“You’re going to arrest him.”
“I never made any secret of that. You refuse to believe it. Or to see the truth.” He drew in a steadying breath. “You can’t separate who I am from my job. From my mission. I’ll do what I have to do to get these smugglers. And that includes arresting your brother. I swear to it I’ll see he gets a fair shake. Help Jordan by being realistic. My family failed my brother because we failed to be realistic about what he was doing.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension as palpable and the atmosphere as cold as the lake.
She retreated a single pace. Her mouth thinned to a bitter line, and her eyes darkened with emotion he couldn’t read. “I was gullible, too trusting. Jordan may have done some illegal things, but that doesn’t change what I need to do.”
He guessed it was time to reveal what Donovan had dug up. “You feel you have to protect Jordan because you’re afraid what happened to your father could happen to him.”
Pain filled her gaze. “How long have you known about that?”
“Only since last night’s phone call. I know the bare facts. Will you tell me?”
She paced in a circle, hugging herself. Finally she faced him. “When I was in high school, a girl—no one I knew—accused my father of kidnapping her, keeping her prisoner, and raping her. Dad was innocent. While we waited to bail him out of the county jail, the girl’s brothers paid guys inside to beat him up.” Her voice hitched, and she swallowed hard.
Rick’s gut twisted, and he clenched his fists. Shit, he should’ve dug into her father’s history sooner. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“The deputies stopped the beating before they killed Dad, but on the way to the hospital, he had a massive heart attack and died.” When she looked up, her chin quivered before she firmed it. “Afterward, Dad’s accuser said she’d made a mistake and identified another man. Those deputies should’ve protected Dad. I don’t know if Jordan is innocent or guilty, but either way, I fear for his life.”
Dios mio. No wonder she wouldn’t trust him—or the DEA—to protect her brother. He scraped fingers through his hair. “Juliana, I’ll understand if you still won’t trust me. What happened to your father was inexcusable. But believe me, your brother is in danger from El Águila’s men if they fear he has something on them. If I take Jordan in, he’ll be in protective custody because of that danger. I promise to do everything I can to make sure he’s safe.”
She stared at him for a long minute. “I want to trust you.”
His usual smoothness failed him, and his throat constricted. He couldn’t get his tongue around the three words he’d never said to any woman. He smoothed a hand over her hair and conjured up a smile. “Thanks for that much.”
He had to back off. She was being unreasonable about Jordan, and his explanations didn’t punch through her fears. She needed time to see things play out.
Their real differences went to the core of who they were. Her loyalty to her brother and her grief for her father blinded her. For the duration, he couldn’t trust her. For damn sure she wouldn’t trust him. Hell, she was probably still hiding something from him. Juliana might never trust him. The realization slammed him in the solar plexus.
She said nothing, only watched him with solemn eyes, as if she could read his thoughts. Maybe she could.
He snatched his leather jacket from the wall peg and opened the door.
Chapter 12
On Tuesday morning, back at Vinson Seafood, Juliana held the telephone away from her ear and frowned as though the voice on the other end emanated from Mars. After a moment, she placed the receiver in its cradle.
She hadn’t slept much so maybe she dreamed the conversation. If only she’d dreamed the rift between her and Rick. They’d driven to Portland in silence thicker than a Maine fog occasionally punctuated by brief, stinging exchanges.
“I didn’t lead you on, Juliana,” Rick said. “I never pretended I wouldn’t arrest Jordan. This thing between us has nothing to do with that.”
“It doesn’t matter. The attraction was mutual.” Chin up, she feigned nonchalance. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll search Vinson’s and cooperate with you—for Jordan’s sake. And I don’t expect any commitments from you. Or need any.”
“Jeez,” she whispered. How could she have been so stubborn, so stupid? Yesterday was April first, and she was the Fool. But because of this phone call, maybe she could at least put whatever was between her and Rick on life support.
Miracles didn’t fall in her lap every day. Because of a wild coincidence and a trick of fate, she knew where Jordan had stashed himself. He was safe. For the time being.
She offered up silent prayers—one of thanks and one for guidance. She wanted to knock some sense into her brother, knock some responsibility into his thick head. She had to stop propping him up. And she would—once he was home and out of danger.
She’d lain awake last night thinking. Rick was right about Jordan’s involvement with the drug dealers. He had to have known what Sudsy Pettit was delivering along with fish. Once she had what the DEA needed from the Vinson files, she’d deliver the evidence and Jordan’s hiding place to Rick.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re feeling better, Juliana.” Wes Vinson grinned as he edged a hip onto the corner of the office manager desk. “For your sake, of course, but you know how much I needed you these past few days.”
She hadn’t worn blusher to make herself look wan. She crossed mental fingers that he wouldn’t detect any deterioration in her amiability toward him. She tapped the computer keyboard, and the printer spewed out documents. “I understand, Wes. These bills will go out today. No problem.”
He was hitting on her. She recognized his moves. He perched on her desk for no apparent reason. He offered her his lopsided grin while he talked about nothing.
The fine hairs on her nape rose, and she clasped her trembling hands together. Was this man going after her because of Jordan? At that noxious idea, poison claws jabbed at her.
She masked her distaste with a tired smile.
Vinson looked up brightly. He might as well have had a cartoon light bulb over his head. Here it comes.
“A new restaurant opened up on Exchange Street, Greek food. Hear it’s great. Moussaka and stuffed grape leaves and salad with those big black olives. Oh, and baklava. How about staying over tonight and trying it with me?” His enthusiasm had the freckles dancing on his cheeks.
His invitation sounded hopeful for more than dinner. Her skin crawled.
She tilted her head and slumped in regret. Beneath the desk, she curled her fingers so tightly her nails bit into her palms. “Oh, Wes, how nice of you. Thanks, but I can’t. I missed classes last week—” she hadn’t attended class in much longer than that “—and I have too much to catch up on. And my stomach’s still not a hundred percent.”
The man shrugged off the rejection with a rain-check offer. After a few moments, he returned to his office.
Behind her, she heard muffled tones, him talking on the phone. She stuffed the bills into their envelopes.
Where might Vinson keep secret, illegal records? In spare moments, she was examining the accounting files. She might decipher some deceptive bookkeeping that Rick couldn’t. But she didn’t have much time. The Sea Worthy would dock in four days.
Although the office manager and two other employees were still out sick, two clerks flitted around the office like worker bees from computer to file cabinets to the reception desk. Boat captains phoned reporting catches or trooped in with sales receipts and fishy odors from the Portland Fish Exchange.
Marina workers muffled in quilted coveralls and wreathed in the tang of varnish and fiberglass stomped in periodically with demands for orders that hadn’t arrived, for resin or paint or electronic equipment Juliana could barely spell on an invoice. Though warm weather remained on the horizon, preparations for the pleasure boating season steamed full speed ahead for Vinson’s yacht customers.
She swiveled her desk chair to peek through his open office door. No longer on the phone, he bent over a file drawer behind his desk. A cabinet door normally hid the drawer from sight. The shelf below held not another file drawer but a safe. A safe.
Her heart pounded, and her mind spun. Finally. Not that Juliana Paris, master spy, could crack a safe. But maybe she could find the safe combination.
*****
“Hey, it’s the Prodigal Son,” Jake Wescott called as Rick entered the Boston task force office. “Missed your sorry ass, Cruz.”
“Thanks. I missed your ugly mug too.” Rick shook the other man’s proffered hand. “Glad to be back.”
“Been too quiet without you here,” Holt Donovan said.
“Wish I could say it’s been quiet undercover.” Rick shook hands with Donovan and the other agents who filed over.
The chatter of welcome died as agents grabbed coats and headed out. When the room cleared, only Rick, Wescott, and Donovan remained.
Donovan leaned back and propped his boot-clad feet on his desk. “I thought the damned leak was in the GS’s brain. But you kept us looking.”
Tapping a pencil on his coffee cup, Wescott sat on the edge of Rick’s desk. “We grabbed up the leak yesterday. Laurel in Intel.”
Laurel was always the one Rick asked to speed up background checks or to trace licenses. “Too bad. Such a quiet little mouse. I liked her.” He shook his head ruefully.
Donovan punched his shoulder. “You like all females.”
“Even a cornered mouse will bare its teeth,” Wescott said.
Donovan frowned. “She had a hot affair with our buddy Carlos Olívas. Met him in a bar. He videotaped them together then blackmailed her. She funneled secure info to him for several months. Given her IT skills, easy enough for her to cover up the whole thing.”
And without Juliana’s insight, Rick might not have suggested his team look beyond other DEA agents. He’d go tell her that tonight. If she was still speaking to him.
*****
Juliana pulled into her assigned slot in front of her apartment building. As soon as she spotted the cherry red Corvette, her pulse revved.
Rick unfolded himself from the low-slung sports car and sketched a salute. Sliding down the zipper on his black leather jacket, he sauntered over to meet her. A swagger jazzed his gait.
Just seeing him filled some of the hollow places in her heart. It was all she could do not to launch herself into his arms. “Looking good, Agent Cruz. So what’s new?”
He wore his official face, but at her query, a spark kindled in his mocha eyes, and his dimple winked with a grin. “Wescott and Donovan found the leak. A clerk in Intel. Blackmailed by Carlos Olívas. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Oh, Rick, I’m so glad it’s over.” Her hand involuntarily reached out to him, and she yanked it back before she yielded to her impulse to leap into his arms. No. She’d erected a wall between them and had to keep it propped up. “I didn’t see an official car behind me today. Are they no longer protecting me?”
One black brow winged upward. “For some mysterious reason, Olívas seems to have pulled in his horns. No sign of any of those slimeballs for several days now.”
“That’s a relief. I think.” What did it mean? “What do we do now?”
“I owe you big time. How about dinner? We never had a real date.” He gave her earring a casual flick.
When it rained, as they say. Two offers for dinner dates in one day. She’d wisely turned down the first, and she shouldn’t accept this one.
Rick was mustering all his charm on her behalf. The pirate grin. The bedroom eyes. The tumbled comma of sable hair. Give him a day and he bounced back with more assurance than Wile E. Coyote.
So did that make her the Roadrunner? She was running, all right, from him, from her tangled emotions. From herself.
She didn’t have the emotional energy to evade his invitation. Jordan was safe. For now. She had to conceal his secret until she had evidence against Wes Vinson. She did have other information for Rick, so . . .
“I’d love to go out to dinner with you,” she heard herself saying. Bad move, but she couldn’t resist being with him anymore than she could stop breathing. I’m my mother’s daughter after all.
He grinned and placed his hand on the small of her back as they entered the building.
His heat penetrated her parka to warm her and tighten her nipples. Once inside her apartment, she flung their coats over a chair back. Being alone with him in the confines of her small apartment too closely resembled being alone in the lake cabin. The sooner they drove to a restaurant—a public place—the better.
Speedy strolled from the bedroom to greet them. With a purr as loud as a blender, he wound his body through Rick’s legs.
“He likes me.” Rick picked up the animal and sleeked a hand from head to tail. The cat rumbled even louder.
The sight of his long-fingered hand caressing the brown fur sent tingles down Juliana’s back. Retreating to the kitchenette, she poured two glasses of a California merlot Venice had brought over—just in case. Juliana pushed his goblet toward him across the breakfast bar. Keeping that barrier between them might shore up her defenses.
“A quick drink and then we can leave.” He deposited Speedy on the floor.
Her pulse beat overtime at his nearness. “You’re still grinning. What else happened?”
“The GS—Group Supervisor—usually nails me for not following protocol. But MacMillan was so happy about finding the leak, he agreed to put me in for promotion. Said I was a natural leader.”
“Just what your already inflated ego needs.” She grinned and clicked glasses with him. “Congratulations.”
She lifted her glass to her mouth. A tiny sip was all her fluttery stomach could handle. Lord, she might as well have the words I know where Jordan is tattooed across her forehead.
“You have news for me.” Rick leaned forward, his elbows on the counter. “You found something today.”
As if sensing the mood change, Speedy strolled off with a yowl. Rebuke or accusation at her duplicity.
Juliana jumped at his direct words. Feeling guilty had her forgetting her other news. “Why do you say that?”
“That peaches-and-cream complexion broadcasts every change of emotion. “What happened? What did you discover?” Rick slipped around the bar and entered the kitchenette. He stood so close to her his breath ruffled her hair. Protective arms drew her against him.
She described how she’d spotted the cabinet safe and file drawer. “I won’t have a chance to search there.” She shrugged, fighting the need to haul him closer for a kiss.
“He’s watching you?”
She cleared her tight throat. “I don’t think so. He locks his office when he leaves. I should’ve seen that clue before.”
“Then all we can do is wait until the Sea Worthy arrives at the Fish Exchange. In the meantime, you finish out your week at Vinson as an exemplary employee.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Wait? But how can I, when Jordan’s life is at stake?
“Believe me, everything will come out all right. I know you can’t bring yourself to trust me. I understand.”
She swallowed down bile, tempted to hang her head and tell him he shouldn’t understand. How did I dig myself such a hole? She could tell him about Jordan now, but her instincts said to wait. Yeah, right.
His gaze heated, and tiny gold flames flickered in his eyes. “I’ve missed you.” He lowered his head to kiss her.
“This is a bad idea.” She pushed against him, but with no fervor in her protest.
He fitted his lips to hers with the ease of familiarity. She sank into the sensations of his taste, his scent, his magic. He touched his tongue to the corners of her mouth, to the seam as if reacquainting
himself with her taste and texture, requesting, not demanding, entry.
And then her tongue was seeking his, and her lips were stroking his as she tried to absorb him. His hand slid beneath her sweater to fit over her lace-covered breast. Heat and need suffused her body.
“Juliana.” He clasped her more tightly against him, lifting her off her feet. His arousal nudged her belly.
Shock waves flashed through her nerves, and her senses reeled. Currents of desire arced between them, splintering her walls of defense. Her skin tingled, and she felt suspended on a wave of sensation.
“You can tell me no,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble.
Caution is overrated. “You know where the bedroom is.”
Swept up, she scarcely knew that he carried her to her bed. Their clothes disappeared as if by magic. Excitement streaked through her at the sensation of his hot skin against her. He lay on top of her, his lean, hard body pressing her into the mattress. Heaven.
She stroked the muscled contours of his back, his firm buttocks as he slowly caressed her breasts. His fingers flowed over her skin, flirted between her legs, enthralled her.
“Juliana, I need you.” A moan confirmed his urgency, and she shuddered with delight.
“Rick. Yes.” When he slid into her, she was more than ready.
Her body, her soul burned. Their bodies moved in sync, striving, stroking with the same urgency. She savored his possession, his devouring of her, wished it could last. Tension coiled inside her and sensation spread out from her center and rolled through her in a huge wave. He tensed, gave a hoarse shout, and joined her in release.
On a satisfied sigh, he sank down, pressing his forehead to hers. “That was beyond powerful. You take me places I never knew existed. My Juliana.” He collapsed to one side. He tucked his head beside hers, close enough to nuzzle her ear.
She was beyond examining his enigmatic statement, beyond examining her reasons for succumbing. She would just enjoy him and this time together.
Never Surrender (Task Force Eagle) Page 10
