Yours in Black Lace

by Mia Zachary

  Emelio arched one eyebrow in response to something in her tone. “Is that by any chance a euphemism for safecracker?”

  Stevie chuckled. “How did you guess? He’s reformed, though. Anyway, you can’t design secure systems without knowing exactly where the weaknesses are and how to counteract them.” She drank half of her juice while he reached into the fridge for sandwich fixings.

  “I’m curious. How did you get into all of these…unusual training courses?”

  “That’s classified information. If I told you, I’d have to kiss you within fifteen seconds to keep from self-destructing.”

  Emelio leaned over to seal his mouth to hers, enjoying the tang of orange on her lips. He slid his tongue inside, indulging in a slow, hot exploration. When he dragged his mouth away, he saw that the kiss had left her glassy-eyed and breathless. He smiled.

  “Wouldn’t want you to self-destruct.”

  “Always looking out for my safety, aren’t you?” She pretended to fan herself as she drained her glass.

  He spread mustard on the bread slices and began layering the deli meat on top. “So, you were telling me about your secret-agent education.”

  “Oh, yeah. When I first came to Miami, one of the first things I did was sign up for a self-defense class. That’s where I met Bernie. He taught Effective Defense for Women at the fitness center, but he also runs a bodyguard training academy. I did really well in his Tactical Weapons Proficiency course.”

  “Weapons Proficiency.” Emelio leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms. He was beginning to suspect that Stevie didn’t just go after what she wanted, she hunted it down and jumped on it. “You’re serious about wanting to be a field investigator, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Emelio, I am.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I started off learning for my own safety, then it became kind of a hobby. I realize most of the stuff I’ve learned was just for fun. But I want to do more than install alarms and cameras.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “It sounds like you’re already qualified to invade a small country single-handedly. But you still need criminology and legal classes, investigative training—”

  “The State of Florida doesn’t require that for licensing—”

  “But our agency requires it for hiring, along with some practical experience.” When she opened her mouth to keep arguing, he raised a hand to interrupt her. “Let’s deal with this after things settle down, okay?”

  Stevie angled her head and frowned, but then conceded the point. “Just know, I intend to get my way on this one.”

  “That should probably scare me. In the meantime, I’ve got some business to take care of in the office.” After cleaning up the kitchen, he carried the sandwiches across the hall and indicated Stevie should sit at the desk. “Real investigative work is mostly phone calls and fact checking.”

  She settled onto the black-leather chair and looked up at him. “What do you need me to do?”

  Emelio leaned over to switch on his laptop computer. “Use the remote access dial-up to get into your computer files at the agency while I make some calls.”

  “We can do both at the same time?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a dedicated digital subscriber line.”

  “Cool.” She connected to the Internet and finally to the agency network server. “Which files are you interested in?”

  “All of them.” She swung her head to stare at him. “I know, I know. But I warned you about the fact checking. Can you skim through any case that has your name flagged as either primary or assist? See if anything jogs your memory.”

  “All of them, huh?” Stevie sighed heavily, then rolled her shoulders and ran her fingers across the keyboard, calling up her computer files. “When do we get to the fun stuff, like chasing bad guys and shooting people?”

  “Sorry, Jayne. You’ve been watching too much television again. But I’ll see if I can round up some Communist extremists for you.”

  He gave her a quick kiss on the nape of her neck, then grabbed the cordless phone and his sandwich, settling into the armchair by the window.

  In between bites of salami and provolone on rye, he coordinated his investigation efforts with Alex. Although they’d worked together for three years in the Special Operations Division, they had different sources and contacts. Being away from Miami made it tough to get hold of his usual informants, so he tried calling some former colleagues.

  David Heintz at the Bureau’s North Miami Beach field office had taken over the Ramos case when Emelio left to join January Investigations. “Braga? He’s been quiet. Real quiet.”

  “Have you got people watching him?”

  “Closer than ever, what with the trial. But Braga hasn’t so much as spit on the sidewalk.”

  Emelio thanked him, and then gave Oscar Solis over at the DEA a ring. “We’ve got nothing, Sanchez. The man is laying so low he’s not casting a shadow.”

  A half-dozen calls later, he banged the phone on the table in frustration. Stevie swung around in the chair to face him. “You’re not having much luck, either, huh. Why not? Based on the photo outside of my bank, he’s obviously right in Miami.”

  Emelio leaned back and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “Braga’s cunning, and very, very careful. Knowing he’s a ruthless son of a bitch and getting a conviction are two different things.”

  “Why didn’t he go to jail after the Overtown shooting?”

  “Politics. At that time, we didn’t realize how big a fish Braga was. The SOD wanted to use him as bait to catch Ramos. Then, while we were on the case at Cayo Sueño, Braga all but told Alex he was staging a takeover. That’s why Ramos is in protective custody until after he testifies.”

  “You think Braga would actually try something?”

  Emelio shrugged. “Ramos chose to turn State’s evidence rather than trust the man not to stab him in the back, literally.”

  “This is driving me crazy, you know?” Stevie dragged a hand through her hair. “I have no idea what this man wants. And why me? It would make more sense for him to go after you and Alex.”

  “We don’t know for certain he’s not.” He laced his fingers over his stomach. “That’s why I’ve got people watching over my parents and sisters. Family means nothing to Braga.”

  Stevie pushed back from the desk and paced the room. “What about Alex? Aren’t he and Meghan in danger, too?”

  “As strange as this may sound, they probably aren’t. Alex saved his life that night in Overtown and that may be reason enough for Braga to let him alone.”

  She stopped near the window and cocked her head to one side. “I don’t get it. Alex was working the SOD case against Ramos. He went undercover to gather evidence and then testified at the trial, just like you did.”

  “Yeah, but Braga has a strange code of principles, a twisted kind of morality. He’s fond of saying that he never forgets either a favor or a slight. Alex did him a favor.”

  “What did you do?”

  Emelio curled his lips into a derisive smile. “Me? Not much. Just infiltrated the cartel and recruited an informant from Braga’s own household.”

  Stevie lifted one eyebrow. “Oh. Is that all?”

  “As far as Braga’s concerned, that’s more than enough.”

  7

  AFTER A THURSDAY MORNING spent sleeping in, Emelio had cooked brunch, taken Stevie for that walk along the beach and watched two romantic-comedy videos with her. But now she was pacing the tiled floor in the Florida room, edgy and bored.

  Emelio sat on the white-leather couch and watched her, amazed that one body could contain so much restless energy. Even in her sleep, Stevie tossed and turned, unable to keep still. “I have to make a phone call. After that, I’ll see what else I can come up with to keep you entertained.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  Stevie turned from the glass wall and walked over to him. She leaned down to skim a kiss over his mouth, but the lighthearted gesture changed into something much mo
re when she slipped her tongue between his lips. The kiss was hard and hot and hungry. After a fraction of a second, so was he.

  “Don’t take too long, chér.”

  A low purr of pleasure escaped him as she nuzzled his neck. He stroked his fingers along her thigh in return. When she moved back, he cleared his throat and shifted on the couch to adjust the throbbing erection she’d inspired. Then he picked up the phone and dialed home.

  As he waited through the ringing, he watched Stevie through lust-hooded eyes as she stood up to unzip her short rose-colored skirt. He reached out a hand to stroke her bare thigh. Then she slowly turned around, wriggling the skirt down her shapely hips, and offered him a damn fine view of the purple-and-black butterfly tattoo before dropping the garment to the floor.

  “Bueno.”

  “Es Emelio. Cómo esté usted?”

  “I want to talk with…her.”

  His mother was calm, but it was the kind of calm that had preceded a storm of lectures in rapid-fire Spanish when he was growing up. He could just imagine what a scandal Maggie’s gossip had created. “Um, I don’t think—”

  “You are ashamed of her, no? This is why you never say nothing about this woman?”

  “That’s not true.”

  He was finding it difficult to focus now that Stevie had stripped off the pale pink knit top as well. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the nipples of her perfect breasts hardened to mouthwatering peaks. His eyes roamed over her finely sculpted body in blatant appreciation.

  “Emilio?”

  “It’s complicated. She’s working for me and—”

  “You are paying her?” His mother’s voice rose in horror.

  Emelio snapped his attention back to the conversation. “Yes. I mean, no! She’s an investigator at the agency.”

  Stevie froze in the middle of a grind-wiggle-shimmy, obviously guessing that she was the topic of conversation. She picked up her top, covering her breasts, and waited.

  “Well, why is she not at the agency? Why is she saying to your sister that you are naked?”

  Emelio winced and closed his eyes. “That was a, um, misunderstanding. I’m on a case—”

  “Hmph. Some case.” There was a slight pause and he swore he could feel his mother trying to get inside his head, just like she’d done when he came home after curfew. “Emelio José, you are hiding something. Magdalena told Angelina—”

  “Maggie exaggerated, I’m sure.”

  “Then let me talk to her, mi hijo. Since you have nothing to hide from your familiá.”

  His mother’s tone brooked no argument and, when she used that particular voice, it was easier to do as she ordered. He sighed and held up the receiver in his outstretched hand.

  “It’s for you.”

  “For me?”

  Stevie narrowed her eyes at Emelio, her stomach suddenly quivering with dread. She didn’t like that guilty expression he wore one single bit.

  “Who is it?”

  “My mother.”

  She shrank away from the telephone as though it would attack her. “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t want to—”

  Emelio thrust the phone next to her face then raised both palms and sat back out of reach. Stevie shot him a withering look, then gulped in a draft of air.

  “Hello, Mrs. Sanchez.”

  “So. You are having sexual relations with my son.”

  There was no sense in denying it, but she was in enough trouble with his family. Better to keep quiet now, and later, she’d make sure Emelio paid for this.

  “I know nothing about you. Are you a nice girl? What kind of family do you come from? Do you go to church? I should at least know something about you before the wedding, no?”

  “Wed— What?”

  Stevie began to hyperventilate. Fortunately, Mrs. Sanchez continued speaking, saving her from having to reply.

  “We have a lot to talk about, you and I. You tell my son to bring you home for dinner so that he can introduce you properly. And make sure you have clothes on.”

  Embarrassment had her cheeks flaming hot, as though Mrs. Sanchez could somehow tell she was only wearing pink cotton panties. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll, uh, look forward to it.”

  “Hmph.” Mrs. Sanchez hung up without another word.

  Stevie rammed the phone back onto the cradle and glared at Emelio. “I cannot believe you did that!”

  He tried unsuccessfully to plaster a contrite expression on his face, but the twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes gave him away. “I’m very close to my family. You’ll probably meet her sooner or later.”

  “I would have opted for much later, thank you.”

  He caught her wrist and gently pulled her into his arms. Ducking his head, he nuzzled her temple. “I’ll make it up to you, Stevie. I promise.”

  “Damn right you will, chér. I want black-lace letter number five and I want it now.”

  Emelio felt his pulse leap at the gleam in Stevie’s eyes. I dream of you, bound by my desire, a slave to my passion. I dream of you, hard and hot and helpless, as I urge you to the heights of ecstasy… His body remembered that particular note as well as his mind did. Gravity doubled at the very thought of being restrained for Stevie’s enjoyment.

  “Five has always been my favorite number.”

  Holding her hand as they walked down the hallway in the direction of the master bedroom, he sensed her arousal by the fine tremor of her fingers. At the foot of the bed, he tried to take her into his arms again but she resisted.

  “Strip. Then go lay down.”

  Stevie delivered the words like a command, but the effect was lost in the rough silk of her tone and the mischievous smile on her lips. It seemed that being in charge turned her on tremendously. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled like sunlight on water and her face was aglow with excitement.

  Feeling pretty damn excited himself, Emelio pulled off the satin comforter. He threw several pillows to the floor then propped the remaining one upright. Settling on the smooth cotton sheets, he watched her peel off her panties. Anticipating that she’d join him, he made room for her on the bed.

  His forehead furrowed in confusion when she darted for the walk-in closet instead. Stevie came back out a moment later with a fistful of his silk neckties.

  “Are you okay with this?”

  “I’m all yours, lady.”

  Her face lit up with a delighted expression. When she reached the side of the bed, she raised one arm over his head, indicating he should hold it aloft. His pulse thudded as she braced one knee beside him and leaned over to swiftly bind his wrist to the carved mahogany headboard.

  Emelio arched forward to capture her right breast in his mouth. He traced circles around her flesh with his tongue and suckled her nipple to a hardened peak. He chuckled darkly. It was taking Stevie a lot longer to tie his other wrist.

  “Now I’ve got you exactly where I want you.” She sat back on her heels with a satisfied grin, the look on her face one of pure desire.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Everything.”

  The feel of her warm hands trailing over his skin made him shiver. Certain areas like his neck had always been hyperresponsive but, with Stevie, the sensitivity of his entire body was heightened by her touch. “Everything” was probably going to kill him.

  When he tried to wriggle away from the sensual torture, the slight pressure on his wrists reminded him of the situation. Silk tended to be slippery, though, so he could get loose anytime. He tugged his arms gently, testing the strength of the knots, only to discover they wouldn’t give. Frowning slightly, he tugged a bit harder. Damn. Even though they were playing, he really was securely bound.

  Stevie laughed at his efforts. “You’re not going anywhere, chér. I got top grades in my Boating and Maritime Endurance courses. Those are bowlines with a half hitch, guaranteed not to slip under strain.”

  Maritime Endurance. Emelio knew a second of apprehension, not at all used to being at someone else’s merc
y. All his life, he’d been a leader, a decision maker. He’d been in charge. Now, he had to voluntarily submit to another’s will, and he wasn’t too sure he liked it. He flexed his hands, inwardly squirming. Game or no game, the lack of freedom made him damn uncomfortable.

  Then he looked at Stevie, saw the twinkle in her eyes…and something else. Something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But he knew without a doubt he was safe with her. He’d been dictating all of her decisions for the past three days. He could let her take control and have her revenge.

  “You’re all tied up and helpless… I can touch you any way and anywhere, and you can’t stop me.”

  She stroked her fingers lightly up and down his chest, a look of triumph on her face. He closed his eyes briefly, lost in the sensations her touch elicited. His voice was hoarse when he finally replied. “I’m not complaining.”

  Stevie got to her knees, swung one leg over him to straddle his waist and settled her gorgeous ass on his lap. He breathed in the musky scent of her desire as he felt the dewy soft folds of her labia against the head of his penis. This was rapidly becoming his favorite position.

  Stevie bent forward to trace the edges of his mouth with her tongue. He parted his lips, inviting her to go deeper, but she seemed content to slide her mouth slowly across his. He gently nibbled on her plump lower lip until she finally thrust her tongue forward and explored his mouth.

  She shifted on top of him, brushing her mouth over his neck, making him quake as desire burned along his nerve endings. Then she bent over to suckle his left nipple. The wet tugging sensation sent a bolt of lust right to his groin.

  His inability to move, to touch her in return, was both frustrating and exhilarating. Restricted as he was, his focus narrowed to the places where their bodies made contact. He felt the heat of her skin against his, the rasp of her pebbled nipples on his chest and the rough silk of her pubic hair brushing his thigh.

  Her tongue blazed a hot, wet trail from his chest, along his abdomen and down to his groin. She eased lower, nipping his belly, licking his thigh and finally darting her tongue over his testicles. He dragged in a breath, gasping at the shock of that wickedly intimate kiss.