A soft buzzer sounded near the cash register, and Zoe recognized it as a signal of an open front door. When she glanced that direction, Zoe was glad Taft had kept one arm around her waist, because not only had he left her dizzy, her brain cells were scattered in a dozen different directions. She caught sight of the customers leaving before she turned back to the woman standing in front of them, the owner Zoe should be engaging. But her mind was focused on the burn in her lips, the heavy pulse between her thighs, the ache in her breasts. All with one kiss. Their first kiss.
“I’m Xiomara Cruise. Call me Mara.” The woman clasped her hands at her chest and gave Zoe a once-over but remained serious. “And you are lovely. What a surprise.” She shot Walker a frustrated look. “Definitely the light to your dark.”
He grinned, and his arm slid away from Zoe’s waist. “I’m not that bad.” He glanced at her, his eyes heavy lidded. They immediately dropped to her mouth, and he licked his lips. “But she sure as hell just lit me up, so I’m not arguing. I’m going to splash cold water on my face. I’ll man the store while you get the third degree.”
When Walker turned away, Mara passed another head-to-toe glance over Zoe and whispered, “You’re too pretty to be police.”
The woman’s Hispanic accent came out in the way she pronounced poh-leaz, making Zoe smile. Mara was probably in her early thirties but looked barely twenty-five. She was a beauty, with a slightly exotic look.
“Thank you.” Zoe smoothed a hand over her slim gray slacks, pinstriped in light blue to match her V-neck sleeveless blouse. It crisscrossed tightly over her breasts, then hung loose to her waist in a handkerchief hem. The sheer fabric made the blouse both pretty and sexy. “You don’t need to worry about the store. I have a lot of retail experience, and Agent Walker and I—”
“Shh.” The woman darted glances around the store like she expected Vice to rush in.
Mara dragged Zoe into an adjoining room. Across one entire wall, clear plastic shelves displayed…
Holy. Shit.
Zoe’s mouth dropped open. She averted her gaze from that wall and turned so the million-and-one dildos were out of her direct line of sight.
Okay, she’d expected a few. But so many? And on display? Why weren’t they in boxes or something?
“You can’t say those kinds of things in here, señorita,” Mara said, her dark eyes imploring, her voice warm but strong. “Half my customers feel guilty of a crime by simply walking in the store. If they suspect you and Taft are policia, I’ll go bankrupt.”
Walker’s deep laugh rolled through the store. Mara’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms, leaned backward, and glared through the walkway leading out of the dildo mecca.
This assignment wouldn’t last long. Zoe had chased violent, sociopathic, money-grubbing, drug-toting, raping, murdering cartel members through the night for eight years. She could certainly maintain a presence with a few stationary, crazy-looking, space-age devices for a couple of weeks.
“He’s trouble, that one,” Mara muttered. “I knew it the minute he stepped in the door. Don’t let him extend my Fifty Shades BDSM lair over the entire store while I’m gone.”
BDS—what?
Zoe knew she should have spent the afternoon on Google instead of sleeping.
“Of course not. We won’t change your…um…displays. Hopefully, this will go quickly so we can get out of here and get you back in.”
Mara’s dark eyes narrowed on Zoe, and her shoulders slid low. “Oh no. You’ve got to be kidding me.” She lapsed into Spanish, muttering worst-case scenarios of how her store would never survive.
Zoe had been made as a sex-store virgin. All-freaking-ready.
“Mara, shh. You have customers.”
“How could they send me the Devil Incarnate and the Virgin Mary?” Mara’s gaze was more pleading than angry. “Is this a secret plot to destroy my store?”
Zoe couldn’t control the burn engulfing her face. “Just because I’ve never needed toys to enjoy sex, doesn’t mean I can’t learn about and sell them.”
Mara had both hands pressed against her cheeks in a look of utter desperation when Walker strolled into the opening between the rooms with a look of suspicious curiosity.
“Girl talk here. Go away, handsome.” Zoe brushed the air with her fingertips, shooing him out. “We’re working.”
His lopsided smile set Zoe’s insides aflame before he disappeared back into the main area of the store.
“All right, señorita,” Mara muttered and dropped her hands. “There’s only one thing to do.”
A rock formed in Zoe’s gut.
Mara’s deep brown eyes fixed on her face as she gripped Zoe’s arms with both hands. “Prepare yourself for a crash course in sexual nirvana.”
TAFT SAT ON A STOOL BEHIND THE REGISTER, tightening a bit in the drill he’d brought from home as Brooks coaxed Mara out the back door with her tenth promise in the last ten minutes to call with the smallest question. Brooks definitely had a way with the woman. They’d bonded within ten minutes of Brooks dragging her sexy self into the shop. Mara had taken her under her wing, and they’d gone over every product on every shelf.
He slid his tongue over his lips, wondering if Brooks had soaked through her panties. If he’d had to endure that kind of inventory blow-by-blow, he’d have balls as blue as the Pacific. And if Brooks was all worked up, maybe he’d get lucky. After that kiss, he was more than ready to see what other secrets she had hiding under the hood.
The lock on the back door clicked. Brooks let out a long, deep breath and a soft, “Thank God that’s over.”
Taft chuckled. He liked her. A lot more than he’d expected to.
He prided himself on reading people accurately. It meant his life or death on many occasions, after all. But he’d called it right that morning when he’d guessed Brooks had layers.
That kiss had confirmed it. Not only because of the way she’d kissed him—hot enough to singe his eyebrows—but because of the way she’d responded to his aggressive approach.
“What are you grinning about now?” She came down the back hall and around the counter, hands on hips, smooth brow pulled in a frown, full lower lip—the one that felt so damn good pulled between his—pushed out.
“I was just thinking”—he set the drill on the counter and looked directly into her eyes—“about how you use your mouth like a fucking goddess.” He paused, relishing the way her expression glazed over when she absorbed his meaning. “And hoping I get to experience it all over my body…soon.”
Luscious heat drifted through her eyes. Her lips parted.
Then she lowered her eyes to the counter, ran her tongue over her lower lip, and drew a slow, deep breath until the tendons of her sleek neck stood out. “Not likely.”
She blew the air out, crossed her arms, and leaned one hip against the main display case. “Why don’t you go play with the toys? I’ll put the camera in.”
Taft pulled a utility knife from the toolbox he’d brought. “Sweetness, you may be the boss at the border, but not here.”
“I’m not trying to be the boss. I’m good with tools.”
“Better with tools than toys, are you…” He glanced at her from beneath his brows with a grin. “Mary?”
Her shoulders fell. Eyelids lowered halfway. Color stained the ridge of her cheekbones. He didn’t know women who blushed still existed.
“You know enough for both of us, Satan.”
He barked a laugh. Found it surprising she didn’t try to deny. “Are you the missionary, vanilla type of girl?”
“You think all sex has to be vanilla unless it includes a foreign object? I’ll have you know, I have smokin’ hot sex just fine without the need for sexual aids.”
“Sexual aids?” Taft stopped loosening the screw holding the housing together and lifted his brows at her.
She returned the brow lift in challenge. “Mara’s words. She is the expert.”
“I thought she said I was the expert.”
“That’s her way of justifying what she sells.” Taft replaced the blade in the knife with a sharp one, trying not to frown at the slice to his ego. “They’re toys. All this shit makes sex more fun, Brooks. These are all enhancements to the ordinary act that can only be done so many ways. They make sex better, more fun, more…erotic. They add variety.”
Her eyes narrowed as if she were inspecting his psyche. He turned toward the wall joining Incognito and Fumar and took a solid grip on the blade.
Does your man agree with this vanilla philosophy? I bet if you asked, he’d secretly be hoping for—”
Brooks’s hand covered his, stopping his first cut into the drywall. He was suddenly, intensely aware of her proximity. Of her soft body heat. Of her scent. Orange…almond…
“Don’t cut there,” she said. “It’s the wrong placement.”
He turned his head, closed his eyes, and moved his nose and mouth down the length of her forearm, inhaling and letting his lips brush her skin.
He groaned and pressed his closed mouth to her wrist, mumbling, “Vanilla.”
She laughed and leaned forward. “What?”
He lifted his mouth from her skin to say, “You’re wearing something with vanilla in it.”
His entire body responded with hunger.
“So?” she quipped.
Before he thought, he opened his mouth and bit her wrist—gently. She gasped, and her other hand moved to his head.
Taft released his teeth, murmured, “It makes me horny as hell,” and licked the skin he’d bitten.
Her fingers slid into his hair and curled around a few pieces. “I thought you said vanilla was boring.”
He moved up her arm and repeated the bite-release-lick pattern, and she leaned into him on a sigh. He smiled. “You like touching me, don’t you?”
Taft had been carrying around an almost erection since laughing with her in the café that morning. Everything he’d seen and learned about her since then only intensified his interest.
“Yeah.” She breathed the word, and Taft looked up, forgetting what he’d asked. “Which is why I…”
She let go of his hand and stepped away.
His body stirred with such deep, lusty undercurrents, he was ready to take her up against the freaking cash register.
“Why you what?”
She plucked a flashlight from the toolbox. “Why I’m going to shine a light in Fumar before you start drilling, because I’m sure you need to go farther back and higher up.”
Taft’s mind was still way below the border. He glanced at the wall. “Why?”
“Because the camera you have is a fish-eye.”
He frowned down at the package. Turned it over, reading the back. “How’d you know that?”
“I know tools.” She turned and started through the store.
Taft dropped the utility knife in the toolbox and grabbed the store keys. “It’s dark. All the stores are closed. I’ll go with—”
She spun on him, frowning. “What?”
Taft stopped. “I’ll go out with you while you look—”
“Would you go out with Rio if he were your partner?”
“Of course not, don’t be—”
“Stupid?” she asked, voice level but frustration clear in her tight expression. “Walker, I expect you to treat me the same as you would any partner, because I’m just as competent as any other partner, regardless of my sexual anatomy.”
Taft put both hands up and backed away. “Didn’t mean to push a hot button.”
She turned and left the store.
He shouldn’t have done that. She was right. He’d momentarily lost sight of her as a cop and seen her as merely a woman.
Taft returned to the counter and opened the camera package for placement directions. The door swung wide and a soft ding sounded deep in the store.
“You were right,” he said without looking up. “It needs to be—”
“Baby.” Brooks’s sugary voice called from the front door and raised the hair on Taft’s neck—in a bad way. “These are the managers of the smoke shop next door, Fumar.”
Taft jerked his head up. Brooks held the door open for two big Hispanic men. With their heads tilted down, the men slowly entered the store, their gazes scanning every surface, every corner. Their dark eyes held on Taft for an extra second before moving on. Both in their thirties. Both big, fit, and rough
Fuck me.
CHAPTER FIVE
TAFT PUSHED FROM THE STOOL and flattened his hands on the counter. He mentally placed every weapon he’d hidden throughout the store. The small handgun at his ankle suddenly felt heavier.
Brooks looked incredibly small beside them, creating an unfamiliar and uncomfortable heaviness in Taft’s chest.
“I’ve arrested thousands of them. Killed several. Taken billions in drugs and weapons off their backs.”
Even knowing it was true, Taft couldn’t imagine how.
With a bright smile, Brooks held the man’s arm as they strolled deeper into the store. ‘This is….Cesar, right?”
“Si, senorita.” His voice was low and deep, but soft, and he smiled back at her.
Cesar Cantos.
She had Cesar Cantos, one of the roughest Diablos this side of the border, purring.
“Walker, this is Cesar and…” She glanced over her shoulder at the other man who hung back by the door. “Victor, right?”
“Si,” he said, picking up a bottle of silicone lube and looking it over.
“Victor was telling me that the food court closes at nine like the stores,” she said.
Taft forced his jaw loose. His shoulders down. His mouth into a smile.
“Neighbors,” he said. “Cool. Can you tell a guy where to get a beer around here this time of night? Trying to figure out this cash register is worse than programming my phone.”
Cesar met Taft as he came out from behind the counter with a grin and a handshake. But the man clearly had the guarded shield of every cartel member Taft had ever met. As if their inner landscape were a dungeon, their eyes windows to the outside world that they could close and block everything out.
“About two dozen great bars just south of the border, amigo,” Cesar said. “Otherwise the closest liquor store is across Highway Five.”
“Ah, hell. That’s what I thought.” Taft grimaced, then introduced himself under his alias. “Walker Ellis.”
“Cesar Cantos,” he said, releasing Taft’s hand, then gesturing to his associate. “Victor Vasquez.” He glanced around the store. “Your beautiful lady tells us you’ve taken over the shop from Ms. Cruise.”
“Living the dream, right?” Taft said.
Cesar’s gaze paused on Brooks, who’d released his arm and stepped back. She was still smiling, but Taft picked up a new edge to her mood. Something decidedly stiff in her façade.
If Cesar noticed, he didn’t show it as his dark gaze traveled over her like a touch. “The American dream, for sure. What’s your favorite toy, señorita?”
Apprehension pinched Taft’s gut. He prepared to respond for her, but Brooks turned her smile up full wattage.
“That’s a little like choosing a favorite pet, isn’t it?” She glanced around the store and started to wander with extra sway in her step. “Walker, honey, which do you think is my favorite?”
Cesar turned a speculative gaze on Taft, who thought of a particular apparatus he’d like to use on Brooks. He strolled toward the shelf where it resided and opened the lid while returning to the group where Victor now moved closer.
“Sugar.” Taft added heat to his voice and shot a heavy-lidded look at Brooks. “This one turns you inside out.”
“Oh.” Brooks gave a breathy laugh and put her hand to her chest. “You know me so well.”
“What is it?” Victor asked, his keen gaze finally off every move Taft made and on the neoprene pads Taft slipped over his fingers.
Cesar shot a look over his shoulder t
oward Victor. “Miniature vibrators.”
“It’s a brand-new design,” Taft said. “Just out. It used to come with just two touch pads, but now it comes with five.”
“What?” The other man extended the word with wonder.
Taft strapped the slim controller around his wrist. He met Brooks’s eyes with a hot grin, approaching her with his fingers restlessly clenching and extending. She held her plump lower lip between her teeth.
“Each pad has three levels of intensity.” Taft laid the tips of his gently vibrating fingers against Brooks’s cheek. “All controllable at the touch of a finger.” He drew them down her jaw and thrilled at the way her eyes went glassy. “The company is coming out with an attachable palm pad,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down her neck, her chest, “that I could find a hundred ways to use.”
Taft almost thought Brooks was going to let him slide his fingers over her breast when she turned away.
“Let’s give Cesar and Victor one to try out,” she said, her voice high and breathless. “I’m sure their…wives or girlfriends or…significant others…would appreciate the surprise.” She grabbed two boxes off the shelf and pushed them into the men’s hands. “So great to meet you both. We’ll be sure to stop in at Fumar and say hello when we get a chance. Walker’s birthday is coming up, and he loves fine cigars. Maybe I can place an order through your store.”
“We’re a members-only—” Victor started.
“But for you, señorita,” Cesar cut in, “I’m sure we can make an exception.” He held up the box with a nod to both Brooks and Taft. “Until then, welcome to the neighborhood.”
Brooks followed the men to the door, locked it behind them, and waved through the window. Taft also followed. He switched off the front lights so only one shone toward the back of the store. Brooks jumped and gasped as she turned.
He slid one arm around her waist, the hand with the vibrators still attached and shivering, beneath her hair and against her neck, and held her gaze. “What just happened?”
Zoe had her hands pushed against his chest again, holding him away. “What? What do you mean?”
Wicked Firsts Page 43
