Just the Messenger

by Ninette Swann

  Marco ignored them. “Okay,” he said, “say cheese.”

  At the last moment, Grace feigned rolling her ankle on her high-heeled platforms. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she knelt down to tend to the fake injury. The camera went off, getting just the two men in the shot.

  Gomez peered down at her suspiciously, but she played her part, and he eventually asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, a whiny tone in her voice. “More embarrassed than anything. A lady should be able to stand in heels.”

  “Well,” Gomez said gracefully, “those are quite the heels. May I suggest more suitable footwear this evening?”

  She flashed him a grateful smile then turned toward the camera.

  “Okay,” she said, “let’s do it right this time. Ready? Cheese!”

  The flash went off again.

  She made her goodbyes and vague promises to meet up with them in the evening, then joined Marco and Warren as they exited the restaurant.

  Chapter Six

  Dozens of bouquets met her as she arrived in the shared living area of their suite half an hour later. Startled, she backed out of the fragrant setting and called for Marco.

  “Jesus,” Warren breathed out. He had gotten there first. “What on Earth did you say to those guys, Gracie?”

  “More importantly,” Marco said with a frown as he filed in behind Warren, “why did you tell them where you were staying?”

  “Well, I was afraid to lie,” she replied. “I don’t know who they are, and I’m sure they could find me anyway.”

  She waited to see if they would catch on, but no one said anything, so she continued.

  “Given that I had accidentally told them my real first name.”

  Warren slapped a hand over his face. “Oh, girlie.”

  “Let’s pack up.” Marco strode into Grace’s bedroom, threw her suitcase on the bed and started to pile in her clothes.

  “No way,” Warren argued from the doorway. “Step away from the lady’s stuff. I’m not going to have you ruin our cover with your overprotective bullshit.”

  Marco stopped but lingered by the case, looking deflated and pissed. “So are you finally going to tell us what you learned? No one can overhear us, now.”

  “The waitress told me a big deal is supposed to go down between the two cartels tonight. There’s a festival on, and the bosses are using it as a cover. Maria said she didn’t know if there would be drugs there, but it was possible. She said they’ve been working on an agreement for months, now, which would stabilize the drug influx over the border.”

  “Cartels don’t just work together,” Marco said, rolling his eyes.

  “No, they don’t,” Warren agreed. “A lot of people have already died as they’ve vied for power in this co-op. It’s a tentative truce at best, and should something go wrong, I don’t doubt it will get rowdy tonight. As it is, we’re headed to the center. That’s where the action will be.”

  “That’s where they invited us, anyway,” Grace said, excitedly.

  Warren gave her a half-smile. “I assume they’ll want someone to celebrate with if everything goes according to plan.” He paused, “Or someone to distract them should they lose a lot of their men when this falls through.”

  “When?” Marco asked, mimicking the reporter.

  “Like you said, man, cartels don’t just work together. I really doubt they’ll be able to pull this off. Better bring your gun.”

  “What should we do about all this?” Grace asked, motioning at the flowers and ignoring the heated look passing between Warren and Marco.

  “Well, chickie, I say we move hotels. Move towns if we can. But not until tomorrow. I’ve got a…visitor coming.” Warren turned to Marco. “Hey, can you stay with Gracie instead? I forgot to mention I’ll be needing the room.”

  Marco turned red and grumbled. “It’s no problem,” he said finally. “Someone should be with her anyway, in case these Don Juans try to make a move or force their way in.”

  “Yeah, sure, buddy,” Warren winked. “I’m sure that’s all you’re getting out of it.”

  Grace blushed at the implication of his words but didn’t refute him. She’d be looking forward to staying with Marco, actually. They’d left things so up in the air back home. Maybe they’d get a chance to clear it.

  * * * *

  Marco slammed his bag down on the bed in Grace’s room. He didn’t like it, not one bit. It was too dangerous to go out there during a cartel negotiation. He didn’t want to parade Grace around in front of those goons like choice foreign meat, especially since their minds would already be on money and blood. Not a good combination. He’d grown to hate Warren’s carefree attitude. The man didn’t walk on water. He wouldn’t always be safe. And his risk-taking was putting all of their lives in danger. Marco could only keep him protected for so long.

  The shower started running, and he heard soft female singing through the patter.

  Grace’s attitude puzzled and soured Marco, too. She seemed up for anything. He knew he shouldn’t care so much. Girls who slept through multiple men on their way to the top didn’t make good mates. He knew that. And she had given openly to him and Gene that night as if it were something she was accustomed to doing. Despite knowing all of that, despite telling himself to stay cold and detached, to use her for what she was obviously good for, Marco couldn’t help but want to curl her up in his arms and protect her from anyone who so much as looked at her lecherously. There was an innocence about her, something that her actions opposed, but it was there all the same. A joyous optimism that spoke of the ability to get swept away. He very much suspected that Grace was just going along for the ride, not knowing that the ride would break her upon landing, that these men—any men—were dangerous and cutthroat and didn’t care about her. He prayed he wasn’t being played for a fool as he continued to put his trust in the curvy vixen.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t stand his own thoughts any longer. He burst into the steam-filled room.

  “Hey!” Grace yelped in alarm, peering out, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s you. Don’t scare me like that.”

  “Do you want to have sex with those men?”

  “Which men?” The curtain swung back into place, leaving him to stare at nothing but his foggy reflection in the mirror.

  “I’m not playing games, Graciela,” he ground out.

  “No, I suppose you’re not,” she said, after a time.

  He waited in silence, but nothing. The water slushed suddenly, telling him she must be rinsing her hair.

  “Gracie, answer the question. The answer is yes, right? Because if the answer were no, you’d have told me already.”

  He felt his emotions running out of control and turned to leave the bathroom. He didn’t want to say things to her that he’d regret later. Like calling her a backstabbing, disgusting little slut. He was still in charge of her, after all, and it was no one’s fault but his own that he was jealous over her. Her body was hers for the giving, not his. Even if she did want to sleep with every man on the planet, she was still none of those things.

  A wet hand stilled him.

  “No.”

  He turned to see a naked, wet Grace, rivulets of water making their way down her tanned skin, over her perfect breasts. Her curly hair was flat and long, pouring drips and drops of water all over the tile floor. Her eyes were wide with that honest look in them that he’d learned to love.

  She was obviously waiting for him to reply, but he had no words. When he remained silent, she closed the distance between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. The moistness of her skin against his thin T-shirt drenched him, but he didn’t care, only pulled her closer, crushing her to him. He opened her lips with his tongue, drinking in the freshness of her body and mouth, enjoying the slippery feel of the water on his flesh where he touched her. When his shaft stirred against her leg, she broke the kiss and reached down to caress it through his cargo pants. He shuddered at her touch, unabl
e to contain the pleasure shooting through him at what she was apparently suggesting. He tangled his fingers in her wet locks, lowering his mouth to her neck where he lapped at the tiny pool of water settling in the hollow of her collarbone. One of her hands reached around and cupped his buttocks, massaging the muscles there.

  He reached down to mimic the motion on her right breast, circling the rounded mound before thumbing the taut nipple. He moved to take it into his mouth, reveling in her intake of breath as he tongued it lightly back and forth. Her curvy hip pressed against him as she arched her body. Her hands guided the T-shirt up toward his chest, and he broke contact just a moment to take it off. The steam in the room had curled and dampened his hair, and he brushed a strand back behind his ear before kneeling before her.

  A sheen of moisture clung to her legs, collecting in droplets as he ran his hands up her thighs. A swatch of dark curls met him, and the fresh scent of soap enveloped him as he neared her skin. He placed a few hesitant kisses on her hip bone before her groan of acquiescence gave him the courage to go further. So different from men—softer, fuller, smoother. He flicked out his tongue to taste her, unable to bear the teasing closeness any longer.

  Liquid heat welcomed him, the smooth folds of her body opening to him easily. Delicate and sensitive, she responded to his lightest touch. He captured the central nub between his teeth and sucked gently, feeling her shiver in response. Delving his tongue into her depths, he groaned at the feel of her surrounding him as she whimpered and thrust her hips forward, begging for more. On and on he teased and suckled, bringing his hands around her legs to anchor her in place.

  “Oh, God, Marco, please,” she whispered, “don’t stop.”

  She widened her stance for him, and he hummed into her, the vibrations making her writhe in front of him and call out his name. Then he dipped a finger deep inside of her, pumping it up and down in time with his oral attentions. His tongue swirled around her, and he added another digit, stretching her channel in rhythmic thrusts. Her hands pulled at his hair, and when he brushed the inside of her ass with his pinkie, she cried out and bucked as she came for him, screaming her pleasure until the waves of passion finally ebbed.

  She smiled weakly at him and sank down to the tiled floor, placing her head on his chest so that her damp hair tickled his skin. In that moment, Marco wished they could stay in place for always, that there was no Gene, nor drugs, nor Colombia. That he was just a guy and Grace just a girl, and they could give being together a shot. She sighed into him, and he wondered if she wasn’t thinking the same thing. Then her fingers began to play gently with his shaft head, still swollen from the tantalizing excitement of his going down on her.

  She untied the drawstring holding him in and looked up in appreciative surprise when the length of him sprang free.

  “It’s hot here, and I was headed to the shower anyway,” Marco said by way of explanation, his voice a throaty hum.

  “Well, let’s not keep you from that,” Grace murmured, guiding his body upward and standing herself. She led him to the shower and turned her rounded bottom toward him as she leaned over to start the water. He kissed her shoulder blades, wrapping his arms underneath hers and around her sumptuous body, clasping her breasts in his hands. She moaned as he kneaded them and thumbed the peaks. Feeling the skin pucker at his touch sent ribbons of pleasure fluttering through him, delicate and urgent, like Grace herself.

  His cock brushed up against her lower back when she straightened, bringing forth a drop of moisture to the tip. He pushed into the touch and felt her body stiffen in enjoyment as a shudder ripped through both of them simultaneously.

  “Come in,” Grace purred, standing aside and nodding toward the steamy flow.

  He obliged her, allowing the stream to cascade over his shoulders and down his back, closing his eyes to the sensations. When he opened them, Grace was standing in front of him, bar of soap in hand and a mischievous look in her eyes.

  Without speaking, she lathered him, starting at his pectoral muscles and making her sudsy way down his rippled abdomen.

  “Such a beautiful body,” she murmured, stopping to rinse the bubbles away. She dipped her head to him, sucking his small, brown nipple into her mouth. Her hands moved even lower, and he welcomed the glorious feel of her soft fingers stroking his erection through the slippery sheen of the soap. She cupped his balls, her fingertips pulling the sac gently toward her, causing it to tighten with a pleasant pressure. An ache began building at the base of his spine as she stroked and rubbed, and desire tingled throughout his limbs. Her mouth broke from his chest, and she stared at him, her smoky eyes tinged with high emotion. He took her bowed lips in a conquering kiss, thrusting his tongue deeply, taking in the taste of her, the fresh mint of her toothpaste mingling with her naturally sweet flavors.

  The kiss left them both breathless when he finally broke away from her. The soaked air sank into his lungs, leaving him with a heady sensation. Her hands worked a faster rhythm now, firmly stroking and pulling him, and the ball of fire sitting low within him increased in intensity until he felt he could no longer hold it inside.

  “Grace,” he groaned into her wet hair. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

  “Good,” she whispered, adding a twist of her fingers over his head. The added pressure pushed Marco into orgasmic oblivion, and he shouted as he came. Gripping her hips to keep himself standing, he shot rope after rope onto her slippery, wet stomach.

  As the world came back into focus, he saw Grace rinsing herself in the crystal water.

  “I don’t want to have sex with those men,” she said with a slight smile. “I only want to have sex with you.”

  Marco gathered her into a bear hug, willing negative thoughts away, but one overpowering doubt broke through, and he had to voice it.

  “And Gene?” he asked.

  “Hmm,” she pondered as she gently disengaged herself from him and bent to shut off the tap. “And maybe Gene,” she decided aloud, then glanced at Marco. “I’ve been in love with Gene for a long time.”

  Marco chuckled, unsure of all the emotions swirling through him. “Me, too,” he said, but before he could react to Grace’s surprised look, a harsh knock sounded at the door leading from the bathroom to the other bedroom.

  “Hey, you two! Hurry it up in there, will you? I want a shower, too, before I spend my afternoon…sightseeing, if you know what I mean!”

  “Be right out, Warren!” Grace called back. “We’re just changing.”

  “Sure you were,” the shout came back.

  Grace giggled, scampering out the door to her room.

  * * * *

  “No, I’m on my way,” Gene tried not to yell into the phone as his blood pressure rose with the news. “Tell me what happened again, Marco. Just the bullet points.”

  He listened, taking mental notes as he packed a quick bag—an extra suit, shaving and bathroom kit and some water. He stopped in front of his wardrobe and decided on a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, too. Should he get into trouble on the ground, he was going to need clothing in which he could run.

  “We found the guys, Luis and Gomez. We looked them up on the Internet and in Lexus Nexus—Luis Contrado and Gomez Rodriquez—the head honchos. We got their picture. There’s a meeting tonight during a festival. We’re headed there later. The problem is, Grace told them her name. And she told them where we’re staying. She must have been the only Grace checking in today.”

  “And you’re still staying there?” Gene sputtered. “What’s wrong with you? Do I have to do everything myself?”

  “Well, I didn’t see the harm in waiting one night,” Marco defended. “They’re kind of busy right now.”

  “You don’t think they see right through you? You need to get the hell out of that hotel. Now.”

  “No can do, compadre,” Warren Bell’s voice came on the line. “We’ve got a meeting to bust.”

  “They’re going to bust you, if you’re not careful,” Gene bit out. “
Which you’re not.”

  “But, I’m still alive, I might add,” Warren said. “Here, talk to Marco again. He’s more your style with the sour, wet blanket thing of his.”

  “Marco?” Gene asked.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “God, he’s an idiot.”

  “He is,” Marco agreed. “But his idiocy gets things done. He’s right, Gene. We’re not going to blow our cover by switching hotels.”

  “Fine!” Gene threw up a hand even though no one was there to see it. “I’ll have to do everything myself.”

  Marco sighed into the phone. “What time will you be here?”

  “It’s 3:00 p.m. now, and I’m chartering a flight and calling for emergency arrangements to get us out of there if need be. CableNette is going to have a hefty bill for this.”

  “If we break the story for them, they won’t complain.”

  “I think I’ll land at 11:00 p.m. Keep your phone on. And for Christ’s sake, stay alive until then, got it?”

  “I got it.”

  “And keep Grace alive, too.”

  “Yeah. I will. Hey, Gene?”

  The question came just as Gene was about to click off the phone call. “What?”

  “She loves you, man.”

  “I know.”

  Gene hung up and hurried down to the town car waiting to take him to the airport. If he kept moving, he could keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh no!” Grace fumbled with her camera case in the back seat of the cab as the trio headed to the city center. She and Marco had spent the afternoon there already, scouting places where they could watch without being seen while Warren kept his rendezvous with his waitress informant.

  “That camera better not be broken,” Warren said, turning around from the front. “I’m going to need you snapping shots of everything. Hey, that thing has video, right?”

  “Yeah, it does,” she said. “But it doesn’t have the picture of Contrado and Rodriquez on it!”

  “What?” Marco leaned over to see, brushing his hand against Grace’s thigh.