BETRAYED:: Sizzling HOT Detective Series (Book 3, The Criminal Affairs Collection Book 3;)

by Taylor Lee

  Clearly trying to control his mounting anger that was making it difficult for him to speak, Jax quietly said, his words pulsating with fervor, “Do you have any idea, Viviana, how agonizingly painful it is for me to hold you in my arms in the middle of night as you fight through one hideous nightmare after another? How helpless I feel? What I would give to eliminate the abuse that you suffered as a child? And finally, how incredibly proud I am of the remarkable woman that you are? How you have lived your life trying to project innocent children the way that no one protected you?”

  He let go of her hands and leaned back. Then, as if considering what she had said, he shook his head with an aggrieved sigh. The edge in his voice was evident. “But you are correct, Viviana. I did not experience the abuse that you and Vega did. I can only tell you that knowing the hideousness the woman I love more than anything in the world endured makes me angrier than you can imagine.”

  Viviana wanted to reach out to him, agree that she shouldn’t have said the things she did. But she needed him to understand how conflicted she was. Trying not to stammer, she said, “Jax, I . . . I’m sorry. I know you care. But I don’t think you understand. I wish you could hear Enrique and see the way people respond to him, especially young women who have been hurt. And, yes, I may be naïve, but I truly believe if he is elected, he can do more than we can to stop gang violence.”

  Jax said ironically, “That’s good to hear. Let’s hope while Superman is saving the world, he can wave his magic wand and somehow bring back to life the fifteen young men and women who have died in the last two days from ingesting fentanyl-laced H.”

  At her obvious surprise, he glared at her and didn’t hide his anger. “I don’t know if Vega can miraculously stop the gang war that is killing more and more people on the streets of our city every day, but I can tell you who will. Whether you agree or not, our team and the other remarkable men and women in the VCU who have dedicated their lives to fighting this evil scourge can and will.” He added, “And, sweetheart, you can take that promise to the bank.”

  Knowing that what she was about to say would only make him angrier than he already was, Viviana sucked in a deep breath and said, “Jax, I know you won’t agree, but Enrique invited me to accompany him on a three-day, ’round-the-state barnstorming trip to bring attention to the issues that he and I share.”

  Jax made a visible effort to control himself. His relatively calm question was belied by his rigid jaw and flashing, emerald-hard eyes. “Are you asking me, Sergeant Moreau, if you can have a three-day vacation? In the middle of a challenging operation where you are a central player?”

  Viviana gave a dismissive shrug. “The team can handle it.” She added, not hiding her pique, “And damn you, it’s not a vacation. It’s potentially more important than anything I could do as a member of the team.”

  Jax studied her through half-closed eyes. His lips, pressed together in a firm line, were white with the strain. After a long moment, he said, “I see.”

  The silence following his clipped response was deafening. Continuing to pierce her with his stony gaze, he asked after a challenging silence, “When do you plan on leaving?”

  Viviana tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and conjure up enough moisture in her bone-dry mouth to answer. When she was able to squeak out the words, she said in a questioning whisper, “Uh . . . now?”

  Jax’s terse statement sent shards of unease spiking through her roiling gut. “In other words, Viviana, you accepted Vega’s offer before discussing it with me?”

  When she hesitated, then nodded yes, he simply said, “I see.”

  He held her with his iron-hard gaze. After a tense silence, he said blandly, “Well then, Sergeant Moreau, it would appear this discussion is over.” He glanced at his watch as he rose to his feet. “I presume you will need to pack for your whirlwind mission. You best get started.”

  Striding across the patio, he stopped at the staircase. Nodding, his cool words were a knife in her heart. “Good luck, Viviana. And good-bye.”

  ****

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a sandwich, Sergeant Moreau? You look beat.” With a grin, Nicolas Garza added, “Please don’t take that remark to mean that you are any less gorgeous than you usually are. It’s just that I’m aware that you have been mobbed for the last six hours by fans fighting to get within five feet of you.” Nicolas shook his head in mock dismay. “I dunno if dragging you into this morass was a wise move on our part, Sergeant. As Enrique’s campaign manager, I hate to admit that the Enchantress may be even more popular than my candidate.”

  Viviana laughed and did her best to mask her fatigue. She’d stepped away from the crowd, needing to get a respite. She wasn’t surprised that the astute campaign manager had seen her retreat. Glancing over at Enrique Vega, who was surrounded five-deep by well-wishers, she said with a bright smile, “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone detracting from your candidate, Nicolas. I’ll admit I do have a following of my own, but if ever there was a star, it is Enrique. I think your only issue is how to get from venue to venue and keep a semblance of a schedule, given that no matter where we are, he is literally mobbed by voters who can’t get enough of him.”

  Garza raised his hands in defeat. “Hell, Viviana—if I can call you that—I gave up keeping a schedule the first week on the campaign trail. I learned the hard way that Enrique is a neodymium rare earth magnet when he gets within a mile of potential voters. It’s like they can sense his presence before they ever see him. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he could have stepped off the cover of an Entertainment Weekly featuring the most handsome Latinos in the business.”

  Viviana smiled at him in agreement. “Yes, Nicolas, you do have a very commanding candidate. I don’t envy you having to keep him on schedule.”

  Nicolas guffawed. “As if you don’t know what it’s like to be mobbed by fans, Sergeant. I’m surprised you managed to get off the stage without being trampled by your enthusiastic followers. Which is why I asked if I can get you something to eat. I know you haven’t had so much as a glass of water since you arrived this morning, and you have been campaigning non-stop since then. I know you are accustomed to rabid fans, Viviana, but you need to keep up your energy. I don’t want the Enchantress to wear down on her first day.”

  Viviana frowned, remembering how Jax insisted that she needed to eat more. She shoved at the memory of this morning’s challenging scene. The last image she wanted to remember was Jax storming out of the room after she’d announced she was going on a three-day junket with Enrique. She couldn’t hold back a sigh, acknowledging that “stormed out” didn’t come close to describing how Jax left. She wished it had been heated. Anything would have been preferable to the icy cold disdain on her lover’s face when he’d left her on the rooftop patio staring helplessly after him.

  “I’m sorry, Viviana, I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing more than anyone possibly could to make this campaign foray successful . . . ”

  Seeing the concerned frown on Nicolas’s face, Viviana quickly reassured him. “No, please, Nicolas, don’t misunderstand. It’s just that my team is constantly badgering me to eat. Good God, if I ate every time they wanted me to, I would weigh five hundred pounds.”

  Garza lifted a cocky brow and said, “I don’t know how you could gain weight, given the schedule you keep and the miles you log on a daily basis.” Dragging his eyes over her body, he added with a salacious wink, “Let me say just keep doing whatever you are doing, Enchantress. The result is as close to perfection as I’ve ever seen.”

  Hearing a low growl, Viviana turned in time to see Sonia Vega shoot Nicolas a disparaging glower that would have floored a lesser man or a less cocky one. As the angry woman stomped across the room, her five-inch high heels clicking an angry staccato rebuke, Garza chuckled. Clearly accustomed to being the recipient of the contemptuous woman’s ire, Nicolas winked at Viviana and said in mock dismay, “Sure hope you brought your flak jacket, Sergeant More
au. And that you are carrying at least one concealed weapon.”

  Deciding not to pretend to misunderstand the source of Sonia Vega’s frothing antagonism, Viviana shot the amused man a narrow-eyed frown. “A couple of things, Nicolas. First, I’m always armed with at least two military-grade weapons as well as my trusty balisong blade. Second, I don’t participate in catfights, so you can put your excited member back in your pants and look elsewhere for entertainment. Third, you can make it clear to Sonia and anyone else who misapprehends my status that I’m a taken woman—by a man none of you want to annoy. Let’s just say Chief Hughes is without a doubt the most accomplished—and dirtiest—fighter I’ve ever seen. And that, my friend, is saying something.”

  A full six hours later, wondering if she would ever be able to erase the plastic smile that had taken up residence on her face no matter how weary she was, Viviana pulled Nicolas aside and begged for relief. “Sorry, Mr. Campaign Manager, but I concede. Twelve hours on the political circuit comes close to an all-night stakeout in the back of a cramped police van with no hope of a relief shift. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself, and I will be up and at ’em come morning, but I need a little private time.”

  Nicolas was serious, for once his teasing banter gone. “Jesus, Sergeant Moreau, my apologies. I tried to tell Enrique that we were taking advantage of your stardom. That we had to be careful not to run you off on your first day. But he was so jazzed by your presence and the reaction of the crowds to the two of you, he didn’t hear me. Forgive me for not interceding.”

  Viviana shook her head as she walked toward the elevator. “Please, Nicolas, don’t apologize. I’ve had a terrific time. I’m honored to endorse Enrique’s platform with my presence. He is fighting for the issues that have driven my adult life. It’s just that at the moment, a hot shower and a large glass of scotch from the mini-bar is beckoning. I promise you I will be at full staff bright and early tomorrow morning as we hop on the bus for Los Angeles.”

  What seemed like way too few minutes later, Viviana swathed the Ambassador Hotel’s sumptuous terry cloth robe tightly around her still-damp body and went to answer the insistent knocking on her door. When she opened it, to her surprise, she saw a smiling Enrique leaning against the doorjamb. She didn’t know what was more disconcerting: his layered grin and dancing eyes or the bottle of scotch he was holding in his upraised hand.

  Dragging his eyes over her bathrobe, he said, “Nico told me all you wanted was a shower and a hefty hit of scotch. I can see you’ve taken care of the shower. How about I provide the scotch?”

  Striving to keep from telegraphing the shock she felt, Viviana managed to say in a relatively even tone, “Sorry, Enrique. I’m tired and am preparing to go to bed.”

  The flush tramping across his cheeks confirmed that he was embarrassed or angry. Viviana didn’t much care which and shot him a narrowed frown. At her withdrawal, clearly gathering himself, Enrique put up his hands and said with a grimace, “I’m . . . sorry, Viviana. I know I’m likely intruding on your need for privacy. It’s just that this was the most sensational day I’ve had campaigning, and it is all due to you.” His voice rose, becoming even more intense. “You were . . . are . . . amazing, Viviana. You stole the show. I . . . I can’t thank you enough.”

  Viviana stepped back, keeping a firm hand on the doorknob. The unwanted image of Sonia Vega tromping across the ballroom, morphing with the memory of Jax’s angry retreat, sent a steel spike up her backbone. “Thank you, Enrique. It was my pleasure. I’m glad I could help. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get some rest. Good night, Enrique.”

  Decisively closing the door, Viviana leaned against it. Her shaking legs confirmed her shock at Enrique’s brazen advance. Remembering how she’d dismissed Jax’s repeated assertions that the political upstart wanted to get in her pants, she felt a wave of dismay. Of course Enrique was interested in her in more ways than just a political ally. She wasn’t naïve. She knew how men reacted to her. And if Enrique was anything, he was a man—and a prepossessing one at that. Even so, she was stunned at his aggressive assumption that he could show up at her door after midnight and expect her to invite him in.

  Fighting the recriminations swirling over her, Viviana acknowledged how much she missed Jax. How much she needed his arms around her. At that moment, her phone pinged. Glancing at the screen, her eyes blurred with tears when she saw the text message. “Eat. And yes, tiger, that’s an order.”

  Chapter 22

  I hear our recalcitrant team member is more MIA than usual, Jax. Sorry about that, bro. As if you don’t have enough to be worried about when it comes to the Enchantress.”

  Jax breathed a hard sigh and nodded to the image on the monitor. Their upscale technology made his conversation with Serge Stryker as seamless as if he were was in the room with him and Greg. “Yeah, buddy, I’ll admit, recalcitrant is as good a description of our wayward sergeant as I can imagine. Although headstrong, indomitable, and unmanageable also come to mind.” Forcing a smile to curve his lips, he tried for humor. “Which, as both of you randy men know, can add spice to even the most intriguing woman.”

  Glancing at the silent television documenting the latest stop on the Vega for Victory campaign tour, he added, “I’m beginning to wonder if the gods of overwhelming arrogance aren’t laughing up a storm at the current state of one of their most prodigious acolytes. I have to admit, I’ve left a few dozen—make that hundreds—of women wondering how in the hell a guy could be as challengingly dismissive as I am. I guess in the grand alchemy of the universe, I deserve the Enchantress. But I gotta tell you, buddies, payback truly is a bitch.” He blew out another hard sigh and said with a dismissive shrug, “Unfortunately, I would crawl over glass on my hands and knees if it was the only way I could get to her.”

  Greg lifted his glass in a toast and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, man, if ever there was a challenging woman, you’ve found her. But don’t forget for a moment that you have done the impossible and that is making her your own.” Gesturing at their cohort on the screen, Greg said with an admiring grin, “Hell, Serge, you should be with those two on a daily basis. I haven’t seen live theatre this entertaining, no matter how X-rated it is. Those two layer every word and gesture with hardcore sexuality. Entertaining? You bet! Although I have to tell you that Jax is the only man I know who could put up with it from that incorrigible woman and still manage to have the upper hand.” Glancing up at Serge, he concluded, “I’m telling you, buddy, both Viviana and Jax have met their match.”

  Jax snorted. “Glad to know that you are entertained, Commander Bannon. We’ll forget for the moment that you are her immediate supervisor, and until I informed you this morning, you had no idea that your sergeant was taking a three-day sabbatical. Trotting around the state with none other than Enrique Vega or, as I call him, ‘the man who’s going to get his ass kicked if he makes a move on my woman.’ ”

  Serge’s smile faded and he said with a frown, “Speaking of the too-good-looking-for-comfort pol, I’ve been looking into Vega’s past as you requested, Jax. Without question, he has lived an interesting life.”

  Jax nodded. “So I heard from Viviana. Apparently, she’s convinced that as a kid, Vega experienced the kind of trauma that she did. Unfortunately, that only makes her admire him more.”

  Serge agreed. “You’re right, Jax. My sources confirm that Vega did indeed have a challenging and checkered past. True to political expediency, his backstory has been nicely whitewashed by the adroit pol and his equally skillful campaign manager. Vega’s curriculum vitae is now consistent with that of a modern day hero who overcame a hideous childhood to become the inspiring leader he is today.” He hesitated and then said carefully, “Jax, I know at base you don’t wish the guy ill, as long as he stays away from your woman. However, there are some interesting threads I’m picking up on that indicate that some of Vega’s compadres—past and present—are unsavory at best.”

  Jax shot him a hard frown. “Such as, Serge? Be speci
fic.”

  “It’s a little too early for specifics, Jax. Hell, I’m just beginning to remove the party dress from the pig, aka Enrique Vega. But what I have so far confirms that particular cob roller has some interesting stories to tell. For example, according to those in the know, his campaign manager is one of the slickest and most ruthless operators that came out of San Diego’s Barrio Logan—specifically Chicano Park. Which, given the shit clogging up that cesspool, is saying something. Mention Nicolas Garza to folks as unsavory as apparently he is, and one gets the feeling that our modern day Bonaparte-slash-Vega may, in Byron’s words, have ‘fronts of brass and feet of clay.’ ”

  Knowing that Serge was the most vigilant and hardcore analyst he’d worked with, Jax felt a rush of unsettling emotions. On one hand, given his antipathy to the guy his lover was currently traveling with, a little dirt was welcome. Something that would take at least some of the shine off the golden boy wouldn’t hurt. However, the undercurrent of Serge’s preliminary findings indicated that Vega and his team were far from the by his bootstraps, all-American hero personas they had assumed. While Jax wouldn’t mind taking the upstart down a peg or three, he knew he had to be careful. Viviana would surely dismiss any negative findings, particularly if the evidence came from him. Even if they were 100% provable, she would write it off as an obvious effort by him to tarnish a supposed rival. But the hard-bitten cop and special operator side of him was rightly concerned. Serge Stryker was intimating that Vega and his crew had a shady past that could well be dangerous.

  Turning to his special agent, he made his concerns clear. “Look, buddy, as much as I can’t stand the guy, I need to know if I have more to be alarmed about than the fact that the asshole is on a three-day junket with my woman. If you’ve seen any of the twenty-four-hour coverage of the dynamic duo strutting across the stage together, you’ll understand why I’d suck up any dirt you have like a voracious vampire bat. However, if you are intimating that the guy and his cohort’s shady past confirm that they are a clear and present danger, that’s another story entirely.”