He snorted. “Go on about Dr. Gorgeous.”
“I met Raul… er… Dr. Garcia at a fertility conference in Houston. He was a well-respected doctor at a local clinic and part of the conference-organizing committee along with Laura Eldridge, my current boss.”
“So Dr. Garcia’s a big shot.”
“Yeah. He… uh…” She blinked and looked away. “I helped with some of the panels so we… saw each other quite a bit.”
“When did he hit on you?”
Her gaze snapped back. She wanted to be irritated, but the flush warming her cheeks was from embarrassment, not anger. “The first night.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Did something… bad happen?”
“No, no, no.” She exhaled. “He was a nice enough guy, just annoyingly persistent.”
“Did you report him for sexual harassment?”
“Oh God, no. You’re getting the wrong idea. Why are you…?” Her mouth gaped. He was genuinely jealous. Oh my God. Jealousy could be such a negative emotion, but right now, it was really sexy. Focus, focus.
“What happened?” he prompted.
“Nothing happened. It’s just that we spent enough time together that I know absolutely, positively, this Dr. Ortega is that Dr. Garcia.”
“Okay, so stipulated. Go on.” Ben closed his eyes as he savored another bite of spaghetti.
“It’s what happened after the conference that has me freaking out. I read he was arrested for writing illegal prescriptions.”
Ben’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why isn’t he in jail?”
“After I got home today, I made a quick call to a former colleague in Texas who also attended the Houston conference. She said Dr. Garcia disappeared after he got out on bail. He’s still a… fugitive.”
“You got a picture of this guy?”
She pulled the Dream Makers sheet about the doctors from her pants pocket and handed it to Ben. He shook his head while he stared at the picture of Dr. Ortega/Garcia.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
“What? You know about him?”
“No. But I know a helluva lot about someone he looks like. You’re sure this guy really is a doctor?”
“Well, I never looked up his license or diplomas, but wouldn’t someone have done that in the investigation prior to his arrest?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
She stood up and came around to stand behind him and look down at the photo. “Are you going to tell me who he looks like, or is it a big, bad FBI secret?”
“I need to square it with my boss first.” He craned his neck to peer up at her. “Are you going back to that clinic again?”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged gently. “I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled sweetly. “I need a favor.”
“Good. So do I. You first.”
“Okay. Will you be my husband?”
* * *
Ben couldn’t believe his ears, but Amber looked dead serious. His eyes narrowed. This had to be a joke, not a proposal. “Excuse me?”
“I need a husband.” She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Ben. A fake one.”
He tried to hide his relief. “I guess my call today was my audition.”
“Honestly, I didn’t plan it this way. But no one at Dream Makers will talk to me if I show up without my husband again.”
Ben looked at the picture and scowled. Could he be mistaken? The resemblance was amazing and almost unbelievable. No, there had to be a connection, a blood relationship. The gears in his brain kicked into overdrive.
“Fine. Sign me up. How soon can we get in?”
“Probably tomorrow. I don’t have to go into work unless I want to. I think my time would be better spent on this.”
“‘This’ may be even bigger than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll talk as soon as I get the okay from my boss.”
He carried his dishes from the table before hurrying to his home office with his cell and the flyer to call Rex. Amber’s puzzled expression had showed concern, but he really couldn’t involve her without authorization.
“Don’t you ever take a break from the case, Alfren?” his boss answered. “You need a girlfriend.”
“Working on it. The girlfriend, I mean.”
Rex chuckled. “Good to know. What’s up?”
“My work-in-progress girlfriend showed me a picture of a doctor who works at Dream Makers, a surrogacy clinic.”
His boss snorted. “A surrogacy clinic? I don’t even want to know.”
“Not that kind of surrogacy.” Ben huffed. “The doctor is the spittin’ image of Enrique Hermosillo.”
Rex’s tone turned serious. “What’s this doctor’s name?”
“He goes by Dr. Ortega, but Amber believes his real name is Raul Garcia.”
“Amber is your—”
“Yeah.” He groaned. Nothing like talking to your boss about your love life.
“How sure is she that it’s Garcia?”
“Damn sure. And Dr. Raul Garcia is in the wind from an illegal prescriptions charge in Texas.”
“I don’t remember a doctor in H’s family,” Rex said.
“I don’t either. But they’ve got to be related to look so much alike.”
“Figure it out. Supposedly, we all have a body double somewhere on this planet. Don’t want to go chasing down some innocent look-alike.”
“Understood. My gut tells me this could be H’s new business.”
“Seems like a natural extension: illegal street drugs to illegal prescription drugs. He’s got the mule system to transport anything he wants.”
“He’s got the mules, but he didn’t have a doctor to write the prescriptions. Until he convinced his relative to come work for him. Probably gave Dr. Garcia the new identity and everything,” Ben said.
“So the fugitive doctor uses the surrogacy clinic as a front. It’s really all about trafficking in Oxy or whatever.”
Ben considered a moment. “They must do some legitimate surrogate mother work, because Dream Makers is taking business away from Amber’s clinic.”
“Wonder how they hide it from the legit employees.”
“She says the place has a weird vibe, like the workers are tense or even afraid. Sounds to me like the place is locked down pretty tight. I want to take a look myself.”
“Good idea. Under what guise?”
He cleared his throat. “As Amber’s husband.”
Rex snickered. “Damn, I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that.”
Ben bristled. “It’s the logical ruse.”
“Especially if you’re already playing house,” Rex said and chuckled.
Jesus, was his boss psychic? He grimaced. “Am I authorized to discuss the op with Amber?”
“Only on a need-to-know basis.”
“Understood. First thing tomorrow, I’ll get Dillon to research a family connection between H and Raul Garcia. I’ll focus on getting into the clinic.”
After the call, he found Amber web-surfing on her laptop in the living room.
“Dinner was delicious. Thanks, babe. Sorry you got stuck cleaning up. I won’t make a habit of hiding in my office.”
“No problem. Can you tell me your big, bad FBI secret now?”
“Some of it.” He sat down beside her on the couch. “You can’t repeat this to anyone. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I think Garcia is related to a drug cartel kingpin we’ve been trying to bring down for ages. The clinic could be a front for illegal prescriptions like Garcia was doing in Texas. But this time, it’s for a cartel, which means selling on a bigger scale. I want to go with you tomorrow and sniff out the place.”
She splayed a hand on her chest. “Oh my God. A drug cartel hiding behind a surrogate mother clinic. That’s just wrong.”
“On so many levels.”
“Seriously, this is unbelievable. I mean, I’m worried about unfair competition and the proper car
e of their surrogate mothers, but the whole time, it’s really about drugs. It just sucks! And you’re talking about dangerous criminals. Drug cartels kill people. Oh my God.”
He took her trembling hand from her chest and wrapped it in both of his. “Relax, babe. I’ll be right there with you.”
She inhaled and exhaled, slowly, several times. “Okay, I can do this. While you’re sniffing, I’ll ask the rest of the questions I have about their legitimate business.”
“Sounds good.”
“You know what else would be good?” A seductive smile appeared. “I could use a little stress relief.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I like the way you think.”
His tongue teased her lips open while his fingers unbuttoned her blouse. Cupping her breasts, he circled her nipples with his thumbs until they pushed against the silky fabric of her bra. They weren’t the only body parts hardening. His dick swelled to the point of pain.
“Gotta lose these damn pants.”
“Let me help.”
He stood up and faced her. After removing his pants, she slid his boxer briefs down his hips. Slowly. Until his dick sprang free. She opened her mouth and then flicked the tip of her tongue across the head. His cock jerked in response. Wrapping her fingers around the hard shaft, she pumped half a dozen times.
Ben threw his head back and groaned.
Her mouth closed around him. Her hands reached behind to his ass and pulled him closer. With a mind of their own, his hips thrust forward. When her sucking brought him to the edge, he pulled back.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
He rolled on a condom from his wallet while watching Amber remove her shorts and panties. Damn, she was hot.
Not taking time to remove the rest of their clothing, he positioned himself between her legs. He pressed his dick to her opening and found her hot and wet. She raised her hips and slid onto the head. Unable to hold back any longer, he plunged inside.
She wrapped her legs around him, pumping her hips in rhythm with his. He captured her lips with a demanding kiss. And when she climaxed, her cry filled his mouth. He followed her over the edge.
An hour later, Ben lay back on the pillow. They’d moved to the bed and made love again. Naked. Slower. More tenderly. The “stress relief” had worked, for Amber lay limp and relaxed next to him. If he didn’t have a big day ahead of him tomorrow, he’d make love to her all night.
But he needed to wind down and get to sleep. He released a long breath and closed his eyes. Turning off his brain always proved more difficult than relaxing his body. And the week ahead gave him plenty to think about.
Waiting until Thursday for the raids to rescue the kidnapped women would’ve driven him crazy. Thankfully, investigating Dr. Garcia, aka Dr. Ortega, would insert a little fast and furious action in the meantime. Although it didn’t have anything to do with the missing girls, this opportunity was important, especially if it offered a better path to trapping H. Proving the bastard’s new business venture was illegal prescriptions would be quite a coup. And if he also helped Amber save her clinic, all the better.
Something she’d said during dinner came to mind. In the excitement about Dr. Garcia, apparently she’d forgotten about it also.
“Hey, babe. What was the odd thing about the surrogate mothers that you wanted to tell me?”
Amber’s soft, even breathing was her only answer.
Chapter 17
The next morning, Ben insisted on reconnoitering the complex and neighborhood before Amber left his apartment. His protective nature was noble and endearing, but for someone who’d taken full responsibility for herself for so long, she found his insistence irritating. Just a little. She’d already put on her brunette-with-hazel-eyes disguise for their visit to Dream Makers, so she felt relatively confident going out in public. His you-can’t-be-too-careful lecture fell on defiant ears.
After Ben returned from his search of the neighborhood and property, he escorted her across the courtyard and up the stairs to her apartment. She struggled to ignore the warmth of his hand on her lower back. After last night’s lovemaking, her whole body seemed über-sensitive to his every touch.
While he kept an eye out for Jeremy, she inspected the doorframe and keyhole for evidence of tampering. Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Once inside, she went immediately to her files to find the folder on the Houston conference. The only reason it hadn’t already been packed was she planned to toss it before her next move. Thank goodness her prep hadn’t advanced that far.
They compared the picture of Dr. Ortega on the Dream Makers medical personnel flyer with the brochures and photographs of Dr. Garcia from the Houston conference. He wore his hair longer these days, but he was definitely the same man.
“Sonofabitch,” Ben muttered. “Hiding in plain sight, right under our noses. Damn, I hate when they do that.”
“How does someone completely change his identity?”
“It’s not as hard as you think. Especially if you have a major criminal with the right connections in the family. Think Sopranos with a Mexican accent.”
“All right. Then I guess we definitely want an appointment today. I sure hope they’ll book one for me. I’m pretty sure I’ve stretched their patience.”
“I’ll call.”
“Good idea.” She dialed Dream Makers on her cell and then handed him the phone. He pressed Speaker.
“Hello. This is Ben Moore. Amber, my wife, came for a consultation appointment yesterday, but I missed it because of a fender bender. We’re really eager to get this process going. Could you squeeze us in today?”
“Will you definitely be attending the meeting, Mr. Moore?” the clinic employee asked suspiciously.
“Most definitely. And if Dr. Ortega could be available for a few questions, we’d really appreciate his time.”
The receptionist hesitated. “I-I don’t know about that, but we can ask. Dr. Ortega is very busy.”
“I understand. I just feel this need as Amber’s… husband to be comfortable with the doctor who’ll be working on her.”
“I understand your concern. I’ll make a note on your appointment. Would eleven thirty work for you and Mrs. Moore?”
“Perfect. Thanks.” He disconnected.
“You did it,” Amber squealed. She wrapped herself around him and pressed close. “You were very convincing… about the husband thing. Definitely came across as the protective, jealous type.” She smiled mischievously.
“Yeah, well, I better convince you that if you keep that hot bod of yours molded against mine, we won’t make it to the appointment.”
She pursed pouty lips. “Naughty boy.” After a quick kiss, she released him even though she wanted to run her fingers and tongue along the strong line of his jaw. “I already called SDSA to tell them I won’t be in today. Is there anything else to do before the appointment?”
“I’m hoping to hear from the agent who’s looking at our drug lord’s and Garcia’s family trees to see where the branches intertwine. I don’t want to get too far down this road without concrete proof they’re related. Since we’re here, let’s grab more of your stuff to take to my place.”
“Good idea.”
She packed additional clothes in a suitcase and added a few more toiletry items. Ben performed another inspection of the complex before they trotted back to his apartment. Once she’d put everything in the drawers he’d cleared out for her use, they sat down on the couch with fresh cups of coffee.
“Let’s talk about Jeremy,” Ben said.
“Let’s not.”
He gave her a no-nonsense glare. “We need a plan. Better to be proactive than defensive.”
The brief respite of thinking of a problem other than Jeremy Nelson was over. Back to her new normal. The pain in her stomach returned immediately. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to make love to you, about a dozen times, but what we need to do is figure out how to trap your stalker.”
> Heat washed over her, pooling in all the strategic places. Oh, what she would give not to have to leave this man yet. “I’m all ears.”
“First, I want to make it harder for him to know where you are. Which state license do you have on your Suburban?”
“Massachusetts. I figured I’d be in another state by the time it expires in two months.”
“If it was a California plate, you could blend in, but with Massachusetts not so much. Especially since Jeremy knows your car. We need to get you another vehicle.”
“I can’t afford one,” Amber admitted.
“I have a friend who just bought a truck. He hasn’t sold his old Civic yet. I’ll ask him if we can park your Suburban at his house and use the Civic.”
“All right.”
“You should get a new restraining order.”
“I’ve told you. It doesn’t do any good.”
Ben’s eyes turned cold and hard. “It might help me avoid some difficult questions if I have to take him down.”
* * *
The conversation had ended on that unpleasant note of reality. Amber’s stunned expression confirmed she hadn’t understood until that moment how serious Ben was about putting the guy away for good. Jeremy Nelson was bad news. He’d hunted and terrorized Amber for two years. Enough was enough.
As the Beemer accelerated up the steep, eastbound incline of the Coronado Bay Bridge, Ben shifted the gears of his brain as well as the car. Time to focus on the Dream Makers meeting. With some skillful research, Dillon had determined that Raul Garcia and Enrique Hermosillo were distant cousins. Third or fourth and once removed or some shit like that. Whatever the correct genealogical terminology, they were definitely blood relatives. First puzzle piece in place.
Now to confirm Dr. Ortega was actually Raul Garcia. The photographs were convincing, but fingerprints would be better. If they got their hands on some, they would run them through the available databases. Even better, fingerprints from his Texas arrest could provide a damn quick match. And a second puzzle piece.
What could Ben accomplish today? Ideally, to determine if Dr. Garcia was once again writing illegal prescriptions, but this time for his cousin’s cartel. But that was probably hoping for too much. This expedition was mostly to get the lay of the land and establish a connection as clinic clients to allow for future inside investigation. Officially becoming prospective parents could be the third piece.
Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) Page 13