Cruz chuckled. “I have a job for you. You interested?”
Raheem was what they called an “information specialist.” He could access all sorts of information, and given enough time, hack just about any corporation’s server. Plan B pulled him into the network after he accessed a tech company’s mainframe and sent millions in direct deposits to their employees after learning the CEO was getting a bonus while the employees received layoffs.
He faced up to ten years in prison for computer fraud, wire fraud, and a host of other charges, but Plan B offered him a job, which he gladly accepted at the age of sixteen. He was much older now and even better at accessing difficult-to-access information.
“Hell yeah, I’m bored as hell.”
“Good. I’ll make sure you have stellar accommodations.”
“Last time you promised stellar accommodations, I was sleeping on a sand floor in the middle of the desert.”
“I promise you won’t experience anything like that. You’ll even have a roof over your head. Can you be in Houston tomorrow?”
“Sure can.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Bring all your tools. I’ll need you to analyze a list of names. There’s a claim that the names on the list have something to do with national security.”
“Doesn’t sound like you believe that.”
“I don’t. Here’s something you can work on until I see you. I need to find the storage unit for a Dennis Ray, an investigative reporter for the Houston Times. He’s dead now but was married to Karen Sandoval, Senator Joseph Sandoval’s niece.”
“Whoa. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Hopefully you can help me figure that out. Search everywhere in the Houston area and neighboring cities.”
“Consider it done.”
After their conversation, Cruz went over to the kitchenette and opened one of the drawers next to the refrigerator. He pulled out a butter knife and then walked over to the far right corner of the apartment. Getting down on his knees, he used the knife to pry up a loose floorboard.
He grabbed a handful of cash and a fake ID. He thumbed through a stack of credit cards and found the one that had the same name as the fake ID. Then he replaced the floorboard.
Tomorrow, they were going to Houston, but to keep Shanice safe, he’d call an old friend to fly them there, which would allow him to hide her identity.
A few minutes later, he was sitting on the chair, contemplating everything that needed to be done the next day, when the bathroom door opened.
Shanice stepped out wearing his T-shirt, and he almost swallowed his tongue. He’d never thought of his shirt as sheer, but he could see her hard nipples and the surrounding dark areolas, and she clearly wasn’t wearing any panties. She stood there for a second with the cotton torturing him as it stretched across her hips and bosom.
He gulped.
She smiled faintly and rested her backpack and the clothes she’d been wearing beside the wall. When she bent down, he caught a tantalizing view of the low hemline riding up a little on her round bottom, teasing him by not offering a full glimpse. She was a sexy woman, and his mind ran wild with the possibilities.
She straightened. “The bathroom is all yours.”
Great. He’d make full use of it jacking off in the shower.
14
When Cruz exited the bathroom, refreshed from a cool shower and wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers, Shanice was already asleep. She must have been exhausted. She’d been through a lot tonight.
Before going into the bathroom, he’d told her about his plan for them to go back to Houston. She’d looked worried, but he reassured her that everything would be fine and she could trust his friend Raheem.
He took a moment to watch her sleep, curled on her side facing the window and under the thin sheet that she’d pulled over her body. Her lashes brushed her full cheeks, and light filtered between the half-open blinds and sliced across her face in a striped pattern of light and dark. Her pink lips lay partially open in sleep, and he wished he could get rid of the gnawing need to taste them again.
She’d washed her underwear and left the black lacy cheeky drying on the towel rack, making his imagination run wild. Sleeping in his shirt, wearing nothing underneath, didn’t help. He was so aroused, he considered joining her on the bed, and not to get some rest. He’d insisted on sleeping next to her, but now he wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.
Cruz closed the blinds and went to lie on his back on the other side of the mattress. The tantalizing scent of honey and ginger made his blood run hot and tightened his gut. He’d never wanted to sleep with a woman this badly before, and he’d come to the conclusion that it was because he was depriving himself. Normally, he didn’t think anything about having sex with a woman during an operation. He compartmentalized his emotions and considered sex a bonus—part of the benefit of doing what he did. But as much as he wanted Shanice, he hesitated, and now that he knew she was on the right side of the law, that made him hold back even more.
Her innocence gnawed at him. He still didn’t know why he’d told her his real name. That piece of information was usually kept secret, but he’d wanted her to know. Why?
Maybe because he saw the possibility of what he could have with her. Something real. Something permanent.
What the hell was wrong with him? Go to sleep, Cruz.
Thankfully, he did manage to fall asleep but woke up to the sound of quiet whimpers.
It was Shanice. During the night, she’d shifted over to his side of the bed. His vision adjusted to the ambient light, and there was rapid eye movement under her closed lids. She twitched in her sleep and whimpered again.
Her eyes suddenly flew open, and she gasped, staring at him in shock as if she’d forgotten who he was and where they were. Blinking, she focused and the confusion cleared from her eyes.
Cruz rolled onto his side. “Are you okay?” He gently pushed a tangle of curls back from her damp brow.
“I was dreaming about Beatrice and my mother, and…” Her voice shook as tears filled her eyes.
“It’s okay, it was only a dream.”
“It’s not okay. I’ll never forgive myself if either of them get hurt.”
“That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen.”
“How?”
He considered the question and then answered, “I have some friends who owe me a favor. They have a cabin in the mountains where your mother could stay and will be safe. As for Beatrice, I doubt anyone will bother her now that you’re gone. By now, they know the reason you escaped is because of me. They’ll be looking for me and you. Beatrice will be safe on her cruise and will be safe when she gets back. If all goes well, we’ll have this resolved before she even returns from her trip.”
“But her house is trashed. I’m sure she’ll want to come back to assess the damage and fix the place. And she’ll be worried about me. At the very least I need to let her know that I’m okay.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, but we’ll notify her the safe way.”
“What’s the safe way?” Shanice asked, sounding a little less worried now that he’d presented a solution.
“Tomorrow we’ll buy a burner phone and make a couple of calls to the people you care about, to reassure them that you’re okay. But that’s the last time you’ll be able to talk to them until this is over, is that clear? We can’t risk making contact with them on unsecured lines.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she said gratefully.
“No problem.”
In the ensuing silence, her gaze traveled over his naked chest and arms, and she touched the Band-Aid on the back of his hand. “You were hurt.”
“Only a scratch.”
Her forefinger traced a puckered scar on his chest, near the right shoulder joint. It was over an inch wide and depressed into the skin with what looked like pale threads radiating from it.
“That’s not a scratch,” she said.
“No, it’s not.”
“Someone got the drop on me five years ago. I let my guard down, and he shot me in the shoulder. The bullet went straight through and out my back. It burned like hell, and I was bleeding all over the place. I promised myself that I’d never allow myself to get shot again. So far so good.”
“Wow,” she said, sounding impressed. “You know, you were incredible tonight. Do you ever lose a fight?”
He smiled. She was adorable. “I hate pain and hate losing, which made me learn to be better, faster, and smarter than my opponents. That way they never get the upper hand. It’s also wise to know when you’re outmatched.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I can’t imagine you being outmatched by anyone.”
He smiled again. “It doesn’t happen too often.”
“You seem fearless.”
“I’m not. But fear doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The trick is to manage your fear. Keeps you from being careless, and in my case, usually my instincts kick in to ensure that my fears don’t become reality. But a healthy dose of fear is good.”
She bit her lush bottom lip. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Do you really enjoy history and poetry?”
His chest warmed with the memory of the dinner conversation on their date. “Yes. I told you, I wasn’t being fake with you, and I enjoyed your company. Very much.”
Her eyes softened, and he made a decision right then. He no longer wanted to deprive himself of her mouth. The need to kiss her had become an unbearable burden, and he finally gave in to the urge.
Cruz edged closer and Shanice didn’t move away. Her lids lowered to half mast, and his lips fastened with confidence over hers, the initial contact sending a charge straight to his groin. And while he’d meant to be gentle, the minute their mouths connected, he lost all reason.
Cruz rolled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Hot and unyielding, his lips greedily caressed hers, while the slow grind of his hips between her thighs pulled long moans from the depths of her throat.
He’d forgotten that she was naked under the shirt and shuddered when he fingered her wet cleft. She was already dripping, twisting and pushing up into his stroking fingers with feverishly gyrating hips.
Cruz became as hard as stone. He wanted her so bad he could almost taste it. His hand moved to the back of her head and he deepened the kiss, addicted to the flavor of her mouth. The never-ending liplock tortured as it teased, and she was so responsive, with sensual movements that made it hard for him to think straight.
He pushed two fingers into her wet body while continuing to plunder her mouth. The head of his erection nudged through the split in his boxers, and his balls ached with the need to bury himself inside her.
“Mami, t’eres un mango,” he whispered huskily.
She reached into his boxers, the warm clasp of her hand gently stroking his engorged manhood. For a few blissful seconds he reveled in the sensations caused by her soft, delicate fingers on his hard flesh. He groaned past the tightness in his throat, the ache to possess her taking on a life of its own as he thrust his hips against her hand.
One time. He only needed one time to satisfy his blinding lust for her, and then he’d be good. But reason returned like a flash of lightning, and he grabbed her wrist.
Glassy-eyed, she stared up at him in confusion.
“Shanice, we can’t.”
“What?” Her heaving breaths brushed his lips.
With regret, Cruz rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He’d gotten carried away. “That was a mistake.” Even as he said the words, his hard penis threatened to revolt.
“I’m not sorry that you kissed me,” she whispered.
He laughed, albeit painfully. He’d regret this decision when he woke up with sore balls in the morning. His behavior was hard to explain, but he tried anyway. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t want to mislead you, Shanice. I can’t give you what you want. There’s no pursuing a relationship—no future for us. When this is over, I’m gone, and you’ll never see me again.”
The hunger in her eyes shrank to nothingness. She withdrew from him and tugged down the hem of his T-shirt. “Thanks for the warning.”
“This isn’t a rejection of you. I’m protecting you.”
“Thank you for protecting me,” she said sarcastically, and rolled away from him.
“Shanice…” He touched her shoulder, but she jerked away.
“Please don’t touch me.”
With a heavy sigh, Cruz fell back against the pillow. He watched the back of her head, desire and regret burning like acid in his gut.
After a few minutes, Shanice said, “I’m not a naïve child who needs to be coddled, Cruz. If you think I expect forever from you, I don’t.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
A few more minutes passed.
“Cruz?” Shanice said timidly.
“Yes.”
“I understand that nothing else can happen between us, but would you mind just holding me?”
Clearly a glutton for punishment, he put an arm around her waist and pressed his face into her fragrant dark hair. He wanted to cup her breast. He wanted to put his fingers between her legs again and touch the slick wetness that was there because of him.
“Are you punishing me now?” he asked huskily.
“No. I just want to be held.”
“This might be the toughest job I’ve ever had. I probably won’t get much sleep lying with you like this.” But he’d love every minute of the torture.
She snuggled closer. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for holding you. It’s my pleasure.”
“That’s not why I’m thanking you. I’m thanking you for being honest. For being kind and not taking advantage. For everything.”
“That’s me, Saint Cruz.”
“I’m serious,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes and accepted his fate. “You’re welcome, Shanice.”
Eventually they drifted to sleep, with his erection pushed up against her plush buttocks.
15
As was his daily custom, Randall Logan sat on the back porch of his two-story Georgian house drinking his early morning black coffee. The stately mansion was his favorite and one of several he owned in the United States.
His affinity for real estate started at a young age when he used to accompany his father to collect rent payments as a child. Back then, his father had owned two duplexes and four quadruplexes, but he had never dreamed of the fortune his eldest child would eventually accrue. The truth was, his father never realized the true benefits of owning those properties.
He was too soft, always listening to the flimsy excuses from mealy-mouthed tenants about why they didn’t have this month’s rent or why they were late. Because of that, he was never able to expand beyond those six properties, and their family struggled financially the entire time Randall was growing up, despite having income-generating assets.
But those monthly visits taught Randall a valuable lesson. To succeed, you had to be tough. You had to be ruthless. And he had honed those traits over time and mastered them, enabling him to accumulate an enviable fortune in the real estate industry—an industry his father struggled to survive in.
Randall’s son, Jacob, came through the back door onto the porch. He was dressed in a tracksuit, his black hair damp around the edges. “Good morning,” he said, taking the seat beside Randall.
Randall had five children, two of them sons. Jacob was his youngest son and looked most like Randall. Perhaps that’s why he had always favored him over his oldest son. Jacob had inherited his dark hair and broad forehead directly from Randall. He was also an inch over six feet, the same height as Randall, and had the build of a professional athlete because of his rigorous daily exercise regimen.
Jacob was also disciplined—another reason Randall preferred hi
m. He never missed his workouts, and he could smell the sweat drying on his son’s skin from his morning jog, a remnant of his military training.
Unfortunately, his other son, Randall Junior, was nothing like him. He was weak, like Randall’s father, and couldn’t stomach the gray areas Logan Investors operated in. Years ago, he left to forge his own path in the business world.
“Good morning,” Randall said, eyeing his son’s grave expression. “You look like you have bad news.”
“It’s definitely not good news. She got away.”
Randall slowly set down his mug. “What about the information?”
“They weren’t able to retrieve it.”
Randall angled his body toward his son. “How does one woman slip away from six men sent to retrieve her and the information she’s hiding?”
As soon as Randall’s contact at the FBI field office discovered Shanice Lawrence was in Miami and had a copy of the information, Jacob had activated a team to pay her a visit. Ultimately, Randall wanted her dead, but not before they knew where she was hiding the data her friend Dennis had uncovered.
“She had help.”
“From who?”
“Eyewitnesses say she fled the scene with a man, but I think that’s impossible because all of our men were killed. One man couldn’t possibly do that on his own.”
“All of them are dead?” Randall asked, aghast.
Jacob nodded.
“What about Agent Stenson?”
“Dead.”
Agent Stenson was Randall’s contact at the Miami field office, a man who had started out with noble intentions, but whose gambling habit had indebted him to Randall and made him easy to control. He’d gladly gone to Shanice Lawrence’s house.
“When we discovered her relationship with Dennis, we should have killed her instead of simply taking the book.” Anger boiling up inside him, Randall swallowed a mouthful of coffee. The bitter taste no longer pleased him.
“That would have been unnecessary killing, and if we’d killed her, we wouldn’t have known about the copy. We need to find it and any other evidence she has. Then we’ll kill her.”
Until Now (Plan B Book 1) Page 9