by Debra Webb
“Got it. Now which room is yours?” she asked while he was still dawdling there trying to decide whether he could believe his eyes and ears.
He hitched a thumb. “One.”
She sidled past him and out the door. “What’re we waiting for? Let’s get a move on.”
Levi kicked himself into gear and gained a lead on her. His room was on the other end of the corridor past the main staircase. He fished the key from his pocket and opened the door. While he crossed the room and snagged his still packed bag, she waited at the door just as he’d done at her room.
One last, quick survey and he was done.
“Ready.” He approached the door, expecting her to step aside.
“You don’t have access to the verandah.” She shrugged. “Too bad. You missed an awesome view. Who booked your room?”
He wasn’t falling for that one. “We shouldn’t risk waking anyone.” The longer they stood around here talking the greater the possibility.
She turned and sauntered to the staircase, boosting the sass in her step by at least ten degrees. Every single one of those degrees raised his internal thermostat. This lady was going to be extremely difficult to handle and they were only getting started.
Levi reached the truck first so he claimed the driver’s seat. No offense to her driving skill, but he preferred driving versus riding with a virtual stranger.
He checked the back and beneath the seat to see that all was in order. The street was still dark and empty. If luck remained on their side, they might survive this somewhat unorthodox alliance.
Maybe the next four and a half to five hours on the road with nothing to do but chat or ride in silence would reveal more about this mystery lady. He needed a lot more to fully appraise his position. She had already shown that getting information wasn’t going to be easy.
Five minutes passed with nothing but that silence he’d figured he was in for and then out of the blue she started to talk. “It’ll be close to daylight by the time we get to Acapulco.” She dug around in her bag. “We can find a hotel near the club and shower and change. If she’s a nightclub dancer she’s probably not an early riser. That’ll work to our benefit, assuming she doesn’t get word we’re headed her way and disappear. We’ll have some time to get the lay of the land. Develop a feasible plan.”
Total silence, then all that. Wow. His response to her in-depth assessment went by the wayside as she leaned forward and closely inspected the dash. “What’re you looking for?” The interior lights in this old pickup were worthless. That aside, he could make out the shape of her derriere quite well in the moonlight.
“A place to plug in my cell charger. I’m hoping I’ll have service when we get closer to the city.”
“You’re out of luck, I think.” He doubted this old thing had a cigarette lighter, much less a car charger outlet.
She blew out a disgusted breath and plopped back in the seat. “That’s just great. I guess it’ll wait until we get a room.”
Levi took a mental pause. “A room.”
She looked at him. He didn’t have to turn his head to see; he could feel the glare as surely as if the noonday sun was glinting against the windows.
“Do you really believe I’m going to let you out of my sight with the information we have now?” She faced forward. “Not happening, partner.”
Once again, not exactly a hardship. Generally he was the one doing the asking when it came to sharing a room with the opposite sex. Under considerably different circumstances, of course.
“We’re partners now, are we?” To his way of thinking partners was a step up from working together.
“Don’t make too much of it, Stark.” She finger combed her hair. “It’s only out of necessity.”
“Naturally.” Levi propped a smile in place. “Our options were limited.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “I’m in enough trouble at work already. I have no desire to explain shooting a civilian while I’m on vacation. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork involved.” That explained everything, he thought with a mental eye roll. He should feel incalculably lucky. He guessed she was military or CIA. She had all the right moves but not the look he associated with either so maybe not. “Glad I’m just a civilian to you.” He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Glad I’m just a P.I., too. I’ve never had to complete any paperwork when I shot someone.”
“You really are a comedian, Stark.”
And with that came more silence.
Just when they were getting to know each other.
He stole a glance at his new partner. She’d leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Not that he could blame her. One of them should get some sleep.
He’d driven to Acapulco when he’d arrived in the country. The route wasn’t that complicated. A navigator wouldn’t be necessary until he reached the city.
Too bad this old heap didn’t have a radio.
“You’re not from the south or the west.”
He smiled. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” She liked slipping in those little questions at the most unexpected moments in hopes of prompting an automatic answer.
“I’m from Southern California,” she announced, shifting into a more upright position so that her head rested against the rear window of the cab.
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.” She fit the profile of a Southern California girl. Sleek, tanned body with long blond hair. And it explained the lack of any distinguishable accent and the total absence of manners.
“I grew up in L.A. You?”
“Florida.”
She was staring at him again. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
She also liked to keep a man humble. He, unlike her, had no tan. There wasn’t a lot of beach time in Chicago. Work had kept him on overtime for the past year. “I don’t live there now.”
“I bet you don’t like the cold climate of your new home.”
Now she was fishing. Most any state, outside California and Hawaii, would have colder winters than Florida. “Not particularly.”
“Married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.” He sent her a surprised look. “You’re interrogating me?”
“If I were interrogating you, Stark, a gun would be involved.” She checked her phone. For the time, he imagined, since the service was sketchy at best. “Just wondering, that’s all,” she confessed.
“How about you?” Tit for tat, as they say.
“No and no.”
“You’re what…twenty-five?” Guessing a lady’s age was dicey business but he felt confident he was on target.
“Twenty-nine next month.”
He looked square at her. “Really?”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Stark.” She propped her feet, ankles crossed, on the dash.
He stared. With a couple of blinks to clear his head, he focused on the road once more. “You?”
“Just hit thirty.”
“How long have you been a private investigator?”
“Going on two years now.”
“Before that?”
“Security analyst with the government.” He stole a glance her way. “You haven’t told me what you do.” Sooner or later she was going to tell him to stop his harping.
He felt reasonably sure a full minute passed and she hadn’t answered. She had the upper hand—and the only gun—and he knew she intended to keep both.
“If I tell you,” she said after another long minute, “the dynamics of our partnership will be significantly altered. Is that what you want?”
Levi braked to a stop. He didn’t bother pulling over to the side of the road. There was no traffic in either direction for as far as the eye could see.
More of those hushed seconds ticked off without her meeting his gaze and he wasn’t saying what he had to say until she did.
He waited her out. She relented and turned her face to his. Finally he said, “It doesn’t matter who you work for or where you come f
rom. What matters is that we made a deal to find what we came for. Is that good with you?” This game had grown monotonous.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He lifted his foot from the brake and hit the road once more.
Accomplishing this mission was the goal.
That was all either of them needed to know.
Chapter Eight
6:48 a.m.
Casey needed caffeine. Right now.
They were approximately forty minutes outside the city.
She might make it that long.
She glanced over at her partner. He’d crashed an hour ago. Casey had gotten an hour or so of sleep the first leg of the journey. She’d watched Stark fight the need for sleep until she’d threatened to drag out the Beretta if he didn’t pull over. Men. They refused to admit any suggestion of weakness.
Finally he had surrendered and she’d taken the wheel. Not a minute too soon, apparently. The big tough P.I. had been dead to the world ten minutes later.
Now that it was nearly daylight Casey’s wicked side had been distracting her with the urge to study the man. Good thing there was no traffic. That vein of sheer feminine greed she’d failed to tame just wouldn’t let her have any peace. Yes, the guy was pure eye candy. No denying that. He’d stretched out those long legs, snakeskin boots propped on the rusty old dash. The jeans he wore embraced his body with the same enthusiasm as an ambitious lover.
No man should look that good in blue jeans. And yet he definitely did.
The need to know more about him was eating her up. But getting answers required giving answers. Not an option. A frown creased her brow. Sometimes she felt…lonely. Okay, she’d allowed the word to fully form in her brain without her mother’s prodding. Maybe that knock on the head had rattled more than she’d realized. Ached like the devil, that was for sure.
The day she’d graduated from UCLA she’d been hired on as an intern at the Agency. Having a father and an uncle who were high on the food chain had ensured her a spot. Three years later a transition into field operations hadn’t gone over quite so well with her family. Casey hadn’t let that stop her. Nothing had ever stopped her. Work was her life.
Relationships were repetitive and needy.
Her errant gaze once again drifted from the road to the man sleeping next to her. What fun was conforming one’s life around the needs of another? Especially when no one could really be trusted. Not like that. She’d had her share of dates and mini-relationships and, just like the last one, they were more trouble than recreation. Uncle Thomas’s single status said it all. Lucas had stayed single until he was fifty when he took the plunge for the first time and married Victoria. Why should Casey be any different?
Her mother warned that the closer she grew to thirty, the stronger the urge to procreate would become. Well, she hadn’t said it exactly like that but the idea was the same. Casey had absolutely no compulsion to have children. Her work was too demanding. She was too demanding.
Kids. Husbands. No thanks.
Her mother was wrong.
Loneliness was a state of mind. Like any other, it would show up from time to time and she simply had to show it who was boss. Relationships and all the required posturing weren’t real. If a woman had to be someone else to keep her man happy, what kind of fulfillment was that? The need for physical contact, on the other hand, proved a little more relentless.
Levi Stark was not a good candidate for satisfying that feral instinct.
He roused. Speak of the devil. “Have a nice nap?” She braced for the warm, deep tones of his voice, then stretched her aching neck as if the battle was already lost. Her head must have been hanging like a limp doll’s the entire hour she slept.
“We almost there?” Stark sat up and looked around.
Casey kept her attention on the road, but that little unruly streak that thrived in the DNA of her species wouldn’t allow her not to sneak peeks from the corner of her eyes. “Almost.” She tried to relax. “I could use some coffee, how about you?”
“Oh yeah. You want me to drive now?”
He was looking at her. She swallowed, tried not to inhale his scent. Funny thing was, she smelled like she needed a shower and he just smelled…good.
“I’ve got it.” She mentally ticked off the names of all her cousins and their spouses and all the ups and downs those couples had suffered. Not a good way to discourage the random thoughts bombarding her head since somehow they always stayed together. Was Stark a good kisser? Skilled in bed? Frustrated, she moved on to the characters in her favorite novel. The idea that they all ended up happily ever after canceled that method for distracting herself as well. People were just weird and set in their ways. Why was it necessary to be one of a pair?
The forlorn glow of lights spotlighting a row of low buildings coming up on the right did the trick. The sign advertising gas prices loomed above the others, focusing her scattered thoughts on the need for fuel. For the truck and for them.
“We should get fuel.” She slowed the truck and considered the storefronts in the hopes they opened early. A few scattered vehicles and welcoming interior lights gave her the answer she wanted. “Here we go.” She guided the truck into the parking lot and rolled up to the gas pumps.
“I’ll get it.” He opened his door.
Casey grabbed her bag and slid out of the truck. Her body ached from four hours on that hard, ragged seat. “I’ll go inside and pay.” And use the facilities. Assuming they had public restrooms.
Stark removed the cap from the gas tank. “Roger that.”
Don’t look at his eyes. Don’t say anything else. Just go inside.
Casey straightened her skirt and smoothed her blouse. She looked like she’d had a rough night. Thankfully the skirt’s dark color masked the dirt. The precariously hanging hem wasn’t going to be camouflaged. Chill bumps tumbled across her skin right behind the caress of the crisp morning air. She hugged Stark’s jacket closer around her and immediately regretted it. Wearing the jacket was like having him wrapped around her. The sun couldn’t rise quickly enough to suit Casey.
As she neared the entrance to the gas station the distinct odor of meat frying made her stomach rumble. She craned her neck to verify that there was a small café next door.
Outstanding. She was beyond starving.
“Hola, señorita,” the guy behind the counter called as she entered the gas station. He looked American, sounded that way, too. His butchering of the local language had the two locals loitering by the counter laughing at him. She wondered if he understood their unflattering remarks.
“Hola.” She scanned the room. “Bano publico?”
The station attendant hitched a thumb toward the corridor behind him. “No paper in the toilets,” he reminded her in perfect English. His two buddies sniggered and made crude remarks in Spanish as to what Casey was good for.
She smiled, realizing that she didn’t have the energy to break their kneecaps, then walked purposefully past the counter and all three oglers. Pigs.
The bathroom wasn’t as bad as she’d expected but that wasn’t saying a lot. She did her business, remembered the warning about the paper though she couldn’t see how anything this thin could stop up even twisted Mexican plumbing.
There was no soap but she scrubbed her hands and face anyway. The cool water felt good on her skin. Her hair was a tangled mess. It took some doing to smooth it out. She tucked the brush back into her bag and evaluated her reflection one final time. Not so bad considering. She smoothed her hand over the lightweight summer wool of Stark’s jacket. The silk lining felt cool and yet somehow warm against her skin.
Casey shook her head at her reflection. Pathetic.
An extra tug was required to get the door open. Decades of paint and neglect had taken its toll. She jerked it open and came face-to-face with one of the deadbeats who’d been hanging around the counter.
“Need some help, señorita?”
The guy wasn’t bad to look at. And he was dressed decen
tly, clean. But obviously he had defective gray matter. “Not in this lifetime, tonto.”
He dared to brace himself in the doorway. “A feisty one.”
Casey smiled. “You have no idea.” She prepared to knee him in the family jewels but he suddenly moved. His body wrenched backward as if a cyclone had sucked him into its center.
Stark pinned him against the wall opposite her. “That’s the ladies’ room, mister. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”
The guy held his hands up surrender style. “No trouble, señor. My mistake.”
Stark shoved him aside. “I don’t think you want to make that mistake again.”
Casey folded her arms over her chest and waited for Stark to face her. When he did she mentally squirmed from the intensity in his emerald eyes. “I had that under control, you know.”
“Never said you didn’t.”
He disappeared into the men’s room. Casey stared at the beat-up door for a moment. What kind of answer was that? Whatever.
Frustrated, confused, tired, hungry. There were numerous reasons for her irrational behavior. She explored the small store until she found the bottled water. All three of the men stationed around the counter stared at her but not one said a word. It wasn’t like Stark had kicked the guy’s butt. Maybe it was something about the ferocity in his eyes that had been enough. Sheesh, she was going overboard about his eyes. There had to be something else far less hazardous she could obsess about.
Food. Her stomach rumbled again. They were here. They should eat.
The two interlopers backed off as she bellied up to the counter and paid for the gas and the two bottles of water. Stark showed up in time to open the door for her. How nice. Nice. Nice. Nice. He would be a much easier to ignore partner if he weren’t so flipping nice.
“We should eat.” The fragrant smells were stronger now. She was starving.
Stark considered the small café and shrugged. “Smells good. Why not?” He gestured to the screen door that served as an entrance to the establishment. “Grab a table and I’ll move the truck.”
Worked for Casey. She passed him the bottles of water. His fingers grazed hers in the transaction. She shook like she’d awakened to an earthquake. Hoped he didn’t notice.
