Under Fire

by Rita Henuber

  Olivia let Rico set the tempo. He was sweet, tender, attentive to her every need and she reciprocated. In a few days they had learned how to bring each other to the height of pleasure. Tonight it was more than sex.

  A tear tracked down her cheek. What was happening? She didn’t cry. Another dripped, then another. She couldn’t let him know she was crying. Too late. His thumb wiped the offending drop from her face.

  “Tears?” His voice was husky. “You okay?” He raised his head in an effort to see her face.

  Olivia nodded slightly. Rico put his index finger under her chin, tilting her face.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Is it how I look? Was it bad for you? Did I do something wrong?” Real concern filled his voice.

  “No.” She gave him a small smile. “It was amazing. I feel—it felt different,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell him it was powerful, overwhelming and scared the hell out of her.

  “Yeah.”

  They lay entwined and silent, watching the sky, listening to the faint sounds of the city.

  “Olivia?” She loved the way her name sounded when he said it.

  “Umm?”

  Rico lightly ran his fingers along her spine. “The night we met, why did you leave the bar with me?”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “I’m serious.”

  She pressed away and angled her head to look into his face. “I wanted to be with you.”

  “Just like that?”

  “It wasn’t just like that. I needed to let go. My life is about control. You were…”

  “What made you decide?”

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Humor me and answer the question.”

  She sighed deeply and tucked her cheek against his chest. “It’s all very cliché.” Another sigh. “There was a chemistry. Your smile. You made me laugh, I felt comfortable with you.” His scent, the taste of him, the feel of his hard body—she could go on and on but she didn’t.

  “Did you think I was the person you came to meet?”

  “No. It never crossed my mind. Not even when I found the note. But it should have.”

  “Would that make a difference to you? I want to be sure you didn’t go with me for the information,” he said.

  “What I wanted from you I got and it wasn’t information.”

  It was several minutes before he continued. “A few days ago you asked some questions I wouldn’t answer. I want to tell you now.” His hand drifted up her back to the nape of her neck and massaged gently.

  “Okay.”

  “My life was messed up for as far back as I can remember. Didn’t have a mother. Don’t know if she died or left. It was my dad and me. Things hit rock bottom when I was ten. I came home from school on a Friday afternoon and he was gone.”

  Olivia lay motionless against him, speechless.

  “I knew this time he wasn’t coming back.”

  “This time?”

  “Yeah. He left me on weekends all the time. A few times for a week or more. At first he left enough food and some money. He stopped doing that.”

  “How did you know he wasn’t coming back?”

  “He took all of his stuff.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I hid in a closet until Sunday morning.”

  Her hand rested on his chest, over his racing heart. She said nothing.

  “At first I didn’t know what to do. After a while I started making a list in my head.”

  “A list?”

  “Facts. Things I knew were true. What I had to do to get by. I was alone. Had to eat and clean up. Had to go to school. I worked out how I would do it.”

  Olivia pulled in her lower lip, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want to hear this.

  “I was getting free lunches at school. I knew I could eat at least once a day during the week. Weekends would be hard. I took all the stuff other kids didn’t eat home. Didn’t have money to wash my clothes at the Laundromat, washed them in the sink with regular soap.”

  “How long did this go on?” What she really wanted to ask was how could someone do this to a child—much less their own child.

  “Close to a month. One of the cafeteria workers noticed me getting unopened milk cartons out of the trash. Told a counselor. He couldn’t call my dad. We didn’t have a phone. He put me in his car and drove me there. In the car I ran stories through my head, what I would tell him about my dad. He was at work or out buying groceries. But, when I unlocked the door I knew he wouldn’t believe a word I said.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “The place was a dark, back of the building apartment. You needed a light even in the daytime. He flipped a switch and nothing. The electricity had been cut off.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I stood there, not moving, while he went room to room. He came back to me, took my hand and we left.”

  “He didn’t let you get your things?”

  “Didn’t have any things. No toys, just some ratty clothes.”

  “Where did he take you?” Her heart was pounding as hard as his.

  “To his house. He was a young unmarried Italian guy living with his parents. A nice old couple who made a fuss over me. Didn’t know what to make of them. All the attention scared the hell out of me. His mom cooked a feast. They kept telling me to eat more. I did. I’d never had that much to eat at once.” He paused for a heartbeat. “They gave me my first ice cream.” His voice broke.

  Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips against his chest. His hand covered hers and squeezed.

  “After dinner his parents left so we could talk. I told him everything. He said I’d stay the night with him. The next day he had to notify Children and Family Services. Explained how the system worked. I’d be placed in a foster home until they found my dad. I panicked. Started crying and shaking. He didn’t understand. Finally I got it out. Told him I didn’t want my dad back. Anything was better than being with him.”

  “What…did he say?”

  “Nothing. He sat next to me on the sofa, put his arm around me. Said it would be okay. It’s one of the strongest childhood memories I have. It was the first time I could remember someone putting their arm around me. It felt good.”

  Olivia was having trouble processing all he said. How could a man, a father abandon his child? Her childhood problems were miniscule compared to this.

  “I was officially a ward of the state, in and out of foster homes. Switched schools a lot. I was always the new kid. I was picked on. I picked back. Got in a lot of trouble. At fifteen I landed with this older lady. For the first time I felt I belonged some place. She got me through high school and into the Marine Corps. In college, I had a serious relationship. We were living together.” He sucked in a deep breath and released it. “She got pregnant.”

  Olivia mashed her body against his. He took several ragged breaths and continued.

  “I was twenty-six, she was nineteen. Came home from class one day—she was gone. She told her parents about the baby. They swooped in, took her home and to a clinic for an abortion. A friend of hers told me.”

  Olivia gasped. She didn’t want to hear any more. “I—”

  “Let me finish.” His grip tightened. “Two weeks later she killed herself. Overdose, street drugs.”

  Olivia wiggled out of his hold and levered herself up on an elbow. He rested an arm over his eyes.

  “That’s why you changed your major. To get drug dealers.”

  He said nothing.

  She lay back against him, realizing it would be easier for him to talk if she wasn’t staring at him. He was quiet a long time. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer she blurted, “Did you love her?”

  “The girl? No. Yes. I don’t know. I know I let her down. I didn’t stop her parents. I didn’t go after her.”

  Olivia bolted upright. “Oh, Rico you didn’t let her down. She c
hose to go with her parents. You weren’t even there when she left. For God’s sake, she was nineteen and couldn’t have an abortion unless she wanted one. Did she even call you?”

  “No. I didn’t call her, either.”

  “Look at me, Rico.” When he didn’t move his arm she shoved it away. Even in the darkness his eyes were brilliant. “Think about it. She left, took your child without saying anything. Letting you hear about what happened from someone else. She may have been young, but that was damn cold. And I’ll bet she was into drugs before.”

  He sighed. “I suspected she used before we were involved.”

  “What about the lady? The foster mom, she cared about you?”

  “Yeah. She didn’t cut me any slack and got me on the right track at school.” A thin smile crept across his face. “First time I got into trouble living with her she wore me out with her shoe. She was five-foot. I was already at my full height and I stood there and took it. I remember it like it just happened.”

  “Why?”

  “She wasn’t mad at me, she was mad I did something so stupid. Said I was smarter. Also said, next time I did something like that she’d beat me bloody with a broom. For the first time, somebody cared about me. Pretty much stayed out of trouble after that. Didn’t want to let her down. She talked to me about enlisting. Dragged me to a recruiter and watched me put my name on the dotted line. Made it clear it was the only way to get money for college. My only chance to get in. When I started college she encouraged me to do something with kids. Said I had a way with the little kids while I lived there.”

  “Do you see her often?”

  “She died a few months after I started school.”

  “You mean she was dead when you went through the thing with the girl?”

  Rico raised and lowered his chin, almost imperceptibly.

  Olivia stared down at him. The correlation hit. The only people he had cared about had disappeared from his life. Died or abandoned him. He had no one to love and no one to love him. He didn’t choose this life to get drug dealers off the street, he chose it to isolate himself from relationships. Insolate himself from being hurt. Maybe get him killed.

  No, that wasn’t it. He possessed the strongest survival instinct she’d ever seen or heard about. For God’s sake, at ten he’d made lists of what he needed to do to survive. And here, all the precautions, safe guards. This was a man who wanted to live, standing tall showing the world he could make it all alone no matter what was thrown at him.

  “Did you ever try to find your dad?” she blurted.

  “No. And…”

  “And what?” she urged.

  “I’m not sure he really was my dad.”

  “What? What are you saying?”

  He pushed himself up on his elbows. “I’m saying I don’t think he was my father.”

  Her mind raced. Was he in denial his father would do that? Or did he know something?

  “Why?” Crap. Why did she have to ask? He was drawing her too deep into his life. First he showed her what he really looked like and now he was sharing this.

  “I get memory flashes. Things he said.”

  She wasn’t about to ask any more questions, and lay back down against him.

  “He said he got me to be a part of his con.”

  Got him? She suppressed a shudder.

  “Once, when he was drunk, he said he should take me back. I think he meant he should take me to my mother.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” She wanted to say, Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.

  After a long stretch of silence he said, “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. The only one I’ve felt I could tell.”

  A cool breeze washed over them and Olivia shivered, not from the chill but the realization that, no matter how hard she had tried to prevent it, he had reached inside and touched her heart.

  Rico turned on his side, draping himself over her protectively.

  “I know how it feels to make up the life you want. What I told you about my mother being alive only a handful of people know.” Her breath hitched. “I think from the moment she left, I tried to do things for Danny I thought a mother would do. A head doc would say I’m pretty screwed up.”

  “What about now?”

  “Haven’t seen her since Danny died, and then we didn’t speak. She stood in the back of the church and at the edge of the mourners. Sam tried to get to her before she left, but…”

  It was almost funny. The two of them; tough, taking on the world, dealing pretty damned well except when it came to emotion and loving. Go figure.

  She snuggled against him. “Rico?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” His arms tightened around her, and she thought about how different the sex with him had always been. Tonight, the intimacy, tenderness and passion were on a different level. Recreational sex had turned into an emotional bond. They’d made love. Here, under the night sky, the world melted away. The pleasure gave her a new calm and joy. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his heartbeat were as soothing as the words he whispered.

  This was a feeling she didn’t want to lose. She titled her head back to see his face. Their eyes met and her breath caught. Was this what love felt like? A drop of fear sent a ripple through her calm pond of pleasure. She couldn’t be in love, she was terrified of love.

  “Look—” Rico pointed, “—a falling star.”

  Olivia looked. “Is not. You can’t see the stars with the lights from the city and the haze.”

  “I swear I saw a light flash over.”

  Olivia heard a familiar sound. Rico heard it too.

  “Get dressed,” he said, grabbing for his clothes.

  “What? Why?”

  Too late, she realized the police chopper was almost over the garage swinging its search light from side to side. Rico sat, struggling to get into his shorts, using every cuss word he knew.

  “Stop,” she laughed, pulling him down. “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  “Lay on your side and kiss me,” she yelled over the noise of the chopper. “This way they’ll only get a side view of our asses.” She pulled him against her, tangling her arms and legs with his.

  “Kiss me. Now.”

  Rico kissed her hard and long as the helicopter’s search beam bathed them in blinding light. Plastic chairs blew over, small items tumbled by, and Olivia heard a glass break. Without looking up they each raised an arm and extended their middle finger.

  When the chopper’s engines couldn’t be heard anymore they flopped onto their backs, laughing until they both fell into coughing fits.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mornings were special for Olivia. Her senses were heightened. The air smelled sweeter, the sheets against her skin felt delicious. Sounds were clear, not distorted by things mechanical. The diffused light made the world look like a painting. This morning she’d been awake for some time, still savoring the feel of Rico’s muscled body against hers and thinking about what lay ahead. Judging by his breathing Olivia guessed he was also awake. Was he thinking about the mission to come, or struggling to make sense of last night? She was doing what her Coast Guard training taught: prioritize and concentrate on the task at hand. After this was over they could sort out their feelings.

  “You awake?” he asked, running his hand lightly over the rise of her hip.

  “Mmm.”

  He rested his chin in the curve between her neck and shoulder. “I’ve been lying here going over everything, looking for a hole, something we forgot. Couldn’t find one. We’re good and you’re ready.”

  They were silent for several minutes.

  Rico moved away enough for her to roll onto her back. His electric green eyes worked a jolt through her. He smiled and half covered her body with his.

  “I’m going to make some coffee and get the kid up,” he said. “We’ll go downstairs so you can get ready.”

  With a slight nod, she steeled herself. The moment he left t
he bed things between them would change. The sex, the kisses, the touches and looks would be put aside. Her only focus would be getting her brother’s killers, Silva and Baker. Nothing else.

  Rico rolled away, stood, pulled on his shorts and threw Olivia his T-shirt. She shrugged into it and moved to the warm spot in the bed where he’d been. She pulled the sheet over her head, listening to the sounds of coffee brewing, then his bare feet padding to the sofa.

  She reviewed the plan, plotting important points like a flight mission. Mission goal: Get info on Silva. Meet this Baker guy. Mission tactics: Assume a new identity, follow Rico’s instructions, improvise when necessary and sell it like your life depends on it.

  Remember, getting information is a delicate process. Too forceful and she’d blow it. Not forceful enough and she’d be blown.

  She showered and attempted to arrange her hair the way the girl in the Little Havana shop showed her but, exasperated, gave up. Only a beautician with all the appliances known to the profession could straighten her hair today. Makeup went much better. She decided on a tailored chocolate brown shirt and slacks made of some kind of soft, clingy material. It looked like something a woman would wear for traveling, was comfortable, and reminded her of her uniform. Her shoes were brown leather with peek-a-boo toes and three-inch heels. Standing back from the mirror, she twisted to one side then the other checking her image. Her gold earrings and chain belt looked sharp against the dark color. After some consideration she undid the top two buttons of the shirt, enough to see a hint of pink lace from her bra. Pleased, she called out, “I’m ready.” Showtime.

  Seconds later Rico and Mouse stood at the top of the stairs, staring.

  “Okay?” She turned slowly.

  “Okay.” Rico nodded.

  “You look super, Miss Olivia.”

  “Thank you—both.” She looked pointedly at each of them. They were her crew now. Rico was no longer her lover, but a fellow officer she was trusting with her life. She fought back a seed of doubt. She was going into battle with this man and had no idea how he would act in a difficult situation. She could end this now, back out…No. Playing it out to the end was her only option.

  “Take her bags down, kid.”

  Mouse hefted the bags down to the old Lincoln.