Over the course of the meal, they’d discussed books and poetry, but every time she tried to learn more about him, he deftly turned the conversation back to her. He wondered if she’d had any idea Dennis was married. She’d seemed genuinely upset about the end of their relationship, but that didn’t mean she was being completely honest. He’d been working covert operations long enough to know that people were good actors.
Shanice came toward the table, her buxom build causing a few male eyes to follow her across the floor. Out of nowhere, a surge of jealousy made Cruz clench his fist. He had no claims to this woman. This was simply a job like any other, but the thought of other men imagining her naked the same way he was irritated the hell out of him.
When an older man caught Cruz staring him down, he immediately lowered his gaze to his plate.
Standing, he said, “I already paid the bill. Ready to go?”
“Ready,” Shanice said.
As they walked out, he placed a hand at her lower back, telling himself the possessive move was him simply playing the part he’d been assigned, but knowing full well there was a deeper meaning behind the act.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, eyes bright with pleasure. “I’d love to.”
They said good night to the maître d’ and exited the hotel. They crossed the street to the side that bordered the water and strolled toward the more boisterous end of South Beach, where people showed off their sports cars and loud salsa music poured from the front entrance of some of the restaurants.
“What kind of work did you do before you started at the bookstore?” he asked.
“I’m not answering any more questions. I’ve talked about myself all night.”
“I don’t mind.” He really didn’t, as everything she said helped him put together pieces of the puzzle that was Shanice.
“I want to know about you.”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you right now.”
“Nope. I’m not used to one-sided conversation, and I have questions, too.”
Give and take would be important to building trust between them. “What do you want to know?”
“For starters, why are you still single?”
In his line of work, lies and half-truths were the norm, but the key was to tell as much of the truth as possible so you didn’t have to remember a lie.
“Work,” Cruz answered.
He sat down on a bench directly across the street from a restaurant with its doors open and a blue light waving across the façade. Guests dined at the tables on the sidewalk while others loitered with drinks in hand around the outdoor bar that faced a bubbling fountain. The scene looked less like a restaurant and more like a discotheque.
Shanice joined him. “Do you like your job?”
Stretching his right arm along the back of the bench behind her back, he said, “I do. I’ve done it for years. It’s brutal, but interesting, and also very time-consuming. It doesn’t leave much time for a family.”
“Wow, I had no idea accounting was such demanding work. I know it can be grueling during tax season.”
Cruz nodded. “I stay busy all year.”
His work was intense and dirty, but enjoyable. Though he couldn’t imagine doing anything else, there were times when he wondered about his life choices. What else could he do with his skillsets and not have to start over?
Remaining in this line of work meant not allowing anyone to get too close. He couldn’t have a family. Who would want a man like him—a killer? To kill you had to practically be devoid of feelings and completely dedicated to the completion of the mission. Wives, girlfriends, and kids created a burden.
“The bookstore ebbs and flows. I love my job, too. Being around words all day is wonderful, and I get to share that love with people like you.”
She blushed and looked down at her lap.
All of a sudden the night took on a different air, and he wondered what it would be like to be on a real date with Shanice. What if this weren’t a job?
His chest tightened. That was unusual—for him to feel emotion toward anyone, particularly someone he was working for information. He needed to stay focused.
“Why did you ask me out?”
That shift in the air deepened, and he saw the longing in her eyes. He almost didn’t speak, but then he heard himself say, “Why not? You have an amazing smile, and you were always friendly every time I came into your store. You have a great personality, and tonight I’ve learned you’re easy to talk to.”
Nothing he’d said had been a lie. He meant every word. Shanice had a glow about her and an appealing personality that he could see easily drawing people in. She hadn’t been kind to only him at the bookstore. He’d seen her treat other customers the same way.
“And you’re very, very sexy,” he added gutturally.
“Sexy?” she repeated with raised eyebrows.
“Yes.” He meant that, too.
“You’re very sexy, too,” she said in a soft voice.
As clear as day, he saw she wanted him to kiss her. Her full lips were slightly parted and her eyes became hooded as she gazed up at him. His loins tightened with suppressed need. He wanted this woman, badly. But his job to get close to her did not include tonguing her down on a bench in the middle of South Beach.
And he knew it wouldn’t be enough. His tongue would want a taste of her breasts. He had a sudden urge to lick her nipples, to take them one at a time into his mouth and suck to his heart’s content.
Fighting the urge with Herculean strength, he stood abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should take you home.”
Cruz parked in front of the garage and then walked behind Shanice to the front door. As he did, his eyes swept the area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he paid attention to each of the houses and quickly analyzed but dismissed the many cars parked on either side of the street. Four of them he recognized from previous nights.
“Is your neighbor having a party?” he asked, as if he hadn’t been in her neighborhood before.
“Every night. He’s very popular.”
At the door, Shanice turned to face him and clasped her hands in front of her. “I had a wonderful evening.”
“I did, too,” he admitted, swallowing the ball of tension in his throat.
He knew better than to get attached, yet he had a moment of regret—regret that very soon this charade would be over and he’d have to leave her behind, assuming she wasn’t somehow involved in this sordid mess.
Shanice grasped his striped tie and pulled his head down to hers. He gripped either side of the door and his whole body tensed. He hadn’t slept with a woman in a long time. Infrequent and sporadic hookups were the norm, and he wanted inside her so badly, he was liable to hurt her the first time if he ever got the chance.
“How about a kiss goodnight? I don’t mind. I promise,” she whispered. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his.
Immediately, his body reacted, like some carnal beast. His fingers tightened on the doorframe so as not to crush her against him, because he had to exhibit some level of control.
Her tongue flicked against the seam of his mouth, and he reluctantly opened. The moment she entered, he sucked hard and angled his head to the side. She pressed against him, sliding her arms around his neck. His dick throbbed and his entire body ached with the need to give in and dive into her delectably plump body.
Unable to resist any longer, one arm banded around her waist and locked her in place against him. He devoured her lips, his tongue forging into the sweet cavern of her mouth, as one hand explored her soft curves.
Taking encouragement from the mewling noises she made, he molded the lines of her body with his hands—traveling over her back and hips before coming to rest on her wonderfully fat ass.
He knew better than to get involved with an asset, but there he was, shoving his tongue down her throat and grabbing her like he was tossed at sea and h
er ass was his lifesaver. With one final squeeze of her butt cheeks, he did the sensible thing and pulled back.
“I think you better go inside,” he rasped.
She fisted her fingers around his tie, and her lips curved into an enticing smile right before she pressed their coolness against his throat. “You have way too much self-control, Vicente,” she whispered.
Suddenly, he hated that name with a passion. He hated the glasses. He hated the wall between them, created by his hidden identity. He wanted her to know him and say his real name, breathing it in that same husky voice she’d just done his fake one.
Her tongue traced up the length of his Adam’s apple, and shivers ran up his spine. He was strong, but he wasn’t a damn robot.
Cruz grabbed the back of her neck with his right hand while the left grabbed a handful of her ass and hauled her tight against his rock-hard erection.
She gasped, eyes going wide.
“On the contrary, it seems I have very little control where you’re concerned.”
His mouth slammed down on hers. Her throat squeaked out a whimper as all her softness was crushed against his hard body. But she gave as good as she got, the sounds of their hungry kisses filling the quiet of the night at her front door. He pressed her against the hard surface and would have done much more if the sound of a car backfiring as it drove by didn’t penetrate the fog of lust.
With deep regret, he tore his mouth away from hers, nostrils flaring, his jaw tightening with the immense effort not to lift her against the door and fuck her till she wept from pleasure.
Shanice whimpered, clinging to him by tightening her arms around his neck.
“I’d better go,” he whispered.
Her chest heaved and her eyes were clouded over with the same desire that raged through his blood. She rested her head against his chest where she could certainly hear his pounding heart.
“Too bad,” she whispered.
Yes, too bad.
“Keys,” Cruz commanded.
She moaned and handed them over.
“Which one?”
“That.” She pointed at the one with a green key cap on top of it.
Rubbing her back, he said, “I want to stay, but it’s best that I go. I have an early work day tomorrow. Don’t you have to work?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately.”
He opened the door and then handed over her keys.
She looked up at him with forlorn eyes.
He chuckled softly. Her unhappiness stroked his ego, but he couldn’t stay. “I had a great time tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
“All right.” Shanice stepped into the doorway and rested her cheek against the frame as she gazed out at him.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised again.
“You better. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Cruz waited until she shut the door and then went to his car. Inside, he fished a little metal container out of his pocket and opened it. The box contained Blu Tack, a putty-like adhesive he’d pressed her door key into. He’d made a flawless copy, which meant easy access when he came by tomorrow to enter her house.
Cruz snapped the lid closed and stuffed the container back into his pocket. He backed out to the edge of the driveway and paused, eyes lingering on the lighted window at the front. She was upstairs getting ready for bed.
He could be up there with her if…
Cruz stopped himself from going down that road and instead did a quick visual scan of the street. Once again, nothing seemed amiss.
He removed the glasses once he’d driven away from the house and then turned onto the next street. Leaving her had been hard—the hardest thing he’d had to do in a long time.
8
Cruz sat in a rented car at a gas station one hundred feet from the entrance to Shanice’s subdivision. At fifteen minutes to eight, her blue Taurus came out and headed in the direction of the bookstore. She didn’t notice him, didn’t so much as look in his direction.
Since she told him her roommate, Beatrice, and the dog were on a cruise, the house should be empty. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he waited another ten minutes to be sure she didn’t double back, and then drove into the subdivision.
He kept his eyes on the other houses as he cruised down the street. The only house probably occupied right now was the one owned by the tech guy. Cruz had gotten information on him already and knew he was harmless. The people in the houses immediately surrounding Shanice’s residence also checked out.
He’d watched the families on either side of her house leave earlier. On the left, the husband and wife drove away in the same car. The house on the right, the mother took her daughter in the car with her, about twenty minutes before her husband pulled out of the subdivision, probably on his way to work.
Cruz pulled into the driveway like he belonged there and climbed out carrying a small leather bag in hand, which contained a variety of tools.
Homeowners who paid for alarm systems thought their homes were secure—and they were, to some degree. But the sad truth was, wireless alarms were woefully easy to circumvent. The systems all suffered from the same weakness: they relied on radio frequency signals, but the signals weren’t encrypted, which made it easy for someone like him to intercept and decipher the data and use it however he wished.
He’d been watching the house ever since he arrived in Miami, so he’d taken care of capturing the data days before. As he took the walkway to the front door, key in hand, his brain replayed the stolen code he would need to disarm the alarm.
Cruz turned the key in the lock and walked into the house as if he owned it. The alarm beeped at him as he shut the door, and he punched in the code to turn it off. He waited in the silence, listening for movement or any other sounds that indicated the house wasn’t truly empty. One could never be too careful. He heard nothing unusual and confidently moved deeper into the house as he dialed the number to The Bookish Attic, using his Bluetooth so he could keep his hands free.
“The Bookish Attic. This is Shanice, how may I help you?”
He’d thought about her long after they parted ways last night and felt compelled to hear her voice. She sounded so chipper, he smiled.
“Good morning. This is Vicente. I’m at work and thought I’d call and say hello, like I promised.”
Important documents or items that needed to be hidden were usually kept in bedrooms—most often, the master. But he started with the rooms downstairs to be sure.
“Hiii,” she breathed. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since last night.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” The words burned his tongue, though he wasn’t lying. He had been thinking about her, but he was deceiving her, nonetheless.
Seeing nothing in the pantry, Cruz went over to the large island in the middle of the kitchen.
“I had such a great time last night. Dinner was great, and I…I like you a lot, Vicente. You came along at the right time, to help me make a decision I’d been hesitant about.”
He stopped rummaging through the drawer in the island. “What decision is that?”
“I can’t say right now, but are you free tomorrow night?”
“I’m free tonight. I could stop by your house after work.”
“I can’t tonight. Ava and I have plans. How about tomorrow night?”
“That’s fine.”
“Good.” Her voice lowered. “I have a customer, so I have to go. Have a great day at work!”
“You, too.”
Cruz hung up. What was that about?
He completed his search downstairs. Finding nothing, he made his way upstairs. Based on her habit of turning on the light every time she came home from work, he already knew that Shanice’s bedroom faced the street. He checked the other bedrooms first, going through Beatrice’s nightstand and lifting the clothes in her dresser for a hiding place. The only notable item he found was an envelope of cash pushed be
tween the mattress and the box spring.
The guest bedroom was mostly empty, containing only a full-size bed and an empty five-drawer bureau. He went down the hall to Shanice’s bedroom and cracked open the door.
Subtle and wispy, ginger and honey and her own natural body fragrance drifted into his nose. Tension coursed through his muscles, but he shrugged off his tightening body and began his search in the sparsely furnished room.
She didn’t have much in the way of personal possessions. No photos on the wall, and the nightstand was empty except for embossed note cards and a few pens. The bed was made with a bright yellow comforter and white sheets, and a laptop rested on the bureau across from it.
The top drawer contained a collection of bras and colorful panties in all styles—lace, cotton, cheekies. He picked up a pair of black panties edged with lace and imagined peeling the soft fabric from her hips.
Fighting a groan, he tossed the underwear back in the drawer and checked the next three. There were pajamas and a couple of nighties, shirts, and other clothing items. The last drawer didn’t contain any clothes at all.
He came up empty-handed in the bathroom and bedroom, so next he entered the walk-in closet. It was half full. A shelf at the top of the closet held empty decorative boxes and luggage. He moved them around, and behind a large suitcase, discovered a red backpack.
“What do we have here?” he muttered, lifting it down.
He opened the backpack and examined the contents. This looked suspiciously like a bolt bag, otherwise known as a go bag, the kind of thing he would pack in case he needed to evacuate a city quickly. She had a change of clothes, a flashlight, batteries, matches, and two bottles of water.
Shifting the contents, he saw a black plastic bag at the bottom. He took everything out and removed the bag. His lips tightened when he saw what was inside. Cash. Lots of it, mostly in large bills. Cold dread enveloped his skin as he fanned the money with his thumb. There must be close to fifty thousand dollars there.
He replaced all the items, returned the bag to its previous location behind the suitcase on the top shelf, and stalked out of the closet. Why the hell did Shanice have that much cash on hand?
Until Now (Plan B Book 1) Page 5