by Rita Henuber
“It’s beautiful,” she said, awed. “Did you paint all of these?”
“Not a one.” He laughed.
“Then who?” She couldn’t take her eyes from the paintings. Most were water colors, some pencil sketches. A few were oils and acrylics.
He pushed off the wall, going to the small kitchen area where he lit several candles on the counter.
“Neighborhood kids. Mostly street kids, it’s how they make a few bucks to survive. I buy their art and they watch this place.”
“The mural?”
“Here when I bought the place.”
The pleasant smell from the candles reached her nose. “What’s that scent?”
“Don’t have a clue.” He walked closer.
“I like it.” She took a deep breath, getting the full effect.
Rico shrugged. “It takes away the old gas and oil smell until the air conditioner gets working.”
She turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room. The furnishings were simple, comfortable. A huge overstuffed sofa and chair, slip-covered in natural canvas, dominated one corner of the open space, and a modest-sized flat screen TV hung on the wall. The small kitchen held a vividly painted table and chairs. The table top depicted a jungle scene. She traced her fingers over the image of a jaguar hiding among lush green foliage. A portion of palmetto tree trunk with bird carvings supported the table. Each chair portrayed a different colorful scene.
“It’s like being in an art gallery.”
On the other side of the room stood shelves holding what looked like thousands of CDs, and a king size bed atop a platform. Past the bed, a sink and counter were visible. Curious, she headed to the doorless room.
Rico went to the sound setup. “What kinda music you like?”
“Just about anything. Surprise me,” she called out, stepping into what she assumed was the bathroom. Six nozzles protruded from the bare concrete at different heights and intervals. Nothing was close enough to get wet, so no need for a wall or curtain.
“You did all of this?”
“Yeah. In all my spare time.”
Olivia looked at him as he selected CDs. Was he being sarcastic? Not being able to tell when he was lying or telling the truth made her uneasy.
The sweet sound of an alto sax filled the room. The half a dozen speakers produced such a great sound it seemed as if the saxophonist stood in the room with them.
“Frank Morgan.” She looked at him wide eyed. “You like Frank Morgan?”
“Yeah.”
“Art Pepper, Beegie Adair?” Anyone who liked Morgan had to like those two. She’d seen Beegie in Nashville once and the woman was phenomenal.
“Yeah,” he said, followed with a smile.
The uneasy feeling, fed by questions and contradictions, grew. Who was the real Rico? The good ole boy with the million dollar condo? Drug smuggler? Slick undercover agent? Or, she glanced around the room, a handyman extraordinaire, an art and music lover who cared about kids? She didn’t have anything except that one night to gage it against. She sure as hell hadn’t been taking notes on his baseline behavior.
Rico opened one of the electrical boxes and punched the key pad inside. There was a whir, a little click then a compartment slid from the side of the box. He tossed her a worn black leather wallet. She looked up at him, causally leaning against the wall, arms folded, grinning. She opened the flap, revealing a heavy gold badge emblazoned with Drug Enforcement Administration Special Agent and a golden eagle. Olivia ran her finger over it. It felt real but…She flipped it over. “This is only the badge, no ID. You could have….”
“Jee-sus, woman.” Rico pushed off the wall and snatched the wallet. “I am DEA.” He returned it to the compartment, banging it shut. “What more do you want?”
“I want to be able to trust you. I want to know you are who you say you are.” Drug agent or a drug smuggler—either way, she had to know. Her life was based on trust. She trusted it to a dozen people every time she climbed into her helo. She was trusted to fly a craft worth fifteen million and bring it—and more importantly its crew—home safe. “If you are an agent, give me something. Prove it and I’ll help you.” Rico said nothing. “If you’re a smuggler, admit it. I’ll help you get Silva and the man who set you up. When we’re done I’ll go back to Jacksonville. I won’t turn you in.” She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “Tell me and I’ll tell you why I want Silva.”
Shit. She sounded desperate. Shit. She was desperate.
Rico calculated how much truth he could tell her. She could have turned him over to the feds at her place and to the trooper on the interstate. She wanted Silva as much as he did. He owed her the truth. Involving her in an unauthorized action to find the fucker giving up UCs? That he didn’t owe her. It would push the limits, even for him. But…
His hand went to one of the many sore places she gifted him with. She did know how to handle herself. “I know why you want Silva.”
“How could you possibly know why I want Silva?” She took a step in his direction, giving him the same hard look she had a few hours ago. Right before she jumped him. He was in no mood to have her open a can of whoop-ass on him again.
“Last time you were in Miami asking questions, you hit up a DEA undercover. He reported it. You were checked out.” He leaned against the wall. “It was my investigation. The info was passed to me.”
“What was your investigation?” she asked, each word carefully enunciated. Brown eyes boring, mining for truth, she advanced another step.
What the hell? Might as well end this and tell her.
“I was investigating the deaths of four undercovers. Your brother, Daniel Carver—your twin brother—was one of those officers. I know Miami P.D. let you see the murder book. Ask me something that’s in there.”
“How many days after he died was his body identified?” she said with no hesitation.
“Nine days. His body was found three days after he died.” Naked, beaten beyond recognition. “ID delayed because he was listed as a John Doe. Made from a single thumb print.” The only digit the creatures left untouched.
Color crept up Olivia’s neck into her face, mottling her cheeks.
“If you knew who I was, why didn’t you call me and say back off?”
“Gimme a break,” he said, passing her to get to the sofa. His head pounded and he needed to sit before his legs gave out. “Would you have backed away?”
He stretched out, put his head back and closed his eyes. She said nothing. He opened one eye.
Olivia sat next to him, one knee pulled up, her arm resting on the sofa back “No,” she finally said. “No. I wouldn’t have.”
He closed both eyes again.
She touched his arm. “Why did you set up that meet?”
“To scare you off.” He moved his arm away from her hand.” That didn’t work too well.”
“No,” she said. “Tomorrow…You’ll tell me everything.”
He raised his head, looked her in the eyes and lied. “Yes.”
“You won’t regret letting me in on this.”
His stomach chose that moment to emit a long growl. Not the best way to break the tension but it would do.
“Geez, Rico, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”
“Nothing for a couple of days except for that crap we had in the car.”
Olivia stood. “You have anything to eat in the place?” She headed for the kitchen. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can do simple.”
He shook his head. “Nothing fresh. There’s an all-night market on the corner. You have any more pain meds?” He had plenty in his stash but wasn’t about to let her know where that was.
“Sure.” She retrieved a couple from her bag and a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I’ll hit the market and be right back,” she said as he downed the pills. “Anything in particular you want?”
“Naw.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“The nei
ghborhood gang hangs on the corner. They’ll try to give you a hard time.”
She held up the purse. “No problem. I’m carrying.”
“If anything happens, try to talk your way out. Don’t want attention drawn here.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a half-assed salute.
“Olivia.”
“What now?” She threw up a hand and rolled her eyes.
“The security code to get out and back in is 195591.”
“195591,” she repeated, and hurried downstairs.
Twenty minutes later Olivia climbed the stairs. The sound of water hitting the concrete walls stopped her cold. He was in the shower, and the moment she cleared the stairs his naked body, surrounded in a cloud of steam, water dripping from his shoulders and other parts, would be there for her to see in all its glory. Whew. Heat seared her neck and cheeks. She took the remaining steps two at a time and deposited the bags on the counter, keeping her gaze on anything but him. Hell, it was no use.
She couldn’t help herself, she looked. Not a little glance or a peek between her fingers—an all-out, spellbound, slack-jawed stare at the long legs that had felt damn good tangled with hers. The tight ass her fingers had clenched. Gawd. She was coming unglued watching Rico’s soapy hand move up and down his belly and chest. She remembered that hand washing her. She wanted him, and it wasn’t because of the constant adrenaline high of the last hours. Her lust-o-meter was in the danger zone because she was genuinely attracted to him.
She turned away and took out her frustration on half a dozen helpless eggs, beating them viciously and whacking the hell out of chorizo sausage with a very large knife. The water sounds stopped, replaced with the sizzle of sausage. Several minutes passed. She stole a glance over her shoulder.
Rico stood naked in front of the mirror, combing his long hair. He smiled. Crap. He could see her.
“You about ready to eat?”
“Yeah.”
He joined her, wearing loose fitting shorts. No shirt. No shoes. His wet hair hanging loose, framing a freshly shaven face.
“Smells good,” he said. “Thanks for cooking.” He pulled out a chair and stood, waiting for her to sit, then plied his plate with the spicy sausage and scrambled eggs. “How did you know I liked chorizo?”
“The old man at the market.” She settled into the chair across from him. “I described you, asked what you generally buy. He told me everything right down to the porn magazines you prefer.”
His lips twitched.
“Did you have any problems?”
“Oh. Ten guys attacked me.” She took a bite.
His head jerked up, his eyebrows popped. “What?”
“Relax.” She gave him an amused look.” I disemboweled and dismembered them. The world is safe now.” The warm smile he gave her spread to his dark eyes. It was impossible not to return it. Doing that had gotten her into…She glanced at the bed. “Have you come up with a plan to find the man responsible for Danny’s death?” Her mind needed to be on track.
Rico stopped. A fork full of egg suspended between plate and mouth. The smiling eyes gave way to a cold stare.
“No, I haven’t. I told you we’d talk about it tomorrow.” The eggs disappeared between his lips.
“Right.” She lowered her head and concentrated on eating, not looking up until he broke the silence.
“I feel better with a full tank,” he said, rubbing his stomach.
She was tempted to reach across the table and squeeze his arm to see just how good he did feel. “You look better.” He looked damn fantastic. “How’s the pain? I have more pills.”
Rico twisted, stretched his torso and flexed his arm muscles. He ran a finger over a long scratch on his forearm, then raised an arm and brought the hand to his back. “I’m stiff.” He stopped and eyed her. “And sore. A couple more of those pills and a few hours’ sleep, I’ll be good to go.” He yawned.
Oh, yeah. He was trying to get to her. Well fuck this shit. Three of those pills should put him out for the night, and she wouldn’t have to worry. Olivia was on her feet, going for the pills. Rico reached out, handcuffing her wrist with his hand. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to reach out and touch his smooth chin or tangle her fingers in his hair. He pushed to his feet, standing so close his body heat arched into hers, stoking the fire she’d tried to forget about.
“I haven’t thanked you properly for everything. Getting me here and—” he glanced at the table, “—this.” He leaned until they were nose to nose, and she prepared for a kiss. “Thanks.” He let go of her hand and took a step back. “You cooked. I clean up.”
It took a moment for Olivia to find her voice. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No. You lie down. Rest. The sooner you feel better, the sooner we get to work.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Sure. Get to work sooner.”
Rico lay on the bed watching Olivia clean the tiny kitchen. Having sex with her tonight would complicate things tomorrow when he sent her back to Jacksonville. The lizard brain instinct for sex after danger had taken over. He wanted her so bad his teeth hurt. That stuff he did in the shower was stupid. The innuendoes were even worse.
He pressed his palms to his eyes. Jee-sus. All it had done was rev him up. He’d never done that with another woman. Or had he? Fuck. He rolled to his side. Sex with her was making him forget every other woman he’d been with.
“I’m getting a shower,” she said, walking past and stripping out of her shirt as she went. Halfway there she stopped and peeled off her shorts and panties.
“Ah shit,” he muttered at her naked backside and rolled to his other side. Watching her shower was more than he could take. He was going to have to find a way to keep from getting hard every time he looked at her.
At least she showered quickly.
“Feel better?” she said, settling on the bed opposite him. She was wearing panties and a tank top that barely covered her breasts. Her nipples poked through the thin cotton, begging to be touched.
“Yeah.” Damn, his teeth hurt. In the subdued light from the bedside table, her skin was pink and he remembered how smooth and warm it felt beneath his hands. She talked but he wasn’t listening. He was thinking about how that gorgeous mouth had felt on his lips and other places. And holy hell he was hard.
“Great shower. I could stay in there forever,” she said, peeling back the sheet.
“What are you doing?” The words shot out of him in a near panic. She froze and stared at him.
“I’m getting into bed. What did you think I—” Stopping midsentence, she gave him a withering look. “You didn’t think I was going to sleep on the sofa did you?”
“Yeah” was all he could manage, trying unsuccessfully not to stare at her chest.
“Think again, mister.” She flopped onto the bed and yanked the sheet up to her neck. “I’m tired. This is a big comfortable bed. You stay on that side and I’ll stay on this side.”
That was the problem. He didn’t want to stay on his side and he didn’t want her over there. Crap. He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
He adjusted the waistband of the shorts to trap his dick and prevent tenting.
Rico twisted his head to check the time on the bedside clock. He’d slept a little over four hours and was hurting. His hard-on made it painful to move.
Immediately after Olivia fell asleep, she squirmed until she nestled against him. As her arm crept over his chest, he doubted she was asleep. This was her payback for when he’d been in the shower. This kind of payback he didn’t mind. He’d worked an arm around her shoulder and she’d tucked her head against his chest. Each breath he took filled his nostrils with her scent and her body felt good, warm and right. It had been years since he allowed himself to experience the intimacy and pleasure of falling asleep next to a woman. That simple thing most men took for granted left him vulnerable and was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Except with her.
Twice now he’d slept as soun
dly as she was right now. Shit. He had to get out of bed. He’d given his word there would be no repeat of what happened at the condo, but his dick had failed to get the memo. Carefully, he extracted his arm from under hers. Each time she stirred, he froze. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake. If she did and moved against him, or even ran her hand over him, there would be no way of controlling his need.
Free, he eased off the bed and stood looking at her. Olivia rolled to her side and tucked a hand under her cheek, the other stretched out on the bed, resting where he had lain. One long leg drawn up, and the panties she wore revealed way too much of her ass. He pulled the sheet up, covering her completely.
He relieved himself and decided to think about the Dolphins’ losing season to keep from getting hard. He also decided to spend the rest of the night on the sofa. Rico reached for a pillow and Olivia’s warm hand slid over his.
“Sorry I woke you. I’m moving to the sofa.”
“Come back to bed,” she said in a sleepy voice.
“The sofa might be…”
She held the sheet up for him to return. He sucked in a scalding breath. The sexy panties and top that bothered him were gone.
“Come back.”
Dolphins’ losing season. Dolphins’ losing season.
Rico cleared his throat. “What are…you doing?”
“What you think I’m doing?” Her voice was deep and smoky. She levered herself on her elbow and reached out with the other hand, brushing his erection. Olivia rose to her knees and hooked her fingers inside the waistband of his shorts, then slowly pulled them over his hips. Down his legs. Her lips tattooed kisses over his chest then his belly. Disappointment shot through him when her mouth stopped short of where he wanted. The shorts off, she ran her hand up the inside of his legs, stopping to cup his balls.
“Ahhhh.”
“You hurting?” Her thumb made lazy circles on the end of his dick and it was a moment before he could form words to answer.
“I wasn’t…until you…” He swallowed hard. “My dick is so hard it hurts.”
She moved back, tugging his erection. “Come back to bed and I’ll make that feel better.”
