Red Shoes & A Diary

by Mia Zachary

  “Sorry, Em. That was a lousy thing to say.” Alex dragged both hands through his hair, sighing heavily.

  “Forget it.” Emelio crumpled the empty nut bag in his fist and arced it into the trashcan.

  “This case should have been one for the books. Instead we’re scrambling to recover ground.” Alex had taken the lead after his friend got too close to a witness, an informant he’d felt sorry for. Gina had been a young woman caught in an impossible situation. She’d had no real choice but to betray him. Now, Braga, and who knew how many others could make Emelio for a cop.

  “Let’s not rehash old business, partner.”

  Emelio was right, but that incident had been a turning point in Alex’s career. Problem was, he didn’t know which way it had pushed him. Concentrate on the here and now, he told himself. “Okay. What have you heard?”

  “Word on the street says Ramos is really losing it.” Emelio grabbed two beers out of the minibar and passed one over. “Spends more time supporting his habit than taking care of business. Some of the laundered money might even be in his private accounts instead of the cartel’s.”

  Alex whistled in mock admiration. “Frankie must have balls of cold-rolled steel. Drug czars aren’t exactly known for their benevolence.”

  “That or the shit he’s putting up his nose has fried his brain cells. Let’s focus on him. If we can break Ramos, he’ll flip on the rest in exchange for a light sentence.”

  Alex rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “Rogelio Braga needs to be watched. I don’t think it’s a coincidence he invited me here this particular week.”

  Em shook his head. “Forget Braga for now. If we get Ramos, we break the Miami cartel. Cocaine addiction makes a man paranoid and unpredictable, but it also makes him vulnerable.”

  “Something big is going down. Braga had dinner with some heavy hitters tonight.” Alex stared at the ceiling, speaking slowly, running scenarios in his head. “He’s gathering his strength for a change of leadership. That’s going to fall out on participants, bystanders and innocents alike.”

  “You’ve never been innocent, man.” Emelio scoffed, trying to make a joke of his concern.

  But Alex hoped that Meghan was. He pulled the slim blue journal from his jacket. “Listen. I need you to run a check on somebody. Name’s Meghan Elise Foster. Her luggage is from Baltimore. Find out for me if she’s legit.”

  “I take it she was your date.” Emelio studied his face, seeing more than Alex wanted him to, as usual. “You think the lady is a player?”

  “Could be. She was cozy with Braga earlier tonight. Then she came on to me. There’s another factor that points to her innocence, but I need to be sure.”

  His partner nodded. “I’ll put her name through the usual databases and see if I come up with anything. In the meantime, order me some food, will you? I’m starving.”

  Alex called room service and ordered for both of them. It didn’t look like he’d get back to Meghan after all. Next he dialed from memory a number in Miami. The first call would automatically transfer to another line in case anyone checked the resort’s telephone log. While the phone rang, he lay back on the couch and adjusted the pillow behind his head.

  “Hello? This is Brent Easton.”

  Alex didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “It’s me. Em is with me. We’re checking in.”

  Easton’s voice boomed over the telephone line. “Where the hell have you two been? I paged him an hour ago!”

  “We’re making progress.”

  “You’d better be. I’m getting flak from above and, trust me, I intend to send it down your way.”

  Didn’t he always? Alex held onto his patience with effort. “Braga contacted me, though we haven’t hooked up. Em has solid information that Ramos is on his way here, if he’s not here already.”

  “It’s a decent start but you have to move on this. You’ve got the rest of the week to get squared away. After that, the Ramos case is turned over to someone else.”

  “The hell it is!” Alex sat up so quickly the pillow fell to the floor. He struggled to hold onto his temper, which had been dangerously short of late. “We’ve been building the case against Ramos for two years, Brent. You’re not taking us off it. Not when we’re so close—”

  “You’d better play this one by the book, Alex. Do you hear me? Any action you take will be called into question until Internal Affairs clears you on the shooting.”

  He scowled. Like he needed the reminder. Both he and Emelio had been on admin probation until this latest break in the case. “IAD can kiss my ass. I did what I had to to get the job done.”

  “You know, you’ve got a real attitude problem lately.”

  “Yeah, well, you can tell me all about it when you quit riding a desk. I haven’t lost my edge,” he said it as much to convince himself as his boss.

  “Hell, if anything, your edges are too jagged,” Brent muttered. “Bring me up to speed.”

  “‘Nick Alexander’ is definitely going to be brought into play. Since Manny Ortega got busted, Ramos needs another underground banker for the Miami operation. I’ll use Braga to get to him and get the info we need.”

  “The Attorney General is demanding enough evidence to present to a federal grand jury. She wants it yesterday. Don’t screw up on this one.”

  The line went dead before Alex could say another word. He hung up the phone, then looked around for his cigarettes. He felt the past stalking him like a dark shadow. Maybe he had lost his edge, those sharp instincts that too often meant the difference between making or breaking a case. Overtown had been a major screw-up. His.

  He should have seen it coming. Somehow, he should have seen it. Emelio got too close to their informant but Alex backed him up in front of the brass, despite his misgivings. As a result, two people died and the bad guys got in the wind.

  The underlying guilt made him think about Greg. Not long after he joined the DEA, his younger brother overdosed. All Greg’s life, Alex did his best to protect him. It was a hard truth to face that his best hadn’t been good enough.

  Had it ever been enough? How long was it since he felt like he made any kind of difference? For eight years, he’d waded through the cesspool of the drug underworld. He’d kept friends and family at a distance in order to immerse himself in The Life. And still his sacrifices came down to bureaucratic bullshit and overturned convictions.

  He was really starting to hate this damned job.

  Wandering over to the French doors, he stepped out onto the balcony. He tapped the cigarette pack until one slid out, then pinched off the end. The stress he’d been under lately made it hard to quit. Smoking half a cigarette didn’t seem as bad.

  He felt as if he was moving through life instead of living it. There was an emptiness inside him and he wasn’t sure who the hell he was anymore. Two months ago he was Andy Ruiz. Today he was Nick Alexander. And next week? Next month?

  Emelio came out to stand beside him, resting his elbows on the railing. “I take it the brass is stepping up the pressure?”

  He sucked in nicotine and stared into the distance. “I learned something when I was under deep cover in the Southwest a few years back, hombre.”

  Emelio turned his head to look at him.

  “I roughed up informants, watched criminals kill each other without losing any sleep. I even went so far as sampling the product to secure my identity. If you can name it, I probably did it.”

  “I know, man. Your rep preceded you. What’s your point?”

  “Supervisors usually look the other way when you cross the line, just as long as you get results and make them look good. Not this time. This time it’s all on the line.”

  “Closing the Ramos case will go a long way to restoring our badges.” Emelio gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But maybe we should look into that investigation firm we’ve talked about.”

  Alex shook his head and blew a stream of smoke into the night air. “We’ve got a mission and nothing’s
going to keep me from seeing it through. This job means everything to me, Em. It’s all I’ve got.”

  5

  The night is dark and restless and so am I as I wait for my green-eyed lover—

  No. Start again.

  Moonlight glitters on his dark hair as I stand naked before him, eager for the dangerous pleasure of his touch—

  MEGHAN CLOSED HER DIARY and set it beside her on the sofa. She’d been trying to create a new entry, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. An odd sense of loss settled heavily in her chest as she stared out at the darkness.

  Her resolve had been badly shaken by Nick’s sudden exit. It was as if her fantasy man—and her confidence—had walked out with him. Feeling totally rejected, she planned to stay here in her suite and sulk. Maybe order something chocolate from room service.

  She’d felt something for Nick, a kind of tenuous emotional connection, as well as the physical attraction. The electric spark of awareness whenever they touched was her main reason for choosing him. Was she wrong in thinking he felt it, too?

  Probably. Heaven knew she’d been wrong before. Frowning, she stood up and went to open the window. The lights around the Cascade Pool caught her attention. She’d forgotten about the party Julie invited her to.

  Okay. No more sulking. She wasn’t going to follow the same old path, just because it was safe and familiar. She was going to find a vacation lover and have some fun before going back to school. Grabbing her card key, she headed for the door.

  “Welcome to the Singles Mingle,” read the banner that hung over the walkway leading to the pool. A cool breeze ruffled her hair while she hesitated on the edge of the stone patio. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore her anxiety. She could do this. She’d found one great guy. She could find another.

  Still she hesitated. People wandered among intimate groups or danced on the white sand. Everyone was trying, desperately in her opinion, to impress everyone else. Just then one rowdy bunch of men called out, “Hey, Julie’s sister, over here!”

  The enthusiastic greeting sent her straight toward the bar. She needed a little more courage before she went on the manhunt. One of the bartenders grinned as she elbowed her way onto a padded stool. His name tag read “Alfonso.”

  He raised his voice so she could hear him above the Salsa music. “Hi, Julie’s sister.”

  She smiled and leaned forward against the bar. “Not you, too. Call me Meghan.”

  “How about something cold, Meghan? We Jamaicans know what to do with fresh fruit and lotsa ice.”

  “Thank you.” She twisted sideways on the stool and scanned the crowd. Maybe Nick would show up. Maybe he’d finish with his client early and come find her.

  Julie suddenly appeared at her shoulder. “Hi, Megs! I didn’t think you were going to come. Where’s your pirate?”

  “Feeding his parrot, I guess.” She dropped her gaze and frowned, drumming her fingertips on the top of the bar.

  “It didn’t work out with him, huh? Well, in that case, why are you sitting here instead of circulating? You’re not going to find Mr. Fabulous this way.”

  “Take a breath, Jules. I’ll go mingle as soon as Alfonso finishes making my drink.”

  Her sister looked startled by the glass of multicolored slush he placed in front of her. “You made her a Miami Vice?”

  Alfonso shrugged and gave her a grin. “You told me to push tonight’s drink special.”

  Meghan eyed the glass suspiciously. She didn’t drink as a rule, but she needed to relax. Cautiously, she took a sip and wrinkled her nose. Rum, with strawberry and piña colada. She wasn’t sure about the blue stuff floating on top and decided not to ask.

  “Come on, Megs, bring it with you. I’m going to introduce you to some of the Fabulous candidates I’ve picked.”

  “How did you know Nick wouldn’t work out?”

  “I didn’t.” Jules grinned. “I picked these guys for me. Let’s go and find you a boy toy!”

  She cocked her head toward Alfonso, who was blatantly eavesdropping. “Why don’t you just announce my intentions over the loudspeaker?”

  “Hey, I could be a boy toy,” he offered.

  Julie glanced over her shoulder. “Forget it, Casanova. You know the rule about messing with the guests.”

  Alfonso winked at Meghan and stuck his tongue out at Julie before greeting another customer.

  “I did my best to weed out the losers, but there was only so much I could ask and still be subtle.”

  “You’re renowned for your subtlety, Jules. Like at the welcome reception this afternoon.”

  She took another sip of her cocktail while her sister yammered on about all of the eligible bachelors at the party. She liked the way the rum made her feel. Edgy and warm and a little daring.

  The same way she felt around Nick.

  Well, forget him. She’d settle for—choose someone else. There were plenty of good-looking men here tonight. They might look silly to an outsider trying to remain aloof, but the people she earlier labeled as desperate were having fun.

  “I can be fun,” she muttered aloud.

  “Of course you can, sweetie. You’re lots of fun. First, I want you to meet Bobby.” Julie introduced her to the Australian diving instructor and then faded into the crowd.

  “Hallo, swee’hart. You’re a right beauty.”

  Bobby gave her the old once-over and widened his smile. Her confidence started to rise. He had a muscular build, golden hair and a nice smile. Okay, Megs. Be fun. Be sexy. She tried to picture Bobby in one of her fantasies, but just couldn’t pull it off.

  The Australian was tall and handsome, intelligent and virile. Too virile. After only a few minutes, she noticed he never maintained eye contact. Not with her, anyway. Bobby’s gaze wandered to any female that got within twenty feet of him.

  “Hi. Remember me?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “I’m leaving.”

  When she made her way back to the bar to return her empty glass, Alfonso smiled encouragingly. He’d obviously decided to join in the matchmaking fun, but she drew the line when he tried to introduce her to a couple of university students.

  “I appreciate your help, Alfonso. Really, I do. But would you stop giving my name to college boys? A kegger is hardly my idea of a romantic evening.” She lifted her empty glass and pointed her index finger. “Quit laughing and make me another one of these things.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Meghan. Things can only get better from here.”

  Keeping that philosophy in mind, she agreed to dance with Frank, a graphics designer from Los Angeles.

  He wasn’t Nick but he had possibilities. He was tall and handsome, successful and worldly. Too worldly. Frank eventually revealed that he liked for two girls to spank him with dry spaghetti noodles.

  “I prefer my noodles cooked, thanks.” She excused herself and went looking for Julie.

  “I thought you said you weeded out the losers?” she complained when she found her. “I’m not into pasta sex.”

  “So I made a mistake.” Her sister shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you can give up. There are lots of great guys here and I want you to meet them all. You’re supposed to mingle at a singles party.”

  The great guy she wanted to be with was nowhere in sight so she was wasting her time. She sighed. Then again, she had nothing better to do. Determined to keep looking, she accepted another glass of multicolored slush from Alfonso. Meghan Foster, party animal. Grrr. She giggled and wondered how much vice was in these little drinks.

  “Okay. Who’s next?” Meghan demanded.

  Her sister hustled her over to a group of salesmen. After that Julie left her with a college professor, followed by a trio of Japanese computer software developers. She couldn’t picture any of them in her fantasies either.

  Evan, an art gallery owner from New York, was her next dance partner. He was tall and handsome, cultured and sensitive. Too sensitive. Didn’t it just figure? Evan was gay. He’d only come
to the party to make his boyfriend jealous. When the music ended, so did Meghan’s tolerance.

  Julie found her sitting alone by the bar. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you mingling?”

  She moved closer to be heard over the music. “I quit. Your grand scheme isn’t working.”

  “So my first choices haven’t panned out.” Julie crossed her arms and frowned. “You have to keep looking if you’re going to find the right man. Let me introduce you to a few more—”

  She dug in her heels when Julie tried to pull her toward yet another group of men on the make. “Enough. I mean it.”

  Her sister grudgingly left her alone and went back to the party. Meghan drew patterns in the condensation on her glass, trying to decide how much longer she would stay. She’d already found the right man. Her body hadn’t reacted to anyone the way it did around Nick.

  The way it was reacting now…

  “I took my shirt off for you.”

  The instant he murmured in her ear, she recognized Nick’s gruff voice and freshly showered scent. Her heart gave a little leap as she twisted on the bar stool. Lord, he was gorgeous.

  Lust gave her a heightened sense of awareness of the angles and planes of his face, from the light gleaming on his dark hair to the laugh lines bracketing his eyes and finally his utterly kissable mouth.

  Glad for the excuse to touch him, Meghan reached out to feel his shirt. The red-and-purple material was silky between her fingers, but it was still revolting. “This isn’t much of an improvement. I doubt Don Ho put up much of a fight when you stole his wardrobe.”

  Nick smirked at her joke then flagged Alfonso for a beer. He stood so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Or maybe it was her own body heat making her thighs tingle.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” she said.

  “We didn’t finish getting personal.”

  The underlying sensuality of his words and the silky rasp of his voice played havoc with her. Her breasts felt heavy and a throbbing ache pulsed in her belly. She dipped her chin, glancing coyly from under her lashes. “I’m all for getting personal.”