Deadly Intent (I-Team Book 8)

by Pamela Clare

“Mia?”

  She jumped, realized Joaquin was talking to her. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I asked Nate if he could come get us and give us some riding lessons this morning. As soon as he’s back from driving hay out to their herd, he’ll come get us.”

  Mia didn’t want to go riding. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to shut her brain off so she could sleep without dreaming.

  She pushed a smile onto her face. “That sounds fun.”

  “Nice try, mi amor. I know you’re not really into the idea, but I think you’ll feel better if you get out of here, get some fresh air, and spend some time with Buckwheat.”

  Okay, maybe Joaquin had a point.

  “Isn’t it awful snowy for riding?”

  “They have a riding barn.”

  “A … what?”

  “A big-ass barn with nothing but sand for riding indoors. It’s heated, but it’s not very warm. Fair warning.”

  “Wear layers. Got it.” She got up from the breakfast table and went to dress.

  While Joaquin caught up with his family on their message board, she put the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and decided to wash a load of laundry, too, tossing her things in with Joaquin’s. It gave her something to do and kept her mind busy.

  Nate drove up in a big pickup with a snowplow attached to the front just after ten and gave them a ride down to the riding barn, which was exactly as Joaquin had described it—big, full of sand, and cold as a well-digger’s ass.

  Buckwheat was waiting for them, saddled by one of the ranch hands, who gave Nate the gelding’s reins and tipped his cowboy hat at Mia. “Ma’am.”

  “Hey, Mia.” Nate motioned to the horse. “Why don’t you go first?”

  Mia greeted Buckwheat, petting the velvet of his forehead. “Hey, big guy.”

  The gelding returned her affection with a low whicker, as if he knew she’d had a shitty night and needed a break.

  Mia climbed onto the mounting block. “I don’t have much experience at this.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Nate checked the saddle. “Put your right foot in the stirrup and swing your left leg over his back. Good job.”

  From nearby came a clicking sound—Joaquin with his camera.

  “It looks like you brought the paparazzi, Mia.”

  Mia laughed. “He follows me everywhere.”

  “Listen to you two. Aren’t you funny?” Joaquin said.

  Nate handed Mia the reins. “Sit up relaxed and straight in the saddle so that your shoulder, hip and foot are aligned. Hold the reins loosely in your hands. Now make a little cluck and squeeze lightly with your heels.”

  Mia did as Nate told her and felt a thrill when Buckwheat began to walk, more than a thousand pounds of animal moving beneath her. She went around the barn three or four times, aware she must be smiling like an idiot.

  “You’re doing great,” Nate called to her. “Now bring him to a trot. Squeeze with your legs.”

  Mia did what Nate said and felt Buckwheat’s gait change and pick up speed. But now she was bouncing up and down in the saddle. “This is … painful.”

  “Try to let your hips and behind absorb the motion. That’s better.”

  Mia made a couple of trips around the barn. “Can I make him run?”

  “How about a canter?” Nate talked her through that, Buckwheat instantly responding to the messages she sent with her body.

  When she’d done that for a few minutes, Nate talked her through bringing Buckwheat to a gallop. And then Mia was flying. She heard herself laugh, felt the powerful animal shifting beneath her, a sense of freedom coming over her.

  All too soon, it was over.

  Nate had her bring the gelding to a walk and then caught Buckwheat’s bridle. “Am I really supposed to believe you’ve never had riding lessons?”

  Mia couldn’t stop smiling. “I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s Buckwheat.”

  Joaquin appeared near the mounting block, camera hanging from a thick strap around his neck, a big grin on his face. “You did great. How was that?”

  “It was amazing.” She climbed off the horse’s back, walked around to kiss his muzzle. “I love you, Buckwheat.”

  She didn’t see the glance Joaquin shared with Nate.

  “Okay, caballero.” Nate handed the reins to Joaquin. “It’s your turn.”

  Joaquin handed Mia his camera. “Can you take this for me?”

  “Show me how to shoot.”

  He adjusted some settings and took off the lens cap. “It’s on automatic now. You point the lens and push this button.”

  “Got it.” She adjusted her grip and stepped back.

  Joaquin mounted Buckwheat and urged him to a walk and then to a canter, riding with the ease of someone born in the saddle.

  “I didn’t know he could ride horses.”

  Nate chuckled. “His grandparents had a farm near San Luis, so he’s been riding horses since he was little.”

  It struck Mia as she watched and snapped photos that there were probably lots of things she still didn’t know about Joaquin.

  Joaquin stood back while Mia brushed Buckwheat down, relieved to see her smiling again after last night. He’d felt so helpless, watching nightmares shred her sleep and savage her emotions. He hadn’t been able to do anything but hold her, talk to her, comfort her. It hadn’t seemed like enough.

  Nate came to stand beside him, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. “I’ve seen horses work miracles with people. She’s welcome to ride every day while she’s here. If there’s anything else we can do …”

  “Just pray they catch this bastard.”

  “You got it.”

  Joaquin looked at the photo Mia had just taken and burst into laughter. “From this angle, my dick looks bigger than my forearm. The magic of perspective. Maybe I should use this for my online dating profile photo.”

  Mia had taken his camera and turned it on him while he’d been riding. She hadn’t given it back when Nate had dropped them off at the cabin. She had asked him to undress, snapping photos of his naked body, though without his expertise or good light. The results were more comedic than sexy, at least in Joaquin’s opinion. Still, it turned him on to be the object of her gaze—as the hard-on in these last few shots proved.

  “You’d get a lot of hookups. A gorgeous face, abs, pecs, and a dick the size of a baseball bat—you’d be Mr. Popular.”

  “The only woman I want is right here.” He was taking a risk saying this, but he wanted her to know that what he felt for her was real.

  She set the camera aside, pushed him onto his back, and began to undress. “I had fun playing cowgirl today. I don’t want to stop.”

  “You want to ride me, hermosa? I’m all yours.” He reached between her thighs to tease her to readiness, but discovered she was already wet. Maybe taking nude photos of him had turned her on, too. He handed her a condom, held himself while she rolled it onto his erection, then helped her straddle him. “Saddle up.”

  She lowered herself onto his length, taking all of him inside her, her palms splayed on his chest for balance.

  He reached up to cup her breasts and tease her nipples, loving the fact that both of his hands were free to touch her.

  She began to move, sliding up and down his length.

  She felt so good, her tightness gripping him, but he couldn’t see how she was going to get a whole lot from that.

  He caught her hips, stilled her, his cock deep inside her. “This is for you. Make it feel good for you.”

  She moved again, this time making slow circles with her hips, then canting them so that her clit pressed against his pubic bone. Her eyes drifted shut, her body tensing, her head falling back on a moan.

  ¡Ay, Dios mío! Good God, she made him burn.

  “That’s right, Mia. Use my body. Take what you need.” He resisted the urge to thrust into her, holding his hips motionless, letting her set the pace, his han
ds still busy with her breasts, teasing her nipples into tight points.

  He watched her pleasure build, her muscles gradually going rigid, the look on her face shifting from enjoyment to sexual distress, her hips grinding against him faster and faster until her lips were parted and she was moaning and her nails were biting into his pecs and he was close to coming, too.

  “Mi amor. Mi alma.” My love. My soul.

  He had to fight to keep his hips still, his balls drawing tight, every instinct he had telling him to pound into her. Then her pleasure peaked—and broke. The cry she made and the bliss on her face—so precious, so beautiful—undid him.

  He grasped her hips, his cock still inside her, and let himself go, bucking into her, riding her from below until pleasure claimed him, too.

  Afterward, they lay together in bed, daylight streaming through the windows.

  She trailed her fingertips along the groove in the middle of his belly. “A part of me can’t wait for this to end so life can go back to normal. It feels like everything is on hold. But a part of me wants to stay here with you forever. I care about you so much that it almost scares me. What happens to us after this is over?”

  Her words touched him, took him by surprise.

  He held her closer, kissed her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I want you in my life, Mia. You are everything to me.”

  She relaxed, her body going languid in his embrace, her voice sleepy. “By the way—what we just did? I’ve never come that way before either.”

  Joaquin drifted off to sleep, a grin on his face.

  Mia had just done her first perfect enchufa when her cell phone rang. She laughed. “Not fair! I had it.”

  “That was fantástico.” Joaquin went to turn down the music. “You’re really starting to get this.”

  Mia hurried to the kitchen counter, where she’d left her phone. The display read “No caller ID.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then answered. “This is Mia.”

  “Ms. Starr? This is Catherine Warner from the Denver Independent. Please don’t hang up on me. I need a quote from you. Please just give me some kind of reaction.”

  “Reaction?” Mia didn’t understand. “Reaction to what?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  Mia’s pulse tripped. “Heard what?”

  “They got him. They arrested Bennett Powell about ten minutes ago.”

  “Wh-what?” The blood rushed from Mia’s head, leaving her almost dizzy. “They arrested him?”

  Joaquin stood beside her. “What’s going on?”

  “They arrested Powell,” Mia told him.

  “You mean you don’t know?” said the voice in Mia’s ear.

  “No. I had no idea.” What had happened? The last she’d heard, they’d had no evidence and Powell had alibis.

  “Can you please give me a quote for my story?”

  Mia took a deep breath to clear her head. “I’m grateful to the Denver Police Department, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, the FBI and all of the experts who were involved in this case. It’s a relief to know it’s over.”

  “How does it feel knowing that a man who sexually harassed you—”

  “How do you know about that?” Mia couldn’t deal with this—not now. “I need to go. Sorry, Ms. Warner, but I don’t want to answer more questions right now.”

  She ended the call, her hands shaking. “Can you call Julian or Marc or Wu and find out if this is true?”

  But Joaquin was already on it. “Hey, D, I’m putting you on speaker phone. Mia’s here with me. What the hell is going on? Cate just called from the paper to say DPD arrested Powell.”

  Mia sat at the table, her pulse still racing.

  “Hey, Mia,” Julian said. “Hunter’s team just brought Powell in. His alibis turned out to be bogus.”

  “It’s over.” Mia closed her eyes, let out a relieved sigh.

  “Looks that way,” Julian said.

  Joaquin rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bogus? What does that mean?”

  “He coerced his wife into lying to cover for him. Wu discovered she was at work during the time each murder occurred and confronted her. Great detective work on his part. Wu pulled a warrant based on that, and Hunter’s SWAT boys helped him execute with an assist from FBI SWAT. I don’t have all the details, but I know they found heroin and some other street drugs, along with a metric shit ton of firearms and ammo. He didn’t come easy. Hunter had to play rough.”

  “I’m jealous,” Joaquin said.

  “I think Shoals or Hunter planned to call you as soon as they finished putting out fires here. They’ve got to process him and go through a debriefing. You’ll be hearing from someone soon. I’ll make sure Hunter and Wu know you called.”

  “Thanks, man. We’re grateful.”

  “I can’t take the credit. That goes to Wu. Talk to you later.” Julian ended the call.

  Mia stood, walked into Joaquin’s embrace. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

  He stroked her hair, held her tight. “You’ll be repotting orchids again in no time.”

  She raised her gaze to his. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you, Joaquin. You came into my life and changed everything.”

  He kissed her. “That’s what I was going to say about you. As for getting through this—I’m glad I was here. But you’re one of the strongest people I know. You would have been fine without me.”

  Mia wasn’t so sure about that.

  An hour later, they got a call from Jack letting them know that Shoals was on his way to the ranch—this time by car. Once again, Jack gave them the use of his office, where Joaquin and Mia listened to Shoals’ version of the story.

  “Powell resisted, and we had no choice but to escalate our response.”

  Joaquin wanted the gory details. Had Hunter punched him in his fucking face? Had he struck him upside the head with his nightstick? Had he kicked him in the balls?

  Joaquin hoped it was all three.

  But Shoals had already moved on. “We found a large amount of heroin in his possession, along with other illegal drugs and an arsenal that includes several nine-millimeter firearms. One of those was found in his vehicle.”

  This was good, but was it enough?

  Joaquin wanted rock-solid proof. He wanted to hear that prison door clang shut and the key turn. “Did you find anything concrete that ties him to the murders—the black hoodie, Frank’s wallet, Garcia’s credit cards?”

  “We found a black hoodie in the wash. Powell is too smart to keep the other stuff in his house. We figure he took what he needed and threw the rest in some dumpster in an alley. We will keep looking, of course. Just because we’ve affected an arrest doesn’t mean we stop investigating. Our case against him doesn’t hinge on those items. We have surveillance footage showing a man of his height and weight. More than that, we have DNA from the scene. We put a rush on the DNA we took from the two of you, as well as the DNA left at the crime scene by the shooter. Testing revealed three distinctly different sources. We’ll take a sample from Powell tomorrow.”

  “What if he refuses?” Mia asked.

  Shoals shook his head. “He is now under arrest, so he doesn’t have a choice. The police can compel him to give evidence.”

  “Good.” Joaquin was happy to hear it.

  “Also—I can let you in on this—a known drug dealer was murdered in Denver last night, shot in an alley at point-blank range. Witnesses saw a man in a black hoodie running away. Preliminary testing on the casings we picked up at the scene tied that shooting to Powell, too.”

  “So much killing.” Mia rubbed her temples. “What are the charges against him?”

  “He’s looking at three counts of capital homicide, one count of attempted homicide and assault with deadly intent for his attack on you, along with a bunch of drug charges. We can’t charge him with anything where Mr. Meyer is concerned because we haven’t found a body yet. I hope he’ll realize the situation is hopeless a
nd do what many of these psychopaths do—start bragging about who he killed and how and where. He must have wanted us to catch him because he never picked up his brass. Someone who doesn’t want to get caught removes all ballistic evidence from the scene.”

  “Maybe he’s an idiot,” Joaquin said.

  Shoals grinned. “That’s a possibility, too.”

  “He’s not,” Mia said. “What happens now?”

  “He has lawyered up—a big criminal attorney. We’ll do our best to question him. He’s got an arraignment tomorrow morning. We’ll put our case together and, depending on how much he cooperates, the DA will either make a plea deal or take the case to trial.”

  “Will I have to testify?”

  “Try not to worry about that.” That was easy for Shoals to say. “If there is a trial, it won’t happen for months.”

  “Can I go home?”

  The expression on Shoals’ face told Joaquin he thought this was a silly question. “The killer is in custody, so, yes.”

  Joaquin asked another. “Is there any chance he could get out?”

  “Escape? I seriously—”

  “That’s not what I meant. Could the judge let him out on bail or some shit?”

  “The man is accused of killing three people, including a brigadier general. I doubt any judge would grant bail.” Shoals got to his feet, handed Mia a business card. “If you have any other questions, feel free to call my office. We’re grateful to you for helping us bring this together, Ms. Starr.”

  Joaquin knew those last words were Shoals’ way of acknowledging the risk Mia took in sharing classified information with his agency.

  Mia stood, shook Shoals’ hand. “Thanks for everything.”

  After Shoals left the room, Joaquin pulled Mia into his arms. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t believe it was real when it started, and now that it’s over, I can’t believe that’s real either.”

  They found the Wests waiting for them in the living room.

  “What’s the word?” Jack asked.

  Mia told them the good news, including the part about Hunter hitting Powell.

  “Good,” Nate said. “I’m sure he enjoyed that.”

  Joaquin’s gaze met Nate’s. “I know I would have.”