“Ask me,” she said softly.
He shook his head because he couldn’t have heard her right. “To what? To help me? It’s a little late—”
“Ask. Me,” she repeated, slowly this time. Desperately, as if everything hinged on that one small request.
He hung his head. It served him right for holding out on her. He’d brought her into this; he owed her the chance to give him hell before getting out. He’d just have to find another way to get Celina back.
“Jillian Talbot, will you help me save a woman you never met before?”
Silence stretched between them.
He lifted his head to find tears rolling down her face. He held his breath, because he knew what her answer would be.
She handed him the cell phone and whispered, “Yes.”
Then she walked away, leaving him rocked to his soul.
CHAPTER
11
By the fourth time she’d licked the salt from her hand, downed the shot of tequila, and bitten into the lime, Jillian decided that she really loved Mexico. It just required a little coordination.
She slid her empty shot glass across the island to Paulie, who was pouring. Mancuso laughed at something she missed, but she joined in, anyway. He’d asked her to marry him six times. Although the last five probably didn’t count.
Paulie poured her another one, spilling a good portion of it on the counter. “So what are we drinking to this round?”
Mancuso raised his glass. “Beautiful women.”
“We already drank to them,” Paulie said and slid her shot glass back. “I’m thinking you got more tequila in your cupboard than there are women in Mexico. Let’s see.” He lifted his glass. “To ugly women. No one drinks to them.”
Jillian half laughed, half choked. “Paulie, that’s terrible. You can’t do that.”
“Okay,” he said. “To ugly men!”
Mancuso and Paulie slammed their shot glasses together, gave a well-practiced, synchronized manly grunt, and drank their tequila straight up.
She shook her head and dutifully licked her fist, sprinkled it with salt, and picked up a lime wedge. Lick, swallow, suck. After the tequila burned in her throat, she burst out laughing at the little jingle she’d made up. It sounded like something Raven would think, except she wouldn’t be afraid to say it out loud.
By the time they had drunk to the Yankees and the Internet and reruns of I Love Lucy, Jillian was feeling warm and fuzzy and strangely free. So what that Simon had lied to her? Would she have done the same thing in his place? What if it was her sister who had been kidnapped? She’d do anything to save her. Anything. Lie, cheat, whatever it took.
Besides, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Simon didn’t look at life the same way she did, didn’t play by anyone’s rules. Lying and cheating were a natural part of his world, and he was clearly beyond her help or anyone else’s. Besides, how did you save a man who didn’t want to be saved? Her mother had tried that. Didn’t work. Never did.
“Can’t save him,” she said, not realizing she’d said it aloud until Mancuso turned to her.
“Can’t save who?”
She sighed. “Simon.”
Paulie gave a snort. “Why would you want to? It’s not like he’d save you unless there was somethin’ in it for him. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“What could I do? Let a woman die?”
Paulie shrugged. “Dangerous business here. No one would blame ya.”
I would, she thought. How could she live with herself?
Mancuso said, “Simon is good man. He just lose his faith.”
Jillian blinked at him. “How?”
The old gentleman leaned in a little. “He didn’t tell you about his time in prison?”
Paulie lifted a shot to his lips. “Now, there’s a big surprise.”
“What happened?” she asked, ignoring Paulie.
Mancuso stared at his empty shot glass. “He was betrayed. And he paid a terrible price.”
She leaned closer, hanging on every word. “Who betrayed him? What did he do?”
“Nothing worth repeating.”
Jillian squinted at Mancuso, because his lips hadn’t moved. Huh. That hadn’t sounded like his voice, either. Then she looked up to find Simon standing in the doorway with a slightly amused expression.
“We were just talking about you,” she blurted out.
He shoved off the doorframe and entered the kitchen. “So I heard.”
Jillian sighed inside as she watched him move. Just move. Everything he did was so powerful and sure. God, he was a beautiful man. Too bad he was beyond saving, really. Maybe she could try mouth-to-mouth.
She giggled at the thought, and Simon eyed her. Then he slapped Mancuso on the back. “I think it’s bedtime, amigo.”
Mancuso grinned wide and slid off the stool. “Si.” He teetered in place for a few moments before swerving off to his room, babbling in Spanish.
Jillian turned to Paulie and noticed that his head was on the counter. His cheek was squished up, and he was snoring.
“Humph,” she said and turned to smile at Simon. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said and pulled up Mancuso’s vacated stool next to her. Even drunk, she was uniquely intelligent, classy, and beautiful. He never thought he’d appreciate such a combination. He’d just spent the night spurning Alexis’s overt seduction, and the whole time, all he could think about was getting back to Jillian. Her “yes” to his question had haunted his every moment with Alexis, reducing the woman to nothing but talk.
He confiscated Jillian’s shot glass. “I leave you alone with the boys and this is what happens.”
She put her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were hooded and sexy. “Your fault.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Celina?”
She shook her head. “No. I understand why you did what you did. Do you love her?”
“I thought I did once, a long time ago. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about her.” He poured himself a shot of tequila and downed it.
The alcohol burned down his throat, purging the lingering scent of Alexis’s perfume. He’d wasted a few hours trying to get info from her when all she was interested in was rekindling a one-night stand.
“What about Alexis?”
Simon looked over at Jillian, who was watching him with sudden clarity. “I definitely don’t love Alexis.”
Jillian’s eyebrows went up. “So you didn’t sleep with her tonight?”
He frowned. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and he was sorry he’d asked the question.
“I think you are a good man.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Babe, you can’t blindly trust everyone.” Especially me, he added silently. “It’ll get you killed.”
“Maybe. Think I’m right on this one, though.” Then she slid off her chair and gripped his shoulders for support. He put his hands around her waist to steady her. Heat seeped into his fingers through the gauzy white blouse. Tequila had nothing on her.
She leaned forward and whispered, “I might need some fresh air.”
She was close enough to kiss, and for a split second he considered doing just that. Then he remembered what he was already costing her.
“Come on,” he said instead and led her outside onto the veranda. A star-studded night sky loomed low over gentle waves. The full moon brightened the sand and laid down a long white streak across the gulf. The day’s steamy heat lingered in the air like a dewy caress. Beside him, Jillian raised her face to the light breeze, her long hair floating around her shoulders.
Why did she agree to help him? After he’d lied to her? Dragged her to Mexico? Was it to save herself? After all, the bad guys were still after her. Maybe she was afraid of Kesel—and she should be. He was afraid of Kesel.
Simon scanned the beach, looking for activity. All was quiet. Just the night to watch over them.
“This is the most beautiful place on Earth,” she said, her eyes closed, her lips barely parted.
Tonight it is, Simon thought. “How about a walk?”
She turned to him. “Is it safe?”
“It is with me,” he said and took her hand. He laced his fingers in hers and helped her through the sand. She lost her footing a few times and laughed as she stumbled. A deep, throaty, relaxed laugh that made him smile and wish for more.
When they reached the beach, she raced ahead of him to the water’s edge, where she raised her arms to the moon as if absorbing it into her skin. Then she spun around in a circle and started dancing to a beat only she could hear. Her hips swayed, and she hummed a catchy tune.
He knew he should be watching the beach, but frankly, he couldn’t pull himself away from her uninhibited exuberance.
Then she stopped, lifted her blouse over her head, and flung it into the breeze. It drifted away like a surreal dream. A white bra hugged her breasts and glowed in the moonlight. Before he could say anything, she unzipped her shorts and kicked them off, revealing matching white panties.
His mouth went dry. She had the body of a goddess—long, lean, soft in all the right places. Without looking back, she rushed into the water, laughing and kicking the waves as they crested. Then all he could see was her white panties as she dove into the deeper waves.
“I’ll be damned,” he said. Underneath that cool curator exterior, Jillian Talbot was a wild woman.
She surfaced and waved an arm. “Afraid of a little water, Simon?”
He grinned. He couldn’t very well let her drown. It took him three seconds to shed everything but his shorts and less than a minute to reach her.
The salt water stung his eyes as she splashed him in the deep waves. He planted his feet in the sandy bottom and grabbed for her. She screamed playfully and then draped her arms around his neck when he pulled her close.
Water dripped from her eyelashes and lips as she held him tight. Her body melded to his, and he was glad he’d left his shorts on, because things were getting real interesting below the surface. To his surprise, she rubbed her cheek against his, breathing softly in his ear.
She pressed her lips to his neck, and he groaned at the sensation. She traced his jawline, and he shuddered.
“Jillian—”
Soft lips grazed his.
“Just once,” she whispered, and then she kissed him. He inhaled at the jolt of electricity that shot through him. He took her mouth with an urgency that staggered him, releasing all the pent-up energy he didn’t realize he was holding on to. She answered by running her tongue along his lips. He opened, tasting tequila and salt.
She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist. They rocked together in the surge, and he realized he was very close to the point of no return. As much as that appealed to him, Jillian was not, well, Jillian. He didn’t want to make love to the tequila. He wanted to make love to the woman. The real woman. That one thought was enough to give him the sanity to stop.
With every ounce of self-control he possessed, he broke off the kiss and pulled back to breathe.
Jillian let out a moan that went straight to his aching groin and tucked her head to his shoulder. “I knew it. I knew you’d be like that.”
He was having a hard time hearing her through the pounding of blood in his ears. Just keep breathing, he kept telling himself. But it wasn’t easy with her bare skin pressed to his. His body was seriously confused.
Suddenly, she lifted her head, pushed free, and dove under the water, leaving him to wonder what had happened.
After a moment, he realized she hadn’t come up. Silent waves rolled past him, and he scanned the water. A few more seconds ticked by. His heart seized up. No.
“Jillian!”
He started thrashing through the water, searching for her. Where was she? How drunk was she? Drunk enough to drown? “Jillian!”
Finally, he heard a big splash behind him and turned to find her treading water twenty feet away. Blind anger overtook panic as he swam to her. “Are you trying to kill me?”
She smiled back in triumph. “You were worried.”
He gripped her arm and started towing her toward shore. “Hell, yes, I was worried. Don’t ever do that again.”
They staggered out of the surf and picked up their clothes. Simon’s head had cleared from the kiss with lightning speed. He scanned the beach. All clear. One kiss and he’d totally lost his mind. What the hell was wrong with him?
“What was that, some kind of test?” he said. “Because it wasn’t funny.”
“I can see that,” she said, clutching her clothes as she studied him. “I’m sorry. Didn’t think you’d get so upset.”
She walked by him a few paces and then stopped dead. He walked up beside her as she stared toward the south.
She asked, “What’s that blue light?”
He scanned the horizon and saw nothing. “What light?”
She blinked a few times. “You don’t see it?”
He frowned. He was going to have a word with Mancuso tomorrow about getting his girl plastered. “No, but then again, I didn’t drink half a bottle of tequila tonight, either. Come on.”
Once they reached the house, Simon turned on the outside shower and drew her beneath the water to rinse off the salt. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to ignore the fact that her white bra and panties had become essentially see-through. He didn’t need to torture himself any more tonight.
He grabbed a towel from a hook and handed it to her to dry off while he stepped under the spray. He braced against the shower wall and took a moment to get a grip on himself. He hadn’t been that scared in a very long time. All the shit he’d been through, nothing had gripped him with the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d lost her. She was making him crazy.
By the time he turned off the water, he was almost back to normal.
Jillian held her towel over her breasts and watched him as he dried off. “So who were you saving out there? Me or Celina?”
He dragged the towel across his neck. “What kind of question is that, Jillian?”
“I need to know.”
Simon hung the towel back up and turned to her. She looked tired suddenly, and fragile in the moonlight. Like she could break with one touch. The last of his anger subsided, replaced by an honesty he didn’t want to own.
“You,” he said.
A small smile touched her lips. For the first time, he realized how much trouble he was in. They gazed at each other, and time stood still except for the waves surging to the shore.
“We’ll save her, Simon.”
He closed his eyes as the emotion hit him. Jillian was the last person who should be telling him it would be okay. No matter what happened, he vowed he’d get her through this in one piece. Because one thing was crystal clear—she had no idea how bad this could get or she wouldn’t be so sure about the outcome.
“I hope so.”
CHAPTER
12
Kesel’s cell phone rang. He walked across his Puebla hotel room to answer it. He didn’t recognize the phone number, but that didn’t matter. This was the fifth phone he’d owned this year, so it was either a wrong number or an informant.
City noise filtered through his fifth-story window as he gazed out over the rooftops and said, “Hello.”
“Hello, love. This is Alexis,” the caller said.
Kesel cracked a smile at the sultry voice. Alexis was on his short list of informants and one of the best, because no one suspected what lurked under that gorgeous facade. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She gave a laugh. “I just wanted to hear your sexy voice.”
“You have something for me?” he asked, done with foreplay.
“Of course. Whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.”
He never doubted that. Alexis was a woman with an insatiable sexual appetite and amazing stamina. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be distracted at the moment. Business first.
“I heard you were looking for someone,” she said. “I might know where he is.”
For the right price, he finished for her. “How long ago did you see him?”
“Last night, but I know they are still here.”
They. Good. Kesel said, “I’d be willing to meet you to discuss your terms.”
She made an mm-m sound. “I thought you might. Alvarado. Call me when you get into the city. Bring your checkbook and your sexy body.”
Alvarado. It would take him most of the day to drive there. “I’ll call you when I arrive. Don’t lose them.”
“I won’t. But don’t make me wait too long.” She hung up.
Kesel memorized her number and closed the phone. He grabbed his suitcase. She knew how badly he wanted Bonner now, and if he was late, she’d sell her info to the highest bidder. But if they were gone by the time he reached her, Alexis would find out that her insatiable appetite wouldn’t be enough to save her.
Jillian awoke the next morning in a bed that was spinning. She opened her eyes, which was her first mistake, and closed them to the merciless morning sunlight. The second mistake was moving anything below the neck. And the third was trying to remember why she felt like she’d been dragged through the wringer.
She covered her eyes and moaned as her mind slid into gear and scraps of last night came back. Paulie and Mancuso. The tequila. The laughing. The beach. Simon.
“Oh, God,” she said with a groan.
Simon. What had she said? What had she done? She vaguely recalled stripping on the beach and kissing him in the water, which was definitely the highlight of her life—drunk or sober.
Of course, then she’d pretended she was dead, which was just mean, even if he did deserve it. And then he’d gotten mad and put her to bed.
She opened one eye tentatively. Alone. She lifted the sheet. Still wearing her underwear. A good sign. At least she hadn’t hauled him into bed with her. In fact, it was a damn miracle, considering he was one hell of a kisser.
She closed her eyes and gave a little sigh. She recalled Simon’s hard body, which felt as good as it looked. And the incredible way he’d made her feel without even trying. The way he tasted. The rush of blood through her veins. That much she remembered. He’d been right there with her, and then he’d stopped.
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