by Misty Evans
“He told me about his tour in Iraq for the Americans,” Rodrigo was saying. “You know, I toured the Middle East during my schooling. Never have I seen such security extremes. Dubai…now that was my favorite place. It is one of the top three trading hubs in the world for diamonds and other gemstones.”
Rodrigo had loved traveling. Loved going to university and getting his gemologist degree. He talked about both on a regular basis. What could he have been if not dragged back to Tijuana and his family’s criminal enterprise? Perhaps he would have lived in Dubai and made an honest living as an international master gemologist.
He seemed to be waiting for a response. She knew Nelson had been a ranger in the U.S. Army, but he’d never spoken of his tours of duty to her. Of course, during their brief time together, there hadn’t been a lot of talking. “War-torn countries tend to take defense and personal security quite seriously. I’m sure he learned quite a bit in Iraq.”
Rodrigo’s face was still lit up with the memories of his past. “That is why he’s going to be staying with us.”
She had to take a moment to process his words. “He’s what?”
“I’ve made him a deal.”
Relief that Nelson was still in one piece flooded her body, yet a cold slice of apprehension at Rodrigo’s words caused her to grip the back of the chair tighter. “What kind of deal, if I may ask?”
Rodrigo smiled, cold, calculating. The cartel leader in him rising past the memories of his unencumbered college years. “Nico Raines is my new head of security.”
A beat of silence passed, her nails digging into the chair back. “What about Chavez?”
His face hardened. He didn’t appreciate being questioned, and failure by anyone on his team was not allowed. “Chavez’s security failed. He was shown the door, as they say.”
Chavez was out. Nelson was in.
She almost burst out laughing, her apprehension sky-rocketing once more.
The irony.
Instead, she held herself still, not moving as anger heated her blood and a dozen arguments ran through her head. Never argue with Rodrigo. The first lesson she’d learned. He was prone to snap decisions, had loyalty to no one but himself. Everyone at the compound, everyone who worked for him, was disposable.
“That’s…wonderful,” she said, plastering on a fake smile.
“He will be staying in the guest house in the empty apartment next to yours. He said you wouldn’t mind.”
The smile threatened to turn into a grimace. I’m going to kill him. “Is that what he said?”
One of Rodrigo’s brows rose. “Is there a problem?”
Only a six-one, one-hundred and ninety pound undercover agent screwing up my operation. “I just assumed he would stay in the staff house. Like Señor Chavez did.”
“Yes, well, I am beefing up security based on Señor Raines’s recommendations. Chavez’s quarters will be soon be assigned to a new security member based on Nico’s recommendation.”
“I see.”
“Tomorrow, we will head to town at noon for rounds like usual. Raines will accompany us. He needs new clothes, and I want him to keep a close eye on you.”
Their weekly “rounds” constituted picking up money drops in a six-mile radius of downtown, a section they called Old Tijuana that had existed when the town was nothing more than a few strip clubs and gambling dens. The area was a ghetto with plenty of seedy businesses with a healthy drug trade. Sophie picked up the drug money and protection fees and ran the cash through legit small businesses to clean it. “Of course.”
“Rigo!” Lexie appeared, dressed now in her pajamas, and made her way to her brother’s side, dropping her service dog’s handle as Rodrigo lifted her for a hug.
When he set her down, she tugged on his hand. “Maria-Sophia is going to read to me, and then you can tuck me in.”
“You are too old for me to tuck in, chica.”
Her brows scrunched in that telltale sign. “Is that true, Maria-Sophia?”
“You’re never too old to be tucked in by someone you love.” Sophie wished she’d tucked her sister into bed more, especially since their mother was often MIA. “But I’m sure your brother still has work to do, so how about we read and I’ll tuck you in?”
“I will do it.” Rodrigo stood and smiled down at his sister even though she couldn’t see him. “I’ve been too caught up with work. Alexa and I should spend time together.”
“I could skip school tomorrow,” the girl volunteered.
Lexie had left her boarding school in Mexico City only a month ago to come home and live with Rodrigo. She was privately tutored by nuns at the local convent and hated it.
Sophie didn’t blame her.
“No skipping school.” He winked at Sophie over Lexie’s head, once more a normal human being and not the cold-hearted cartel leader. “We all have jobs tomorrow and yours is learning Latin and History.”
“I hate school!” she said in Spanish, and then again in English as if to emphasis her point.
“Lexie,” Sophie said, “your brother and I will be in town. We’ll pick you up after school and go for ice cream. How does that sound?”
The girl had a weakness for orange sherbet. She tugged on Rodrigo’s hand again. “Can we?”
Rodrigo gave Sophie a look. “You’re spoiling my sister.”
Be grateful you still have one. “She deserves it.”
He threw up his free hand in exasperation. “I’m losing this battle, aren’t I?”
Lexie’s little-girl laugh was contagious and Sophie laughed with her. Her service dog, Harry, named after Lexie’s favorite fictional sorcerer, barked.
Such a normal family conversation. If only I could keep them together.
But she wasn’t part of this family and the family owned a cartel that hurt people every day.
Still, guilt ate at Sophie that she was about to take Rodrigo away from Lexie. “You should know you’d never win against two strong females.”
“That’s right!” Lexie dragged him out the study door, Harry by her side. “See you tomorrow, Maria-Sophia.”
Sophia followed and gave Rodrigo a smile as he shut and locked the door behind them. He gave her a small bow. “Until tomorrow, Maria-Sophia. Sleep well.”
There was a message in his eyes. The same one he gave her every night—she was always welcome in his bed if she found hers lonely.
She wondered, not for the first time, if he had a snake in his bedroom.
Tonight, the invitation seemed to hold more weight, letting her know he preferred she sleep with him rather than Nico. Time to put the idea that Nico was coming anywhere near her to rest. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll grab extra bedding on my way out for Nico since the vacant apartment has none.”
A pleased smile passed over his lips. “Of course.”
Lexie tugged him away. Watching the two of them laugh and talk as they walked to Lexie’s princess-inspired room, guilt consumed Sophie again. Lexie had no idea what her brother did. The biggest reason—maybe the only reason—Rodrigo had come home from Europe and taken up the family reins was to take care of Lexie. He’d studied to be a master gemologist. Had left the family biz behind and planned to start over in another part of the world.
When he went to jail, the little girl would end up in foster care if Sophie couldn’t track down any relatives. Foster care here would be a death sentence. Rodrigo’s enemies would hunt her down.
Every operation took its toll, but this one was one for the books. How had she let herself fall for Rodrigo’s little sister, knowing she would bring the girl’s world crashing down on her when this was over?
Disgusted with herself, she headed down the stairs and out the door. Collateral damage from her job would have to wait. She had a bone to pick with the new head of security.
Where is she?
The apartment was empty, only the hint of Sophie’s perfume lingering in the air. She liked to walk at night, he remembered. Maybe she’d gone for a stroll to work off steam after
he’d kissed her. Boy, the look in her eyes when he’d done that. Pure fire.
She was always steamed about something.
He sort of liked it.
His stomach growled. The swelling in his eye had gone down and he could crack it open now. He found the kitchen, washed his hands, and rolled his shoulders. What a day.
Rodrigo had shown him the grounds and the security set up. The tour wasn’t complete without another stop at the snake pit. The caretaker, an exotic animal vet, was feeding Morales’s pets. Rats. Yeesh. Nelson hated rats almost as much as snakes.
But during the tour, Nelson had shown Morales how he’d gotten into the compound without detection. He’d made several suggestions to increase security and make the existing security more efficient. Sanny, one of the guards, had a cousin in the Savages. A call was made; Nelson’s backstory confirmed. He’d dug himself in deep with the motorcycle gang and his hard work had paid off.
Not exactly in the way he’d intended, but if it meant keeping Sophie safe and all of his limbs attached to his body, so be it.
Sophie’s fridge was filled with fresh fruit, cheese, cold rotisserie chicken, and three different flavors of hot salsa. He found chips in a cabinet and, whistling to himself, went to work building a plate of chicken nachos.
The door opened and slammed shut again in the other room as he was pulling them out of the microwave. Warm, gooey cheese covered the pile, and he opened a salsa jar and poured some on top. “I’m in here,” he called.
Her heels clicked furiously on the tiled floor and he saw her enter from the corner of his slitted eye. Her face was a storm of worry and anger. The energy radiating off of her reminded him of a tropical storm building down south.
He held up the plate. She had a soft spot for spicy food. “Dinner?”
She dropped a set of bed sheets on the table, then took the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it on the back of a kitchen chair. Her face was set. She grabbed the plate from his hands, slid it onto the counter, and pointed a finger at him. “I should…”
Here it comes. His ass was about to take a beating.
“I should…” she said loudly again. Then, without warning, Sophie Diaz threw her arms around him.
She went up on her toes and hugged him hard enough to force the breath from his lungs. Her breasts pressed against his sore ribs, her chin barely clearing his shoulder.
She was warm and soft in all the right places, and this was completely not what he’d expected.
Which was normal for Sophie. She was always turning left when he thought she’d go right.
But fuck. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?
He ran his fingers down her back and let his hand linger just above her sexy ass. His other hand went to the back of her neck and he slipped it under her braid and massaged her neck. Man, what he wouldn’t do to cup those heart-shaped ass cheeks and bend her backward over the table…
He closed his eyes and let the hair at the edge of her ear tickle his nose. God, I’ve missed you.
As if she read his thoughts, she jerked back, breaking his hold. Before he could take his next breath, whack! She slapped him across the face.
“What the…?” He touched his stinging cheek. “What was that for?”
“First, for kissing me.”
Okay, he’d expected payback for that. “I heard someone coming when we were on the patio and I needed to shut you up. You said you’d told them I was your lover, so I figured I’d better play the part. Good thing I did since it was Morales.”
“Former lover, and don’t ever shut me up like that again. Got it?”
He grinned. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
Heat-seeking missiles generated less intensity than the rage coming from her eyes. “Secondly, you nearly blew my op.”
He spread his palms wide. “I have everything under control. Morales hired me as his new head of security. I can watch your back and help you with the investigation.”
“So I heard. You can’t seriously think you can stay here as the head of security.”
“Chavez screwed up. I pointed out a bunch of spots Morales needed to beef up on and I looked over his security protocols. Big holes.”
“Morales would never hire someone he hasn’t vetted.”
Nelson shrugged. “I’m vetted. After our walk around the grounds and a thumbs-up from the Savages, Morales offered me the job.” He smiled. “What I can say?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“What? Of course not. Chavez screwed up and I had an opportunity to step into his shoes. Which is perfect. Now I have a reason to stay and help you.”
“I don’t need help!” She caught herself, took a deep breath, and seemed to rein in her emotions.
Sort of. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I thought you were snake food. You gave me heart palpations.”
“Snake food?”
“Yes, you idiot. I thought you’d blown the operation and Rodrigo had realized you were lying. You know what he does with liars? He takes them to the pit. The snake pit, that red building at the back of the property. He keeps snakes there. Gigantic ones that he feeds liars to.”
“I know. I had the grand tour.” He shuddered. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I hate snakes.”
She made the sign of the cross. “I thought you were dead.”
She cares for me. The truth was like a sucker punch to his stomach, yet it made his heart do weird things inside his chest. “I figured you’d dance on my grave when I died.”
Snatching up her shawl, she glared at him again, but the missiles were fizzling. “Don’t for one minute think that I’m okay with you being here. You’re staying in the apartment next door, by the way.” She tapped the folded bed sheets. “For your bed. Over there.”
With a swirl of her skirt, she tilted up her chin and left him standing there. He heard the bathroom door slam shut.
Grinning, he grabbed his plate of nachos and went to make himself at home on her couch.
Chapter Five
San Diego
2200 hours
Cooper Harris crouched in the dark beside the basement window of a gift shop in a not-so-nice alley on the rough side of San Diego.
“What do you see?” the head of the SCVC Taskforce whispered sotto voce to his partner, Thomas Mann.
Shuffling, along with a sound of metal scraping on metal, rose from inside where Thomas was looking around. “A bunch of shit,” the DEA agent answered softly. “Shelving, perfume, knickknacks, office supplies, a couple of crates. Wait… What is this?” A pause and the squeaking of dry hinges. His cell phone’s flashlight illuminated a crate. “Oh, yeah, come to papa.”
Cooper’s body went on high-alert. “What is it?”
“Ronni’s going to love this. She was right. The crates are full of bath salts.” He emphasized bath salts. “Purple Wave, Ocean Snow, Tranquility.”
In the world of designer drugs, stimulants were sold as bath salts under a variety of names. Ronni Punto, Cooper’s undercover FBI agent working Project Bliss, had nailed another one. She’d told him about this gift shop and her suspicions at their morning taskforce meeting.
Bliss was an op to crack down on manufacturers, wholesalers, and retailers of synthetic designer drugs. They were after a dealer in San Diego, but the operation spanned at least twenty states. They suspected the manufacturer was in Mexico. Everything from tobacco shops to convenience stores was selling the stuff over the counter. A seven-year-old kid had recently died from eating his mother’s bath salts, a white, powdery substance more widely known as ecstasy.
A block or two away, he heard the chirp of a police siren. This alley was quiet, but the ones surrounding it saw a good number of homeless squatters, drunks, and street dealers. “Come on out,” he told Thomas. “I’ll call Dupé and get a warrant.”
Cooper heard the snap of Thomas’s cell phone camera, saw a flash of light. “Coming.”
A minute later, they w
ere headed back to Cooper’s SUV. He was dialing his boss, deputy director Victor Dupé, when his phone beeped with an incoming call.
Make It Rain was the ID.
Cooper climbed into his vehicle. “It’s Cruz.” He answered the cell. “Tell me you have Agent Diaz and are headed back to San Diego.”
“I have Diaz, but…”
The agent’s hesitation made his hackles rise. “No. No buts. Project Bliss is about to explode on us. We’ve taken down three shops this week and we’re closing in on the supplier. I need you here.”
“I haven’t completed my mission with Chica Bonita.”
“Chica Bonita has to wait. Bring Diaz back and help us nail this supplier.”
“No can do.”
Cooper refrained from banging the phone into the steering wheel, but his stress must have been obvious on his face. Thomas grabbed it from his hand and put Nelson on speaker. “What’s up, man?”
“Diaz is safe. I’ve got her back. But I’ve found myself in a little situation that could lead to something bigger than Chica Bonita. I’m going to follow it.”
Thomas shot Cooper a questioning look. Down the street, blue and red strobe lights illuminated the surrounding buildings. A crowd was gathering at the corner.
The distraction was helpful after their little B&E, but it was time to go. Cooper put the SUV in gear. “Agent Diaz is not safe until she’s back in the States, Cruz. There’s no breathing room on this. The Feds want her back, like yesterday.”
“She refuses to come back until she finishes her op. She’s not gone rogue, man. She’s still on the job like a dog on a bone. If I’m going to protect her, the only thing I can do is play bodyguard, and it just so happens, I have the perfect cover.”
“As an assassin outlaw gang member?” Thomas asked.
“Rodrigo Morales made me his head of security today.”
The Southern California Violent Crimes Taskforce was a conglomerate of agents from the FBI, ICE, and DEA. Each and every one of them had incredible undercover skills, a ton of training and experience in undercover ops, and a penchant for taking risks.