At midnight, Linc watched, nerves stretched to breaking, as two beams of light illuminated the side alley and a large white van arrived at the warehouse dockage area. The van slowly backed up and two men, along with the driver of the van, jumped out and checked the immediate area. One entered the warehouse and shortly afterward, the large dock area door was raised. The van’s rear doors opened, a dock light went on and several men quickly unloaded wooden crates from the van.
The crates were unloaded amidst guttural Spanish until the distinct figure of Carlos Figueroa in his signature black cowboy hat and vest walked out of the warehouse towards the van. He spoke to the driver and then handed him a slim leather satchel. The driver accepted the satchel, looked inside swiftly, said a few words, and turned to leave.
With these scenes and words duly recorded, Linc gave the radio signal and the already positioned SWAT team moved in, surrounded and stormed the building through various entrances. It happened so efficiently, Linc felt like fist pumping the heavens.
He radioed a helicopter to circle above and monitor the scene, then raced alongside Clay to join the others at the warehouse. They ran up the dock stairs and into the warehouse where the SWAT team had already established control and handcuffed seven men.
He scanned their faces and instantly recognized the key prey. While Linc pointed his handgun at Carlos and Hector Figueroa, Clay yanked up their guayabera shirts to dispose of the guns tucked into the waistband of their baggy trousers. Linc forced them facedown on the concrete floor as Clay and the SWAT team handcuffed their wrists behind their backs.
Linc and Clay identified the five other men, including the driver of the van and the two deliverymen. More police reinforcements arrived and prepared the perps for transport downtown.
"Haul them in, Gator," Linc said. With gratification, he watched the scene wind down, and he collected his thoughts after the successful takedown and adrenaline highs.
By the time the jailing was completed to his satisfaction, it was already seven in the morning, and Linc turned his attention to contacting Isabel. He dialed her number from the precinct. Certain it would be all over the media soon, he wanted to be the first to assure her that he was safe and had successfully caught the Figueroas.
There was no answer at her house, only the answering machine. He sent her a quick, short text: All is well.
With that, she could stop worrying.
Isabel left for Mass early the next morning with Suzie and Olga. She had spent a wretched night tossing, her heart pounding in her chest as nightmares mercilessly tormented her with bloody images of Linc. She had tried phoning him earlier, but there had been no answer.
Isabel sat in church and tried to concentrate on the priest's sermon, but flashbacks of Linc's previous injury and how defenseless he had looked in the hospital haunted her. Stop it! She had promised to trust him and she would, even if it killed her.
Isabel prayed for Linc's safety and a quick end to the case, refusing to let all their plans dissolve again. This time fate would be on their side. Ever since Linc had told her he'd be quitting the force, Isabel had visualized how wonderful their life together would be. As soon as he came to her, she would set a definite date for their wedding, regardless of the capture of the Figueroas. The thought of being separated for even one more day was unbearable.
Life without Linc was no life at all. She had been fooling herself for so long trying to guard Suzie’s heart from losing another daddy, when in reality Linc was the best daddy she could ever dream of having.
She would enjoy each day with Linc as it came and revel in it. Whatever the outcome last night, even if they still hadn't caught the drug lords and he remained on the case, she would stand by Linc and cling to the sure knowledge that Suzie was better off having a wonderful man in her life, even for an indefinite amount of time, than not having him at all.
As they left the church, Isabel pulled her phone out of her handbag and gasped with joy when she read Linc’s message. All is well.
She showed it to her mother, who covered her mouth with a shaky hand. Olga hugged Isabel tightly and then got Suzie in the car. Driving home, Isabel gave a silent prayer of thanks, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until she heard his voice.
When she pulled into her driveway, Isabel’s heart soared at the sight of Linc standing on her doorstep, looking battle-weary, but triumphant. When he saw her, he held up a bouquet of pink roses, identical to the one he'd brought her on their first date. In his other hand, he held a smaller one for Suzie. Isabel burst into tears of euphoric relief.
She barely stopped the car before she ran out and flung herself into his arms, covering every inch of his face with kisses. Her cheeks wet with tears, she spoke incoherently, but Linc seemed to understand as he held her tightly, stroking her hair and leaning his cheek against her head.
Suzie bolted from the car and shouted Linc’s name gleefully. When she reached the doorstep, she squeezed between Isabel and Linc, and they formed an intimate circle of joy. Isabel laughed, hearing Thunder howling in the back yard and Fluffy barking and pawing at the door from the inside. “We’re complete now,” she murmured, hugging them tightly.
Pulling back, Isabel saw her mother was still in the car, watching them and wiping happy tears from her face. With a wide grin, Isabel waved her over.
Linc stood proudly at the door, holding his beloved family close to his heart. When Olga joined them, she hugged him affectionately and said, "Welcome back, dear Linc. You are the man of the house now."
“Yeah,” Suzie cried, giving him a high five. “You are the man!”
That evening, when Olga had left and Suzie was tucked in bed, Isabel nestled beside Linc on the patio settee, gazing at her treasured land. The night air was crisp and cool as they snuggled together with Linc’s arm draped around her and Isabel’s head resting on his solid shoulder.
"This morning, while I was in church praying for you, I couldn't imagine my life, or Suzie's, without you," she said lifting her head to look at him with so much love her heart felt close to bursting.
"You're the most important person in my life. I'd move heaven and earth for you," he said, stroking her back.
"Linc, I would have married you anyway—even if you had remained a detective. I made that decision before I knew the outcome last night. Even if this case had taken longer to resolve, I would have gone ahead with our wedding plans."
Smiling warmly, he traced her mouth with his thumb, his blue eyes shimmering with love. "I realized last night that I couldn't be a cop anymore when my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of keeping you and Suzie safe and far away from animals like the Figueroas. Believe it or not, I'm looking forward to being a landowner.”
“I’m so glad, mi amor,” Isabel said, gratefulness welling up inside her.
“I love you, my sweet baby," he murmured before his mouth slanted over hers with a kiss. To her surprise, he broke away a second later, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Honey…about that contract. You can tear it up now," he said, eyes twinkling.
Isabel stood up and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Cocking one hip, she put her hands on her waist and grinned. "Sorry to disappoint you, Steel, but the document isn't valid."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "It isn’t? Why not?"
"Because I didn't sign my name correctly. I signed Isabel Maria Garcia and my legal name is Isabel Olga Garcia. So…you lose, hotshot." She ruffled the top of his hair and turned, deliberately putting a sassy sway in her hips as she sashayed away.
“Why you little sneak!” He bolted up with a bark of laughter. “That’s fraud, Sassy Pants. Do you know what happens to perps? I’m going to handcuff you and haul you in for a thorough investigation…in bed.”
“Ooh!” she squealed, running into the house.
Chuckling wickedly, Linc chased Isabel, intent on making love to her all night.
Epilogue
Epilogue
Three years later…
“What time are Clay
and Marisol coming?” Isabel asked Linc as she stood beside him at the barbecue grill. She still couldn’t believe how seamlessly Linc had transitioned from a tough lieutenant in one of the most lethal areas of law enforcement to being a highly successful landowner. The Tropical Paradise Nursery’s profits were way up thanks to his growing expertise in tropical fruit tree management and his fervor for making their business prosper.
In the three years they’d been married, he had brought Isabel unimaginable joy. They had a two-year-old toddler they named Thomas James after Linc’s late father. Isabel had been immensely pleased that Linc had come full circle by naming T.J. after the father he’d been estranged from.
Suzie loved having baby brother T.J. to equally boss around and smother with love. This year Suzie and T.J. would be joined by a baby brother, and Isabel and Linc were over the moon to expand their family.
Linc stopped basting the pork loin on the rotisserie and glanced down at Isabel. “I told them to come at seven.” He shook his head and grinned. “Should be interesting. Clay specifically told me not to call him Gator tonight. I wonder what that’s about.”
“Who knows?” Isabel mused. “I’m happy he’s found someone special. In the time I’ve known him, he’s never brought anyone over.”
Linc chuckled. “He said it’ll be a miracle if he hasn’t gone gray by year end. Sounds like he has his hands full with this one.” He snorted. “About time too. I can’t be the only one to get domesticated.” He rubbed Isabel’s barely noticeable baby bump and winked.
“You? Domesticated? Ha!” Isabel tickled his ribs. “I’d say it’s the other way around. If we keep this up, we’ll have a brood of kids before I’m thirty.”
“How long do you suppose Suzie will play with T.J.?” he asked suddenly.
Isabel smiled when she caught the devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I have no idea. Why do you want to know?” she asked innocently.
A lazy grin spread over his rugged face. “Do you think we have time for a quickie?”
“Why, Linc Heller. You are insatiable,” Isabel chided, secretly thrilled he never seemed to get enough of her.
“For you? Always.” He cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, nuzzling her neck and giving it a tingling little nip that made her legs nearly give out. “Better be ready cause I’m saving my appetite for later.”
An exquisite shiver wracked Isabel’s body as Linc’s warm lips left a sizzling trail on her flushed skin. How on earth was she going to get through the evening with Linc’s glowing eyes promising a steamy night ahead?
“I want you now,” she admitted shamelessly, hugging his hard-muscled body so tightly, her arms ached.
He kissed her as if relishing the most succulent fruit, slowly sucking her top lip, then tugging her lower lip in his mouth. “You will always be my sweet baby,” he murmured, his big hands holding her pinned against his strong body.
“And you’ll always be my rock and my love,” she said on a blissful sigh.
“Damn straight, I will.” Linc’s devouring kiss told her he was counting on it.
The End
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Turn the page to read an excerpt of Clay and Marisol’s story in Wild for You, Tropical Heat Series, Book 2.
Excerpt - Wild for You
Chapter 1
"For Christ’s sake, Marcos, I'm a detective, not a baby-sitter," Clay muttered.
"Marisol isn't a baby, as you'll soon find out." Dr. Marcos Calderon looked burdened as he leaned forward on the leather stool in the cool, dim bar. "I wouldn't be asking you to watch over my little sister if I didn't think she was in danger."
Clay took a swig of beer and studied his longtime pal. Marcos’ eyes were grim and his normally confident tone sounded weary. Something was off. When Marcos had texted him to meet at the Grove Bar, Clay had thought it was to catch up over a few beers, like old times. He hadn’t seen Marcos since he’d moved from Miami to Naples, Florida.
"Why do you think she’s in danger?" Clay asked.
"She let it slip that she’s been getting weird messages from some anonymous guy. When I pressed for details, she clammed up. I'm sure she doesn’t want me to get involved. She never does." Marcos let out an exasperated breath. "It was a lot easier to keep an eye on her when I lived here."
Clay hunched forward and contemplated Marcos’ request. Six years older than his sister, Marcos was fiercely protective of her, especially since she’d moved to the States from Argentina. In the past, Marcos had talked about Marisol, but Clay had never met her.
Clay took another swig of beer and wiped the froth from his upper lip. "Where does she work?"
"She owns the Villabella Beauty Salon in South Beach."
"I've never set foot in a prissy salon, but I’ll stop by. I can ask for a haircut and get her talking."
"Good idea." Marcos eyed Clay’s ponytail. His cropped brown hair was much shorter than Clay’s. "Going shorter?"
Clay nodded. "Yeah, I don't need long hair for undercover now that I’m working homicide."
"It shouldn't be too hard to gain her confidence. Marisol is pretty outgoing and friendly. Flirting comes as naturally to her as breathing. When it comes to men, she’s a magnet," Marcos said with a wry twist of his lips.
"I’ll keep that in mind." It sounded like Marcos wanted to warn him off. Why? Clay wondered. He wasn’t interested in going after Marcos’ kid sister.
"Don’t let her playful side fool you. She’s very smart and used to getting her way. And damned stubborn, Gator." Marcos had begun calling Clay "Gator" when they were roommates in undergrad and he’d learned Clay was a native Floridian.
"Let me get this straight. Your sister is playful, outgoing, a male magnet and damned stubborn. Anything else you want to warn me about?"
Clay’s comment was meant to be flippant, but Marcos looked solemn as he said, "I think that about covers it." He gave Clay a measured look. "Will you do it?"
"Sure, you can count on me." The tension eased from Marcos’ face as he finished his beer with a satisfied gulp. "You've never asked me for a favor, even though I sure owe you one."
"You don't owe me anything. I really appreciate it, man," Marcos said, giving him a hearty clap on the back. "Thanks. Now that I know she’s in good hands, I can get back to my patients." He paused. "There’s one more thing you should know. Marisol is impulsive and that often lands her in trouble."
"I’m sure I can handle her," Clay said in a dry tone.
"Good." Marcos threw some cash on the counter. "My treat. Later, Gator."
Clay downed his beer and left with him. Marcos seemed overly concerned about Clay getting along with his sister.
How much trouble could one girl be?
Marisol Calderon studied the strong, lean planes of her client's face. A tiny shiver teased her spine when she glanced at his intense black eyes, deep set and heavily rimmed by thick black lashes. He was looking at her as if he knew something private about her and it was a bit unsettling.
The guy looked so out of place in her salon it was almost comical. He sat before her with strong arms braced on the armchair wearing snug, faded Levi's and a black T-shirt that stretched across a hard-muscled chest and shoulders. His body exuded power in a sinewy way, not like a beefed up gym rat. His shoulder-length, pitch black hair was secured in a ponytail and a small scar marked his sharp left cheekbone on tanned skin.
She wondered if he was the guy who’d been bothering her with anonymous messages lately. When he’d entered her salon, Marisol had noticed his guarded stance and dark, watchful eyes. He had asked for her in a smoky voice that snared her attention.
Mentally propelling herself into action, she draped a plastic cape over his broad shoulders and slid the rubber band from his ponytail. She took a wide-toothed comb fr
om her apron and ran it through his thick hair before generously slathering it with her homemade conditioner.
His head whipped around and firm lips parted to reveal strong, white teeth when he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Oh, sorry. I should have warned you it would be cold. I keep the mix in the fridge so it won’t turn brown."
He went still. "What’s the green slime you’re putting on my head?" he asked, not amused.
Marisol had been thinking how hot he looked with his hair down, when that low, gravelly voice hit her below the knees. Get a grip, silly, he’s watching you, she told herself.
She patted his rigid shoulder. "Hey, chill. It's my special all-natural conditioner. Your hair looked a little dry when you came in," she lied. In truth, it shined like volcanic glass.
"I asked for a haircut, not a beauty treatment," he said in a blunt tone.
"Don't worry. This fabulous conditioner is my special this week. It’s included in the haircut and won't cost you a penny extra."
She normally didn’t do hair treatments before getting the client’s consent; she’d done it to keep him there long enough to find out if he was the mystery guy.
"I'm not worried about the cost." He looked suspicious. "What's in it? It stinks."
"Mashed avocado and olive oil," she said, smiling as she applied more conditioner.
He snorted. "I’d rather eat avocados."
"Me, too. I love guacamole." Marisol squelched a giggle at the sight of his tough, rangy body confined in the pink leather chair. Better start asking questions, she thought, he looks ready to bolt.
"Did you say your name was Clay?" she asked, lightly massaging his scalp.
"Yeah."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Marisol!" the receptionist at the front desk called out. "Phone call."
Marisol smiled. "Don’t go away. I’ll be right back."
Clay’s striking black eyes sent her an uncompromising message. "Hurry back or I'll wash it out myself."
Wooed by You Page 19
