by Jordan Dane
Throaty and sensual, Rebecca's voice triggered a deep-rooted yearning in him. Something he hadn't felt in a very long time. When he looked up, he found her eyes probing his body, without the pretense of innocence. He had no doubt she wanted him.
Rebecca didn't wait for his answer. She tugged at his tie and loosened it, her eyes never leaving his. In a slow and deliberate gesture, hand over hand, she pulled it from his neck, an inch at a time. She flung it over her shoulder, not caring where it landed.
"I've always been a 'here and now' kind of girl." Rebecca undid the top button to his shirt. One at a time, button by button, she worked her fingers. He felt cool air on his skin as she opened his shirt. Her slender hand raked fingers through his chest hair.
Following her lead, Diego mirrored her restraint . . . for the moment.
"Oh . . . yeah?" he asked. "How does that work? The 'here and now' thing."
Diego maintained his cool, even with his body raging hot. His lungs gulped air and fueled the flame. Slowly, he trailed a fingertip down her throat. Touching her velvet skin sent a jolt of electricity up his arm and down through his belly. The arousing sensation jabbed at his insides like a roller coaster spiral-ing downhill after teetering at its crest. Still, he held back, determined not to be the first to break.
When he got to her collar, he took a detour and used the tip of a fingernail to circle a nipple through her blouse. The nub constricted and hardened, making her gasp.
"Oh, God. . . ." Rebecca stifled her reaction—not very convincingly.
Diego smiled and saw her struggle to regain control as an obstacle to overcome. Up until now, she had harnessed her body's natural impulses, waiting for him to make the first real move to a point of no return. A sensual game. But as her chest heaved, Rebecca moved her breasts against his hand. Unable to hold back anymore, she grabbed both his hands and pressed them to her.
"Here and now. Whatever I've got here . . . you can have right now. That's how it works." Rebecca guided his hands and watched as he took pleasure. No holds barred.
"I don't think I can wait"—she gasped—"for later."
With her foot, she shoved her coffee table aside and pulled him off the sofa, bringing him to his knees on the carpet. Urgency replaced her subtle flirtatious game of shedding clothes a piece at a time. Now, without ceremony, Rebecca tugged at his jacket and unbuckled his pants, a race she didn't have to convince him to play. He did the same for her. So many buttons, hooks, and lace, his larger hands almost failed the test. In a sobering moment, when he triggered the on switch to his brain, Diego remembered.
"I didn't bring anything . . ." he panted, his eyes rolling back in his head. The woman knew how to use her tongue. "I mean, I don't have . . . Oh, God." He shivered, the real good kind.
"A condom?" She finished his thought without stopping. When his concern registered, Rebecca popped her head up with eyes blinking, getting her bearings. "Oh, right."
She raced to a back room as if she were being timed. Rebecca left him sprawled naked on her living room floor amidst the pile of clothes. With effort, he rose onto his elbows, listening to her rummage through cabinets and drawers, the noise peppered by her muffled curses. He shook his head, unable to hide a grin.
When Rebecca returned, Diego couldn't take his eyes off her. All he wanted to do was pick up where they left off, his body making a rally. Naked and glorious, the woman jiggled in all the right spots. And her radiant face showed no sign of being in the least self-conscious. Maybe because she was completely engrossed in the fine print of the condom packet.
"Do these have an expiration date?" Rebecca milked the moment. When she looked up and winked, the gesture tugged at his heart. "Just kidding. I didn't want you to think I do this all the time." She grinned.
Diego laughed out loud. A real belly laugh. It felt so good to let go. He hadn't laughed like this for a very long time.
In a rush, Rebecca knelt by his side again. She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips, her tongue fondling his. The sudden affection stole his breath. He took her in his arms and rolled on top, unable to hold back. Diego always thought of himself as an experienced lover. Yet with Rebecca, it felt like the first time. The thrill of it churned his blood. Fierce desire took hold—a desire to please her—to make her need him as much as he needed her. Unbridled intimacy. The curves of her soft flesh pressed against his muscled skin.
"Oh, Diego . . . yesss." She moaned his name. A honeyed sound he never wanted to forget. It echoed through his mind with all the reverence of a prayer whispered in church.
None of the lovers who had come before mattered. Only Rebecca mattered. She infused him with life. Her life. Every fiber of his being took what she offered. She breathed life back into his soul—a drowning man given a second chance. She opened his ears to a life to which he'd been deaf. For so long, he had been living without hope of a future. He believed it didn't matter. But it did, and Rebecca made him care. She made him want something more. And above all, she made him feel worthy of it.
His tongue explored her body, his hands eager to follow. As he caressed her breast, the nipple hardened in his hand. She wrapped her legs around him and clutched at his back, pulling him to her.
"I want you." She nuzzled his ear. After Rebecca helped him with the condom, her velvet fingers stroking him, he wedged himself between her legs. When she offered her body, he pushed into her dewy cleft, nudging for every quarter inch. As he did, she cried out, "Oh, my . . . Oh my God," she panted.
"Am I hurting you?" He held still, looking down at her. "We don't have to . . ."
She held a finger to his lips, her eyes wide.
"If you stop now, I'll kill you. I've got a gun." Rebecca kissed him hard, running her fingers through his hair. As her eyes glistened with the start of tears, she whispered, "It feels so incredible. Please don't stop. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life, Diego."
To make her point, Rebecca moved her hips, grinding into him.
"Oh, yeah," he groaned. "You've convinced me."
Slow and easy, Diego writhed to the rhythm of her body, letting her guide his every move. At her urging, he picked up the pace, sweat glistening off the skin of his tanned forearms. Her fevered groans drove him dangerously close to orgasm, but he resisted the driving urge. His hands grasped Rebecca's as he struggled to hold on, his release second to hers. He surged harder, faster.
Finally, Rebecca thrust her hips into him and convulsed deep inside. "Yesss . . . Oh, yes."
Her body clenched at him, a suckling embrace. He had nothing left to resist. Diego arched his back, veins jutting from his neck.
"Aarrgghh. Oh, God . . ." he cried as he spilled into her, wave after wave. "Sweet Rebecca . . ." They climaxed as one, depleted and shuddering.
An overwhelming rush of emotion filled his heart as he gave himself to her, body and soul. No more holding back. Absolute and profound joy. And when he stared down at her face—made more beautiful by their love, if that was even possible—he smiled to see that tears streaked her cheeks. He pictured a velvet white rose under a pastel dawn, its petals covered in dew, and marveled at the sheen of her blushing skin.
Perfect. Simple. Complete.
Thoroughly spent, Diego buried his face in the warmth of her neck, his lips addicted to her. He rolled over and drew her into his arms, letting the stillness of the room settle upon them. Speaking aloud would only break the spell. But as he listened to her heart and felt her breaths against his chest, he finally let it all go. His own tears trickled down his face. And he was not ashamed.
Diego believed in second chances. And in Rebecca's arms, he had found his.
In the wake of Diego's leaving her place, an oppressive stillness lingered, a void where he had once been. He shared his life and his intimacy with her. And now, without him, the stillness had moved to her heart—nestled beside a euphoria she had never known.
"Diego." She whispered his name to hear how it sounded on her lips.
Becca wiped
away the steam from her bathroom mirror, unable to do the same with the smile on her face. She pulled a thick white robe around her and brushed her wet hair while images of him ran rampant in her mind.
She basked in the afterglow of Diego Galvan making love to her. Breathing in the last of the steam from her shower, she shut her eyes and replayed it all again—his lips on her body, his hands caressing her breasts, and the feel of him deep inside her. A gentle touch turned to a driving force, culminating with an all-consuming release. And all she wanted was to do it again.
Now, with eyes tight, she indulged herself. Becca reached under her robe and ran fingers over her breasts, imagining the feel of his hands. Heat rose from her belly and rushed to her face. Her heart throbbed at her eardrums from inside. And each breath awakened memories of him, stirring and unforgettable.
"Oh, God . . . this is insane," she gasped. Becca stopped and opened her eyes. "I can't—" Nothing would equal his raw yet undeniable capacity to caress her body.
Her new lover. Rare and extraordinary.
And what about her tears? She remembered being overwhelmed by the force of her orgasm, but the flood of emotion surrounding it surprised her. In hindsight, she dwelled on that single moment. Why had it affected her so profoundly? Becca knew the rush of feelings had little to do with the amazing sex, although most women would disagree . . . vehemently.
No, for the first time, she had made love to a man with her heart wrapped up in the gift. And shocker of shockers, she let him love her back the same way. No man made love like that without having more at stake than the fleeting gratification of toe-curling, nipple-raising, brain-expanding sex. And for once, the high stakes didn't scare her.
He had promised to meet her late tonight. The thought brought another smile to her face. "This time, it'll be about you, Diego. But I've got a ton of things to do first."
In the waning hours of the afternoon, Becca got ready for her late-night caller with plenty of errands. Now her kitchen was stocked with groceries for the meal she planned, a mix of aphrodisiacs and finger foods to draw attention to her mouth. And she splurged on a playful array of enticements, some old tried-and-trues, many new and different even to her. Things to try together. Becca had no idea what he would like or even if he had food allergies. She laughed at how frivolous her preparations made her feel, like a teenage girl with a heart-stopping crush.
"Oh, Beck. You've got it bad," she chastised herself.
Becca had stocked her bathroom with scented oils and placed more candles around the tub and in the bedroom. It would take forever to light them all. And with a big grin plastered on her face, she concealed condom packets in decorative tins, arranging them throughout her condo within an arm's reach of an inspired moment. She even practiced maneuvering for them, picturing the surprised look on his face when she'd whip one out. Becca hadn't heard his laughter until today, but a girl could get addicted to the sound of it.
Saving the task for last, Becca remade her bed and tossed red rose petals over the comforter. The fragrance filled the room. With the stage set, she brushed a hand across the fresh white linens. She pictured Diego's muscular body under them with a wicked yet playful smile on his handsome face.
"This I gotta see in the flesh."
Becca glanced at her watch. How late is late? she wondered. Now it would be a waiting game, and patience was not her gig. But her cell phone rang to bail her out.
"Hello?" Her voice coy, Becca thought it might be Diego asking to come over.
"Detective Montgomery? This is Sonja Garza." Her timid voice was hard to hear over the traffic noise in the background. "You said I should call. . . you gave me your card."
"Yes, Sonja. I'm here. What's going on?" Becca narrowed her eyes.
Diego had been a brief oasis, an amazing and consuming distraction. He'd been a glimmer of light piercing the shroud of Danielle's abduction and murder. But at the sound of Sonja's voice, the weight of her life and the Marquez murder case came back in a rush like a harsh slap to her face. The cold reality of it sent a chill scurrying across her skin.
Right before Diego called, Becca had spent the afternoon in search of Father Victor Marquez. A visit to the family home only met with Isabel's mother unable to help. The woman didn't speak enough English to answer Becca's questions on the whereabouts of the priest. And Rudy's red truck wasn't parked out front. Neither of the brothers was home. Retracing her steps in the investigation had given legs to her case. And Sonja had been next on her list of follow-ups. She'd been a witness to the argument Rudy had with Isabel around the time the girl went missing. Becca needed her take on the fight and the details of the time line she was building of Isabel's last hours. But the sound of Sonja's voice on the line stirred a twist in her gut. What now?
"I want ... I have to t-tell you something." Sonja sobbed, her words garbled.
"Slow down, Sonja. I can barely hear you." Becca sat on the edge of her mattress, the phone pressed to her ear. She plugged a finger in the other one. "What do you need to tell me?"
"Not on the phone . . . please. You won't understand," she cried. "Can you meet me?"
Sonja had reached out and contacted her. Normally, a good sign. But something tugged at Becca's instincts. Despite her misgivings, she had no choice but to hear the girl out.
"Yeah. Just tell me where and when." Becca listened to the girl's instructions. And again, she glanced at her watch, one thought on her mind.
Late better be late, my love. Duty calls.
Cavanauch Estate
8:00 P.M.
Dressed in an Armani suit, Diego looked at himself in a hallway mirror to straighten his tie. He knew his outward appearance was the same, but inside he had changed. He fought hard to hide the smile emerging from deep in his soul. Rebecca's influence. A sensation he hoped would be permanent.
But a dark and sinister rumbling tainted his happiness, replaced by the face of Hunter Cavanaugh. He took a deep breath, remembering he had a limousine to catch. Diego turned from the mirror and made his way toward the grand staircase.
Tonight, it could all be over. One way or the other.
At the top of the stairs, Diego touched the butt of his .45-caliber Colt, the weapon in its holster at the small of his back. And he felt for the sheath of knives, strapped to his leg. Reassuring old habits. Diego buttoned his suit jacket and walked down toward the foyer, lost in thought.
Cavanaugh might not have an ulterior motive. Maybe the man had been straight up and would tell him everything he'd need to nail his despicable arrogant ass. A man like him didn't deserve fair play. If it went down like that, Draper would lose the permanent grimace etched on his face. The overbearing FBI man might see fit to let his father, Joe Rivera, step out from under the threat of an indictment held over his head. And Diego would reclaim his life—a life with a glimmer of hope, thanks to Rebecca.
Better still, if the missing girls were alive, Cavanaugh might reveal their location. They could be rescued from a living hell. Since Rebecca had told him about her sister, Diego put faces to each girl, even Danielle's. He had forced Draper to give him their case files and photos. He'd studied them, committed each to memory. In his mind, he pictured what they were like before the long arm of a sexual predator stole their lives for money, capitalizing on the depraved weaknesses of others. Big business built on a foundation that human life had no worth. For him, these girls weren't blank canvases anymore. Each had a name, a face, and people who loved them. Even now, candles burned in vigil until they came home.
Diego knew the rest of their lives would be an uphill struggle to heal. But at least they would have their lives back. And in the arms of their families, they wouldn't be alone. He understood the value of hope.
It might work out that way. He preferred not to think of the alternative, but he had no choice, being a realistic guy. Draper said it first. Cavanaugh may be setting up an elaborate trap, complete with a last meal—how very civil.
"It is what it is," he muttered under his breath a
s he walked across the tiled atrium.
The stakes were too high not to take the risk. Diego shut the front door behind him and stood under the elaborate red awning over the entryway outside. As promised, a black stretch limo was parked at the curb, ready to pick him up for his solo ride to Cavanaugh's mystery location. Dressed in the formal uniform of a chauffeur, the driver hustled around the vehicle to open his door, all part of the service.
Diego took a deep breath and got inside. The soundproof vacuum of the interior had the feel of a cocoon when the door slammed shut—giving an eerie quality to the voice that greeted him.
"Glad you decided on comin' to our little shindig. It wouldn't have been the same without you." Matt Brogan grinned. "You bein' the guest of honor, and all."
Diego held firm to his composure. Only the hair raised on the nape of his neck gave him away.
CHAPTER 13
Northwest San Antonio
8:15 p.m.
Becca had gotten lucky. No doubt about it. And she wasn't one to downplay her stroke of good fortune. She glared into her rearview mirror to make certain the burgundy sedan still tailed her from downtown. A Lexus LS 430. A burned-out headlight made her notice and now helped her spot the vehicle in traffic, several cars back. Becca clenched the steering wheel of her unmarked Crown Vic, her mind racing with scenarios on how to play this. But first, she had to confirm the unwanted surveillance.
Under the ebb and flow of streetlamps, she tried for a glimpse of the driver by changing speed, but the windows on the Lexus were too heavily tinted, a curse for police officers making traffic stops. And forget about a peek at the tags—no, no such luck from this distance.
Heading west on Loop 410, she hit the Ingram Park Mall area and made her exit. As she eased to a stop, she kept her eyes on the mirror. Headlights from a car behind the sedan only showed the driver in dark silhouette. A man by her guess. At the frontage road light, she pulled a U-turn under the overpass. The Lexus followed.
Sonja asked to meet near the Dumpsters in the south parking lot of the Regal Movie Theatre, Cielo Vista 18 on Cinema Ridge. The massive complex was located across the freeway from the mall. Becca would keep her promise to meet the young woman, but not before she figured out if paranoia was messing with her head.
