by Wendy Byrne
She bit out a laugh. “Thanks for giving me yet another nightmare to keep me up at night.” She forced in a deep calming breath. “Being in martial arts, I’ve always felt fairly secure about my safety. I’m always alert and aware of my surroundings, but now someone’s doing things I have no defense against.”
“That’s why you need to stay with me. Until we figure out who’s behind all this, my place is the safest place for you to be.”
“I don’t know. Your effect on me seems to be even more lethal than some of the means they’ve attempted.”
Laughing, he grasped her hands. “But I’m much more fun.”
She managed to suppress a smile. “Unfortunately, that’s true. But still not a good idea. One night, okay, but anything more than that—” She glanced at her watch. “I need to hook up with the locksmith and head back to the bar.” She only had fifteen minutes to get the pier, and she didn’t want him around.
“The place is right around the corner. I’ll catch you later. Maybe you and I can do some sparring later, since the bar is still going to be closed.”
…
Sammie was never so happy to be alone in her life. First Enrique wound around her like Satan himself trying to tempt her at every opportunity. Sparring? As if she’d consider doing anything so ludicrous. And it was a little weird that he’d showed up so conveniently at the dock with no viable explanation, not that she’d had the wherewithal to ask.
Unless he was professing to be something he wasn’t. Could it be he wasn’t the bad boy he presented?
Naw, she wouldn’t be attracted to him if he weren’t a bad boy. She would have dismissed him on the spot. That had been her pattern from day one. Fat chance her bad genes would change now after twenty-eight years of bad luck in choosing men. Smooth-talking, to-die-for handsome men with little ambition, and even less stability, were her weakness. She had some sort of internal radar that homed in on the worst possible matches and zap, she stuck to them like superglue. No matter how hard she tried to shake them off.
That kiss yesterday had confirmed all her suspicions—he was so bad for her, he should be illegal. A law against being anywhere within ten feet of him should be instituted. That way, she’d be legally protected against the effect he had over her.
Thinking about Enrique gave her some distraction as she walked along the dock. But as the thirty minutes drew to a close, she studied her surroundings. Cruise ships, sailboats, and everything in between bobbed in the water near Pier 37.
Attached to the pier number was a small dinghy of a boat, with no one aboard. Not at all what she expected. She paced in front and studied the number again.
Maybe she’d heard wrong. Maybe it was twenty-seven. Or forty-seven? She shook her head and drew in a breath.
“Glad to see you can listen to directions. But Ms. Murphy, you need to stop being so nosy.” The gun poked into her back and pushed her forward. “Stop visiting your uncle and stop asking questions about the undercover cop. It’s none of your business what goes on around here. Wise up or you’re going to cause yourself a whole lot of heartache.”
Chapter Twelve
He met up with his boss, Mel, at a café by his apartment. Mel waited in the corner booth, munching on a croissant filled with chocolate, and said as Enrique walked up, “I want an update.”
“A woman named Clementine Roberts planted about five copperheads at Murphy’s. A couple of them ended up in the apartment upstairs.”
“You know this how?”
Enrique shuddered through a sigh. “Sammie called me to help out.”
“This after your date yesterday?”
He winced. “It wasn’t a date, exactly. I need information, and I get that through whatever means I can.” Keeping information from Mel felt all kinds of wrong, but after everything he’d seen and heard, Sammie’s innocence seemed like a possibility. But revealing his thoughts prematurely would be a huge mistake. If he could just figure out what she’d been doing at the docks today. He had to believe it had something to do with the phone call she’d gotten last night before everything went to hell.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t give me that shit. This is a job. I know about the line.” And he’d crossed it a time or two with Sammie already. “More importantly, I thought she might be going on a drug drop.” He had to give Mel a morsel or he’d keep digging.
“Now you’re talking.”
“Except either I was wrong or it was a no-show. If she’s involved in this, sooner or later she’s going to screw up, and I’ll catch her. I took pictures.” He laid the photos on the table between them.
“Nothing remarkable.” Mel examined the pictures. “I could see where you might not be objective, though.”
“Cut the shit, Mel. I’m good with this.” And if he said it enough times, he’d believe it himself.
“So who’s the woman in the baseball cap?”
“Not sure. The contact seemed random. Nothing exchanged except for a few words. Maybe asking directions or something. But took the photo anyway in case.”
“Wise man. But there’s something else.”
“I made sure I ran into Sammie accidentally a little later, and she said she had to leave and go the locksmith.”
“I assume you followed her.”
“I didn’t want to make it too obvious, so I hung back, but then one of those cruise ships pulled in and the place was overflowing with tourists and I lost her.”
“No idea where she was headed?”
“Not a clue. But I’m all over this, so no need to worry.”
…
Disgusted, Sammie hung up the sign—Closed for Tonight—in the front window. She’d called up Chloe and had the locks changed. Now she had to wait for the final go-ahead from the health department.
She had nothing but time on her hands and dreaded going back upstairs to the apartment. Instead, she brought one of the chairs from inside onto the front porch, along with a bottle of nail polish, and tried to block out the last twenty-four hours from her close encounter with the slimy creatures from hell to the drug encounter that never happened, followed by the threat. It had to be the undercover cop, otherwise why mention him? She had to talk to somebody about it, and Jack would be her go-to person, but she couldn’t. Maybe she could write a note and have the lawyer bring it to him, but that didn’t really solve the problem.
Who could she trust? Nobody except for Jack, which brought her back to square one.
The breeze was blowing in off the ocean, bringing the temperature to a tolerable level. Or maybe she was getting used to eighty-plus-degree temperatures in the middle of March.
Just as she was shaking the bottle of Persimmon Red polish, Enrique strolled by. She’d be a fool not to admit she enjoyed seeing him. But trusting him was a whole other story.
He sat down in the chair next to her. “Are you going to be open tomorrow?”
“Pretty sure. They’ve inspected already for random snake droppings—can I just say, yuck—and gave me the preliminary okay for tomorrow.”
“What’s the profit situation look like?”
She rubbed the old polish off with a cotton swab drenched in remover. “As much as I love my uncle, bookkeeping is not his forte. His accounts were a mess. It took me days to even figure out his checkbook.” She didn’t want to think about the betting slips in the back drawer. Were they Jack’s? And if they were, did they have anything to do with the mess he was in?
While her mind took a vacation, Enrique scooted a chair in front of her. Without another word, he pulled her foot into his lap. His grip on her heel left her little option but to obey and give in to his web of seduction.
“What are you doing?”
Feeling his hands on her feet sent her nerves bouncing off in all directions, and she automatically tried to pull back. But he resisted with a firm hand and a sly smile.
“I have three sisters. I’m good at this.” His voice had a gravelly quality to it.
“Maybe you should th
ink about getting your nail tech’s license, then. I’m sure the women will love you.” She clucked. “But I’ve got to tell you, in some circles it might be called a fetish.”
He shook his head and gave her that cocky smile of his. “I’m particular about whose feet I want in my hot little hands.”
To illustrate his point, he massaged the arch of her foot. She suppressed the moan. Barely. First kissing, now foot massages. This could only lead to one thing. And it involved sweaty naked bodies and a big old broken heart.
She needed to resist. Besides, she had more than enough to worry about without getting distracted.
Still holding onto her foot, he looked into her eyes. On cue, her body went into full meltdown mode. She felt like one of those cartoon characters after being flattened by a steam roller—just a mess of spineless flesh at his beck and call.
Nothing good can come of this.
Except for a couple of hours of mind-blowing sex. Oh, God… She needed to think of something else. A distraction. Besides, he was a bad boy only masquerading as a good guy. He had what looked like a gang tat, a sketchy job, and an apartment that had to cost a fortune. It wouldn’t take long before he’d show his true colors. She needed to keep that in mind.
“I need to polish my own nails.” With more willpower than she’d ever thought she possessed, she refused to allow her body to respond to his blatant seduction. Okay, the whole resistance thing was a work in progress.
“What? You don’t trust me?” A cocky smile curved up the edges of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mess up. Besides, we’re going out tonight.”
“Wait a minute. Back up. When did I agree to that?”
“You didn’t, exactly. But you need to have a little fun for a change.” He shrugged in a way that made her think of erotic fantasies. She was so losing it. “I’ll take care of your cute little toes for you.”
“N-n-no. You can’t do that.” If he did, she’d never be able to say no to him again. Her willpower was fading faster than a hormonal woman in a roomful of chocolate.
“What? Don’t you think I can do it?” Amusement laced his tone, barely masking the layers and layers of seduction beneath it.
“I’m certain you’re quite capable, it’s just that…” How could she convey that every second he held onto her foot and looked at her, her resolve weakened?
“That settles that.” Without another word, he removed the brush from her hand. Carefully, he pulled her foot between his legs until her toes rested level with his belly button and set to work. Was it her imagination, or was each stroke of the brush a purposeful prelude to other things he could and would do to her?
Visuals of his tongue running the length of her body, centering on areas of mutual interest, came to the forefront. At times like this, she hated her vivid imagination. It certainly led her down the road to hell. Unfortunately, it never led her back.
“Perfect, don’t you think?”
She could only nod. Right now her throat stubbornly refused to emit a sound. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out all the sensations from an area of her body she’d discovered was an erogenous zone.
Not that she was in any way under control, but at least her breathing was smooth and measured. Until she felt the fan of his breath along her toes.
Peeking open only her right eye, she looked at him. The left side of his lips quirked up as a mischievous smile lit up his face.
“Isn’t this how you get it to dry?” he asked as a not-so-innocent smile lit up his face.
Sammie lowered her head into her hands. Oh, hell.
…
A smoky haze hung in the air of the blues bar while a sultry mix of music played in the background. Adding to the intimate surroundings, candlelight flickered atop the ten to fifteen small tables surrounding the stage.
Sammie tucked her blue halter top into the waistband of her jeans and tried to quell the jumble of nerves. Now she was on an official date. Things could only get more complicated from here.
First would come the betrayal. Then the resultant heartache. All while the fear and uncertainty about her uncle hung in the balance.
“This spot looks good.” His breath whispered against her cheek when he pulled out a chair at a table near the front.
Sammie sat down and wondered what excuse she could give to leave early. And alone.
“You’re awfully quiet. Anything wrong?” Enrique’s breath fanned her neck when he spoke. The decimal level of her heart seemed loud enough for those across the room to hear when his lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear.
“I’ve never been to a blues bar before.” With her voice sounding as shaky as the rest of her body felt, Sammie spoke the first words that came to mind.
He intertwined his fingers with hers once he sat at the table. With his other hand, he tilted her chin, making it impossible not to look at him. His eyes searched hers for something, although she wasn’t sure what.
“Have you ever listened to any of the great blues artists? B.B. King, Koko Taylor, Shemekia Copeland?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then I suggest you prepare yourself. There’s nothing like blues to ignite passions and stir your soul.”
Sammie gulped. “I don’t think I need either right now.”
Enrique smiled, then surprised her by kissing her. And not a little peck. The kiss he planted on her lips was sensuous, consuming, and shot pure lust through her.
“You don’t need the blues for the passion part. You have me, after all.” Chuckling, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.
“Enrique, we have—”
The announcer came out, encouraging everyone’s silence. “I’d like to introduce…”
Four women came on stage, each one more striking than the other. Taking positions with their respective instruments, they began to play.
Their songs made Sammie laugh, made her think, and filled her with a sense of emotion that remained elusive. Longing, lust, and something more primal intermixed with the words and rhythm of each song they sang. And she thought long and hard about the elaborate seduction scheme she’d been sucked into.
As if that weren’t bad enough, when the next song began to play, Enrique grasped her hand and pulled her out of her seat, whispering provocatively in her ear, “Time to dance.”
He wrapped his hand in hers and pulled it to his chest while his arm snaked around her back sucking her in tight. Their bodies aligned perfectly as he murmured the words to the Al Green song “Here I Am” into her ear. Shivers raced up and down her spine while sin and sex and everything in between flashed through her mind.
A shiver of longing slipped through Sammie as she listened. Crap. The trap shut and the elusiveness of the feeling came full circle.
She was falling for this guy. The feeling seeped into her bones and shuddered through her body. This was not going to get willed away.
…
“Drop me at home, Enrique.”
“I really think you’re better off staying with me for the time being.”
“I can take care of myself.”
She didn’t want him anywhere near her. Kept pushing him away, no matter what he said or did. Did she have another drug deal arranged? He didn’t think so, but he’d been wrong before.
“Bullshit.” The fear inside him had two distinctive prongs. One was about her safety, but the other, scarier one was that keeping him away was calculated and intentional.
“Your confidence is overwhelming.”
“I’m being realistic. You’re the one who’s living in some fairy-tale land where the bad guys always get caught and the heroine gets rescued by the hero in the nick of time.”
She looked at him, her gaze more intense than calculating. “This heroine can rescue herself… Things are complicated. I don’t want them to get even more so.” Her voice trailed off like a war of emotions brewed inside her. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.
“What would be wrong is putting
your life at risk because of some principle I still don’t understand.”
“The locks are changed and strong. If it will make you feel better, you can search the premises when you drop me off.”
“The fact that I’ll be searching the place isn’t even a question.”
“There’s that macho thing rearing its ugly head again.”
Pulling up to a parking space in back, Enrique quelled the frustration boiling through him. He utilized every ounce of patience in his possession and even some he hadn’t known about. He needed to keep her close in order to see this thing through.
“Okay, let’s go through the place. See what it looks like.” A sick part of him hoped there’d be something wrong inside. Then there’d be no further discussion as to where she’d stay. Caution had served him well over the years, so to be sure, he slipped a tracking device inside her purse as additional security while she was at the bathroom at the blues club. He wanted to know everywhere she went from now on.
“I’m sure it will be fine.” The fact she couldn’t look him in the eye didn’t escape his notice.
“You’re clairvoyant now, too?” he countered.
“Just confident in my abilities.” She sucked in her lower lip. “Keeping a little distance between us is the prudent thing to do. I’m not looking for a relationship. My life is complicated enough as it is.”
“There’s nothing complicated between us. We’re attracted to each other.” Meticulously, he searched every corner, behind every door, and around and under anything conceivable that could conceal someone or something, both in the bar and in her apartment. Nothing.
“See? I told you everything would be fine.”
It didn’t surprise him that she chose to ignore his comment. And despite her words of confidence, a trace of shakiness entered her voice. She was scared. That might be because of what she had planned later, or maybe she was thinking about what happened last time she was alone in this place. He was betting on the latter. Despite evidence to the contrary, nothing made him believe she was involved in this drug scheme. Was she being terrorized by somebody? Yep, more than likely, but if she didn’t trust him, he’d never be able to get to the bottom of it.
