For Love or Vengeance (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

His feet were aching. Miguel slipped off his shoes to ease the pain while Helene stabbed pin after pin into the map, her actions jerky. One dozen new bright blue pins for each of the stores where it was possible the prepaid cell phones had been purchased.

The pins created an irregular and overly large patch in and around Midtown. A very large area—to which his aching feet could attest. They had gone from store to store attempting to nail down who had purchased the cell phones and precisely where. Despite laws that were supposed to force the vendors to obtain verifiable subscriber information and maintain it in light of terrorist concerns, many of the places they had visited today had fallen woefully short of good recordkeeping.

“Doesn’t give us much, does it?” Helene said as she stepped back from the map, her hands on her hips. Her feet, strapped into another pair of amazingly high shoes, had to be hurting even more than his. But oh, what those sexy heels did for her legs.

“We’ve got the vendors’ records. Maybe we’ll find our perp’s purchase in there,” Miguel said, then blurted out, “Aren’t your feet killing you?”

Helene glanced over her shoulder at him and inched one perfectly waxed brow upward. “Seems your attention is in the wrong place, partner, and no, my feet are not killing me.”

Unwelcome heat blossomed across his cheeks, confirming exactly where his attention had been. Abruptly, he picked up one of the stacks of cell phone receipts on the table. None of them were in any kind of order. They’d need to sift through them all to locate the telephone numbers they suspected the killer had used.

Holding up the jumble of paper slips, he said, “It’s nearly eleven. Do you want to get started on these?”

Her mouth turned down. She walked over and sat on the edge of the table close to him. “It’s late, and I’m not really good with numbers as it is. I’m worried I’ll mix them up and miss something important.”

He was surprised she was admitting to any limitations. It was actually a good thing. It meant she was coming to trust him enough to expose her vulnerability.

He put the papers back on the table. “Okay. My eyes would probably cross if we tried to do this tonight anyway. We can get started early.”

She nodded, but instead of getting up to leave, she crossed her arms and stared at him intently. She seemed uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “I’m a little hungry. Thought I’d get a bite before heading home.”

With any other partner he would have assumed the statement was meant as an invitation. With Helene, who seemed to lack basic people skills most of the time, he didn’t want to take that chance. “I’m hungry, too. Would you like to get a bite together?”

Her shoulders notched down as she uncrossed her arms, and said, “That would be nice.” He rose and they headed back to their desks. “That dirty-water hot dog wasn’t enough to hold me for long.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Those things are disgusting. Sitting in those carts for who knows how long.”

He held out his hands, palms up. “It’s New York, baby.”

Helene chuckled and shook her head. “It’s I-don’t-know-how-many germs in a turd of mystery meat.”

“Gotta love it.” He reached his desk and grabbed his suit jacket from his chair, then removed his Glock from his locked drawer and tucked it into his shoulder holster.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Helene did the same. He caught his breath as the motion stretched the fabric of her dress across her beautifully full breasts. She grabbed her purse, and he tugged his suit jacket into place. “Do you have a craving, princess?”

“Not particularly. Why, do you?”

He smiled and nodded. “I do.”

The place was a well-known Cuban-Chinese restaurant that was still fairly crowded despite the late hour. More than a dozen patrons were scattered at tables in the cafeteria-like dining room.

When the menus arrived, Helene studied hers intently, and had no clue what to order. She was unfamiliar with any of the food on the menu.

Miguel must have noticed her hesitation. “Would you like me to order food for us to share?”

“That would be nice,” she said, and smiled.

A waitress waddled over, her baby belly stretching a worn sweater. She was so large that Helene wondered how the woman hadn’t already given birth.

“Twins,” the waitress said, with a sardonic smile.

“Wow. That’ll be quite a handful,” Helene said, sympathizing, recalling the fun she’d had with Athena and Apollo, playing tricks on the older gods and goddesses. Slipping to Earth every now and then for a game of hide and seek in one of the forests or surfing with some of Poseidon’s kids.

“Congratulations,” Miguel said, then quickly rattled off the names of several dishes. When he was done, he paused and asked her, “How about sharing a shake?”

At her nod, he ordered a mango shake and the waitress waddled away once more, the burden of her belly affecting not only her gait, but making her back sway at an awkward angle.

Helene grimaced. That had to be painful.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Miguel said, and leaned back in his chair.

“Never pictured myself as a mother,” she said, but winced at the unintended harshness of her tone, and smiled wryly.

Miguel’s gaze was sharp and probing. “Bad experience, princess?”

If having your father rape you and your mother ignore it was considered bad, then yeah, you could say that
.

“Let’s just say I never had much of a home life. What about you?”

A full smile, filled with pleasure and contentment, provided his answer even before he spoke. “I have a nice family. A mom and dad who were always there for me. My sister helped keep me sane after —”

His happiness fled and even across the width of the narrow table, she sensed the weight of his guilt as it settled over him like a hair coat once more. Trying to relieve him of that blame or convince him of his innocence would accomplish little, but she couldn’t stand to see his pain, so she tried for a safer subject. “Tell me about your sister. Does she live in Miami?”

He shook his head. “Atlanta. It’s one of the reasons I decided to transfer there. She relocated, and my mom and dad followed her since she was the one with the kids.”

“The mug-giving kids?”

“My niece. The baby of the family.” His smile returned then, not as unrestrained, but even that slightest hint of joy brought Helene pleasure. Which was strange, because the happiness of others had never mattered to her before.

She had no time to consider the unusual feelings. The waitress, assisted by a bus boy, brought over the various dishes Miguel had ordered. The food filled every inch of the available space on the table, barely leaving room for their plates and the two glasses with the shake they were sharing. Damn. Too many choices.

“Who else is joining us—and where’s the Chinese food?” she asked as she scanned the assorted dishes.

“It’s
Cuban
-Chinese,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t know if anyone actually orders Chinese here.”

She recalled a favorite Cuban TV icon, and said, “Lucy, you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do,” motioning to the half dozen or more plates crammed into the space before them.

Miguel grinned and pointed. “
Plátanos maduros
.” At her confused look, he used the English instead for each dish he named. “Ripe plantains, which are very sweet. Green plantains, which aren’t. Rice. Black beans. Avocado salad.
Ropa vieja,
which is shredded meat in a tomato sauce. Last, but never least, roast pork.”

The smells from the foods were enticing. He passed each dish to her first, urging her to place a little on her plate before helping himself. When their plates were overflowing, she took a bite of the roast pork.
Heavenly
. Deliciously tender, flavorfully spiced with citrus and cumin.

“Wonderful,” she said, and went for another bite.

“Always my favorite,” he said, digging in. “
Mami
makes it every Christmas Eve. When I was a kid, I would help her juice all the different citrus fruits for the marinade.”

“You like your family,” Helene said, caught up in his deep feelings for them.

“I love them. And you? What about your family?”

Instead of answering, she asked, “Do you miss them?”

“I do. We always have a good time together. But…” Not enough for him to stay in Atlanta after what had happened. She didn’t want those memories dragging down an enjoyable night. So she asked him a question sure to provoke a good memory. “Did you ever help your mother—your
mami
, is it?”

“
Mi mami
,” he confirmed.

“Did you always help your
mami
cook?”

As expected, he told her stories about sitting with his mother and sister, helping to shred meat, chop vegetables, stir pots. Stealing a cook’s treat every now and then.

“More now than then,” he confessed.

The delicious food satisfied her hunger, but his stories touched a need she had been ignoring for too long. A pleasant warmth filled her heart where before there had only been pain and bitterness.

When they finished, they ordered coffee and a creamy custard he called
flan
.

“So why don’t you have a family of your own?” she asked, curious as to why this handsome man who obviously cherished family was still single.

His shrug barely shifted his suit jacket, but then he paused with his spoon hovering over the flan and sent her a look. “Maybe because I haven’t met the right woman yet,” he said, his dark green eyes filled with warmth and longing.

A shiver trailed up her spine at that look. It was a look that said he thought maybe
she
might be that woman, with time.

She should have jumped all over it with very vocal denial, only—

The way she was feeling had her wondering what it would be like to have a man like this in her life. Beside her at night.
Inside her
. At the thought, a heavy pulse of need awoke within her. Insistent. Unrelenting.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe love and forever was possible for her. But she was willing to take a chance that a night with him might be quite rewarding.

Because she knew no other way but to be direct, she said, “Would you like to come home with me tonight, Miguel?”

His spoon fell to the plate, clattering, and with a shaky hand, he raised his cup of coffee and took a bracing sip. When he put it down, his hand was steady again. As his gaze met hers, there was no doubt about his answer.

Chapter Twelve

“She’s headed for a fall,” Hera said, rising from her throne and wringing her hands as the scenes from Earth played out on the misty cloud screen she had conjured up.

“She’s a big girl,” her husband, Zeus, said, a perverse gleam in his eyes as he, too, watched his daughter.

“But you didn’t tell her the truth,” Hera reminded him, pleading with the husband she both loved and despised.

Zeus
tsked
and shook his head. “I warned her if she failed her mission, her time as a goddess on Earth would end.”

“But you neglected to tell her that she would become mortal, with all the risks of being human. No second sight or greater physical power. No
immortality
.”

Zeus laughed, the sound booming like thunderclaps. “When have we ever told anyone the whole truth? Isn’t it our role to test? To find the true measure of a person, whether mortal or immortal?”

Hera hated what she would have to do next, but she did it anyway. She did it for her daughter. Kneeling at his feet, she begged. “Let her live her life, husband. This man—” She motioned to the image of Miguel on the screen. “This man is honorable. Loving. He might make her happy.”

Zeus surged from his throne and his roar shook the heavens with its force. “
I
will make her happy.
I
am her father and
I
will decide her fate.”

Rising regally from the floor, Hera dared to meet his gaze full on. “You were the one who drove her away with your disgraceful lust.”

“Silence!” he ordered, his tone laced with white-hot anger.

Hera would not be intimidated. Raising her chin a defiant inch, she said, “You wish to take the measure of a man?” With a quick wave of her hand, she conjured up a mirror just an inch from Zeus’s face. “Then look deeply at what you see, husband. You may find it seriously lacking.”

She didn’t wait for his wrath.

With another delicate circle of her hand, she transported to another plane, leaving Zeus staring at himself, seething at her disobedience.

It was crazy. Certifiably so.

Dangerous.

Thrilling
.

Helene and Miguel had made it to her Chelsea apartment in record time and now they stood in her living room, barely a hand’s breadth apart. Anticipation charged the air around them. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man quite this much. The evening had been romantic, he was gorgeous, and her body was thrumming with need. She felt warm despite the slight chill of the air.

Miguel gently stroked his fingers over her hair and she almost felt the blast of heat from the contact. He smoothed the curls and laid his hand at the crook of her neck.

“So soft,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips over her skin.

She worried her lower lip, even as she savored his touch.

This was a dangerous step they were taking.

Dangerous both emotionally and physically.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He reached up with his thumb, soothed the spot on her lip that she had been biting.

She didn’t delude himself that the night would lead to anything more permanent. She almost wondered what had possessed her to make the invitation in the first place. No good could come of a relationship with her partner.

Then again, they weren’t talking about a relationship. They were two consenting adults doing what consenting adults did. She smiled. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy this. And no, I won’t regret it.”

Relief washed over his features, but it was tinged with apology, and she understood. He was a man for whom sleeping together was a prelude to something deeper. Something more profound. But for her, sex was just sex.

So she took the next logical step. Literally.

She closed the distance between them until her body was pressed to his, then combed through the strands of his hair. Dipped her hand down to cradle the back of his head and urge him forward, her gaze locked with his until that moment when their lips finally touched and desire dragged their eyes shut.

She was no stranger to his kiss, having experienced it the other day, but that didn’t make it any less enticing.

He was an amazing kisser. He moved his lips against hers, urged her to open her mouth with a slight tug of her lower lip with his teeth. That gentle nip pulled a shudder from her. And a stab of desire to feel his mouth elsewhere on her body.

Without breaking away from his kiss, she eased her hands beneath his suit jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. Did the same with his holster, which thudded against the wood floor. She undid the buttons on his shirt, parted it, and covered his chest with her hands.

“Princess, are you in a rush? Because I’m not,” he said against her lips, breaking away from the kiss.

“You’re not?” she asked, puzzled by his restraint.

He skimmed his large hands across her shoulders, down her arms and to her hands. Twining his fingers with hers, he said, “All good things take time.”

Grasping the lapels of her jacket, he eased it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then he unbuckled her holster and carefully placed her weapon on top of the jacket. With a quick smile at her, he said, “Patience is a virtue, princess.”

Then he bent his head and kissed the side of her neck. He nipped with his teeth, and a swipe of his tongue soothed the spot. Then he moved his hands to the first button of her shirt and undid it. Undid the second to reveal a vee of cleavage. He placed another kiss there, and followed the path of skin with his lips as he slowly undid each and every button of her shirt.

By the time he finished, her need was so great that she couldn’t wait for him. She ripped off her shirt, reached behind and undid her bra, and let it drop to reveal herself.

He groaned and fisted his hands at his side. “Princess, you sorely tempt a man.”

She smiled sexily, and raised her hands to cup her breasts. She ran her thumbs across her nipples, and said, “I’m not patient and I’m not waiting, although I suspect you would be much better at doing this than me.”

Another groan erupted from him, but he didn’t disappoint. He raised his hand and covered hers. Nudged them aside so that he could caress her breasts. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently tweaked the tips, immediately replacing his hand with his mouth.

She moaned and cradled his head to her, and murmured, “So much better.”

He had never tasted anything as sweet
.

Miguel suckled the hard tip of Helene’s breast, licking and nipping at it while he caressed her other breast with his hand. She urged him on with soft cries that spilled from her lips and the pressure of her hips against his erection.

When he moved away, she protested, and he went to pleasure her other breast. As he had before, he suckled her, teasing and pulling at her nipples, his mouth satisfying her until he knew they both needed more. He moved away just long enough to undo the top button of her pants. The rasp of her zipper was loud in the quiet of the night, but not nearly as loud as the moan when she realized his intent. Then she was eagerly helping him, kicking off her shoes and pants, walking backward until they were at the edge of a large leather couch.

They wouldn’t make it to her bed.

At least not this time
.

She lay down on the couch and opened herself for him. Her nether lips were flushed with her desire and he dropped to his knees, slowly licked her before he shifted upward to the soft thatch of black hair. He found the swollen nub at her center and kissed it while he caressed her with his hands.

She let out a soft, pleased gasp and raised her hips for him. She urged him on, stroking her hand across his head. Spreading her knees to open herself more fully, until he could feel the climax rising in her, and his own erection was close to bursting.

He had to be in her
.

He undid his pants and freed himself, lowered his body over hers, and they were kissing again. And he lost himself in the heat of her lush naked body under his.

Helene tasted herself on his lips, and beneath her taste was his. Sharp and masculine. Unique.

The tip of his erection was poised at her center, deliciously thick and warm.

“Are you protected?” he murmured.

She was a goddess, and far safer than he could imagine. “Yes,” she groaned, shifted her hips, and took in the head of his erection.

He drove deep into her. So deep it stole her breath.

For a moment they lay still, joined, intense gazes locked, experiencing the physical sensation of being united for the first time. Then he began to move, his strokes sure and powerful, pulling her ever closer to satisfaction.

And she knew one thing for certain.

It might be their first, but it would not be their last.