The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  The shrill cheep of her cell phone slipped beneath her skin and she shouted at Lia to answer the call, sending her friend stretching into the backseat to retrieve her bag. She had no doubt her mother was on the other end of the line.

  “Tell Mami we’re fine. Go away, Frankie. I did what I had to and you have every right to be pissed. But you’ll have to deal with your anger without me.”

  “Oh, no, Marisela. I plan to deal with you. In the way you deserve.”

  Lia shoved the phone at Marisela. “Talk to him.”

  “Tell Mami I’m busy,” she said, grinding the words out through her teeth.

  Lia’s olive skin had turned pasty white.

  “Marisela, please, take the phone. It’s not your mother. He says if you don’t talk to him, this car will explode.”

  Dirty Little Secrets: Chapter Six

  “Who is this?”

  “Calm down, Ms. Morales. Though I don’t make a habit of offering idle threats, I simply wanted to emphasize to your friend that you shouldn’t open your door to Mr. Vega. That wouldn’t be wise.”

  She glanced at the caller ID, but as expected, the number was blocked. Still, the cultured voice seeped into her skin like warm, scented lotion—expensive and custom-blended with tiny threads of priceless silk. Even with Frankie now sitting on the hood of her car, looking like he was lounging seaside rather than annoying the hell out of her, Ian Blake’s voice appealed to that stunted feminine part of her that loved a good rescue. The light had turned green, but the SUV hadn’t moved—probably more interested in the show in the rearview mirror.

  And just how did Ian Blake know what was happening to her on a busy West Tampa street? And how did he know Frankie?

  “I don’t suppose you have any brilliant plan for getting him off my ass? Or better yet, off my car?”

  She turned her body, certain she didn’t want Frankie reading her lips or guessing that she was up to her eyeballs in dangerous shit she still didn’t understand. But with one phone call at the perfect time, the idea of working for Ian Blake grew even more appealing. Whatever job he wanted her for would undoubtedly take her out of town—and out of Frankie’s vengeful reach.

  “Your problem will be solved momentarily. In the meantime, we need to talk.”

  “Didn’t I say I’d find you if I was interested?” She honked the horn. Frankie barely flinched and the SUV remained staunchly at a stop.

  Blake sighed wearily. “A nice touch of bravado, Ms. Morales, but your claim was thoroughly impossible. You don’t have the skills or contacts yet to find a man who doesn’t want to be found. But if you come to work for me, you’ll have a boundless opportunity to learn.”

  Marisela hooked the phone between her ear and shoulder, tearing off the minute an ambulance passed and the dark SUV finally cruised out of her way. Frankie’s reflexes were agile, and as she’d known he would, he dismounted without getting him self run over.

  She made a quick right at the intersection, then eased over the speed limit enough to create a distance between her and Frankie. By the time she glanced in the rearview mirror two blocks into her high-speed escape, he was nowhere to be seen.

  “What do you want, Mr. Blake?”

  “To discuss the details of my offer.”

  “I’m going to the beach.”

  “He’ll find you there.”

  “We have a lot of beaches in the area, Boston-boy. No way will he know where I’m headed.”

  “I don’t see why not. You really have only two choices, judging by the parking tickets you have collected over the years. Ben T. Davis or Clearwater Beach are your usual haunts, are they not? I suppose you could mix things up, head down to Sand Key for the first time in a long while, but the vibe there isn’t really as social as you prefer, is it?”

  Marisela, just about to turn onto the ramp at I-275, pulled instead down the access road, unnerved by the ease with which he’d delved into her life. At the first parking lot she saw, for a body shop, she stopped well out of sight from the road. She pointed at Lia so she’d remain in the car, then jumped out and slammed the door.

  “You’re thorough,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she marched a few feet away. Her friend was still white as a ghost, her arms braced on the dashboard as if her fear glued her palms to the cracked, vinyl surface.

  “I’m consistently thorough when I’m in pursuit of something I want. Turn me down if you must, Ms. Morales, but don’t delude yourself with thinking you can stay one step ahead of me or my associates. You can’t. It reflects no weakness on your part. I am simply better equipped.”

  A few seconds later, a dark sedan identical to the one she’d ridden in last night parked not thirty yards away, on the opposite side of a bay where two mechanics were pounding out the dented side of a Ford truck. She didn’t recognize the driver, but when the back window rolled down, she exchanged nods with Max, Ian Blake’s right-hand man.

  She couldn’t contain an impressed grin. The man certainly knew how to illustrate his power. She wondered if his goons had taken care of Frankie, too, since he and his rusted Chevy were nowhere co be seen.

  “Why are you following me? You obviously have my number. You could have just called.”

  “I’m on a bit of a time crunch, I’m afraid. I’d love to have the luxury of enticing you slowly into Titan, Ms. Morales, but I can’t afford such seduction at the current time. So I’ll cut to the chase.”

  The dollar amount he recited, double of what he’d promised last night, on top of his skillful use of words like luxury and seduction made Marisela drop her phone. Luckily, Lia had gotten out of the car and with quick reflexes, caught the cellular device before it crashed onto the asphalt.

  But her friend didn’t return the phone, even after Marisela stretched out her hand.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Marisela snatched the phone from her friend and held the receiver to her breast. “If you don’t want both of our asses kicked by guys who could easily dump our bodies where we’d never be found, get in the car. Now.”

  Terror froze Lia’s eyes into a wide stare. Marisela stepped forward and gently laid her hand on Lia’s arm. Her skin was clammy and hot, so she injected her friend with confidence courtesy of a wicked smile.

  “Chica, we’ll be fine. You just have to listen to me, okay?”

  For some reason that Marisela had never been able to explain or understand since the day Sister Agnes placed Lia and Marisela at the same table in kindergarten, Lia trusted her. She managed a tiny nod, then sprung around to the passenger side of the car, got in, and buckled her seatbelt.

  Marisela stepped back toward her car, opened her door, and leaned casually over the frame rather than sliding inside. No doubt, Max was reporting her every move to Blake. She didn’t want to look like she was ready to take off.

  “That’s a generous offer, Mr. Blake. What am I supposed to do for this money?”

  “Very simple. Rescue a missing child.

  She laughed. No way was this guy altruistic. “How charitable of you.”

  “Charity has nothing to do with it, Ms. Morales. The girl’s family is paying me a great deal of money to retrieve her from her father, a dangerous man who does not have legal custody. I will fill you in on the details once you accept my offer. You have to understand the value of discretion in these matters.”

  “The only thing I understand is the value of a dollar,” she said, not sure her words were entirely honest. Marisela could always fire herself up with a benevolent cause. In such cases, her motto ran along the lines of the ends justifying the means. And while her outlook often landed her in trouble, taking the safe route in life often led absolutely nowhere except living with her parents and searching constantly for a perfect job that likely didn’t exist.

  Or maybe she’d finally found the ideal profession, in the least likely of places.

  “I’m interested in your proposal, Mr. Blake, but I can’t make a decision until I hear the details. In the meantime,
you’ll have to trust my ability to keep my mouth shut.”

  Marisela scanned the street and parking lot and saw no evidence that Frankie had followed after she’d ditched him at the light. Would he return to her parents’ house and wait for her there…or did it matter, now that Blake’s men were watching her back?

  “In that case, we need to meet immediately.”

  She laughed. “Are you implying I can’t keep quiet?”

  “Do I have reason to believe otherwise?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” Marisela responded. Keeping secrets and covering with lies was an art form to her. “But you’ll have to trust me because I’m busy today. First, I have to bring my friend home and calm her down, which won’t be so easy now that you’ve threatened to blow her up. I need time to smooth things over. If she blabs to my parents, your cover is blown. The last thing you need is the entire Morales clan descending on you like locusts, right?”

  He cleared his throat. “I leave town on Sunday.”

  “Sunday it is. Where do you want to meet?”

  “I’ll have the directions delivered to your house.”

  The possibility of accepting the offer from Ian Blake added a swagger to her step that she hadn’t realized was missing until right that moment. She waved at the guys in the sedan then practically hopped into her car seat.

  “What do I bring with me?”

  “Just your favorite workout clothes. Any weapons you prefer. We’ll provide everything else you’ll need, including a cover story for your parents.”

  “No shit? You’re a full-service employer.”

  “We try to cover all our bases. Feel free to tell your parents about a job interview and training session you’ll be attending in Boston for a Titan investigator position in our new Tampa office. As far as they are concerned, you’ll be flown out Sunday morning and should return in two weeks. The trip is all expenses paid, of course.”

  “Papi will never believe it.”

  “I’m sure you can be convincing when properly motivated. When you return home later today, you’ll find a packet of information on Titan’s petty crimes division, as well as a flattering article from the New York Times on our part in exposing a major credit card fraud scheme. The indisputable facts will bolster your story.”

  Marisela started the car and did a U-turn so she could take an alternate route home. “I can tell my family that I work for Titan International?”

  “Proudly. Our company has a long, respected history. Not all of our cases are featured in the public arena, but I think we’ll pass your father’s scrutiny. After you’ve convinced your family this opportunity is on the up-and-up, meet me at the arranged location and we’ll complete the final phase of your recruitment.”

  “That sounds a little scary,” she commented, though in all honesty, the possibilities excited her beyond belief.

  Ian’s chuckle on the other end of the line caused a field of gooseflesh over her bare arms. “Recruitment will be the easy part. Next comes training. Then, the mission.”

  After a brief good-bye, Marisela disconnected the call. Only after they were headed back toward her house did she even remember that the pale-faced woman in the seat beside her was her very best friend in the world.

  “Marisela, what was that about?”

  “A job. Looks like I finally have one.”

  “Doing what? Stunt driving?” Lia quipped.

  Lying to her parents was one thing. Lying to Lia was something else.

  “Stunt driving might be in the job description, actually,” she answered. She wouldn’t tell Lia about rescuing the kid—not until she had details.

  “Who’s your boss?” Lia asked.

  “I can tell you that his sense of style is better than his sense of humor. He didn’t mean his little threat, by the way.”

  At this, Lia let loose a string of curses that sounded more natural coming out of Marisela’s mouth than her friend’s.

  “Marisela, this isn’t funny. Those guys looked dangerous. For once in your life, chica, can’t you follow a safer route?”

  “Safer? And do what? Go back to working at Wal-Mart? Lia, I know you and my parents don’t see it, but I actually have skills that other people will pay big money for.”

  “People like who? Criminals?”

  “Well, the little stains on my record don’t exactly make me appealing to the police academy. Besides, I think this guy is legit, relatively speaking. He owns a company called Titan International out of Boston. It’s a top private investigation firm.”

  “And you know this because he told you?”

  “I may be a fool about a lot of things, Lia, but I’m damned good at recognizing truths from lies. That claim is too easy to check out. In fact, instead of the beach, why don’t we detour to your place? You can verify who he is for yourself.”

  * * *

  Marisela knew just about every inch of Tampa, but the breezy, barren docksides near Rattlesnake Point were a whole new world. Just one day after she and Lia checked out Titan and decided they were for real, she turned into the cracked shell parking lot beside Riptide Marine and braced herself. From this point on, her old life would pale in comparison to what Titan offered. She couldn’t wait.

  Her tires crunched across the field, stirring up white dust that reflected off the Sunday morning sunshine. She’d had one day to put her affairs in order, as Blake had said, not so gently invoking the idea that she might not return home alive. The guy was slick, but could be painfully transparent. He wanted to intimidate her, possibly ensure her capitulation through the tried-and-true tradition of fear. Well, Marisela decided the first thing she’d do after she took his money was show him a thing or two about how she reacted when someone messed with her mind.

  But right now, she had to concentrate on finding her way around this graveyard of rusted boats and dock equipment. She grabbed the map Ian had had delivered to her with the directions to their rendezvous point. For all her assets, Marisela’s sense of direction sucked.

  Once she’d traversed the junk yard, a monstrous warehouse loomed on the bleak landscape. She parked where Blake instructed her. The place looked entirely deserted. She turned off her engine and cracked her door, not surprised to hear a surly wind whistling across the warehouse’s expanse of concrete and waxy glass.

  From the trunk, she retrieved her gym bag, stuffed with her favorite sweats and lingerie, the only items her new boss had said she’d need. Of course, she’d also brought her favorite CDs, her must-have makeup, deodorant, nail polish, her gun cleaning kit, and last but not least, her gun, which technically wasn’t in the bag, but safely tucked beneath her arm, hidden by the cropped denim jacket she wore over her hot pink halter. All identifying information—maxed out credit cards, driver’s license, social security card—now lived with Lia, tucked away in her safety deposit box, along with a note to her parents and the police, just in case she didn’t return from her first foray into covert operations.

  She scanned the area with a scowl, her skin prickling with the sensation that something wasn’t right. Slamming the car trunk, she shouldered her bag and climbed up the concrete stairs to the docking bays when a car engine revved behind her. Sand and shell shot into the air as tires spun in her direction.

  For a moment, she squinted through her sunglasses trying to see who’d pulled in so fast, but the jolt up her spine told her to screw that and get the hell out of sight. The warehouse was long and open, with nothing but the bay doors to offer her haven and the industrial-size padlocks wouldn’t be giving way anytime soon. She turned, ran to the opposite end of the building and hurdled the railing to the ground below. The impact sent a hot jolt up her ankle, but the minute bullets sprayed across the building, denting the bay doors and crashing into the cement block, she had her weapon drawn.

  The firepower from the car was semiautomatic. Nothing industrial like an AK-47. Was this another of Ian Blake’s goddamned tests?

  She shoved her bag beneath some underbrush, along with he
r anger and her fear. Right now, she had to concentrate on staying alive. She sped toward the back of the building, where the Inter-coastal waterway might provide an escape route. She spit out the grit coating the inside of her mouth and kept her back to the wall, her eyes darting behind her and in front of her, not knowing when or where to expect an attack.

  She could hear the car spinning its tires in front of the building, the occupants whooping like kids pulling a prank. Thanks to a tall, chain-link fence, they couldn’t get to her by following her route, not in the car anyway. But they could easily go around to the other side of the building and she’d be cornered.

  Behind her, a man leaped to the ground precisely where she had, the black steel of a gun pointed in her direction. Adrenaline and self-preservation sent her running, feinting right and left just enough to make her a hard target to hit, but not enough to slow her down. Bullets screamed by pinging off the building and exploding just behind the heels of her boots. She turned the corner in time to see the car that had followed her spin around the back of the warehouse. The front end crashed through a trio of metal drums, flinging them into the air like bowling pins.

  Towers of metal crates, large enough to hold small cars, were stacked along the waterside. Marisela dove into the maze of enclosures, desperate for cover while bullets whizzed by.

  One ripped through the sleeve of her jacket, searing her with white-hot pain and tripping her momentum. She swallowed a scream and shifted her weight so she didn’t land on her injured arm. When she caught up to Ian Blake, she was going to rip his throat out. Where were his men? Where was he? Or were her attackers on his payroll yet again?

  Bullets rent the steel and aluminum behind her. Marisela struggled to catch her breath, boxed in by crates, her lungs squeezed by terror. Flattening herself to the crate’s hot aluminum side, she gulped in air and checked the blood oozing from her bicep and soaking into her jacket. While the scorching pain of torn flesh watered her eyes, she trusted she would live, at least long enough to make sure she exacted a little payback on the comemierda who’d shot her.