Under Fire

by Rita Henuber

  Olivia pointedly looked at the three very young, very beautiful women. He slung his arms around the shoulders of the girls sitting to either side of him. “They stay,” he said dryly.

  “Then I don’t. Sorry to have taken you time. Perhaps one of your competitors will be more willing to assist me.” She turned briskly and walked away, moving as fast as she could through the crowd.

  Crap! She had blown it. Outside she raised her arm to signal the valet to bring the Jag. A hand the size of a catcher’s mitt gripped her shoulder and forced her arm down.

  “Mr. Silva asks you to return. Said to tell you the ladies are gone,” the big man mumbled.

  Relief overwhelmed her. She followed as he cut a path through the crowd to Silva’s table like an ice breaker. Silva gestured for her to join him and she slid over the supple leather seat close to him. In a slow deliberate motion Olivia placed her purse on the table. “There’s a .38 in there.” She tapped the purse with a finger. “One of your men might like to hold it while we talk.”

  Silva narrowed his eyes, threatening to make his thick eyebrows a unibrow. He dragged the purse close and opened it. Placing his napkin over the .38, he removed it and pushed it across the table to the big guy. The .38 disappeared into the Volkswagen’s jacket. Silva spread the remaining contents on the table, fingering her lip gloss, opening the compact, turning the cell on and off, and closely examining her driver’s license, credit card and hotel key card. He finished by counting out her five hundred dollars. Satisfied they were nothing sinister, he snapped his fingers. A thin man appeared out of the shadows, replaced all the items in her purse and left with it.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, please, tell me your name again.”

  “Olivia De Levec.”

  “Should I know this name?”

  “No.” She smiled.

  “I repeat. Why do you think I can help with your problem?”

  She leaned, deliberately brushing her breasts against his sleeve. “I was sent here by my uncle. Excuse me, I mean my employer. I assume you know about our recent problems with the American, Mexican and Canadian governments.”

  “I may.” Again his eyebrows joined.

  “Then you know we are currently short of imports. Our customers are very distressed. Until we can get back up to speed we’re looking for investors who can help us build inventory.”

  Silva made a quick move, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her to the back of the booth. Olivia’s blood turned stone cold. This wasn’t what Rico meant when he called Silva a space invader exerting his dominance, this was something else. He held his face so close his breath brushed her neck and the smell of his cologne overwhelmed her own perfume. He released one shoulder, but fell more against her, keeping her pinned. Silva’s free hand roamed her body. First her breasts, then sliding inside the back of the dress, fondling her ass. Her hands rose toward his neck. Her gaze darted around the room. Were they being watched? Could she break his neck before being stopped? She relaxed and lowered her hands. He was searching for a wire or weapon and getting a feel in the process. His dark feral eyes stared into hers. She held his stare and kept her body still. Even the slightest flinch would be taken as a sign of weakness.

  His smooth hand traveled up the inside of her thigh, bunching the skirt of her dress in her lap. She shifted her leg to give him complete access. When Silva’s fingers touched her thong she spoke in his ear. “I pretty much know where everything is. If you tell me what you’re looking for I can help you find it.” Silva went still and she did the same. His hand slid from under her dress and away.

  “Find what you were looking for?” she spoke again in his ear.

  “Not yet, but, if we continue this—” he leaned back and she could see his amused look, “—friendship, I intend to.”

  “Then I take it you’re considering assisting us with inventory?” She forced a smile in return.

  He moved off her, settling back against the leather. “Perhaps.” He raked a hand through his hair and straightened his tie, stretching his neck to adjust his shirt collar. Next he pulled on the lapels of his expensive jacket and smoothed the sleeves. When it was straightened to his liking, he looked her over carefully. “Why did you come to me and not one of the other businessmen here in Miami?”

  Olivia sat statue still, making no effort whatsoever to put her own clothes in order, and took her time to answer. “Why bother wondering if they can get the job done properly when our contacts tell us you can? Time is short. We can’t wait months or weeks for a shipment. Our information says you have the ability to help us right away.”

  Silva held his chin between his index finger and thumb, contemplating her words.

  “What is the big hurry?”

  Olivia made an exasperated sound. “If we can’t supply our customers they will go to the Asians, Vietnamese or Chinese organizations and we will lose a great deal of money. We have enough to keep our customers happy for two weeks and then…”

  “How are your Asian competitors being supplied?”

  “Same way, with Pacific Rim contacts.”

  He made a come here gesture and the man with her purse appeared. Silva tapped the table with his middle finger and the man placed it on the spot. “I will have to speak with your boss before I make my decision. Call him.” He removed her cell and shoved it to her.

  “Three things you need to remember, Mr. Silva,” she said, ignoring the phone. “One, I am not some stupid bitch who doesn’t know which end is up. Two, don’t order me around. Three, if we do business, you do it with me.”

  “Do you dance, Olivia?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Do you dance?” He smiled. “I noticed you are wearing dance shoes.”

  Observant bastard. “Yes. A little.” She glanced around to the dance floor. “Not so much to salsa.” Pleased she hadn’t sucked in her lip at the lie, she allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up.

  “Come.” He slid out of the booth, offering his hand to her. “I will show you.”

  She wasn’t sure what was happening. Had he agreed to discuss doing business or was he dismissing her request? She didn’t move. Silva laughed.

  “Come. We’ll dance now, talk later.”

  He guided her to the dance floor. When he took her in his arms, she used every ounce of control to push back the hate and revulsion surging through her like gale force winds. Her skin felt too small for her body and her muscles crawled to be free from it.

  Two months ago Olivia would have bet everything she owned that if she ever got this close to Silva, she would snap his neck. Tonight she had to accomplish more than killing him. Pulling her closer and resting his hand on the curve of her ass, he moved them to the music. Her feet didn’t get the memo it was time to dance and remained planted to the floor. She stumbled. The small jarring motion was enough to snap her mind back to where it needed to be.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed. She forced a submissive smile and tightened her fingers around his hand. She was going to bring this man and his organization down and, beginning right now, she was going to enjoy it.

  Silva shifted his hold and she relaxed, forcing everything from her mind but the music. Olivia let him lead her until she got the feel of his body and rhythm. During the next pause between songs Silva did not release her. She was keenly aware other people on the dance floor were watching.

  He took her right arm and rested it on his shoulder. Snaking both arms around her, he placed his hands on the curve of her ass. The music started—a song she and Rico danced to often. Olivia draped her other arm across his shoulder and made her move. Enjoying the look of surprise that crossed his face, she shimmied in a way that challenged him to do the same.

  Instead, he hauled her against him, slamming their bodies together. She wasn’t surprised to discover a growing bulge in the front of his pants pressing against her thigh. She pushed back a knot of nausea rising in her throat and tried to picture Danny, but couldn’t. It was Rico’s face she saw.
His voice she heard saying “you can do this.” The thought of Rico centered her.

  Determined to gain Silva’s trust, she gave it everything she had. When the music stopped, Olivia made no move to separate from him.

  “Olivia, you are an excellent dancer.”

  “Thank you.” She lowered her eyelids to half mast. “It’s more like I’m a quick learner and you are an excellent teacher.” Her effort to stroke his ego paid off. He smiled and seemed pleased with her compliment.

  A man signaled Silva from the edge of the dance floor. Instantly his body language changed.

  She bristled when he ordered her to return to the booth, but said nothing. A scantily dressed waitress set a drink in front of her. Taking a sip, she found it was a Mojito made the right way.

  Olivia watched the man hand Silva something small, which he pocketed, and lean close to speak in his ear. Silva dismissed him, stood still for a moment then turned and walked briskly toward her. She was sure they had been speaking about her.

  He slid in next to her. “My men searched your room.”

  She blinked several times and leaned back as far away as she could get from him. “And?” She’d expected this, but the speed of it was surprising.

  “What is in the room safe?”

  “A 9mm and disposable phones.” She took a sip of the Mojito. “A few pieces of jewelry. My passport…” She left the impression there was more and she wasn’t about to tell him what the more was.

  “You don’t seem upset your room was searched.”

  Olivia shrugged. “I was told you are a careful man, as you should be. I expected this. I would have done the same.” She said nothing else.

  Several moments passed before Silva spoke. “I will discuss doing business with you tomorrow. My man will pick you up at your hotel. Noon sharp. We can talk details over lunch and perhaps get to know one another.”

  Olivia leaned closer again. “Tomorrow. Business, yes. Lunch, yes. Anything else…maybe.” She carefully placed the half-finished drink on the table. “Tonight—” she lowered her eyelids and licked her lips, “—more dancing.” The flashing neon lights, thrumming of sensual music and first blush of success had her amped. Dancing would work off the excess energy. She slid from the other side of the booth and waited for him. He sat, his head cocked to one side, appraising her. Finally, he graced her with a chilling smile and rose.

  The DJ played new wave Cuban music. A combination of Cuban and hip-hop that she loved. Giving herself over to the sound of the horns and drums, her body moved seductively to the beat and she put everything out of her mind but the music. They danced until, exhausted, she led him to the booth.

  “Mr. Silva, it’s time for me to leave.” She made a face. “My feet hurt.”

  He waved his arm and her purse materialized in his hand. Before handing it over, he removed her keys, passing them to a man with the order to bring the car to his private entrance. He retrieved her room key card from his pocket and slipped it inside. When he returned the purse, she could feel the .38 inside. This was good. He trusted her.

  He walked her to the car. “Do you need directions to your hotel?” he asked as she buckled up.

  “Nope.” She tapped the Jag’s dash. “Have GPS.” She paused and took a measured breath. “Thank you, Mr. Silva, for an interesting evening.” He nodded a silent response.

  Olivia stopped the Jag at the street looking in the rearview at the man who killed her brother. An imposing figure, he stood watching her, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a cigar. Security lights eerily illuminated cigar smoke haloing above him like a phantom.

  Halfway to the hotel police lights flashed behind her. There was no other traffic or any pedestrians to be seen. She pulled over, kept her hands on the wheel and nervously glanced at her purse on the seat next to her. In the driver’s side mirror she watched the cop swagger to the car.

  “License and registration please,” he said, keeping a hand on his weapon.

  “I can show you my license and rental papers,” she said, keeping an eye on his gun hand. “May I take my hands from the wheel?”

  “Okay, missy. Move slow and you’ll be okay.”

  She clamped her lips together and carefully removed the license from her bag. In her peripheral vision she saw the officer’s hand go to his weapon.

  “The rental papers are in the glove box. Can I open it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why did you stop me? I know I wasn’t speeding,” she asked, handing him the papers.

  “Have you been drinking tonight?”

  “One Mojito and a lot of water. Are you going to tell me why I was stopped?”

  “Broken taillight. Sit here while I check this out.”

  Broken taillight, her ass. She glanced again at her purse. Stay calm, Olivia. What would she do if Rico’s forged handiwork wasn’t good enough? She couldn’t run from the cops.

  “Here you go.”

  “Shit!” She jumped. The officer stood next to the window.

  He eyed her carefully. “You seem pretty nervous. Any reason for that?”

  “I’m a woman alone in a strange city, pulled over at four in the morning for no apparent reason. Of course I’m nervous, you jerk.” She pinched her eyes closed. That was stupid. She didn’t need to antagonize him.

  “Step out of the car.” He opened the door. “Keep your hands where I can see them and walk to the back of your vehicle.”

  Behind the Jag, he forced her face on the trunk, patting her down and feeling her up.

  “Get up and keep your hands glued to that trunk.”

  “Yes, sir.” She wanted to take the guy down. Wipe the road with his face.

  “Do you mind if I have a look inside?”

  “Yeah I mind, but that isn’t going to stop you. Have at it.”

  “Do you have anything in the car I need to know about?” he asked, sarcastically, on the way to the passenger door.

  “Don’t forget this isn’t my car, it’s a rental,” she called after him.

  She looked down to see a smashed taillight. “Son of a bitch.” Her jaw tightened. She returned her attention to the cop who now stood alongside the open passenger door, her purse in his hand and a surprised look on his face. He threw it on the hood and leaned back into the car grappling around under the seats. He was looking for her gun. Rico nailed it.

  Silva knew she was carrying and had no permit, and had the taillight broken deliberately in the club parking lot. A cop on his payroll pulls her over, she goes to jail, has to call someone local to get her out. A call to Silva puts her in his debt. Plus the cop can run her info making sure she’s legit.

  Olivia smiled. He wouldn’t find what he was searching for. As Rico instructed, she’d pitched the gun in the first storm drain she saw.

  The cop looked pissed. “I need to search you again.” She kept silent. Only an idiot would think she could hide anything under this dress. He was rough and inappropriate, yet she stood still and held her tongue. No sense pushing him. Finished, he told her she could turn around and shoved her purse in her stomach.

  “Anything else, Officer—” she looked at his name tag, her voice full of contempt, “—Russell?”

  “No. Eh. When you acted nervous…You understand. I had to check things out.”

  She forced a smile. “Yes, I most certainly do understand. May I go now?” Without waiting for his answer she wrenched the Jag’s door open with all the drama she could manage, climbed in and drove away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next day Olivia wasn’t waiting in the lobby for Silva’s driver. She was lying by the pool on a very comfortable chaise, hidden from prying eyes and protected from the sun in what the concierge called a personal cabana.

  “Ahem.” A man cleared his voice.

  She opened one eye to see Mr. Volkswagen from last night standing at the foot of the chaise holding out a phone. Olivia stayed stone still.

  “Ahem.” This time he was louder.

  “
What?” she snapped.

  “Mr. Silva would like to speak with you.” He handed her the phone.

  Putting it to her ear, she listened.

  “Olivia? Olivia, are you there?”

  She said nothing.

  “O-li-vi-a, we had an appointment today. My man, Angel, is there to fetch you. Or had you forgotten?”

  She remained silent.

  “Olivia?”

  “If you think I would do business with you after the shitty stunt you pulled last night you are truly insane,” she snarled. She hit end and held the phone out for Angel. When he made no attempt to take it, she flung it on an empty chaise next to her.

  Several seconds passed before he retrieved it. He stood another few moments looking from her to the phone in his hand before turning and walking away. The phone rang. Quickly he answered, “Yes?”

  Before he could turn to face her, she called out in a voice loud enough for Silva to hear, “Tell your boss to go fuck himself.”

  The man’s shoulders slumped. He nodded and walked away.

  Little more than an hour later another man appeared at the foot of the chaise clearing his throat.

  “Leave, or I’ll call hotel security.”

  “Ms. De Levec, my name is Felix Mendoza. I’m Mr. Silva’s assistant.”

  “I don’t care about your personal problems. Leave.”

  Olivia stretched her arm toward the hotel phone.

  “Please, let me speak.”

  She pushed herself up to a sitting position, shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave him a withering look. “Speak. You have thirty seconds before I recover my good judgment.”

  “Mr. Silva asked me to deliver his most humble apology. He will explain further if you will agree to meet with him. He also would like you to accept this gift and his invitation for dinner and dancing this evening.” He drew a long, narrow jeweler’s box from inside his jacket.

  Olivia kept her eyes on his face while she opened it, not looking at the contents. She didn’t want to appear interested.

  When she did look, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Inside the case lay a diamond anklet. It had to be twelve carats. Her gaze snapped back to Mendoza’s face, who seemed pleased with her reaction.