, cradling her, protecting her. For once, her inquisitive mind took a backseat to her heart, and she ran with the unknown, the undiscovered. The Seth she knew no longer existed, and in his place was an exciting stranger.
He picked her up and carried her to his room, settling her on the bed while continuing to kiss and caress her. His hands cupped her bottom and held her in place, and his mouth moved from her lips to her throat, her breasts. He lifted her shirt and bent to suckle her through the flimsy lace and silk of her bra. Charlie moaned and squirmed, unable to hold still. Her own hands fumbled with his zipper.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her again, leaving her breathless, and then he spent what seemed like hours of bliss nibbling her throat, breasts and stomach. When he moved to kiss between her thighs, she struggled for clarity, fearing that it wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t care what he did.
“What about…?” She hesitated to shatter the moment, but safe sex demanded they pause.
He grinned and fished out two foil packets she recognized from the motel’s complimentary condom basket in the bathroom.
Charlie giggled and helped him rip open one of the packets. She couldn’t speak, could only nod and kiss every place of his body that came near her mouth as he moved above her, stripping them both of the remainder of clothing that separated their bodies.
She’d held out, waited, hoping he’d want her, afraid to encourage him, much less rush him, and now she couldn’t wait to feel his body moving inside her, his skin pressed against hers, his hips thrusting in tandem with hers.
Seth didn’t disappoint. His fingers probed gently but urgently, opening her, readying her, preparing her for his entrance, and once he settled into her, he closed his eyes, a deep growl escaping his lips. His shoulders tensed beneath her fingers, and the movement of corded muscles throbbing with unleashed rigidity was her undoing. Charlie became liquid heat, a raging fire exploding all around him, uncontained, and she felt as if she’d burn forever.
She rocketed, feeling his hands gripping her, his energy joining with hers, transforming, transcending, their combined fury surpassing anything she’d ever felt.
Both of them shook with spasms, quivering with release then aftermath, and Charlie clung to Seth as shockwaves evaporated into blissful mists, cushioning and comforting her, rocking her gently back to earth.
Seth kissed her sweetly then rolled onto his back, taking her with him.
She wrapped one arm about his waist and snuggled as he stroked her back. This wasn’t as she remembered—it was better.
Seth kissed the tip of her nose. “Now aren’t you glad we stayed over another night?”
In answer, she threaded her fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to hers, and she wet her lips. “What do you think?”
He grinned. “Don’t suppose you’d mind waiting a second or two? A man can only do so much, you know, without…”
She leaned forward and nibbled his bottom lip, her hand snaking between them to grasp him where he surely least expected it. “I can’t wait. I want you now, Seth.”
He sputtered for a moment, and when he recovered, he feigned resistance, acting like she was forcing him to do something he despised.
“Nag, nag, nag.” He dove under the covers, kissing her breasts, stomach and inner thighs.
Chapter Eight
Her partner called her cell phone while she and Seth were at the airport the next day to say he’d run the license plate on the car at the restaurant. “It’s a rental,” he told Charlie. “Nearly took an act of God to track ’em, but they’re Feds.”
Charlie had suspected as much.
“Vargas? There’s more.” Julio sounded concerned.
Damn. “What?” she asked.
“Pretty sure that guy you’re with in Mexico was one of Dami
en Rogers’s employees, an escort.”
Charlie wasn’t surprised, but the news didn’t sit well with her. Why can’t I have a normal relationship with a man? “Let’s have it.”
“Rogers showed up here yesterday.”
“At the precinct?” Charlie was shocked, so much that she had to lower her voice.
“Yep. He came to talk about Martin, to see if we had any leads, and your file on the guy wasn’t in the records department, so I checked your station. You had your boyfriend’s picture inside your desk, right?”
Charlie almost corrected him to say that Seth wasn’t her boyfriend, but she kept mum on the subject and simply asked him to continue.
“So I’m looking for that file, and there was that picture of your boyfriend sitting in a drawer, and when I opened it, with him peering over my shoulder, it was like this man Rogers had seen a ghost or something. He stared and stared then said he thinks this guy worked for him, too, but he couldn’t recall his name. You had it listed on the back of the picture, so I gave it to him. He started nodding, said yep, that was him, said the guy just disappeared one day and he never heard from him again.”
Julio kept rambling. “I call bullshit on that one. Two men who work for him disappear, and he doesn’t know what happened to either of them? Either the escort business has a high turnover rate, or this guy’s dirty, Vargas.”
Charlie set her jaw grimly. And Seth is involved. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, the Feds were here as well, checking on a guy named Mason Aldridge and asking what you were doing in Mexico.”
“What?” This time Charlie couldn’t repress a small shriek.
“Seems they sent an agent to Mexico to attend some function because Aldridge was in cahoots with somebody importing illegal aliens across the border, something related to terrorism. I didn’t catch all of it because once Bemo had them in his office, they shut the door and drew the blinds.” Julio paused. “Who is Aldridge? Only reference I found to him was that he was listed in an accident report along with one Marjorie Lawson—you had a copy of that on your desk, too. That happened out of our jurisdiction. We investigating that as well? That what you’re doing in Mexico?”
When she didn’t respond, Julio added, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snoop, just thought I could help.”
“No. Hang on a sec.” Charlie felt sick to her stomach. She glanced up to see Seth from across the room, his eyes intent upon her features. She was sure she must’ve looked guilty at first because her first thoughts were that Seth had to have been involved with Aldridge to have been linked to him, to have Aldridge’s sister so quick to have Seth’s features altered to resemble those of her brother.
Was she to spend the next hour on a plane sitting beside someone with whom she’d just made love, knowing he might be a man possibly involved in terrorism? The thought boggled her mind. And why were the Feds investigating her? Because she was with Seth?
She cleared her throat and scrambled to find a plausible response to Julio’s questions. “The Aldridge and Lawson cases aren’t ours—I was helping out a friend.” Think fast, Charlie, think. “Something made me wonder if their accident was somehow related to George Martin’s murder, considering the time frame—Lawson was killed not long after Martin was supposed to fly to Mexico, Guadalajara to be precise. Can’t figure it out, though, so by all means, knock yourself out.”
That seemed to satisfy Rodríguez, but his call triggered a reminder of something that had been needling her.
“Julio, do me a favor?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
Charlie gave him the name of the doctor in California who had presided over the majority of Seth’s surgeries. “Find out who paid Mason’s bills if you can. I’m interested to see if it was the sister.”
“What does he have to do with any of this?” Charlie considered her words. “It’s complicated. I’d rather have concrete proof if you can get it.”
He agreed then updated her on a couple of other things and rang off, telling her he had a lunch date.
Charlie was stunned. First Rogers, then the Feds checking on Seth? Well, on him and Aldridge. Now me? What are the odds? We all have to be linked. What is the one thing or person that links us? George Martin?
She covered her face with her hands, letting her fingers massage her temples. She could handle the disappointment if Seth was involved with Marjorie Lawson—it’d hurt, but she’d survive. She couldn’t honestly say the same if he was a party to murder. What had he done to warrant federal involvement? And what had she done, other than love a man with no memory?
Charlie gave herself a mental shake. He hadn’t done anything—neither had she. Aldridge and Lawson were American citizens. It made sense that the CIA would be involved, no matter who was at fault.
It was the terrorist theory that worried her.
She lifted her head from her hands and flipped the switch from distraught female to savvy detective. Scrutinizing Seth from hairline to shoe heels, she monitored his gait, sure and steady, his hands as they hung by his sides without clenching, his eyes, focused yet quickly darting when a sudden movement captured his attention. A baby lifting a rattle to shake in the air, a woman crossing her legs, a man catching his cap as it fell from his head. Seth noticed it all, unobtrusively unless a trained cop had him in her sights.
He was too alert, not laid back enough, to be a mere escort. The man exuded sex appeal, sure, but Seth was nobody’s boy to be bossed about and told how to dress or where to go. She couldn’t see him as an escort, which left…
“CIA?” Seth looked from one man to the other. They’d been at the gate when he and Charlie had left the ramp in Houston. Seth’s first impulse upon seeing them, especially the taller one, had been to fight. To reach for the nearest object that could separate the man’s head from his shoulders.
“Whoa!” When the shorter of them held up his hands and cautioned his partner to back off, he reminded the taller guy, “He’s had a head injury, remember? But he’s still one of us. Give him a few moments to get his bearings.”
Seth shook his head. “I’m CIA?”
The taller man, Runnels, nodded and put the gun he’d drawn away, but something about him set Seth’s nerves on edge. Runnels’ expression changed from one of cold calculation to wary sympathy. “You don’t remember me?”
“Not really.” Seth looked from Runnels to Stone. “I worked with both of you?”
Stone patted him on the shoulder, and his eyes seemed genuinely sad. “It’ll come back to you, Seth.”
Charlie had remained silent during the encounter, and when the news he’d finally absorbed had settled, Seth reached out to hold her hand. The action raised eyebrows on both Stone and Runnels. Charlie, on the other hand, didn’t so much as flinch. Her hand felt clammy rather than her usual warm temperature. Her posture alarmed him as well. She stood ramrod straight as if someone had a knife pressing against her.
He couldn’t resist releasing her hand and touching the small of her back. The muscles just above the waistband of her trousers tensed, and he knew she was upset, but he wasn’t sure why. He figured she’d be glad he’d finally discovered who he was.
“Guess you’d better cowboy up,” she said, moving away from his touch. “I’m sure these men have a lot to discuss with you.”
“Actually, with both of you, ma’am.” Runnels gave her an apologetic but firm look. “Our car is parked out front.”
This time it was Charlie who lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid of getting a ticket by one of Houston’s finest?”
Runnels touched his jacket that hid his badge. “Not with one of these.” He motioned for them to follow them out of the airport.
The trip from their gate to the parked car, which had yet another suit as sentry, was short. The man waiting with the car tossed a set of keys to Stone, gave a small salute and turned on his heel.
“Another of ours who was in the neighborhood,” explained Runnels. “He has to board a plane for Borneo, so we gave him a
lift.”
“Where are we going?” Charlie asked, once she and Seth were settled in the backseat of the Lincoln. She touched the leather upholstery, her fingers trailing close to Seth’s leg, but when he reached for her hand she snatched it away and smoothed her slacks.
The two Feds exchanged a quick look but refrained from answering.
“Okay.” Her voice was low and dripped sarcasm.
Runnels sighed. “There are some things we need to discuss with both of you in our office. It’ll keep until we’re there, and we’re only a few minutes away.”
Most likely my last assignment, thought Seth. They probably want to ask me about my last memories, what I remember if anything, what really happened in Mexico. As if I know. He studied the backs of the men before them, the shapes of their heads, their necks, hands, shoulders. Was he like them? Staid, stoic, so straight-laced they sat like they had sticks up their asses?
Seth glanced at Charlie, who was still silent as a tomb, as if she was still taking all of it in and processing it. Welcome to my world. He hadn’t told her about the flashes he’d been getting, not exactly full-blown memories, but snapshots from a photo album whose story didn’t make sense. A face, a scent, a voice or a name. The memories were coming in piece by piece, much like he imagined the car accident he was in. Swift, in actuality, but demonically slow as his mind’s projector ran the movie.
He hoped something at the CIA office would unlock a few more doors in his memory bank.
That memory bank should have remained locked. Forever. Seth sat, stunned, silent, listening as Stone and Runnels explained, in front of Charlie, that she had been his mark, his assignment.
At first, Charlie had gasped, and Seth had caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she’d turned from them, from him, to stare out of the fifth-floor windows. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage as she struggled to leash the rage he was sure was building.
He almost felt sorry for Runnels and Stone as they paused uncomfortably, allowing Charlie and Seth to register the news.
