SiNN

by Tina Donahue

  Standing in front of her rusting Ford Fiesta was the blond from inside.

  A mixture of surprise, curiosity and desire rippled through Lea, matching the unmistakable longing sweeping across his face.

  It didn’t last.

  His look of authority returned quickly, hardening his features, dismissing his previous lust, as though he recalled he was here on business, and not of the corporate kind.

  Unfortunately, that only left the government, as in the INS or Uncle Sam. Did he think she was an illegal being paid under the table?

  Lea’s arousal and confusion turned to fast indignation. As a good, upstanding citizen, she reported her tips…for the most part. So was that why he was here, giving her that I-want-you-but-you’re-in-deep-shit look? He intended to check her status or audit her? Damn. Was he planning to take her vehicle because she hadn’t paid enough in taxes? Her stomach sank. What in the hell would she do without wheels? How in the crap had he even known she was SiNN and the vehicle was hers or that she’d be leaving early?

  Had one of the bouncers told him, caving because he had his own tax problems?

  Idiot. When she got her hands on the SOB, he’d regret the day he—

  “Ms. Baptista.”

  Her pulse jumped at the voice from behind…deep, resonant, possessive.

  Even before Lea looked, she knew she’d see the man in black. The way he spoke matched what she’d imagined in her mind. A protective, masculine tone, commanding but also safe, that called to the female within her. Glancing over, she met his dark eyes, his irises sparkling in the parking lot’s lights.

  Unlike the blond, he was close enough for her to sense his restrained strength and heat…the male animal within him barely controlled.

  Everything went still, the sounds of traffic, insects and masculine laughter receding beneath the wild pounding of Lea’s heart. Held by his potent allure, she couldn’t think, breathe or move.

  That is, until he slipped his hand into his back jeans pocket as though reaching for something.

  Lea wasn’t about to ask what. Acting on instinct, she stepped to the side, putting distance between herself and him, taking in his full length. The tails of his shirt hid the bulge behind his fly. The erection she sensed he sported.

  It should have frightened her, but did not. No more than the blond guy by her car.

  Having grown up with strangers, she’d acquired the ability to read them quickly. These men didn’t seem to be physically dangerous, though they were clearly together, just as she’d told Danielle. They knew her name and had come out here for an ambush. Now all she needed to know was what kind? The blond seemed prepared to hassle, not harm her, while naked passion flickered in this man’s eyes.

  Her legs went weak.

  “Ms. Baptista,” he said again, speaking quietly as though he wanted no one except her to hear. “I’m Jake Gabriel with the U.S. Marshal’s Service.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. Even then, Lea didn’t understand. U.S. Marshals? Here? To speak to her? Why?

  He brought his hand from behind himself and opened a leather wallet, displaying a circular gold badge with a large star in the center.

  Very impressive. But what did it mean? She looked at him questioningly.

  Regarding her container of pepper spray, he inclined his head in the direction of her car. “That’s my partner, Toby Quinn.”

  A part of Lea wanted to look, but could not. Once more, Jake had captured all of her interest. She guessed him to be six-three, given how he towered over her. This close, she caught his scent, an intoxicating mixture of leather and musk. The faint breeze ruffled his glossy black hair, freeing a strand.

  It fell forward, grazing his forehead, the tip touching one of his dark brows.

  Tantalized, she imagined reaching up and easing his hair back, then trailing her fingers over his rich skin. She could almost feel its heat, the bite of his beard-stubbled cheeks. “You need to come with us,” he said.

  Okay, that she understood. Sort of. Her arousal receded beneath a thread of alarm. “What? Why?” Was he arresting her? How could he? Bastard. She frowned. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m in this country legally. I pay my taxes.”

  Amusement flickered across his face. “This isn’t about your status or taxes.” His tone was gentler than before, the way a man would speak to someone he valued. “You’re not in trouble, but you do need to come with us.” He slipped his wallet back into his pocket and rested his hand on her upper arm.

  The warmth of his fingers, his tempered strength, jolted her, sending Lea’s heart to her throat. The organ beat so fiercely, her head spun.

  Breathless, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re in danger,” he said.

  Chapter Two

  She didn’t react, question or comment. Most couldn’t when faced with the fact that someone wanted them dead and would stop at nothing until reaching that goal.

  Instinctively, Jake shifted his weight, making certain his body shielded Lea’s from anyone coming around the building. A few minutes ago he’d checked the area to ensure its safety, just as Toby had studied the men inside the club to see if any of them had shown her undue interest.

  Given her performance, Jake would have predicted a lot of them drooling, not dividing their concentration between her and their cellphones. Not that he was complaining.

  What he’d seen tonight supported the intelligence they had on her case. Cubrero wasn’t yet aware that she worked here, nor had he approached her at another location. If he had, she would have already been tortured and murdered.

  Lea blinked slowly, her lips parting with her shallow breaths.

  A wave of sympathy swept through Jake, an emotion he didn’t often experience. She seemed so young suddenly with her hair pulled back and her face free of the hard makeup. Though enticing as SiNN, she was even more beautiful now. Earthy and sensual. All too vulnerable.

  An insane urge to pull her close hammered at Jake. His chest tightened as he strained for control, resisting the need to hold her within his arms, guiding her head to his shoulder, easing the length of his body into hers. Keeping her there until she was safe…until she wanted what he did.

  His cock was so hard the skin stung. His balls demanded the warmth of her hands and mouth.

  Something flashed across her face, an emotion Jake couldn’t readily identify. He wanted to believe it was arousal as deep as his. Crazy, he knew, and not even close to reality.

  She glanced down at his thumb stroking her biceps. Not realizing what he’d been doing, Jake stopped.

  As luck would have it, Toby took that moment to approach. His slight frown said he didn’t approve of Jake touching her at all.

  Too fucking bad.

  “What are you talking about?” Lea asked.

  Jake heard her alarm and didn’t know how to address it. Telling her the truth wasn’t going to do the trick. As gently as he could, he squeezed her arm, offering reassurance in the hope that she wouldn’t break down until they were inside the SUV.

  Reaching them, Toby said, “We need to leave now.”

  “To go where?” Lea’s ponytail swung as she regarded him. Pulling her arm from Jake, she stepped back. “What’s this really about?”

  She was on full alert now. Resistant. If she started to scream or run, he and Toby were in deep shit.

  “You said I was in danger,” she accused Jake. “From what? Who?”

  Toby answered first. “Do you watch the news, Ms. Baptista?”

  Jake frowned. They didn’t have time for twenty fucking questions. God only knew how much Cubrero had already found out about her. Before Toby could open his big mouth again, Jake took over. “A few days ago there was a drug-related execution on the south side of town. At our request, the press didn’t release the victim’s name. The man who was murdered was Manuel Morales.”

  Lea stared, then scowled. “Who? You think because I work here that I’m into drugs? Is that what this is
about?”

  “Not at all. We know you’re clean.”

  Her eyes rounded. “You know?” She glared at him, then turned her frown on Toby. “How?” Not waiting for an answer, she withdrew a step.

  Jake stayed where he was. Toby followed her. Tightening her jaw, Lea lifted the container of pepper spray.

  Toby didn’t even blink. “We’re law enforcement, Ms. Baptista.” He pulled out his badge, showing it to her as Jake had done with his. “There’s no reason for you to be afraid of us.”

  Her expression said he was dead wrong or nuts. Shoving her keys in her front pocket, she reached into her backpack.

  Toby got really serious. “You’re not carrying a firearm, are you, Ms. Baptista? As I’ve said, we are law enforcement.”

  She pulled out her cellphone. “Tell that to 9-1-1. How do I know you didn’t get your badges on Ebay?” She looked at Jake. “How do either of you know I’m not into drugs? Have you been following me?”

  “We’ve investigated you,” Toby said.

  Her jaw tightened.

  Risking her further wrath, Jake approached and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, his thumb on hers, stopping her from punching in any numbers on her phone.

  She gave him a pissed frown and tried to pull back her hand.

  Jake didn’t allow it. “We know you grew up in foster care, and that your mother brought you into the system when you were three. The surname she gave you at that time was Baptista. In Florida, where you were born, your last name was Morales. Your mother was married to Manuel Morales, one of the lieutenants in the Cubrero drug cartel. Until he was murdered, they lived here in Phoenix. He was your father.”

  A sense of unreality settled over Lea, quickening her pulse, causing her thoughts to race. She’d been born in Florida, her last name was really Morales, her mother brought her into the system, her father was dead, murdered?

  No. Not true. All the times Lea had questioned her many foster parents about her origins, they’d always said her grandmother had raised her after her mother cut out in favor of men and having a good time. The woman had died in an auto accident before Lea’s second birthday. Shortly after that, her grandmother had become ill, eventually having to turn Lea over to the system.

  All these years, a persistent memory had haunted Lea. In it, she was wrapping her arms around a woman’s neck. Clinging to her, overwhelmed by panic, Lea cried, not wanting to leave. The woman’s face was always wet with tears. She’d smelled of cinnamon and coconut.

  Even now, Lea recalled her lilting, heavily accented voice asking, “You want arroz con coco?”

  One of Lea’s favorite dishes, white rice sweetened with coconut milk and sugar.

  That had to be a memory of her grandmother. Lea recalled the woman’s loving hug before she handed her over to a black woman who took her away in a car. No man was in those memories, no husband, no devoted mother or recollections of Florida.

  What Jake had said was a lie. Why was he doing this? Why was Toby? Had she been so very wrong about her initial perception of them? Was this an elaborate ruse by two guys who were stalkers or rapists?

  Lea’s fingers tightened around her cellphone. If Jake noticed, it didn’t get him to release her wrist.

  “We need to leave now,” Toby insisted.

  “She wants more proof,” Jake argued, then spoke to her. “Call the Phoenix police, ask for Detective Sanchez. We spoke with him before coming here. He’ll still be at his desk.”

  Lea forced down a swallow, her attention moving from Jake to Toby. One dark, the other blond. Both formidable. “You spoke to him about what?”

  “You,” Jake said. “Call him. The number’s—”

  “Yeah, right.” She twisted her hand to free it. “I’ll find it on my own.”

  Toby sighed. Lea shot him a look.

  Didn’t faze him at all. “He’s in violent crimes,” Toby informed her, then spoke to Jake. “We need to leave.”

  No fucking way. Not until she knew who he and Jake really were.

  She pulled up Phoenix’s directory on her cellphone, locating the number for violent crimes. By the second ring, her heart beat so fiercely Lea wasn’t certain she wanted the call answered.

  On the third ring, it was out of her hands. A man said, “Violent crimes.”

  Lea’s throat tightened. She shifted her weight. “Ah, can I speak to a Detective Sanchez?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  Damn. There was actually a detective named Sanchez working there?

  Wait a minute, this was Phoenix. Sanchez was about as common here as it was in Mexico. Unwilling to tell the man her name, Lea said, “The woman who’s with two guys who claim they’re U.S. Marshals…a Jake Gabriel and Toby Quinn.”

  “Just a sec.”

  She had expected him to ask, “who?” His lack of hesitation made Lea’s skin clammy. Faster than she expected or wanted, another guy came on the line. “Sanchez here, Ms. Baptista.”

  Blood drained so quickly from Lea’s face, a wave of dizziness buffeted her. She gripped her phone.

  “Ms. Baptista?” he said.

  She blurted, “What these two guys have told me is true? All that stuff about my past really happened?”

  “I’m afraid so. You need to go with them.”

  “Are you kidding? Where?”

  “That’s up to them. Let me talk to Deputy Gabriel.”

  “But I want to know—”

  He interrupted, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Please put the deputy on.”

  Lea’s hand trembled as she handed the phone to Jake. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Gabriel,” Jake said, then listened. “No,” he offered, pausing once more as the detective spoke. In the coming minutes, Jake responded with little more than a cryptic no or yes.

  Toby offered no comment.

  Lea risked a glance. He was already regarding her. For another man, it might have been an awkward moment. Not for Toby Quinn. He didn’t look away. That same arousal she’d seen earlier simmered in his eyes. Heat rose to Lea’s throat and face.

  If her blush pleased or aroused him, he didn’t reveal it. With that same neutral expression, he studied her for a moment longer, then focused on the area surrounding them as though he expected trouble.

  You’re in danger, Jake had said.

  Lea locked her knees to keep her legs from wobbling. Turning his back to her, Jake strode to the left, speaking quietly, no doubt so she couldn’t overhear.

  Lea noted his cowboy boots, as black as the rest of his attire. Raising her face, she inhaled deeply, smelling a car’s exhaust and the pungent odor of garbage carried on the lazy wind. In her peripheral vision, she caught movement. Turning, she saw the edge of Toby’s suit jacket flapping in the breeze, showing her a bit of his shoulder holster, the gun he carried.

  Aw, God.

  Ending the call, Jake returned to her and Toby. “We need to leave now,” he said, handing her the phone. “Do what we ask and you’ll be safe.”

  She studied the contours of his shirt, wondering where he hid his gun. “Safe from what?”

  “We’ll tell you on the way.” Once more, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. Whether it was for moral support or because he didn’t want her to flee, Lea didn’t know.

  With him on one side and Toby on the other, she felt both protected and vulnerable. They led her from the lot to the darkened street, walking briskly, not stopping until they’d passed the business end of the area and entered a modest residential development. There, they stopped in front of a black Chevy SUV.

  Toby opened the back door. Lea’s stomach churned. “Tell me now,” she said. “Before I get inside. I mean it.”

  The men exchanged a look.

  Lea frowned. “Dammit, what are you keeping me safe from?”

  “The man who wants you dead,” Jake said. “The one who murdered your father.”

  His wait was almost at an end.

  For years, he’d lived for tonight, th
e feel of his hands around Lea Baptista’s throat, her pulse quickening beneath his thumbs, her eyes pleading with him for mercy, her voice catching on a cry that she wasn’t Maria Morales.

  He knew better. He’d discovered the truth a short while ago. For what her father had done, she would also pay.

  His body tensed with fury, but he kept his expression relaxed, just another man biding time until the next performance.

  A young female server stopped in front of his leather wing chair, blocking his view of the stage. Appreciating her naked breasts and the black G-string she wore, he finally looked at her pretty face.

  “Another Chivas?” she asked cheerily, glancing at the scar on his chin.

  The only Scotch he’d ordered remained untouched on the small table to the side. He wasn’t a man who indulged in liquor or drugs, not while stalking his prey.

  “Of course,” he answered agreeably, not wanting to bring unnecessary attention to himself.

  With what appeared to be calculated intent, she leaned close, the side of her breast brushing his sleeve as she took his still-filled glass. A light, lemony fragrance wafted up from her pale skin, the scent complementing her wheat-colored hair.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  Turning her face to his, she flashed an inviting smile, telling him he could have her if he wanted.

  The thought intrigued. Along with how far she’d be willing to go.

  When he ordered her to her hands and knees on his bed, securing her wrists to the headboard, would she protest? He doubted it. She appeared in need of authority and punishment.

  The strokes of his strap would be quick and precise. When her ass was as pink as her cleft, he’d sink his cock into her cunt, then take her anally, all while stroking her clit, making certain she enjoyed the act. After which, he’d be forced to kill her so she couldn’t identify him.

  Clearly, there was no time for such pleasure tonight, not with Maria Morales to deal with.

  He brought up his iPhone and looked at the screen, ignoring the young woman deliberately, reflecting on how lucky she was to live another day.