No One Heard Her Scream no-1

by Jordan Dane

  "Any particular reason to start there?"

  "Just a hunch. Let me know what you find out."

  Becca ended the call, deep in thought. Rudy worked on the renovation project at the Imperial, probably as a mason, his usual gig. Suspicion twisted her gut, her professional instincts grappling with the love she felt for a dead sister.

  Becca shut her eyes, letting her training take over. She would follow the evidence, even if it led to someplace she didn't want to go.

  CHAPTER6

  Becca opened the front door to her condo and tossed her keys and purse onto the kitchen counter. She didn't flip on any lights. Instead, she opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of Glenmorangie single malt scotch whiskey, pouring a small glass. She resisted the urge to call Santiago. It was late. After her forced vacation, she'd have plenty of time to make contact. So, without changing clothes, she collapsed on her sofa and stared out the windows from the un-lighted room.

  Dim lights from the Riverwalk bled through the glass. A kaleidoscope of pastel dappled her carpet and walls, mixed with murky shadows. Stirred by the faint breeze outside, branches of cypress made the colors undulate in the dark and across her body. Hypnotic.

  She took a swig of scotch. It shocked her system and burned her throat. But once its heat radiated through her chest and down her arms, she melted into the cushions of her couch.

  The noise from the city throbbed, a dull pulse, out-of-sync. Becca shut her eyes and let the events of the day close in, the faces of Danielle and Isabel clouding her mind. Alone in the dark, she felt grief the most. It emanated from deep inside, leaving her no place to hide. By the time she opened her eyes, tears streaked her face. Her skin prickled where the tears had strayed, the air starting to dry them. She finished her scotch and went for more, but when Becca stood, a glimpse of white caught her eye.

  A white rose lay on the brick outside her window, its green leaves stirred in the breeze. And another had been dropped on the fire escape steps, at eye level, so she wouldn't miss it. For an instant, her heart leapt in her chest.

  "Diego," she whispered.

  A part of her felt too fragile to withstand his influence. But an even greater part willed him to be on the rooftop, waiting for her. Becca walked to her kitchen and took another dose of liquid courage, grimacing with the potency of the scotch. At the window, she took a deep breath and raised the pane. No amount of self-control would rein in the feeling. Her heart pounded in her rib cage.

  Becca picked up the first rose and ducked through the window onto the landing. More flowers lay on the steps, leading her to the roof. Her eyes trailed the roses to the top. The white lights of her rooftop garden replaced the stars in the night sky, shimmering points of light. He must have turned them on, another invitation.

  But Becca had a plan for Diego Galvan. And it had nothing to do with a starlit night and roses.

  Diego stood on the edge of the light near a parapet wall, feeling more at home in the shadows of Rebecca's garden. Sand and small pebbles crunched under his boots in this section. Clay Saltillo tile pavers covered the rest of the rooftop decking. He ran his fingertips along the greenhouse. Had she constructed it herself? He understood her need to have such a place, admired her for it.

  He cocked his head to one side when he heard the window slide open below. Rebecca was home. Diego turned to face the steps to the roof and waited, but the beat of his heart ramped up a notch, an unnerving reaction.

  You're acting like a damned kid, Galvan. Get a grip. He pulled open his brown leather jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to appear casual. When she peered over the wall, he walked toward her and spoke up.

  "I hope you don't mind. I made myself at home."

  He offered his hand to help her over the brick wall—a well-intentioned and chivalrous gesture. But Diego couldn't help himself. He watched her move. Not even the conservative pantsuit hid her tight athletic body. If she looked at him now, Rebecca might be afraid of what she would see reflected in his eyes. He cleared his throat and glanced away.

  "For a guy who lurks in the shadows, you do like a grand entrance. I'll give you that. Thanks for the roses . . . again."

  When she touched his hand, a jolt of electricity shot through his system. He tried to downplay his reaction to her, but the exercise would be pointless. He had seen it before, in her eyes. In his mind and his heart, Diego knew the truth. This woman saw through his detached facade, making him feel raw and exposed. And in doing so, she forced him to remember the man he used to be. She shed light on every dark corner of his being, making him feel. . . redeemable.

  "I tried your front door, but you weren't home. This was . . . Plan B."

  The faint breeze tousled her hair, the strands cascading the light. She stood close enough for him to smell a fragrance on her skin, a subtle floral scent. Provocative and feminine. And he smelled alcohol. Rebecca had been drinking. But Diego stopped breathing altogether when he looked into her eyes. Steely defiance and a quiet restraint defined them, an intoxicating blend.

  She held his hand, clutching his fingers even after she had made it over the wall. He took in every detail of her face, committing it to memory, knowing the moment would not last. Perfection so fleeting.

  "Glad you stuck with Plan B," she replied, a fragile smile on her face and expectation in her eyes. "We have to talk."

  Yes, talk. About what? Words failed him. His brain failed him. He only wanted one thing—to kiss those lips.

  Diego memorized the line of her lips, the soft skin glistening in the moonlight. With his free hand, he traced a finger along her jaw, lost and completely seduced. And she surprised him by permitting his brash move. Encouraged by this, he leaned closer, lowering his lips to hers. He pulled her to him, knowing he took a liberty. The heat of her body felt so good next to his, every curve fit. He couldn't stop himself.

  But she could.

  "No, please .. ." Even though she placed a hand to his chest, her eyes carried a very different message. "I need to. . ."

  "What do you want, Rebecca?" he whispered.

  She hesitated, her gaze dropping to his lips. He clung to the hope she would change her mind and kiss him instead. But Rebecca only took a deep breath and pulled away from his arms. And his emptiness returned.

  She crossed her arms, looking cold. And her lips trembled. Diego shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on her shoulders. She smiled at his gesture.

  "Thank you, but you don't have to . . ."

  She tried to hand the jacket back, but Diego raised his hands in protest.

  "No, I insist." He jammed his hands into his jeans, ignoring the breeze filtering through the weave of his turtleneck sweater. "I suppose you want to know about Cavanaugh."

  "Yes, what's going on between you two? You kept our little coffee break to yourself. Why is that?"

  The truth. It should have been an easy thing to share with someone like Rebecca. But Diego had grown accustomed to his secrets. He wouldn't risk exposing them, not even for her. What part of the truth would he share? He'd have to tread a very thin line.

  "I don't tell Cavanaugh everything. It is a game we play."

  Diego circled the spot where she stood, not taking his eyes off her. A slow, calculated maneuver. Butthe woman didn't give an inch. She turned with him matching his intensity.

  "Not good enough, Slick. You don't strike me as the type of guy who wings it. That was a deliberate move on your part. Now answer the question."

  "I'll answer your question if you tell me why you were crying the other night, by the window." When she wavered, Diego flashed a lazy smile. "You see? It's hard to take that first step, isn't it? The trust factor." His amusement faded, replaced by his intense stare. "Then I will go first."

  It took him a moment to find the words. He knew how he felt, but saying such things aloud did not come easy.

  "Sometimes it feels like I've lived my whole life doing things for someone else. Meeting you? That was for me. I didn't want Cav
anaugh to share any piece of that. It meant too much."

  He stepped closer and brushed back a strand of her hair. Graced by moonlight, the magic of this woman touched him, more than he wanted to admit.

  "You have an undeniable strength in you, Rebecca. I can see it in your eyes. But it's the complete vulnerability I find most intriguing. And that, you cannot hide. Not from me."

  The urge to kiss her took hold. More powerful this time.

  Diego pulled her toward him, cradling the bad of her head in his hand, his fingers laced througl her hair. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers, taking what he had no right to take. At first, she flinched in resistance. But when Rebecca's arms reached for him, her hands found the skin under his sweater, and his belly grew taut. Blood jolted through his system, on fire, fueling his arousal. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she returned his hunger, her fingers clutching his back. The sounds of the city faded—replaced by their breathless urgency. He wanted her . . . needed her.

  "Oh, God, please. I can't do this," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

  She pulled her lips from his, but collapsed against his body, clinging to him. With his chest heaving, he held her in his arms, his eyes shut tight.

  "No, it's me. I should be the one to apologize."

  Regret filled him. He had pushed too hard, expected too much. Eyes still closed, he lowered his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. Heat radiated off his skin. Not even the night air tempered the rush. She backed away, unable to look him in the eye. Rebecca turned her back on him, letting the clamor of the city build a wall between them.

  "If you want me to go . . ." he offered.

  "No. Please . . . stay." Rebecca faced him now, standing in a murky fringe of light. "Before I say what's on my mind, I do want to answer your question, about why I was crying the other night. Trust doesn't come easy for me either."

  She sat on the brick ledge, staring down river. Diego edged closer, standing at a respectful distance.

  "Not too long ago, I lost someone. Someone I loved very much." Rebecca's voice sounded hollow and distant. "I'd been so focused on my career, I let what was really important slip through my fingers. And now, I can't get those precious moments back with her. She's dead, and there's nothing I can do to change it."

  Her words resonated with him. His personal life had taken a backseat all too often. And there were days when the bitterness of regret was all he tasted. He knelt by her side, not taking his eyes from her.

  "Is that why this case is so important to you? The young girl discovered at the theater?"

  "I'm sure that's part of it." She fell silent for a long moment and fixed her gaze on him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I never mentioned the age of this person. Why is it you know so much about me, Diego? Are you telling me you know about my sister, Danielle?"

  He stood and shook his head. "Your sister?"

  "Don't play dumb, Galvan. It doesn't suit you." She rose to her feet and handed him the jacket he had loaned her, a stern expression on her face. "Well, you've made this easier than I thought it would be."

  She stood toe-to-toe with him, hands on her hips.

  "I had an interesting conversation with the FBI today. They seem to be reading my mail."

  He raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. "Well, you know what they say. Big Brother is watching."

  "It's more than that, Slick. The feds are calling the fire at the Imperial arson even before the official report, kind of like you did the first day we met." She cocked her head. "And they knew about my interview with Cavanaugh right after I left the estate when I hadn't told anyone about it. But I've got a theory on all this."

  "Oh?" He turned his back on her, avoiding her glare.

  "I think the feds have someone on the inside of Cavanaugh's organization. Maybe someone under deep cover."

  He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes for an instant, then turned to face her.

  "I don't see how that's possible. Cavanaugh wouldn't take anyone into his confidence without a background check with references. He's known for that. No way someone in law enforcement could get inside. I know the man."

  "Not unless this person had connections with someone Cavanaugh respected ... or feared. Rivera got you inside, didn't he?"

  "You don't know what you're talking about. You're fishing." He stared at the moon and took a deep breath.

  "Maybe. But I think I've got the right bait." She tugged at the sleeve of his sweater and stroked his arm, forcing him to look at her again. Her voice softened. "Come on, Diego. Why else would you be here, connected to Cavanaugh? You're not like him or Brogan. I can feel it. Please tell me the truth."

  Diego didn't want any secrets between them, but he had no choice. The FBI had taken away his options and suspended his life for their own agenda. The bastards. For all intents and purposes, Draper held a gun to his head, and Joseph Rivera would pay the price if Diego reneged on his end of the bargain. He wouldn't risk it, not even if his stonewalling cost him Rebecca's trust.

  "Don't kid yourself about who I am. I understand men like Cavanaugh and Brogan. You don't know anything about me."

  "Well, you're right about that. Why is it when I run a background check on you, I get nothing? Casper the Ghost has more substance than you, my friend."

  "I have my reasons, none of which concern you."

  "Yeah, but you're making it my business. You keep turning up when I least expect you. One way or another, you're plugged in to the FBI, and you're an insider to Cavanaugh. I don't have to understand why. All I need is for you to take on a partner. The way I see it, you don't have a choice."

  "You don't know what you're asking. Stay out of this, Rebecca."

  "You want to push me? Call my bluff. See what happens."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "Take it anyway you want, Diego, if that's your real name. If you don't play by my rules, I'll expose you to Cavanaugh. At this point, I have nothing to lose."

  "You would do that? Risk my life, maybe others?" She couldn't look him in the eye and gave no indication she would answer, so he added, "From where I stand, you're not much better than Cavanaugh. You have no idea what you're doing."

  "Then explain it to me," she shrugged. When he kept his silence, she went on, "Thought so. To hell with mutual trust, huh? Look, all you have to do is keep me in the loop. And I may need you to do things for me, without a big debate."

  "If Cavanaugh thinks I'm working with the SAPD, that loop you talk about will be around my neck."

  "Then you'll have to keep your guard up. That should be second nature to a guy like you."

  A guy like me? She definitely had him pegged. And he couldn't exactly belabor the point. He was the one with a membership card to two criminal organizations, secret handshake and all.

  "Nice to see you hold me in such high regard."

  He had warned Draper not to pull Rebecca off the case, but Diego was in no position to take on the FBI. He had no clout. Now the egotistical fed would get her fired if the man knew she was trying to blackmail his prize informant into cooperating. Diego wouldn't let it happen. Rebecca was a good detective and didn't deserve the added grief.

  But he wouldn't let Joseph Rivera down either. The way he looked at it, one more secret to keep wouldn't break the bank. So he had a new partner, one he had to protect from Cavanaugh and the FBI.

  Besides, trusting someone else would be his first step back to a normal life. He'd been an undercover persona non grata for such a long time, he didn't know if he had it in him. But for Rebecca, he would be willing to try.

  Diego only hoped he wasn't pinning a bull's-eye on his own back.

  "I need time to think. I'll give you my decision tomorrow." Diego turned to leave.

  Yeah, right. Like you have a choice, she fumed. His posturing left her frustrated. He hadn't admitted to being an undercover fed, but he hadn't denied it either. In Galvan's world, secrets were never in short supply.

  But as he grabbed the fire escape rail and sw
ung a leg over the wall to straddle it, Becca's eyes strayed to areas of Diego's body she wouldn't have the nerve to stare at with him watching. She pictured him without a stitch of clothes. And the vivid image brought a rush of blood to her cheeks . . .and elsewhere. In every way, this man would be a handful.

  "Don't think too much, Galvan. If I don't hear from you, I'm moving on to my version of a Plan B. And I guarantee, you won't like it."

  She followed him to the edge, crossing her arms, chin raised. Becca had to make him believe she intended to go through with this. But before Diego started down the steps, he fixed his dark eyes on her. This time, he didn't bother to hide his appetite. The lust in his eyes mesmerized her.

  "Threats don't work with me. But I've always found a little honey goes a long way."

  He pulled her to his chest, wrapping her in his strong embrace. Diego plunged his tongue into her mouth and teased her with the promise of unrestrained sex. Nothing delicate about this kiss. A moan of pleasure rumbled in his chest and resonated through her body, making her light-headed and weak in the knees. A powerful quiver raced across her skin. But all too suddenly, the kiss was over, leaving her empty and wanting more.

  Eyes wide, she couldn't move. Her feet were planted like a damned geranium in a heavy clay pot.

  "Until tomorrow, Rebecca."

  His chest heaving, Diego stroked a finger across her cheek with yearning in his eyes and a kindhearted smile on his handsome face.

  "And I do understand the importance of family, more than you know," he whispered.

  The gentle tone in his voice and his affectionate touch on her cheek lingered long after he had gone down the fire escape. Becca leaned against the wall and watched him go. In the wake of his heated kiss, Diego's sudden tenderness touched her heart. She wanted to take everything back.

  Blackmail was no way to start a relationship.

  But speaking aloud would only break the spell. Becca touched her lips, trying to hold on to the fevered sensation of his kiss, the urgency of it. And despite her threats, the man maintained his dignity.