Intimate Enemies (30 page)

Only half a mile from the clinic, she pulled out of traffic abruptly and stopped at the curb.

“What are you doing? Cassie… Shit.” He put his head back against the seat. “Look, I know that was…frightening, terrifying for you. It was. I shouldn’t have let you come over in the first place. I’m sorry. Misjudgment on my part. I was trying to make you happy, and my attempt at a middle-of-the-road solution blew back in my face. But…I hurt, babe. Can you get pissed
after
you shoot me up with meds?”

A moment of silence made him open his eyes and look for her. She was staring at him with that determination that made him feel as if he were facing his worst enemy and didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in hell. “What?”

“Is there
really
a kidnapping threat against me?”

He sputtered a laugh, but it died when she remained stone-faced serious. “
Yes
, Cassie. You think I jump through all these hoops for freaking fun?”

“You were speaking some Middle Eastern language in the living room last night. What kind of business does Saul have that would necessitate someone who speaks…whatever that was that you were speaking on the phone the other night? Something that sounded Middle Eastern?”

The apprehension dribbled through his haze of pain and sharpened his mind. “There’s a dealer in—”

“What
kind
of dealer? Because we both know it’s not art.” A flicker of pain shot through her eyes before they blanked out again. “Weapons? Drugs?”

“No.” At least he could say this with conviction and one hundred percent honesty. “I am not involved in dealing weapons or drugs, Cassie. I swear.” He dropped his head against the seat again. “Please, can we talk about this later?”

“How much later, Rio? After you’re dead would be a little too late.”

He rolled his head toward her. “Desi is just a menace. He’s not really—”

“I’m not talking about Desi.”

She surprised him by reaching across the seats and pushing a hand into his hair, the other touching his jaw to turn his face fully to hers. Fear and sincere concern flooded her pretty face, and the sight tugged at Rio. Made him want to wrap her in his arms, hold her head against his chest, and reassure her that he was trained for this. That he could handle this. That he’d handled worse. For years.

“Dammit, Rio. Why are you wasting yourself down here? You’re American. If you’re not doing something illegal that’s netting you big money, why the
fuck
aren’t you working in the States?”

He pulled against her hold and looked out the windshield, slumping deeper into his seat. That was a good question. More and more, he did feel like his time here was wasted. One guy nailed, two popped up in his place. He’d seen too many innocents damaged and killed. And as he got older and more and more undercover operators left the life for stateside homes with wives and kids, Rio’s subconscious must have asked him the same question, because hearing it wasn’t a total shock to his system.

“I can’t talk about this now,” was all he could come up with. “My arm is throbbing.”

“I care about you, dammit.” Cassie’s fingers combed through his hair once, then vanished. “I
care
. But, shit, you make it so damned hard.”

She shoved the car back into gear and drove the rest of the way without a word.

Eighteen

“You’re not in the best mood,” Rio said as she pulled up to the clinic. “Maybe you should drop me at the emergency room to get this stitched up.”

Cassie shot him a glare before shutting down and exiting. “You wish.”

As they passed through the clinic, all work stopped and everyone stared. Nina rose from her chair. “Cassie, what happened? Is—”

She held up a hand and kept going. “It’s a long story.”

Rio just gave a helpless shrug in her wake.

In the barren exam room, Cassie rummaged through boxes to gather supplies, and Rio paced as the thought of needles and skin made origami of his stomach.

“Would you stop pacing? Last thing I need is you almost fainting again.”

“You know,” he said cautiously, “I think I’ll have Raymie drop me off at the emergency room. You’re obviously in no condition to—”

“Sit.” She straightened, dumped supplies on the plywood counter, and pointed to a drywall-dust-covered chair.

He frowned. “Isn’t this supposed to be done in a sterile—”

“Sit. Down.” She spoke through clenched teeth with a feral look in her eyes. “If someone’s going to torture you, it’s going to be me.”

“Christ.” With one foot, he kicked the chair around and fell into it. “What the hell is this about? You’re obviously not scared anymore. Are you pissed because you
were
scared? And why take it out on me?
I
didn’t hold a—”

He caught himself, but it was too late. His unfinished
knife to your throat
was already hovering between them. The room fell silent, a thick, uncomfortable sensation.

Cassie pulled on gloves and filled her syringe with a clear liquid—which could have been arsenic for all he knew—and injected directly into the cut. The burn seemed to claw all the way to his feet, and Rio hissed air between his teeth.

“This will numb you.” She pulled the needle out, angled, and injected another area. “You didn’t what, Rio? Didn’t hold a knife to my throat?” Her voice was low and smooth but with a threatening tone that crept down his spine and alerted his defenses. “Like Blake Sharpe did? Is that what you were going to say, Rio?”

Oh, shit.

His mind darted. Where had that come from? Where was it going?

Shit, shit shit.

“You know all about that knife attack,” she said when he didn’t respond. “The one that sent me to the emergency room where those photos were taken. The photos of me that were
on
…
your
…
laptop
.”

She yanked the needle from his arm, but he didn’t feel it. His eyes slid closed on a dark wave of guilt.

Fuck.

He tracked his memory to uncover just how much she knew. His computer had been logged out when he’d gone back into the files that morning, which meant it had timed out long before she’d gotten to it. So she could only have seen the photos, the hospital report, and the file-topic tabs that had been on the screen. Not any information layered beneath.

A clatter brought his eyes open. She’d dropped the needle on the tray and now stripped her gloves, stood back and crossed her arms. Her glare could have incinerated him.

He huffed a self-deprecating, disappointed laugh. “Damn,” he muttered. “This
so
isn’t how I’d planned on spending the day, baby.”

“No. We are no longer on ‘baby’ terms.”

Rio’s heart tripped and made an extra hard hammer on the next beat. He lifted his hand and rubbed it down his face. His heart started to throb. Anger kicked up in retaliation.

“Then I’m even more off base than I thought, because I thought last night was something special. I thought we’d actually moved past our differences and connected.”
I thought I loved you.
“But, jeez, it was…what to you? A badly needed lay?”

A snide grin lifted her mouth. “You’d know I needed to get laid, wouldn’t you? All the information on my past boyfriends would have been under that ‘Associates’ tab.”

As a matter of fact, he did know about her past boyfriends. He’d looked into the information just that morning after finding she’d bolted. And what he’d discovered had been eating at him ever since.

“First of all, you
told
me it had been a long time,” he said, “and you
told
me you hadn’t had many boyfriends. Second of all, I’d have known that without any information—from you or from the file. It was plenty obvious.”

She didn’t even blush. When she put on that shell, she seemed untouchable. Which made his temper flare even more, because he was hurting like a sonofabitch.

“But now that you mention it,” he said, “I shouldn’t be surprised by you dumping me after a good roll. I’m not your type, am I, Cass?”

“What? A liar? An imposter? No, that’s not my type.”

He wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but he didn’t like it. He pushed from the chair and straightened, purposely presenting an imposing front. She responded by doing the same. “I’m a little…dirtier than your normal type. You favor doctors and lawyers. Little more…
upstanding
.
Respectable
. What was last night for you, really? Just a walk on the wild side? A little fling with a bad boy?”

Her face remained impassive. He’d expected her to rage and fight. A small part of him hoped she’d say or do something to prove his theory wrong, because he didn’t need any more self-esteem complexes than he already had from his childhood. Or those he’d gathered in his undercover work. But she just watched him, almost inquisitive, as if she were studying him.

She shook her head slowly, crossed her arms, and leaned back against the counter. “But…you’re a cop. So, that really wouldn’t apply. Would it?”

Shock hit Rio dead center in the chest and burned. “A…” He huffed a disbelieving breath. “What the fuck…?”

“I’ve given you so many opportunities to tell me,” she said. “To trust me. I’ve done everything but put the words in your mouth—”

He advanced on her and gripped her jaw in his hand to keep her from saying another word without covering her mouth. She pulled in a breath and grabbed his forearm with both hands. A rush of reality hit. If he didn’t take action now, before she got out of hand, they’d both end up dead.

“Don’t ever say that,” he growled, voice low, purposely menacing. “Not ever. Not even kidding. I am the furthest thing from a cop that exists. If anyone heard you say that, they’d wonder. If they wonder, my body would be the next one found in an abandoned car on the side of the road with my throat cut.” He squeezed her face harder and dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “Anyone could hear you, from any location. Bugs don’t need to be planted inside. People can listen from miles. Do you understand?”

She met his gaze directly, not afraid but angry, and dug her nails into his forearm. “Let me go.”

He eased his grip. “That word means instantaneous death. And it doesn’t matter that you’re wrong. Just the hint, the mere thought, the slightest possibility is enough to warrant murder.”

“That doesn’t make me wrong.”

He shook his head, suddenly questioning all his actions, all his words. What had he done to expose himself? Did others see it? Others who were far more dangerous to him? “You are so wrong, Cass. So wrong. Don’t make me prove it.”

“Twelve hours ago, you swore you’d never let anything happen to me. Which is it?”

He leaned in. “We were in bed.”

She mirrored his movement, pushing against his hand. “Thank you for making my point. Liar. Imposter.”

He released her with a push and turned his back. “What in God’s name—”

He stopped himself. Asking what made her think he was a cop was probably not the best move. But, damn, he wanted to know.

“Drop the knife,” she said behind him in a voice that sent a ripple down his back—low, flat, emotionless. “Drop it. Drop it, man. Do it now. Do it
now
.”

Oh Christ.
Rio sucked in a breath. As soon as he heard the words from her mouth, he knew. He’d sounded like a cop. Fucking scripted. It was so ingrained. He’d probably sounded exactly like the cop who’d saved her from Sharpe during the attack, an event that would be etched in her mind forever.

“Only…someone like that…could have gotten hold of the information you had on your laptop. The computer was wiped clean of registration, identification. You’re a ghost. Is Rio even your real name?”

“Of course it is.” Though Santana wasn’t his last name. But that wasn’t what she’d asked. He turned back to face her. “This is ridiculous.”

Some level of emotion broke through the anger and fear. She pulled in a breath that lifted her shoulders as she prepared to say something that looked monumental. “Are you… are you…” She looked away, to some point in the corner of the room, swallowed, met his gaze again. “Are you…married?”

Rio stared. Lifted the one hand that was still working with a confused shake of his head. “
What?
”

“I have a friend who is…in a similar line of work…” Her gaze sought that spot in the corner again. She had to be talking about Mike Brogan, the detective. “He’s said it’s hard to be away from home and family, under such intense stress. Told me how…things happen while they’re on the job. You’ve been working for Saul for a year.” Her gaze came back to his, and, God, she looked tortured. “That’s a long time. I want to know if what happened last night was…” Her voice roughened and she paused to swallow. “One of those things. I want to know…” A tear slipped over her lashes and trailed down her cheek, shocking him with a sucker punch to the gut. She looked away as she swiped at it but continued in a determined, almost angry voice. “…if I slept with someone else’s husband.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake…” This was getting worse by the second. The more he denied it, the harder she pushed to get him to admit it. As if his denial only confirmed her suspicion. And how the fuck did he combat that? “I’ve been answering you, but you haven’t been listening. You’ve already got your mind made up. You think you have me all figured out, no matter what I say.”

He turned toward the door and had his hand on the knob in two steps.

“Rio,” she said. “Your arm.”

“Fuck my arm.” He swung the door wide and paused to shoot her a warning look over his shoulder. “But remember what I said about spreading rumors.”

* * * * *

“You’re sure you’re up for this?” Cassie asked Javier. He sat across the table from her at the busy open-air café, fiddling with a beer with his left hand. She knew he had a gun in the right pocket of his light jacket.

“Absolutely.” He grinned and took a sip of his beer. “With no money coming into the center, no kids come in because there’s nothing to do. I’m bored as hell. Thanks for asking.”