She pinched her find between two fingers and shifted into the light, holding it up for inspection. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
“What’s that?” Riley knelt beside her.
Amy opened her mouth, emitted tiny gasps of air. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and scooped in a deep breath.
Don’t be ridiculous, Amy. Dad’s in prison.
“It’s a cigarette holder.” She held the slim tube flattened on one end under Riley’s nose, her fingers covering the initials engraved on the end.
“You don’t see many of those around anymore.” He plucked the holder from her fingers and pushed to his feet. In two steps he reached the square of sunlight and examined the holder. “I suppose none of the lifeguards smoke or happen to use a cigarette holder?”
Feeling like she had just aged twenty years, Amy staggered to her feet and stretched. “None of the lifeguards smoke, and I’ve never seen any of them use a cigarette holder.”
“What about Carlos?”
“Not a smoker.”
“And his initials aren’t E.P.” Riley rubbed the pad of his thumb along the edge of the cigarette holder.
“Initials?” Amy clenched her jaw and swallowed hard.
“Engraved on the side.” Riley tossed the object into the air and caught it, closing his fist around it. “Looks like we have a piece of evidence.”
“I don’t see what good some anonymous cigarette holder is going to do us.” Amy pushed the hair out of her face and stalked past Riley. Once outside, she gulped in the fresh sea air.
The hinges of the storage unit protested as Riley swung the door shut with a bang. “You never know. Any evidence is better than none. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She spun around and heaved against the heavy door with her shoulder as Riley secured the lock.
He snapped the lock into place and cocked his head. “You look pale. I mean, beneath your suntan, which is even weirder.”
“I was getting creeped out in there.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, relieved the trembling had stopped. “I’m half-Mexican, you know. I tan easily.”
Riley wedged a finger beneath her chin and tilted. “Is that where the pretty, dark eyes come from and the dark hair with the auburn sheen to it? Your mother must be Mexican. Is Prescott English?”
Amy slipped from his inspection, a swath of that dark hair with the auburn sheen hiding her hot face. Had he really noticed that much about her?
“I guess. Just a mishmash of American mutt.” With an emphasis on mutt. “Hey, can we check out the rest of the beach now?”
He paused for a few seconds and then pocketed the key and the cigarette holder. “Let’s go.”
Amy shuffled behind Riley, twisting her hands in front of her. She really didn’t want to go into her family lineage with him. After discovering her background, he just might suspect her entire involvement in this mess.
They searched the area near the water where Velasquez’s man died. Then they poked around the lifeguard tower, which Amy had locked up last night when she’d returned with the sheriff’s deputies.
Riley grabbed the base of the tower and leaned forward, the muscles in his back and shoulders a rippled outline beneath his T-shirt. “Did you ever find your wallet?”
“Right here where I dropped it.” Amy pointed her toe at the sand beneath the tower. “So if the guys from the boat did use it to get my address, they left it behind.”
Dropping his lashes over his blue eyes, Riley mumbled, “I don’t think they needed your wallet, Amy.”
“You think they already had my address?” She licked her lips, tasting the salt from the moist air. “Carlos must’ve told them about me. But how did they know to find Carlos at my place?”
“They either followed him or staked out your house.”
“Riley.” Amy burrowed the toes of her tennis shoes into the dry sand. “If the Velasquez goons or their customers already killed Carlos and picked up their drugs from the storage unit, what did they want from me last night? Why’d they return?”
Riley spread his hands, sand clinging to his palms and fingers, and lifted his shoulders. Strong shoulders. Capable hands. A man you could trust. Maybe.
“Let’s put a positive spin on this.” He shifted his gaze to the ocean, his eyes reflecting the grayish-blue water.
“I’m ready for positive.”
“Carlos double-crossed both parties, so they were both after him. Someone got lucky and nailed him first. The other party was still after him last night, and maybe now they know he’s dead. If so, your involvement ends there.”
“I like the sound of that. I’ll stay with my friends for a few days to be on the safe side, and then I’m going to try to put this behind me.”
His eyes widened. “You can do that?”
Riley had no idea how much she’d already put behind her. What was one murdered, drug-dealing ex-boyfriend? As she watched the sea breeze toss the ends of Riley’s sun-washed hair, Amy swallowed. Putting Riley behind her was a whole other matter.
“I had already forgotten about Carlos. Now it’ll just be easier.”
Riley whistled. “Ooh, that’s cold. Okay, I’m just going to have to be satisfied with my cigarette holder. Maybe it will lead me to someone or something.”
Amy opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. The fact that her father used a cigarette holder would be of no interest to Riley. Her father had nothing to do with the events of the past twenty-four hours.
“Are you ready?” Riley grabbed her hand, the grit from his fingers grating across her skin.
She left her hand in his, wondering if the buzz she felt at their connection would dull to a hum. She had to steel herself to walk away from this man. She was probably mistaking the adrenaline rush for attraction.
He opened the car door for her and she slid onto the warm leather seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t need the excitement. She didn’t want the excitement. She could have a typical relationship with a normal, boring guy. Women did it every day.
Riley dropped onto the driver’s seat and blew out a breath. “I’d call this a productive outing.”
“You would? Finding a random cigarette holder is productive?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up to the windshield. “It’s unusual. It has the owner’s initials. I have a few contacts with the Velasquez Cartel. It should be easy to track down the owner.”
Amy tucked her hands beneath her thighs. She just hoped the owner had nothing to do with her father. “I’ll leave the spy work to you. I’ll grab my stuff from your place and drop in on my friends. They left me a text message on my cell.”
Cranking on the engine, Riley slanted a cool gaze her way. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I have to go back to my normal life at some point.” Amy clicked her seat belt and powered down the window. She needed air.
Riley wheeled out of the parking lot, the sand crunching beneath the tires. He pulled onto the street and idled at the first red light, glancing into his rearview mirror.
His gaze wandered back to the mirror and then he checked his side mirror. His hands tensed on the steering wheel.
Amy’s pulse ratcheted up several notches as an engine roared behind them. She checked the mirror on the passenger side and gripped the armrest. A black SUV was barreling toward them. She braced her feet against the floor of the car, waiting for the impact. “What the...?”
Riley cursed and punched the accelerator. “The guy’s coming right for us. And he’s not going to stop.”
Chapter Six
Riley gripped the steering wheel, held his breath and flew through the intersection, narrowly avoiding a minivan. Amy squealed beside him, jerking forward against her suddenly taut seat belt.
The BMW hugged the road while Riley eased off the gas pedal. He checked his mirror again. The black SUV careened through the intersection against the light and lunged toward them.
“Hold on,” R
iley shouted. He grasped the leather-wrapped wheel and turned sharply, taking the corner at high speed and giving silent thanks to Carlos for his high-performance car.
The SUV lumbered after them, squealing around the corner with purpose. A sick feeling lodged in Riley’s belly as the yellow school-crossing signs flashed ahead.
Thank God the streets remained empty. School must still be in session. He sped through the crosswalk just slow enough to see the crossing guard’s mouth drop open. The SUV followed in his path, knocking over the sign with the yellow flashing lights.
From his mirror, Riley saw the crossing guard shake her fist and reach inside her vest. That’s right, sweetheart. Call the cops.
He couldn’t afford to be pulled over in a car that belonged to a dead man, but the inhabitants of that black SUV would have a lot of explaining to do, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if the cops found a few outstanding warrants in that car.
Velasquez always employed punks to do his dirty work.
Riley took the next turn, and Amy fell against his shoulder. “How you doing, beach girl?”
She hunched over to look in the passenger mirror. “That’s them isn’t it? That’s Velasquez.”
“I don’t know who else would be chasing us around town.” Riley planned to avoid the freeway—too much visibility. He could lose them faster in the side streets, and he knew just the area.
Imperial Beach was always a little more working class than its glittery neighbors, Coronado and La Jolla. And it had the warehouses to prove it.
Riley let the Beemer do its thing as he peeled out, reaching almost a hundred down a straight shot toward a collection of silver-and-dun-colored warehouse buildings. Trucks trundled in and around the buildings, delivering goods from the harbor.
“Where are you heading? We’re going to get cornered.”
“Do you think those thugs are going to try anything with a bunch of truckers around? Besides, I have a plan. I always have a plan.”
The car hummed as Riley maneuvered it through two parking lots. He’d left the SUV in the dust a half mile ago. Would the driver have the cojones to follow him into this maze of buildings?
A warehouse door gaped open in front of Riley, and he zoomed into the building, pulling the car to the side.
Amy swiveled her head around. “Are you going to hide in here?”
“Why not?”
“That’s why.” She jerked her thumb toward the back window where a couple of the warehouse workers started to amble their way.
“They’re not going to bother a couple looking for a little privacy.” He reached across the console, wrapped one hand behind her neck and pulled her close.
Amy’s eyelids fluttered shut as she braced a hand against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her light touch. He weaved his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and brushed her lips with his.
They panted against each other’s mouths. The adrenaline continued to rush through Riley’s veins at warp speed. He couldn’t distinguish between the thrill of the chase and the passion that pounded in his blood.
Ah, hell. Sometimes they were one and the same.
He possessed Amy’s sweet lips in a kiss so pure it made his teeth ache. Chaste. Make-believe. At least that’s what he wanted her to think.
She turned her head so that his lips ended up somewhere on her jaw. She sighed. He cupped her face for a repeat performance. She laughed.
“It worked.”
“Huh?”
“Not only did our nosy, blue-collar workers back off, but we outmaneuvered the SUV. They won’t find us here.”
Disappointment speared his gut. “They could still be lurking around.”
“I don’t think so.” She twisted in her seat. “I guess that positive scenario you dreamed up is just that. A dream. They want me for something.”
“Or they want me for something.”
She clasped her hands between her knees. “Then maybe we’d better split up and find out who they prefer.”
Riley’s breathing slowed down and he regained partial use of his brain. He wanted to keep Amy with him to protect her, but maybe the threat of danger hung over his head and not hers. In which case, her proximity to him would endanger her, not protect her.
It all had a familiar ring.
He had to cut her loose and allow her to get back to her life. There didn’t appear to be any logical reason why the Velasquez Cartel would be interested in Amy. She couldn’t identify even one of them. She’d demonstrated that in her report to the police. The police who didn’t believe a word of her story. They had to know that by now, had to know she didn’t pose any threat to them at all.
“You’re probably right. I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have.” Riley buzzed down the window and gulped diesel-scented air.
“You didn’t endanger me, Riley. That was Carlos.”
“I’m not making your life any easier.” He turned over the engine and rolled out the other side of the warehouse, poking the nose of the car into the parking lot. He scanned the area, ignoring the grins of the warehouse workers. No sign of the black SUV.
“I’ll take you back to my place and you can grab your stuff and I’ll drop you off at your car. I still think you should hang out with your friends for a day or two.”
“I will.” She tapped her purse. “My friend left me that text message. I’ll let her know I’m on my way over.”
Blowing out a breath, Riley sped toward the highway. He had to get rid of this car now that Velasquez’s guys had it on their radar.
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building. His hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel as Amy exited the car. Every nerve fiber in his body protested at letting her go, but she had a life to live. She couldn’t spend it running around with him chasing bad guys.
He made a habit out of pursuing bad guys. For Amy, this incident would be a blip in her calm life. Something to tell the grandkids about.
His feet felt like lead as he tromped down the hallway toward the elevator behind her. They rode in silence, staring at the lighted numbers like a couple of strangers.
She leaned against the outside wall while he fumbled for his keys. He asked, “Do you want something to eat before you head over to your friends’ place?”
“I don’t want to be a bother to you anymore.”
Riley shrugged, trying hard to mimic a nonchalance that he didn’t feel. Let her go. Keep her safe.
They entered the apartment and Amy propped a hip against the counter, texting on her phone, the little beeps as she entered each letter reverberating in his head like a death knell.
He really did have control issues. He passed a hand across his face and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Water?”
She looked up from her phone and hit one final button. “Sure. High-speed car chases really make me thirsty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop—” she sliced her hand through the air “—apologizing. It’s not your fault, Riley. You saved my life on more than one occasion. I trusted the right guy last night.”
And now he had to honor that trust and get her clear of this madness. “I’ll get your bag.”
She trailed after him, the sweet smell of her hair giving him all sorts of crazy ideas. She made a detour into the bathroom and collected her things while he wheeled her suitcase into the living room next to the door.
“I guess that’s everything.” She stuffed her toiletry bag into the side compartment of the suitcase.
“Did you hear back from your friends yet?” He gestured toward the cell phone clutched in her right hand.
“Not yet, but they’ll come through. They always do. I just sent a text that I was on my way.”
“Let’s get you back to your car.”
Amy ambled down the corridor, moving at half-speed. Could she be feeling the same reluctance as he felt?
Riley kept conversation to a minimum on the ride back to Amy
’s place. What more could he say? He pulled up behind her car and grabbed her bag from Carlos’s Beemer.
She popped her trunk, and he hoisted the suitcase inside and slammed it shut for her. He rested his hand on the driver’s door handle. “I know you told me to stop apologizing, but I need to go there once more.”
Amy shook her head and a swath of dark hair swept over her shoulder. “I think you already hit your apology quota.”
“The kiss.” He blurted it out like a pimply faced teen. What had happened to his smooth lines? He swung open her door. “One of the many tricks of the trade.”
He gritted his teeth behind his stupid grin. Now he sounded like a seventies disco dude.
Amy raised her brows. “Okay, whatever. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Now his grin was hurting his face. Not a big deal? “Right. I just wanted to make it look good for the guys in the warehouse. No big deal.”
She stuck out her hand. “Thanks for sticking with me. I’m pretty sure I would’ve fallen apart without your support.”
Riley narrowed his eyes. He seriously doubted that. Taking her hand, he swirled his thumb along her inner wrist. “Be careful, beach girl. You have my cell phone number in there. Use it if you need help.”
“Will do.” She slipped her hand from his and ducked into the car.
As she pulled away from the curb, he smacked the trunk of the car and waved. He’d cursed his bad luck when Amy came running into the ocean to save him.
Now as he watched her take the turn and disappear, he felt as if a vital organ had just been ripped from his chest.
* * *
AMY BLINKED AWAY TEARS as she watched Riley’s blurry form in her rearview mirror. She dashed a hand across her eyes. Buck up, girl. You operate better on your own anyway. Always have.
She planned to put this little bump on the road to a normal, sedate life firmly behind her. No more married men. No more drug dealers. No more secret agents. She giggled at her list. Most women wouldn’t even dream of making a list like that.
Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security Page 25