by Desiree Holt
“Make sure she makes it.”
The director turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, a tacit dismissal. Rico closed the door with more force than necessary on his way out, his own “last word” on the subject.
Ignoring the prickling of awareness as he prowled toward her, she focused on the tablet on her desk.
“That yours?”
“Yeah, since I don’t have an agency issued computer.”
“Perusing your Facebook page?”
She scoffed and turned the display toward him. “No, but this may interest you.”
He snatched it from her. Was he cognizant he was being a prick and that she didn’t deserve it? He didn’t want her on the sting but that decision was made. Now they had to catch the dealers. Then she’d be on her way. Shame he didn’t see her as an equal instead of a female trainee. There was a lot she could learn from him.
The screen caught his attention. He scanned the story.
“No arrests were made. Kids scattered but no one was brought in for questioning. Sounds fishy to me.”
Truthfully, the story reeked of a tip off but she wouldn’t imply wrong doing by local LEOs just yet. Let him come up with that conclusion.
Most cops were good, really good. They cared about the community, worked to keep the populace safe, and arrested the bad guys. She’d found the one bad apple, discovered it after she was already sleeping with him, then turned informant. Her whole department hated her for it. She’d endured humiliation at the hands of that bastard to obtain evidence not to mention the beating when he caught her recording his conversations. Her only choice had been a fresh start.
Now she had to trust a guy she couldn’t get a read on. He could be on the take like Schwartz. While her gut (and her libido) was excited about the mission, the little voice in her head told her to stay on guard against the obvious bad guys and the not so obvious. Even the good guys had secrets. And some secrets might be worth killing over.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Her adrenaline spiked at his grumbled appreciation. Don’t get stuck in the past.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have anything better to do.”
His response was the tiniest lopsided lift at the corner of his mouth, something easily missed. Stifling the smile that tugged at her lips, she shot a stare at him and waited. He was a lone wolf, though he slinked more like a panther, and forced to work with a partner would prefer being in charge. Plus she was a female whom he clearly thought inferior creatures. Since she was a trainee, she’d bow to his chauvinistic attitudes. He had the experience and the knowledge of this area and its drug rings. It rankled to play second fiddle but necessary for everyone’s safety.
“Since you screwed up-“
“And apprehended the mules.”
“Screwed up.”
“You’d have preferred that I let them take the truck?”
“No.” A long pause seemed to last minutes. “Okay, I admit that hadn’t occurred to me.”
She scored a point but gloating wouldn’t earn his trust. Instead she stroked his ego. “Since I screwed up, what’s the plan?”
That lopsided grin returned. He recognized her ploy and appreciated it. This man of few words had a very sexy way with nonverbal communication.
Purposely casual, he leaned against her desk and held her gaze. “We pose as this couple. Did I mention they’re lovers?”
Fighting the shock and instant sexual heat he ignited with one long look, how the hell was she supposed to act the part of lover with her body reacting like a horny teenager. Ibarra was the embodiment of a bodice ripper cover hero but also her direct superior. Stay on point, Anderson. Her fresh start didn’t include falling into old traps.
“So our covers?”
“I’m Hector Lopez, used car salesman.”
A snort escaped her. “You? A used car salesman? Sure!”
His eyebrow shot up but he smiled. “What? You don’t think I look like I can sell cars?”
“Um. No.”
“Then you’ll love this. You’re Veronica Smith, an exotic dancer.”
It felt like her breath had been knocked out of her. How much in character would she have to play her part?
“Don’t worry, babe. You’ve got curves in all the right places. Just follow my lead.” A heavy Mexican accent now colored his words and he did sound a lot like Hector.
“It’s a good thing Hector and Veronica are new to the mule business.”
“True.”
“So you got any undercover clothes?”
“Ha! Not for a stripper!”
“An exotic dancer.”
“Whatever.”
“We’ve got wardrobe downstairs.”
“Probably not stripper clothes for size sixteen. Who stocks plus size clothes?”
“I’m sure we will find appropriate clothing. By the way, there’s nothing wrong with your size. It’s a freaking number. Get over it.”
She wished she could. Schwartz had made her feel fat and ugly. Struggling with body image was something all women dealt with. Too big, too tall, too flat chested, too short, too fat. Since relationships were off her radar she had eaten what she wanted, relying on physical training to work off any excess calories. It didn’t matter what any man thought of her.
She snorted at herself. This man’s opinion mattered, at least work-wise. Everyone had a back story, the reason for their behaviors. Strutting for smelly, drunk, lascivious men wasn’t the first choice for the vast number of exotic dancers. It paid well so many down-on-their-luck single mothers and struggling college students revealed their assets to put food on the table and keep the lights on.
“Yes, sir. I mean Agent Ibarra.”
“Hector from now on.”
Adopting a broad Mexican accent reminiscent of Speedy Gonzalez, she gave him a cheeky grin and replied, “Ay, Hector, mi amor, anything you say.” Anything came out as any ting.
He rolled his molten brown eyes. Before he turned, she caught the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe a little danger with him could be fun. As long as it was professional, what harm could it be?
Chapter 5
No wires to find, no weapons to fall back on, his wits had to be enough. Pray God Anderson could hold her own. No turning back now as he rapped on the peeling steel door of the warehouse in the seediest part of town. Homeless and addicts avoided this place. Probably rats, too.
Scuffling of feet and mumbling of voices alerted his cat hearing. Anderson glanced over, a bit nervous from her white knuckles but then an unexperienced drug mule would be too. Her sunglasses hid her eyes but her mouth was set in a firm determined line.
“Relax, baby. We’re halfway there. Just make the exchange and we’re on our way home.”
The real Hector spoke only a smattering of Spanish while Veronica was an East Coast girl trying to turn a quick profit. Stupid girl had put her faith in the loser and gotten arrested. In exchange for spilling their guts, they would walk after the dealer was taken down. Until then, they enjoyed the hospitality of the DEA.
Calling her “baby” had slipped out before he knew it. She probably wrote it off as being in character. What or who had screwed with her head? Full-figured, curvy, soft women were made for loving. A man like him would break a skinny woman like a twig. Didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate their beauty or sexuality. Such men were arrogant bullies to their women and pussies when confronted by a man. It would be sweet justice to meet that man in a dark forest.
“It’s hot as hell out here, Hector.” She whined, clearly embracing her role. “Knock again.” How many episodes of Jersey Shore had she watched to perfect that accent? All she lacked was the huge wad of gum.
The door screeched open an inch, allowing a glimpse of a man with a .38. “Yeah?”
“Ben and Jerry’s.”
The code words Hector provided were either correct and they were in or wrong and they were to be executed inside where no one could see. The door’s
hinges screeched as the door opened fully and the gunman waved them in. Immediately the door slammed behind them and they were frisked. Standard operating procedure for the criminal element.
“Hey! Hands off, asshole!”
Anderson slapped the burly man’s hands off her bottom. His inner self screamed to slash the offender but he contained the cat. His own guy had pock marks on his deeply tanned skin and a winged portion of a tattoo showing from beneath his shirt.
Burly dude curled a ringlet of Anderson’s hair around his finger and tugged hard. “Our description said light brown hair.”
She propped a fist on her hip and copped her Jersey attitude. “Dyed. Not exactly a criminal genius, are you?”
Big brass balls. He shoved down his admiration for her spunk and eyed the pair. “Look, let’s just get this done and we’ll be on our way.”
“Not so fast. Where’s the product?”
“Where’s the money?”
Pock mark stepped forward, invading Rico’s space. The intention to intimidate pissed him off.
“Back off. Now.”
His breath stunk of cigarettes and stale beer. Yellowed teeth snarled like a rabid dog’s. Rico smiled. Then struck.
Two heel strikes, one to the nose, one to the chin, followed in rapid succession. “Damn, look what you did. Got blood on my brand new boots.”
Burly stepped forward, gun in hand. Anderson moved to intercept but he threw her a stare which somehow she understood and waited. Rico put his hands out and retreated a step.
“Whoa. Hold on. Easy. Your guy came at me. I had every right to defend myself. We’re good, right?” Supplication was not in his vocabulary but he forced the words out.
Movement from open stairs to a second floor office caught his attention. A man, Hispanic around 30, athletic build, regarded the scene. Here’s the boss.
“Bruce, Harry. Enough.”
The boss sauntered down the stairs, pausing with each step. A tactic designed to increase tension, inspire fear maybe. A tactic which held no sway on Rico.
The man raked his gaze over Anderson, making his attraction clear by adjusting his package before addressing Rico. He’d written the book on nonverbal interrogation strategies but he let the boss play his game. He’d be one more pawn conquered in his quest to get the poison off his streets.
“You Montero?”
The man inclined his head almost imperceptibly.
“Where’s the product?” Montero’s tone held a modicum of civility.
“Safe.”
The man considered a moment. “When can I get it?”
“This evening. We’ll make the trade in the desert then we can be on our way.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sure, kill the dupes, keep the money and the drugs. Why wouldn’t it be a plan?
“We need to catch some shuteye. Where’s a good cheap place? Clean, you know, for the lady.”
“The Sandy Hills motel near the interstate should meet the lady’s needs. My boys will take you there. And wait to take you to the desert tonight.”
Rico shook his head. “Sorry. I’m new to this but that sounds too much like cop shows where some stupid shit gets in the car ‘cause he’s told to and never sees another sunrise.” He put his arm around Anderson and pulled her close. “Give us your number then we’ll give you the coordinates for the meet. It’s legit. We just want to make this fee and go home. Right, baby?”
“Right.”
“Fine. Can we call you a cab?”
“No, we’ll just get an Uber. Thanks.”
Rico maneuvered to the door, managing to face the trio until they slipped out of the building. Heaving a sigh of relief, he noticed Anderson pressing the Uber button on her phone.
“Let’s get going. Don’t want them to change their minds.”
“Right.”
Step one of the operation had gone smoothly enough. Now the hard part. Acting the loving couple at the motel.
Chapter 6
Undercover work burned people out because they couldn’t separate what was real from what was their cover. Sitting close in the backseat of a stranger’s car, his arm warm and protective around her shoulders, his powerful thigh pressed against hers, all these things kept her on edge. Wanting him warred with fear of missing a cue that could take their lives.
Rico’s animal magnetism pulled her like no other man. It shouldn’t have. The ultimate bad boy, he barely communicated in speech and barked orders like a drill sergeant when he did. He’d been very clear he thought women were inferior to men. They were to be coddled and protected and loved. The last was causing her the most trouble.
She wanted to be loved. Sexually, oh yes. Under him, riding him, straddling him in his very back seat, all visions racing through her mind as passion streaked through her veins. More than that or rather before any of that could happen, she required his respect. Once she wasn’t his trainee they could be more.
As if he’d read her mind, his hand snaked into her hair and his lips brushed her neck. Her breath stuck in her throat, waiting for his kiss.
“Relax. Pretend you’re enjoying this.”
His teeth nipped at her skin, firing nerves as his stubble lightly scraped. She angled her head to give him better access to her décolletage.
“Yeah, baby.” His lips caressed her earlobe. “Straddle me, baby. Come on.”
Shock coursed through her followed closely by illicit excitement. She’d never done anything so reckless, so public. It was all a role-playing exercise but was it so awful if she enjoyed it for a moment or two.
Aware her breasts rubbed his face as she dragged her leg across his, she finally wriggled into position.
“Come here.” His arms wrapped her close, his scruff lightly scratching the exposed tops of her breasts. Caught between remaining on alert and sinking into the throes of passion, he whispered, “Check for a tail.”
It took a second but like a pail of ice water, his words snapped her back to their reality. Through lowered lids, she watched for someone following them. His hands on her hips pulled toward him. She should imitate riding him. God how she wanted to. Not here, not under these circumstances but her libido roiled under for composed surface. It wanted to be set free, to enjoy a man’s body and have him enjoy every inch of hers. And not just any man. Rico. Surely he felt the chemistry. A better professional than she, he kept his eye on the prize, stayed focused on the mission.
While simulating sex, she noticed the shiny black SUV three car lengths back. She groaned. Weren’t women supposed to groan? The only time she had, it had been due to an unsatisfactory lover wanting another tumble. As in (groan), really. Again? It wasn’t all that the first time.
“Black SUV, hanging back but definitely a tail.”
The car horn blared suddenly. “Hey you back there! Cut that out. I have to carry my kids to school in the back seat.”
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t actually get anywhere.”
“We’ll finish up at the motel, baby.”
“Promise?” Her sexiest come-hither voice sounded fake.
Smoldering brown eyes seared into her. “Baby, you know I always keep my promises.”
“Yes, you do, Hector. Yes, you do.”
The car pulled up in front of a fifties’ style roadside motel which had seen better days decades ago. At least they could check in and she could let down her guard. Undercover was exhausting. After a mental note to never apply for one of those jobs, she saw Rico give the driver an extra fifty.
With just her hobo purse, they traveled light and received the expected look from the desk clerk. “Cash up front. Daily or hourly?”
Her stomach turned at the thought of what an ultraviolet light would reveal. “Can I have a couple extra towels? For my hair, you know.”
Towels and key to their “deluxe” suite in hand, they found their room on the second floor.
Inside, the room looked pretty clean. Rico made a cursory tour to disguise his search for bugs and cameras. Montero
recommended this paradise on earth for a reason.
“Baby, this is the life! After this score, we’re out and you can go to nursing school like you always wanted.”
She just stared at him.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind again. You know I don’t like you dancing for other men.”
With purposeful steps, he crossed the room and yanked her into him. The collision should have hurt. Instead it excited her, set her blood pumping. Having a man so virile, so powerful want her or act like he wanted her. He made her head spin.
Get into the game, Max! “I only dance for you now, lover.” Keeping her gaze on his, she undulated her body, rubbing up and down. She couldn’t help but notice the hard protrusion behind his zipper. Her nipples tightened, her juices ran hot even knowing they could be under surveillance. Especially knowing that people could be watching or listening. Selling her performance meant nailing this dealer and maybe a link to another bust. It could also mean their lives if she wasn’t convincing.
“Whoa, baby, slow down. Let’s wash some of this damn dust off then I’ll give you all you can take.”
His eyes went dark, like pools of molten obsidian as his gaze pinned her in place. He was trying to tell her something, maybe through sheer will, but mental images of him stripping her down to nothing stole her sense of logic. His cocked eyebrow and slight smirk said he knew what was roiling inside her but she didn’t feel mocked. For the first time since meeting Rico, she felt like a partner. That partner now needed her to get naked in a shower with him.
Guess I’ll just have to take one for the job.
With a flick of the wrist, he turned the radio on the clock. He didn’t change the Tejano station, only adjusted the volume. His arms pulled her close and he stared into her face, amusement clear in the upturn of one corner of his mouth. He was enjoying the game. A lone hunter he’d called himself. For once he seemed to enjoy sharing the experience. That scenario rang more true than him being aroused by her. Follow his lead, he’d said. That’s what she’d do.
