The Traitor

by Jo Robertson

  Ruiz was only one of the infiltrators, but there were sure to be others. To uncover them, they had to get their own rat inside Vargas' organization.

  And if she had her way, that rat was going to be Santos.

  Whatever she had to do to get the bodyguard-lawyer to agree to testify against Vargas – that's what she'd do. When she put her mind to something she was indefatigable as hell and stubborn as a mule.

  She wondered briefly about Rafe's department. Slater thought someone inside Rafe's large list of contacts was leaking information to Vargas. Was that possible? She had a hard time believing Rafe wouldn't be as scrupulous as Slater, but even Ruiz had slipped by Ben's cautious vetting.

  By the time she reached her office at the courthouse, it was late afternoon and there were dozens of messages to deal with, phone calls to return, and briefs to prepare for her other court cases. She'd been working for an hour when Charles Barrington barged into her office without knocking on the closed door.

  "Mr. District Attorney," she said in surprise, "what can I do for you?"

  Barrington hardly ever made his way across the street to the old courthouse, preferring to enjoy the comforts and lushness of the brand new structure where he'd set up his own offices. She knew immediately this wasn't a social call. The D.A.'s round pink face was screwed up like a baby getting ready to throw a temper tantrum.

  "What's going on with the Vargas case?" he demanded.

  "We lost our witness," Bella said as Barrington strode into the room and threw himself in the chair opposite her desk, slouching like a petulant teenager. "Along with a deputy. Waylon Harris is being released today and Slater's out of surgery and stable. Thanks for asking," she added, the sarcasm barely controlled.

  "What did you do wrong?" Charles accused.

  Bella felt her face heat with anger. "Why do you assume I'm the one who screwed up?"

  "You're in charge," he retorted.

  "Oh, really? I thought the feds were in charge. The DEA specifically." She didn't want to cast blame on Rafe for the debacle at the safe house, but Barrington couldn't play it both ways. He's the one who insisted they involve the feds.

  He waved his hand over his head as if her remarks were unimportant, or worse, ridiculous. "Don't get territorial, Isabella. And whatever you do, don't get on the wrong side of this Hashemi guy."

  She definitely wasn't on Rafe's bad side. "We've got a plan to make a deal with someone high up in Vargas' organization." Well, she amended silently, at least she had a plan.

  "Who?" he demanded.

  Bella hesitated. Charlie Barrington wasn't known for keeping his mouth shut, but after all, he was the D.A. "Gabriel Santos."

  "Jesus!" He brightened a bit. "Okay, close this case as soon as possible. It looks bad that you're dragging your feet. Charge someone and get a conviction."

  With that he stomped from the office, slamming the door behind him.

  #

  The first step Santos intended to take was to contact the Latina assistant district attorney and acquiesce to her no-doubt inadequate plea bargain. He imagined the agreement she offered would not give him the terms he required, but he did not worry about renegotiating.

  He could acquire the greater advantage by having her approach him again, but time was of the essence and he could not wait longer for her to contact him. El Vaquero was becoming as dangerous as a trapped animal, and his next movements would be unpredictable.

  Santos looked up from his desk where he was examining the books when Jesús Navarro knocked quietly on the office door.

  "¿Si?" he barked. He did not like his employees to disturb him when he engaged in the important task of analyzing Diego Vargas' private records.

  "Excúsame, por favor, Jefe." The man held his hat in his hands and twirled it between work-worn hands.

  "¿Que?"

  "Tenemos un problema grande. No sé qué hacer. Ayúdeme, por favor," the man began babbling, the words falling over one another as if he would strangle on them.

  "¡Inglés!" Santos commanded. "Speak English." Spineless man, he thought. Why was Diego so unwise in his choice of men to carry out his most delicate assignments?

  Navarro took a deep breath and began again. "We have a serious problem. I do not know what to do, Jefe."

  Santos threw down his pen and rubbed at the pain that began to radiate from the back of his neck. "What is the problem?"

  "The girl from the van, she is dead, as El Vaquero ordered."

  "At the sheriff's safe house, sí?"

  "Sí, in the foothills to the north."

  Santos' brows pulled downward at this confirmation of what Diego had done, and he felt a great white rage build in his mind. ¡Pinche cabron! Vargas was an animal with no sense of caution or finesse. He rampaged through a delicate situation like a bull gone mad with the lust of blood.

  The girl could have been spared, shipped back to Mexico. She did not have to die. No one needed to have died.

  "What else?" he growled.

  "Ruiz is dead."

  "¡Mierda, mala suerte de mierda!" Santos ranted, forgetting his own injunction about using English. "What other casualties?"

  "Ruiz and the other deputy, but not el hombre negro." The black deputy.

  "And Sheriff Slater?"

  "Él está condiciones criticas, pero sobrivivrá."

  "English!" Santos roared.

  After Navarro left, he sat a long while at his desk, refusing to speculate about why he felt a strange relief that the sheriff might survive.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Several hours after Charles Barrington stalked out of her office, Bella closed up her files, grabbed her briefcase, and drove home. Rafe was waiting for her on the front porch, sitting on the cement landing, his fingers linked and dangling between his legs.

  A warm thrill of pleasure ran through her when she saw him. She almost felt like she was coming home to ... to someone who cared. Ridiculous, but the feeling made her irrationally happy. She smiled and waved as she pulled her car into the garage and then met him at the front door.

  But when they entered the small house the mood changed without warning. The reality of their trying to forge a relationship in the midst of a major investigation struck Bella as foolish. They both paused in the tiled entry, a sudden awkwardness festering between them as they warily eyed one another.

  Rafe saw the hesitation he'd been feeling reflected in Isabella's eyes. "What now?" he asked, his eyes caressing her smooth face, his hands skimming down her sleeved arms.

  He knew they were both too tired for any romantic shenanigans, but he'd wanted to see her – for just a moment or two. The debacle of losing his young witness gnawed at him. If Isabella rejected him now, he'd feel the sting of remorse even more.

  It was tempting to blame Slater since Ruiz was clearly the one who'd betrayed them to Vargas, but Rafe had grown steadily more uneasy since the death of his confidential informant in L.A., more worried that an additional leak in DHS or DEA accounted for the multiple snags since he'd taken over the Vargas case.

  "Do you want to stay?" Isabella's large brown eyes flashed in the dimly lighted foyer. A tiny frown marred the perfect skin between her brows while she chewed on her bottom lip.

  A wave of relief washed over him as he thought about catching that lip with his teeth. "Of course I want to stay. I wouldn't leave you alone after the hell of a day we've had."

  "Is that it, then? You want to protect me?" She sounded defensive and searched his face as if looking for the answer to some unfathomable mystery. But he was just a man and today, of all days, he didn't have solutions to much of anything.

  He circled her neck with his fingers, noting how his dark flesh contrasted against the lighter creamier skin of her throat. He smiled at the intensity of her words and her confronting stare. "I do want to keep you safe."

  She turned away, pulled off her jacket, and hung it carefully in the closet, then turned to reach for his. He followed her into the kitchen where she turned on the
coffee maker and began to prepare the brew.

  "What's wrong, Isabella?" He enjoyed the feeling of her name rolling off his tongue.

  She gave a tiny shake of her head instead of answering him.

  "No, I'm not going to let you get away with that." He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned his body against the back of her, marveling at her slender bones. "Something's bothering you besides the attack. What's wrong?"

  She reached for the mugs on a high shelf and his hands dropped to her waist. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked on a sigh.

  He allowed his hands to drop further so that they rested on her hipbones. "God, I don't know. I just want to be with you. I can't seem to control that."

  Briefly she leaned back into him, her bottom soft and firm at the same time in the way that women were. His arousal was immediate. A tiny moan escaped her as she rested the back of her head against his chest, the mugs clattering to the countertop with a jarring sound.

  Rafe ran his hands up her sides from her hips to her midriff, playing with the soft silkiness of her blouse. His cock thrust demandingly at her bottom, an appendage with a rogue mind of its own.

  Tracing the undersides of her bra, he trailed his fingers back and forth beneath the lacy garment until he reached the spot where her nipples swelled through the layers of fabric. He felt them harden beneath his thumbs, tight round nubs that he had a mindless urge to kiss and lick. He imagined his tongue swirling around their hardened peaks, and he ground his hips into her rear, as if seeking entry.

  Nuzzling her neck, he placed tiny, wet kisses on the line of tender flesh from the juncture of her neck to her ear lobe and back again. Her labored breathing increased steadily with every touch of his lips on her skin. He inhaled the heady, mixed scent of her cologne and her damp body, and thought he'd like nothing more than running his tongue along the flesh of her inner thighs, of seeking out and then breathing in the scent of her arousal.

  "What are you doing to me?" she moaned, turning in his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him hard and demandingly. He thrust his tongue to meet hers and tasted the sweetness of her breath and the wet softness of the inside of her mouth. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her hands trembling.

  He laughed as his own breath came short and quick. "Here, let me."

  "Okay," she breathed on a shudder and busied herself tugging at his shirt tails until they loosened from his trousers.

  Then she ran her hands up and down his bare back and around to the hair on his chest. "I love this part of your body," she whispered as she dipped her fingers down to the funnel of hair below his navel. She unbuttoned his pants, trailed the zipper down, and reached around him to the flesh of his ass.

  "Whoa, slow down," he panted, wanting to savor the moment but prolong it at the same time.

  Quickly, he wriggled his pants over his hips, toed off his loafers, and stepped out, kicking trousers and shoes aside until he stood in front of her in his shorts. Looking down, he saw the outline of his erection against the white of his underwear. Bella pulled the shirt off his shoulders and that piece of clothing dropped to the floor.

  "Now you," he said, unsnapping her skirt and letting it puddle around her ankles.

  Underneath it, she wore only skimpy black panties. As he ran his hands around her hips, he fingered the bikini cut and the lacy softness of the material against her belly and thighs. He trailed his hand between her legs and tested her dampness through the underwear.

  "You're wet for me," he marveled, a surge of possessiveness humming through his blood.

  "Yes," she gasped as he slipped his thumb beneath the panties. "I want you badly. Now. Inside me. I don't think I can wait."

  He laughed again, although his own heart was racing like a engine and his body threatened to start on its own journey. "I won't make you wait," he promised.

  He pulled her blouse off her shoulders, unfastened her bra in haste, noting the shaking of his own hands as he caressed her flesh. The sleek paleness of her skin shone like alabaster against his dark fingers. She stepped out of her shoes as he scooped her up in his arms and hurried down the hall to the bedroom.

  They tumbled onto the sheets and somehow she landed on top of him, her lush breasts pressing into his chest with a softness that drove him mad. She attacked his mouth with fierceness and opened her legs around his hips. "Rafe," she cried when she came up for breath.

  Feeling her at the edge of her climax, he pulled back, both hands holding her head, thumbs running across her high cheekbones. "Wait, let me catch my breath. I want you to come first."

  "Oh, I can't wait ... I'll explode," she groaned.

  He flipped her over, ripped her panties off, and opened her legs. He thumbed the thin line of hair on her pubis, dipping down until he felt the moist peak. He bent his mouth to the core of her flesh and suckled, gently at first and then with increasing intensity as she bucked against his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair, her hands urging him against her.

  He entered her with his tongue, all the while rubbing the swollen nub until he felt the first tightening surge of her muscles. He thrust harder, using his finger in simulation and roiled his tongue around her. A wash of her juices emptied onto his fingers, but he kept working her until the last spasm of her orgasm subsided and she no longer clenched his head between her thighs.

  She sighed a long, releasing breath of pleasure and with a final passionate kiss between her thighs, he inched up beside her. He lay, hard and hot, against the moist coolness of her belly, and he gently kissed her nipples, working his way up to her mouth.

  "I can taste myself on you," she said.

  "Good," he answered. "I like the taste of you."

  A flush of color crept up her neck to her cheeks. "I've never ... no one's ever done that to me before."

  "Good," he repeated, pleased for some foolish reason to think he was the first to pleasure her like this.

  "I liked it."

  He raised an eyebrow as he traced lazy circles around her nipples and under her breasts. "Liked it?"

  A broad smile lightened her face, her teeth flashing white in the dim light. "I loved it," she corrected. "I loved what you did with your tongue." She kissed him hard. "And with your fingers." She pushed her tongue into his mouth, scraping over his teeth and probing the inside. "And your mouth."

  "You little tease," he growled as he covered her body with his own.

  "Now it's your turn," she smiled and spread herself wide to accommodate him. He growled, a throaty sound that came from deep in his chest, and pulled her close. "Come here, you." He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply as if he were breathing in her very soul. "You smell good."

  Hours later, sated and relaxed, Bella prepared a light supper and afterward they lounged on the couch, the television tuned to a sitcom rerun, the volume turned low. Rafe took her legs and stretched them across his lap, gently rubbing her feet. She felt languid and drowsy.

  "You still look beat," he said, brushing his hands over her calves.

  "Emotional tiredness," she said. "All that carnage ... I can't stop thinking about it. I alternate between feeling helpless and being furious."

  Rafe nodded and ran his hands over her thighs, the gentle kneading relaxing and arousing at the same time.

  "I promised that girl ... promised Esperanza that she'd be okay. I feel like I failed her."

  "No one could've anticipated what happened. We did all we could," he soothed.

  "What do we do now?"

  "We use your plan," he answered, squeezing her calf. "We get Santos to turn."

  "But you said – "

  "I know," Rafe interrupted, "but now everything's different. If we have to get in bed with a beast to catch a psychopath, then that's what we'll do."

  "Who do you think it is?"

  "The inside man? Besides Ruiz?"

  She nodded.

  "I don't know yet. But I'll find out and when I do ... "

 
; She sat up and reached for his face, tracing her fingers down the stubble on his cheeks, running them across his lips. He sighed heavily and splayed his fingers through the hair at her nape and lowered his lips to hers. A delighted thrill ran through her, tired as she was, and she opened her mouth to him.

  The steady pounding of his heart rumbled through her hand on his chest, and suddenly she wanted him again, close to her, no clothes between them, his large, warm hands sliding down her body. She tugged at the tee shirt he'd slipped back on. His bare flesh beneath her fingers was warm and smooth and he smelled of the mingled scents of their sex.

  He groaned as she reached his chest and played with his flat, hard nipples. "God, what you do to me." He shoved her lightly backwards onto the wide sofa and covered her body with his, pulled her robe off her shoulders and bared her breasts. He lowered his mouth and –

  The portable phone jangled alarmingly on the end table right by their heads.

  "Let it go," Rafe murmured, busy with her breasts and his clever tongue.

  Her breath shaky, she whispered, "I can't. It might be important ... about the case." She reached over her head to grab the receiver off the set and answered quietly. "Torres." No sound came out and she cleared her throat. "Torres," she repeated.

  "What are you doing with the case?" Only Barrington was rude enough to call her at home at this hour of the night.

  Bella pushed the speaker phone button and placed the receiver back on the handset.

  "Have you worked something out with Hashemi?" Barrington demanded.

  "Uh," Bella said, staring at Rafe's narrowed, dark eyes, heavy with desire. "I'm working on something with him right now."

  "Good. I don't need to remind you that he's got powerful friends in high places."

  "Well, maybe I should sleep with the guy then," Bella quipped, her mouth inches from Rafe's, his breath hotly sucking the air out of her. "Maybe then he'll let me in on the action."

  "Do whatever you have to do," Charles said coldly. "Just don't screw this up again." He paused before he disconnected. "And don't let them take all the credit, either."

  "Well, you heard him," she moaned as Rafe tongued her nipple and moved lower to her navel, tracing lazy circles down her body. "I ... have to do ... whatever ... you want."