Cornered

by Turner, Linda; Weaver, Ingrid; Miller, Julie

  “Okay?” Wiley asked hoarsely.

  No! she almost cried. How could she be all right when he was so close she could feel the heat of his body through the black leather they both wore? How could she be all right when nothing had ever felt so right in her life? Dear Lord, she was in trouble!

  “Josie?”

  “I’m fine,” she said huskily. “I’m just trying to figure out where the seatbelt is.”

  “Cute,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry. You won’t need a seatbelt. I don’t take chances on a bike.”

  He might not, but she certainly did, she thought, swallowing a giggle as he started down the street with her clinging tightly to his back. There was no other way to describe getting on the back of a motorcycle with a man who made her heart race. And she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

  Chapter 7

  His hormones working overtime, every nerve in his body attuned to Josie and the feel of her arms around his waist, Wiley had to force himself to concentrate as he headed for the motorcycle bar on the northwest side of town where the riders were gathering for the memorial ride. It wasn’t easy. With every curve, every dip in the road, Josie crowded closer. And everywhere her body brushed his, he burned.

  How the hell was he going to get through the day? he wondered as they arrived at the bar and pulled up behind dozens of motorcycles lined up in the street. He was already drooling over her and the ride hadn’t even started yet.

  Thankful for the chance to put some space between them, he hurriedly dismounted, then turned to help Josie. She, however, was already off the bike and searching the crowd. “He’s here,” she said softly. “Over by the entrance to the bar. And he’s not alone.”

  Wiley turned casually, as if he was checking out the size of the crowd, and spied Sanchez with his date just as the woman pulled off her helmet. Long blond hair tumbled halfway down her back, but it was her face that drew the eye of every man there. She belonged in a beauty contest. Wiley had never been interested in women with the perfect features of an ice princess, but he had to admit that she was incredibly beautiful.

  Beside him, Josie gasped silently. “I can’t believe it,” she told him in a low hiss. “You were right. He is with another woman! What a sleaze!”

  Wiley had to laugh at her outrage. “Welcome to the real world.”

  “You’re jaded.”

  “I know people,” he said with a shrug. “Take your helmet off and climb up on the bike. I want to take a picture.”

  Surprised, she just looked at him. “What?”

  His lips twitched. “Climb up on the bike, sweetheart. I want to take a picture.”

  When he nodded ever so slightly toward where Sanchez stood with his “date,” Josephine could have kicked herself. For a second, she’d actually thought he wanted a picture of her. Thank God, she hadn’t said anything.

  Remember why you’re here.

  Repeating that mantra in her head over and over again, she still hesitated. Casting a quick glance at Sanchez and the blond knockout with him, she said, “Aren’t you afraid they’ll notice?” she asked in a low-pitched voice that didn’t carry past his ears. “Sanchez might be suspicious.”

  “Trust me,” he said dryly, “you’re worrying about nothing. Even if he sees us, he won’t think anything of it. I’m just taking a picture of my date. What’s wrong with that?”

  He made it sound so simple, but as she pulled her helmet off and carefully made sure her red wig was still in place, her heart was thumping like crazy. Gingerly, she climbed onto Wiley’s motorcycle as he pulled out a 35mm camera she hadn’t even realized he’d brought. Making no effort to hide what he was doing, he positioned himself on the opposite side of the Harley so that when he took a picture of Josie, Sanchez was in the background.

  “Smile,” he told Josie. “Say money.”

  Surprised, she laughed. “What happened to smile?”

  “I just got it,” he retorted, snapping the picture. A split second later, he pointed the camera just a few degrees to the right and, lightning-quick, took two pictures of Sanchez and his paramour.

  Josephine was dying to look over her shoulder but she didn’t dare. “Relax,” Wiley said with a smile. “No one saw a thing. They’re all staring at the blonde.”

  She released her breath in a rush. “Thank God! Can we leave now?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re just getting started. We need to find out the girlfriend’s name. We won’t be able to do that if we cut and run now.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she groaned. “Doesn’t this make you nervous?”

  “Not at all,” he said with a grin. “Think about it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Sanchez could discover that we don’t belong here.”

  “So what if he does? He’s not going to kill us—there are too many witnesses. And why would he hurt us, anyway? He doesn’t know who we are or what we do for a living. He can’t even trace the plates on my bike—I changed them.”

  “Oh, God, why did you have to tell me that? Now I really am worried. What are you going to do if a cop stops us?”

  “Tell him what we’re doing and take the ticket,” he said simply. “I’d rather do that than give Sanchez an opportunity to discover who I am and where I live. I like to take chances, sweetheart, but not that kind.”

  Put that way, she had to admit he had a point. “So what do we do? Circulate? You have to know that gives me the willies.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, Sanchez isn’t going to let anyone get too close. In fact, he won’t stick around long. There’s too many people around he doesn’t know. As soon as the ride’s over with, watch him—he’ll be out of here.”

  “But he organized this to honor his friend,” she argued. “Surely he won’t leave early.”

  “Time will tell,” he said ruefully. “C’mon. It looks like we’re about to get rolling.”

  Her heart pounding, she carefully pulled her helmet back on.

  Wiley had hardly settled in front of her on the bike when Sanchez, as the lead rider, took off, his girlfriend perched like some kind of trophy on the back of his motorcycle.

  What followed was like something out of a surreal dream. Wiley fell into line halfway back in the pack, and within seconds, they were surrounded on all sides by what surely had to be other members of the Mexican mafia. Josephine felt her heart stop just at the thought.

  Later, she couldn’t have said where Sanchez led them. She wasn’t familiar with San Antonio yet, not that that would have mattered. She was too busy watching Sanchez over Wiley’s shoulder to pay attention to the direction they took. They visited all of the deceased man’s old haunts, winding through the city until Josie didn’t have a clue where she was. Then, just when she was convinced they were going to ride down every street in town, Sanchez turned into the grounds of what looked like an old park.

  “This is the old polo fields,” Wiley told her quietly. She didn’t see any sign of anyone playing polo, but there were picnic tables under the trees where Sanchez had arranged for barbecue to be served to the guests. The riders quickly parked their bikes, and within a few short minutes, everyone found seats at the tables or spread blankets on the grass and dug into barbecued chicken, potato salad and beans.

  Sinking down to the blanket Wiley had pulled from the storage compartment of his bike and spread out under a tree, Josie deliberately sat with her back to where Sanchez sat at a table thirty feet away. Wiley had gotten them each a plate of food, but Josie’s stomach was knotted with nerves. She ate a few bites, but that was all she could manage.

  “Something wrong with your food?” Wiley asked, frowning.

  “I’m just nervous,” she said quietly. “I thought you said Sanchez wouldn’t stick around long.”

  “He won’t,” he replied. “In fact, it looks like something’s going on now. He’s about to make a speech.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when Sanchez addressed the crowd. “I want to than
k everyone for coming. Carlos would have been touched by today’s turnout. He was a good man.”

  Carlos Trevino was, in fact, a drug dealer who had been killed in a collision trying to outrun the police. Everyone there knew it, but Wiley wasn’t surprised when no one said a word. After all, the majority of the people there were probably on the shady side of the law, too.

  The direction of his gaze hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, Wiley never took his eyes off Sanchez as he finished his speech. The mafia kingpin, with his date at his side, moved among the tables, exchanging hugs with friends. Obviously, they were making their goodbyes.

  That was all Wiley needed to see. Leaning across the blanket toward Josie, he murmured, “They’re getting ready to leave. Follow my lead.” And with no other warning than that, he kissed the side of her neck.

  Josie’s heart turned over in her breast. “Wiley…”

  “We’re going to get up and walk toward the trees behind me,” he said huskily. “I want anyone who happens to notice to think we’re going off to make love. Okay?”

  Her blood heating and her head spinning, she wanted to ask him why he wanted all the people on the ride to think such a thing, but this obviously wasn’t the time or place to ask any questions. When he rose to his feet and held out a hand to her, she followed his lead, just as he’d requested, and let him help her to her feet.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, smiling directly into her eyes. Grabbing the blanket, he threw it over his shoulder, then slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his side. “Let’s go.”

  Heat climbing in her cheeks, Josephine didn’t dare look back. “Do you think anyone is watching?” she whispered.

  “I hope so,” he growled. “Hang in there, sweetheart. Just until we get into the trees.”

  “What happens in the trees?”

  “Just a little further,” he urged, picking up the pace. “We’re almost there.”

  Three steps later, they were in the trees. Another four, and they were completely hidden from view of the other riders. Wiley threw the blanket to the ground and grabbed her hand. “C’mon!”

  Surprised, Josie stumbled, but he caught her without ever breaking stride. “Where are we going?” she panted.

  “To the truck,” he retorted, and pulled her with him further into the trees.

  “The truck?” she huffed, puzzled. “What truck?”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when they burst into a clearing and she stopped in amazement at the sight of the road she hadn’t even known was there. And parked on the shoulder was a faded red pickup truck that looked like it had seen better days.

  Confused, she frowned. “Is this yours? How—”

  “The announcement on the Internet said the picnic would be here,” he said as he jerked open the passenger door for her. “There are some things for you to change into,” he added with a nod toward the items in the floorboard.

  He hurried around to the driver’s side and started the truck before he was completely in his seat. A heartbeat later, he put the truck in gear and took off. “I knew Sanchez would spot us if we followed him on the bike,” he explained as he picked up speed, “so I borrowed the truck from the same friend who gave me the clothes. He followed me out here early this morning so I could drop the truck off.”

  Her heart pounding, Josephine hurriedly pulled off her wig, then shed her leather jacket. Reaching into the bag of goodies at her feet, she pulled out a long blond wig, a cowboy hat and sunglasses. “Yee-haw,” she laughed, and quickly donned the entire disguise. “How do I look?”

  “Like a different woman,” he chuckled. Reaching behind her seat to the gunrack across the window, he grabbed his own cowboy hat, plopped it on his head at a rakish angle, then pushed on sunglasses. Very carefully, he peeled off the fake mustache, then took his eyes from the road long enough to arch a brow at Josie. “Well? What do you think?”

  “Ride ’em, cowboy,” she said with a chuckle. “I just can’t get over how good you are at this. Now, would you mind telling me where we’re going?”

  “We’re tailing Sanchez, of course. This road intersects the road that fronts the polo field. If our timing’s right, Sanchez should be a quarter of a mile ahead of us when we reach the stop sign. Keep your eyes peeled—we’re coming up on it.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when they saw the stop sign in the distance. Just as it came into view, a motorcycle zoomed by on the cross street.

  Pleased, Wiley grinned. “There’s our guy. He’s a little ahead of schedule, but that’s okay. We’ll just take our time.”

  Reaching the stop sign, he turned right and casually picked up speed. If Sanchez happened to notice the pickup far behind him, he would see exactly what Wiley wanted him to see—a cowboy and his girlfriend out for a casual drive in their old pickup.

  Other vehicles joined them on the road, passing them, turning off, but Wiley was content to keep Sanchez in sight. And when the motorcycle turned down a residential street fifteen minutes later, Wiley was far enough behind Sanchez that it was several long minutes later before he and Josie drove down the same street. By that time, there was no sign of Sanchez and the blonde, but the motorcycle was parked in the driveway of a small brick house.

  Driving past, Wiley didn’t slow down. “Did you get the address?” he asked Josie.

  “Seven thirty-six,” she said.

  “Good job,” he replied. “Now we’ll go back to the office and check it out. If we’re lucky, we’ll have the name of at least one of Sanchez’s girlfriends within the hour.”

  It didn’t take that long. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the office and rushed inside. Seated at his computer, Wiley immediately went to the Bexar Appraisal Website and typed in the address of the little brick house.

  When the name of the owner of the property popped up a few moments later, Josephine frowned. “Valencia Enterprises. A company owns the house?”

  Far from worried, he only laughed. “Valencia Enterprises’ parent company is J.R. Sanchez, Incorporated. Juan Roberto Sanchez. He owns the house, just as I thought he did. We’ve got him, sweetheart. We’ve got him!”

  Chapter 8

  “Let’s go out to dinner to celebrate!”

  Dazed that they’d been able to get so much incriminating evidence against Sanchez in just two days, Josie said, “Shouldn’t we wait until we’ve tracked down all the women Sanchez is involved with before we celebrate?”

  Grinning, Wiley said, “Are you kidding? We may never track down all the women he’s got on a string.”

  “But he’s a drug lord!”

  “The world is full of people who couldn’t care less how someone makes their money as long as they can get their hands on some of it,” Wiley retorted. “We’ll spend a couple of more days on Sanchez and come up with an impressive list of names for Mrs. Sanchez. Trust me, she’ll be satisfied.”

  “And if she’s not? We just pick up the case again and get more pictures of her husband’s paramours?”

  “Exactly. So we’re halfway home. Let’s celebrate. You haven’t seen the Riverwalk yet—not at night. Let’s go out to eat, then go dancing. It’ll be fun.”

  Josephine didn’t doubt that. Whenever she was with Wiley, life was full of surprises…and fun. He made her laugh…and attracted her in a way no man ever had. For no other reason than that, she should have restricted her time with him to just work. But pain squeezed her heart just at the thought of turning down his invitation. It was just dinner and a little dancing, she reasoned. Surely she could handle that without losing her head. She just had to remember that he was one of those men who liked to flirt. If she didn’t take him too seriously, she would be fine.

  “I would like to see the Riverwalk at night…”

  “Good! I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Her heart thumped in excitement. “I’ll be ready,” she promised huskily.

  At five minutes to seven, Josephine studied herself in the mirro
r and wondered what had possessed her to buy, let alone wear, the outfit she had bought that afternoon at a small, eclectic dress shop around the corner from Boonie’s house. The pencil-slim skirt was a black-and-white zebra print that molded her hips and thighs, and she’d topped it with an off-the-shoulder summer sweater in blood red. Cashmere soft, it had a feathery brooch at the neck that tickled her every time she looked to her left. She’d never worn red before…or anything that was dipped so low in front that it showed the curve of her breast. She felt feminine, sexy, nervous.

  “Lady in red!” Ethel called out from her perch. “I like it!”

  “Maybe I should change into something more conservative,” Josephine said worriedly.

  That, however, was as far as she got. The doorbell rang, and just that quickly, she ran out of time. Ethel called out, “Come in!” and Wiley stepped through the front door.

  He took one look at her and stopped dead. “Wow! You look gorgeous!”

  She blushed. “Actually, I was thinking about changing.”

  “Are you kidding? You can’t! You’re beautiful! I can’t wait to show you off on the dance floor.”

  For the first time since she’d met him, he was completely sincere, without a glint of humor or teasing in his eyes. Her insecurities dissolving, she smiled. “You look pretty fantastic yourself.”

  His lips twitched, fascinating her. “We’re going to create quite a stir tonight. Shall we go?”

  When he held out his hand, they both knew that he wasn’t just asking her to go out with him for the evening. He was asking her to step with him into the night and change their relationship forever. Her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest, she placed her hand in his.

  If she was dreaming, Josephine didn’t want ever to wake up. It was a beautiful summer evening, warm, but not too hot, with a breeze that stirred her hair and whispered through the ancient cypress trees that towered over the Riverwalk. And right from the beginning, Wiley let her know that their time together had nothing to do with work. He took her hand and twined his fingers with hers. His eyes met hers, and sparks jumped between them. The world could have stopped turning, and Josephine would have never noticed.