Intimate Enemies (7 page)

He’d surprised her on the beach. Frightened her. Had that kiss been an impulsive drive to quell a lingering fear? The thought spread the burn in his belly straight up his chest. He didn’t like that possibility at all.

He had to put the whole incident into some distant brain vault and seal it. Kissing her had been an epic screwup. One that couldn’t happen again.

“And then, to top it all off,” Tomás’s voice rose with disbelief, “the woman goes and calls in the incident to American emergency services. Tells them there are smugglers headed to the border. Kollman had to dance around that. He wasn’t pleased.” Tomás chuckled. “What did Talaveria say?”

“I had to hold the phone away from my ear to save my eardrum.” Rio thought of his call to their client. “He’s livid. Wants the damaged cargo replaced yesterday. ”

Tomás shook his head, all traces of his earlier heated thoughts about Cassie gone. “We lost a few of them to hospitals. Word about this is already all over town and traveling at the speed of Mexican gossip. No chick within three hundred miles is going to want to do business with us. And picking them up off the street is too risky so close to the tango transfer.”

Rio could see how the
Muertos
would be obsessed with the abductions. And if they watched long enough, they’d get an eyeful of the terrorist action too. At which point, they might as well just hand the whole business over to the gang’s head honcho, Suarez, before he slaughtered them for it.

“Saul’s going to make a personal call again today,” Rio said. “See if he can stall.”

Tomás nodded. “So, what is Christo doing here? Shouldn’t be too much trouble if she’s only here for—”

“Months.” Rio cut him off. “She’s planning on staying for a few
months
.”

Tomás sat back. “What? She’s decided to vacation in the mass-murder capital of North America?”

“No, even better. Another surprise in Alejandra’s will. She left a chunk of money toward the charitable venture of Cassie’s choice. She’s setting up a medical clinic downtown.”

Tomás thought a second. “The one on Ruiz? Todos de…
Ah, shit. Makes sense now. Todos de Santos
.
”

Rio nodded. “Saul thought he was going to simply talk her out of it, so he didn’t bother telling me.”

“Fucking idiot.” Tomás twirled the glass in his hands. “He is going to be the death of us, dude. Mark my words.”

“I’ll pass.”

“How much trouble is she going to be?”

Rio stared at nothing, his mind filled with memories of that goddamned mouth and the crazy ways she could use it—good and bad. “She took charge at the house the way she took charge with Pedro.”

“We’re screwed.” Tomás rubbed his forehead, looked around the bar. Laughed. But the sound was more scornful than humorous. “I thought I’d gotten over that fetish for bossy women with…” He shook his head. “A long time ago.” He refocused on Rio. “What about the house? Can she cause problems there?”

Rio didn’t immediately answer. He was still shocked over the fact that Tomás had actually referred to his ex for the first time in years.

“Saul says Alejandra’s will provides him lifetime residency,” Rio finally said, “but with the way he likes to give me partial information, I’ll have to check with the attorney.”

“Any way to delay the tangos?”

“Since they’re already en route, he didn’t want to hear it.”

“This blows. Why don’t we just get rid of her? Take her home? Aside from the trouble she’ll cause us, this is not a place for a woman like that. Her looks alone will draw a shit-storm of attention. When word of who she is spreads, the boys will be killing each other over who gets to kidnap her.”

“Ah, damn.” Rio let his head fall into his hand. He and Tomás referred to members of the many area gangs as “the boys.” “I hadn’t thought of that. Saul would never pay it. He’d rather have them kill her.”

“He knows he can’t.”

“But they don’t,” Rio said. “Besides, has that ever stopped him before?”

“Both good points.”

Rio threaded his fingers into his hair. “What a clusterfuck.”

“When’s the last time I said I liked this job?”

“Never. You love this job. You fucking live for this job. You’re sick, man. Sick.”

Tomás’s gaze drifted over Rio’s shoulder toward the front window. “Sacrifice a lot for this gig, though, you know?”

Rio focused on Tomás. His lean face held that typical, intense expression. His hazel eyes were clear, his hair recently cut short. Yes, grayish shadows hung beneath his eyes, and his jaw was going on three days unshaven. But that was all normal for Tomás.

Only another operative knew what major sacrifices were made for their missions. Even fewer knew how dearly Tomás had personally sacrificed for this job. But Rio thought his partner had left that loss behind a long time ago.

“What’s this about?” Rio asked. “Something going on?”

Tomás brought his attention back to the table without meeting Rio’s gaze first. “Heard about a job that might be coming open. A freelance thing.” He lifted a shoulder and spun the glass on the table. “I might take a leave from…you know…this. Try something else out on a temporary basis.”

Uncertainty stung Rio’s gut. Work this gig without Tomás? Rio put a hand on Tomás’s sinewy forearm.

His partner stopped spinning the glass and met Rio’s gaze with surprise. “What?”

“Are you riding this out with me?”

“Of course. If I was gonna ditch you, I’d have done it when Alejandra and Santos died. I still think we should have nailed Saul then or passed this off to CTU like they wanted. Neither one of us signed up for this shit.”

Rio pulled his hand back. It was true he and Tomás had originally come on board to take down a low-level human smuggler. But the assignment’s scope had exploded when Pedro, one of Saul’s long-standing employees and a brown-nosing psychotic fucker, had brought Saul a tip, a contact, and an idea.

The fact that Rio had sauntered into Baja and right into that coveted spot as Saul’s right hand over a year before had made Pedro hot enough to start his balls on fire. He’d loathed Rio ever since and never stopped scheming to push Rio out so he could take over. What Pedro didn’t know was just how hellish he’d actually made Rio’s life. That seed of an idea to upscale their cargo—from poor women to highly trained terrorists—had changed the trajectory of Rio’s life.

Saul, being the prima donna he was, handed the chore off to Rio. And it hadn’t taken more than twenty-four hours from the time Rio informed his real boss of the change in direction for the Department of Homeland Security to jump on board and—
bam
, Rio and Tomás were stuck here another year.

Despite that, Rio was glad they’d won the political tug-of-war with the CIA, because their Counter Terrorism Unit would have dealt Saul out for higher, more powerful participants.

“There is no way in hell that fucker’s getting off while I’m around. Besides, CTU’s close. You know they wouldn’t let go of something this big.” Rio smirked and lifted his chin at the fiftyish man behind the bar. “My money’s on Manuel.”

The absurdity of Manuel being CIA got a laugh out of Tomás. The sound eased a sliver of Rio’s tension, and he turned the conversation back to Tomás’s earlier topic, one that still nagged at Rio. “Where’s this temporary job?”

“Oh, you know, our typical fare. Some insect-infested hellhole of a third-world country. Guatemala or Honduras or I don’t know…maybe”
—
he looked Rio right in the eye
—
“Brazil.”

Rio winced. Guilt dragged his shoulders down. “When did you find her?”

“’Bout three years after everyone else.” The heat in Tomás’s glare didn’t last long.

They’d hashed this out years ago, when the love of Tomás’s life not only up and left him but vanished. She’d contacted a few key close friends within ICE about a year later to tell them she was fine. But made everyone vow never to tell Tomás where she’d relocated, though she’d never explained why.

“Whatever.” Tomás looked at the empty glass between his hands. “It was a long time ago. I just… I guess I want to see her with my own eyes. See that she’s…okay.”

Rio nodded. He could understand that. He wanted to keep Cassie close for the same reason.

“I’m going to check in with Kollman this morning,” Tomás said. “Anything you want me to pass on?”

“Tell him to get Christo the fuck out of here.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

No, probably wouldn’t. Rio knew. Everything about this point in the op was too touchy for even the slightest ripple. “Ask anyway. And all I have on her are the basics I dug up before she came for the funerals. Have him get me a real background, would you?”

“Sure thing.” Tomás perked up and pointed toward the front windows. “Hey, speak of the devil.”

Rio turned. Cassie passed by, wearing little jean shorts, a jean jacket, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck.

His heart kicked like a stupid high school punk with a crush. He pushed back from the table and stood. “Did she see you last night?”

“Yeah, but it was dark. Don’t think she’d recognize me, but—”

“Then stay out of sight. I’m gonna follow her awhile. See what she’s up to.”

“Hey, wait a minute. I volunteered for this mission first.” The warning glare Rio shot Tomás had his partner grinning again, hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Nice to see a woman lighting a fire under you for a change, partner.”

Rio let Cassie get half a block before he trailed her along the streets of Ensenada. The dark jean shorts hugged slim hips. They were cut high on her thighs, just inches shy of that perfectly squeezable ass. How he wished he’d slid his hands over those curves last night, gripped her, and pulled her up against his erection. Only, that would have broken his restraint, at least what little he’d had. He would have carried her into the casita and tossed her on his bed. Been inside her in thirty seconds. ’Cause he was about ninety percent sure she hadn’t had one thread of fabric on under that little dress she’d been wearing.

And damn, she had some gorgeous legs he hadn’t noticed before—long and bronzed and toned. And the shape… His mind drifted from the concrete to the abstract. To a fantasy of those thighs draped over his shoulders, her back arched on his bed, dark hair tangled on his pillows.

Dios mío
, she would taste like heaven. Pure heaven.

“Dammit.” Heat pumped between his legs, as hard and relentless as it had last night. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before he repositioned his growing erection.
Talk about lighting a fucking fire. Woman’s going to kill me without ever touching me.

Cassie waited at a light on the corner, and Rio ducked into a recessed storefront. He took the moment to clear all sexual thoughts from his head. It wasn’t like she’d ever let him near her again after what he’d pulled last night. Then again, he hadn’t thought she’d ever let him near her to begin with. Yet she’d started it.
She’d
kissed
him
. Which, he continued to tell himself, was why he lost his self-control in the first place, because she’d taken him so off guard.

He watched her cross the main thoroughfare and turn onto another side street. She was headed straight for the marina. Not only was that strange, it was stupid. The yacht was long gone, and they didn’t have another boat.

He dodged traffic, crossed to the marina parking lot, and hung behind a Dumpster to wait and watch.

The shipping center, while small by American standards, was a lifeline of commerce for Ensenada and the surrounding communities. The marina, suppliers, and shipping lines provided thousands of badly needed jobs but also created the perfect hub for crime. Stolen goods, weapons, even humans were smuggled in and out of this location at all times of the day and night. And with both major gangs in the area seeking control over the docks to export their drugs, this was the most dangerous location in all of Ensenada.

This was not an area of upstanding citizens, and Cassie, no doubt, looked like raw meat to starving hyenas. If the marina of sailboats and yachts hadn’t been on the opposite side of the harbor from the shipping yards, Rio would have walked down there and hauled Cassie’s perfect little ass back into town.

She strolled down the floating docks toward the slip where Alejandra’s yacht,
Endless Pleasures
, had been docked before the explosion. Fortunately, that portion of the marina was quiet. There she paused at the empty space, folded her arms, bowed her head, and just stood.

She’d come here to mourn?
Here?
They’d definitely be having a talk about how the marina had changed since she’d lived here.

Watching her prompted a familiar sense of loss he always felt whenever he thought about Alejandra and Santos. His sexual fire cooled, but that didn’t decrease his desire to hold Cassie again.

The kidnapping possibility Tomás had brought up was a very real problem. One that would make constant surveillance necessary. Unless they pulled in more resources, they sure as hell did not have the manpower for that kind of security. Rio didn’t know for sure, but he’d bet there were more undercovers working this location. Maybe even CIA. Whether they knew who Rio was, he didn’t know. Probably. Though the spies had never been of help to Rio in the past and he’d never trust them to come through should he need them.

The dock manager, Mario, approached Cassie. This was a good man, and Rio stayed put. Mario’s uniform of white jeans, shirt, and cap were as neat and pristine as his docks. Rio had paid the man a great deal of Saul’s money to stay quiet when authorities questioned him after the accident. If the man was smart, he’d stay equally quiet now.

Mario approached Cassie. She startled and took two steps back. One hand fell to the pocket of her shorts; then she spoke to Mario as if confronting him. The scene was a rerun of Rio’s first interaction with her in the foyer. In fact, she’d reacted similarly to Saul in the hallway and again to Rio on the beach.

“She was so fucking scared. I could swear that lady kept pushing herself right into the face of fear.”