The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  Officer Renaldo began the questioning. She started with Raoul, asking a series of expected rote questions as though completing a standard questionnaire. When she’d finished the formulaic inquiry she repeated the process with Jesse. In addition to her name, address, etc. she asked Jesse to describe her company. It was the first time that Jesse was able to put in words her vision for her private security firm. Just describing it made it real. Jesse felt a small involuntary surge of pride, and Raoul’s encouraging smile helped.

  Lt. Rockford then asked them about the event in question. His questions were general--essentially why they were there, when they arrived, and so on. When the Lieutenant asked Raoul why he attended, Raoul said simply because he was a financial supporter of the Hernandez campaign. When he asked Jesse the same question, she was as succinct, replying ‘because Raoul had invited her.’

  After several more specific questions to Raoul, Lt. Rockford closed his notebook and looked to Officer Renaldo who indicated with a brief nod that she was finished. Jesse was taken aback. She had expected questions about why she and Raoul had left, and obviously had thought they would question her about discharging her weapon. But neither officer raised additional questions. Why became clear when there was the sound of voices in the hallway and Dameon strode into the room. All conversation stopped at his entrance.

  Red Rock Rises: Chapter Eight

  Whereas Raoul had entered with a splash captivating the group with his exuberant personality, Dameon wordlessly captured the room with his powerful presence. Jesse had felt it the first time she saw the man they called “Wolf.” He commanded, owned, whatever space he was in. Moving to the head of the table, he pulled out the chair and sat down, nodding to each of the participants.

  Like Raoul, Dameon was dressed primarily in black. He wore black dress trousers and a dark patterned dress shirt that hugged his impressive torso. The shirt was open at the collar and he wasn’t wearing a jacket. But the shield at his waist and bulge at his ankle belied his casual appearance. Catching a glimpse of dark curly hair at the top of his shirt, Jesse quickly looked away, praying that the heat scorching her cheeks wasn’t visible. Dear God, what was wrong with her? She’d seen all types of men in every state of undress, consistent with living in tents and makeshift barracks. She’d learned to ignore them. Modesty, both hers and the men she worked with, was in short supply in the middle of the battlefield. But now the whisper of black hair on Dameon’s chest had her heart racing. God, what would she do if he ever took off his shirt?

  Dameon’s voice was as cool and confident as his appearance.

  “Lt. Rockford, I don’t know if you’ve requested that our guests remove any weapons they are carrying. While all of them no doubt have the required permits, in discussions of this nature, I prefer that my officers and I are the only armed participants.”

  Lt. Rockford flushed. “Sorry, Wolf. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Dameon gave a dismissive flick of his wrist and turned to his deputy.

  “Officer Renaldo, will you please collect the weapons from our guests and place them on the counter.”

  He fastened his gaze on Tomas Sanchez, Raoul’s bodyguard, who was eyeing him with open contempt.

  “Tomas, if you are uncomfortable relinquishing your weapons, you are free to leave.”

  The dark-skinned man scowled and looked to Raoul for support.

  Raoul’s dismissive gesture mimicked Dameon’s. With a muffled curse, the burly guard reached inside his jacket and jerked out a police regulation Glock and tossed it on the table with a clatter.

  Dameon’s lip curled.

  “Don’t forget the one in your boot, Tomas. Be a good guy. Watch how nicely your boss removes all three of his weapons.”

  Raoul laughed out loud as he systematically removed the pistols in his shoulder and back holsters, and with a flourish yanked a Sig from his boot.

  “Damn, Dameon, can’t put a fucking thing over on you, can I, dude?”

  Dameon smiled. “You never could, Raoul.”

  The Chief turned to Jesse and gazed at her through narrowed eyes, a twitch at the corner of his eye betraying the twinkle.

  “Major?”

  Jesse tossed her head.

  “Does that include knives?”

  Dameon surveyed her fitted blouse that was tucked into the waistband of her slim skirt.

  “Depends where you have it.”

  She sniffed. “Right next to my gun.”

  Jesse stood and lifted her skirt enough to release the catch on her thigh-high holster. She dropped the small but powerful Walther onto the table. Ignoring the wide-eyed response from virtually every man at the table, she lifted the other side of her skirt and removed a Balisong knife. She casually flicked the latch on the vicious weapon and placed the now ten-inch blade next to her gun.

  Raoul whistled. “Damn, Chiquita! That may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Dameon and his prick agreed. With an effort, he managed to keep from leaping across the table and punching his randy pal in the face.

  He recovered enough to issue a dry remark. “I won’t ask what else you have hidden there, Major.”

  As Officer Renaldo was collecting the small armory of weapons, Raoul tossed the Chief a challenging grin.

  “I must be going up in the world. I don’t usually attract the attention of the Big Guy. Usually Rocky has to deal with me. What brings you to this auspicious gathering, Chief Macarios? Don’t tell me I’m more important than I realized.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Dameon’s mouth. He threw a quick glance at Jesse.

  “That presumes I’m here because of you, Señor Morales.”

  Raoul looked from the Chief to Jesse and his eyes flashed with understanding.

  “Ah, yes. I see. Perhaps I am not the attraction, si?”

  Turning his attention to Jesse, Raoul said with a mischievous glance at the Chief, “Jesse, you’d never know that this upstanding Police Chief grew up two doors down from me in the toughest barrio this side of Mexico City. And now look at him. Fuck, Dameon. I hear they’re even grooming you to be Senator someday.”

  Dameon smiled. “Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear, my friend. Those sound like rumors from people who would prefer a more amenable Chief sitting in this chair. As for our boyhood haunts? I treasure those days, Raoul. They made me tough enough to take on the haji’s and tangos in the Middle East. And if you think a few Latino wannabe badasses are tough, you ought to see what a group of tangos can do. Ask the Major. I’m confident she’s had her share of skirmishes with guys a hell of a lot tougher than second-rate gangsters.”

  Leaving Raoul to sort through the insults to his family of origin, Dameon flawlessly changed direction. His shift caught Jesse off balance. From the surprise registered on Raoul’s face, Dameon had snookered his pal as well.

  “Speaking of second-rate mobsters, Raoul. Who were the men who crashed our party the other night? And who sent them?”

  He flipped open one of the manila folders and spread three photographs in front of himself but facing Raoul.

  With a flick of his wrist, he amplified. “The gentleman on the left is dead, courtesy of my bullet. The guy in the middle is still unconscious due to an amazing shot from Major O’Donnell’s silver tooled Walther, and the man on the end is still recovering from the ministrations of Sergeant Munk Stephens, our three-hundred-pound ‘closer.’ The shooter apparently fears whoever sent him to kill you more than he does a life in prison. You could save us hours of interrogation by simply telling us who they are and who wanted you killed in such an auspicious setting. A setting certain to send shockwaves throughout the, shall we say, underground economy?”

  Dameon sat back in his chair and fastened his gaze on his nemesis’s face.

  Raoul glanced from photo to photo. Anger sparked in his eyes.

  “Thanks, Dameon. Due to Jesse taking me down as fast as she took out that dude,” he said, pointing to the man in the middle, “this is th
e first time I’ve seen the thugs that shot up Councilman Hernandez’s coming out party.

  “As for who they are and why they attended the party, I can’t help you, bro. Your better odds are to talk with the councilman. If I were a betting man,” he winked, tacitly acknowledging the three semi-legitimate gambling houses he ran, “I’d say your best bet is that these assholes were out for the councilman. As you know, Chief Macarios, there are a lot of people in these parts who aren’t anxious for a 'beaner' to become our United States Senator.”

  Dameon ignored his answer as if it was what he expected. Instead, he looked to Jesse.

  “Do you know any of these men, Major?”

  Jesse shook her head.

  Again, as if anticipating her negative response, Dameon persisted.

  “Has your client told you, or has anyone in his retinue indicated the possible identity of the shooters or the man who hired them?”

  Jesse frowned at him. “As you know, whether he did or didn’t, that would be a privileged communication. My counselor relationship to Mr. Morales entails the same constraints and privileges as a lawyer and her client, with all the same client protections.”

  “I see. Well, I appreciate knowing the nature of your relationship with Mr. Morales.” Several titters followed Macarios’s caustic aside.

  Dameon’s eyes were cool as he considered her thoughtfully.

  Surprising everyone, he picked up the photographs, put them in a folder and handed the folder to the clerk.

  He rose from his chair and surveyed the group.

  “Thank you for coming. That’ll be all, folks. For now.”

  Ignoring the surprised mutters as the participants scurried to pick up their personal items, Dameon came over to Jesse and took hold of her arm.

  “If you would, please, Major. I’d like to see you in my office.”

  He motioned to his deputy who was collecting the various weapons.

  “Officer Renaldo, please show Ms. O’Donnell to my office.”

  Jesse frowned and Raoul stepped forward, inserting himself into the conversation. He glared at Dameon, his jocular affability noticeably absent.

  “I’d planned on taking my counselor to lunch, Chief Macarios.”

  Dameon’s tone was brusque. “Sorry. You’ll have to make it another time. I have official business with Ms. O’Donnell.”

  Waiting for Officer Renaldo in the hallway, Jesse noted that Dameon and Raoul were still in the conference room engaging in what appeared to be a heated exchange. Tomas Sanchez hovered outside the door, frustrated suspicion marring his already harsh visage. Jesse didn’t need to hear the conversation between the two imposing men to know that it was an intense one.

  Red Rock Rises: Chapter Nine

  Jesse sat in Dameon’s office waiting for him. She took advantage of the surroundings to get a more personal glimpse of his life. The walls were covered with various awards and honors from his career in the army, and also a fresh collection honoring his service on the police force. Jesse noted, that among U.S. Army commendations, several referred to Lt. Colonel Macarios. She wondered why he had left what was clearly a fast track career. The collage of photographs on his desk hinted at the reason. A truly gorgeous little girl was featured in a montage of candid shots. She was dark-haired like Dameon and, like her father, had a ‘foreign’ element to her looks. Jesse guessed from her wide, almost black eyes that the influence was Middle Eastern or perhaps East Indian. She was admittedly gratified to see only the child and her handsome father in the pictures. Nowhere was there a picture of the girl’s mother.

  On the wall behind the door were photos of Dameon and what must have been members of his Ranger unit. She recognized the patches on their uniforms and also many of the background icons. Dameon hadn’t merely been trying to reassure her when he talked about the sandbox—he knew whereof he spoke. Many of the photos were taken in locations she recognized in Iraq, Afghanistan and a few in Pakistan. Jesse’s gaze landed on a group of smiling men in uniform clowning for the picture. Of course she spotted Dameon first; his stunning eyes and dark hair were riveting. But next to him was a face that she knew well. It was her lawyer Eric Grant, his perpetual grin illuminating his face.

  As though she’d conjured him up, there was a knock at the door. When it opened, to her surprise both Dameon and Eric were standing in the doorway. Naturally, Eric was grinning but for once, his bonhomie looked forced.

  Jesse didn’t hide her surprise. “Eric, what are you doing here?”

  Eric was unusually hesitant. He glanced over at Dameon. “He asked me to come.”

  A cold shiver streaked up her back. Jesse had been trying to figure out why Dameon had insisted she meet with him privately. A part of her, that she didn’t want to acknowledge, hoped that he wanted to ask her to lunch or in some way signal that he was interested in her as a woman; not just as a party to a shootout and attempted murder. The serious expression on both men’s faces blew that theory out of the water. Within seconds Jesse’s well-tuned antennae signaled that this was a meeting she was not going to enjoy.

  She stared at Eric.

  “What do you mean, ‘He asked you to come?' Why?”

  “Dameon thought you could use my legal expertise.”

  Jesse was stunned. “What the fuck are you talking about, Eric?”

  Eric sighed as Dameon nudged him into the office and closed the door behind them.

  Dameon pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Eric, Jesse, please sit down.”

  Jesse ignored Eric and turned her attention to Dameon. For the first time she saw his stern expression. While he didn’t look as angry as he did when he was arguing with Raoul, he was clearly on a grim mission. He motioned again to the chair.

  “Please, Jesse, sit.”

  “Like hell I will. What do you think I am, a dog?”

  She backed away and eyed the door. Seeing that she would have to go through a barrier of solid muscular man to get to the hallway, she decided to whittle him down with her anger.

  “What is this, Chief Macarios? And if you don’t tell me straight up, I’m leaving and you cannot and will not stop me.”

  Dameon nodded.

  “I told you yesterday that I needed to talk with you. Specifically about what happened Monday night.”

  “And to do that Chief, you needed to order me to come to the station and pretend that this was simply getting my statement?”

  “Quite honestly, I doubted you would come if I told you what I wanted to talk to you about.” He shrugged. “I would've hated to have to arrest you again.”

  For a moment her anger turned to confusion. But seeing Eric trying to avoid looking at her as he backed into his chair, her fury escalated.

  “And what you had to talk to me about was so serious that you had to connive with my lawyer to get me here with the two of you?”

  She broke off and glared at Eric. “Or to be precise, you brought the asshole who WAS my attorney to a meeting without either one of you talking to me first.”

  Jesse pushed by Eric intending to leave but ran into a hard wall of muscle.

  Dameon grasped both of her arms and walked her to the front of the desk. He motioned to the chair.

  “I asked you to sit down, Jesse. You too, Eric.”

  Jesse was so surprised that she sunk into the chair, angry words sticking in her throat.

  Dameon circled the desk and sat down in his chair across from her.

  “Eric’s right, Jesse. I did ask him to meet with us. To protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  Dameon quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

  “From me.” Dameon squarely met Jesse’s questioning gaze before continuing. “Look. I’m going to lay out some facts for you about the other night. Along with the consequences for you. I wanted you to have the advantage of legal advice before you reacted to my proposal.”

  A dozen emotions swirled in Jesse’s brain. The expression on both men’
s faces established this was grave. The fact that she was having trouble catching a breath confirmed that her heart knew it, even if her brain still couldn’t figure it out.

  “I’ll put it to you, Jesse, in clear terms. Monday night, you drew a gun and shot into a crowd of citizens.”

  When she started to protest, Dameon raised his hand. “Please don’t interrupt. This will go more quickly if you allow me to state the facts and issues as I see them. When I’m finished, along with your attorney, you can decide how you want to proceed. Agreed?”

  The stern expression on his face didn’t brook disagreement.

  Jesse nodded, deciding she’d hear him out before she attacked.

  Dameon continued. “I presume you were about to say that your gun is registered. That is your saving grace. If it wasn’t you’d be facing certain jail time. As it is, we have concealed weapons legislation in New Mexico that you may be unaware of. But let me continue with the range of issues you are facing. After shooting into the crowd, you left a murder scene against my direct orders. Then you squirreled your client out the side entrance, deposited him in his limousine and ordered the driver to leave. You then disobeyed a direct order from Lt. Rockford not to leave the premises. When he stopped you, you resisted arrest.”

  He paused for a moment to let the damning litany sink in then added, “Any one of the above actions constitutes a felony.”