Intimate Enemies (15 page)

None of the men Cassie knew were simple. Saul was complex and unstable. Sharpe a psychotic whack job. Rio a total mystery. She’d thought Santos had been simple and straightforward, but then he’d gotten that tattoo and changed his friends and…died.

“That’s not all. My informant sorta…went missing.”

“Sorta? How does someone
sorta
go missing?”

“He texted me earlier today to tell me he had information and was supposed to call me tonight to set up a meeting but didn’t. An hour ago, I get this cryptic voice mail from him, telling me he changed his mind, he can’t do the work. Then there’s scuffling sounds, an argument in the background, and the line goes dead. Now I can’t get a hold of him. His phone goes right into voice mail, and he’s not returning my texts.”

“That’s an ex-con for you,” Natalie said. “Once running with the wrong crowd, always running with the wrong crowd.”

Cassie scowled out at the sea. “Thanks for holding off on the direct I-told-you-so.”

“Cass, seriously? Did you expect this guy to act like a professional?”

“No, which is why I hired him. I didn’t expect any Mr. Joe PI to be able to saunter into the streets and get prostitutes to talk. But I’m kind of worried about this guy. I mean, what if I asked him to do something that got him in trouble or hurt or…”
—killed—
“something?”

“Then you need to get your troublemaking little butt back here and get out of the middle of it.”

Cassie hissed a breath out through her teeth. “What did you get on the van?”

“The license number is registered to the same make and model of truck you described, but it’s owned by a corporation.”

“What corporation? Where is it based?”

“The only thing I could uncover is that they’re based out of San Diego.”

“Americans are running this ring?”

“That’s not what I said. Who knows where that plate came from or whether it truly belongs on that van. Even if it does, just because a corporation’s got a San Diego post office box doesn’t mean it involves American citizens. I’m still digging, give me some time. Try cultivating some patience while you’re there.”

“I
am
patient!” Cassie winced and rubbed her temples. The barrage of information within the last twelve hours and the suspicion it wrought throbbed beneath her skull. “Okay, maybe I’m not patient. But I’m trying.”

“You need a break, Cass. When your boss told you to take time off to get your head straight, I seriously doubt this is what he had in mind.”

“Everyone grieves differently. No one can tell a person how to feel or how to handle it.”

A heavy sigh from Natalie’s end. “I’m worried about you.”

The sincerity in her friend’s voice drained Cassie’s fight. She was obsessing over this accident, a situation that wasn’t directly related to her, and an activity that had been going on for decades. Logically, Cassie knew she wouldn’t be making any permanent difference in the colossal problem. Even if these smugglers were caught and punished, there were dozens waiting to take their place, yet she couldn’t live with herself if she stood by and did nothing. A catch-22 that engaged her obsessive need for answers and the tendency to drive for them until she’d exhausted every last resource. Even then, she often didn’t know when to stop.

“I know,” she said. “I’m trying.”

“What did the attorney say?”

“He’s still working on it, but the short of it is, so far, Ray says my best bet in getting Saul out of the house is finding something big enough in his activities to send him to prison.”

“I don’t like the sound of you digging in that part of Saul’s business.”

“I’m not thrilled with the idea either.”

With a promise to both be careful and call Natalie the following day, Cassie disconnected and crossed her arms. She was worried about Caesar, which she knew was utterly ridiculous, considering he was a convicted murderer. Still, this whole thing felt…dark. Dangerous. Maybe she’d take Ray up on that offer to put her in touch with a new private investigator.

“Cassie.”

She jumped at Rio’s voice behind her. Dammit, she was sick of startling like a frightened rabbit. She turned and found him standing a few yards away, wearing the swim trunks from the night before and a faded T-shirt.

The wind blew his hair, and a dark piece fell across his forehead. “What the hell are you trying to pull now?”

“Is this your idea of security? Eavesdropping?” Goddamn, he knew how to push her buttons.

“I’m not trying to pull anything. I want Saul out of this house. If Mamà hadn’t been so fooled in the beginning and so confused and hurt at the end, she would have kicked him out and changed her will.”

“What the hell does it matter to you? You’re never here.”

“This hasn’t been my home since Saul walked into it fifteen years ago. Mamà and Santos are gone, and this is all I have left. All my memories of them are here, and he’s tainting everything I know, everything I love.” She forced her voice down. “If you’re worried about where you’ll live when he—”

Rio stepped forward and grabbed her arms. “I don’t give a fuck where I live. I’m worried about
you
. Why can’t you get that through your head?”

“Why?” She didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand
him
. “Why in the hell should you care?”

He released her with a little push, then shoved one hand into his windblown hair, pulling it off his face. “Hell, I don’t know. They cared about you. I cared about them. Caring by association or…something.”

She crossed her arms again, holding back the angry, painful emotions pushing to the surface. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“You need to understand, this is not a game. This house means as much to him as it does to you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Maybe not for the same reasons, but from his perspective, this house ties him to Alejandra and their life together. It gives him credibility and social standing. If you force him out, how do you think he’ll react?”

“I don’t give a shit—”

“Stop being so emotional. Do you run on your emotions in the emergency room?” He paused long enough to make his point. “We both know Saul’s not running on his emotions, which puts you at a disadvantage. And consider this: if Saul doesn’t have a conscience to limit his behavior, and if you do find a way to get him out of this house, what do you think he’s going to do?”

A cold stab of fear pierced the back of Cassie’s neck. There was something about what Rio was saying and the way he was saying it that cut through all their pretenses and reached her on a critical level. He was far sharper than he let on, far more aware. Which made her feel secure on one level and frightened on another.

“What do you mean
if
he finds out?” she said. “I just came out and told you. Why
wouldn’t
he know?”

“I don’t need any more trouble than I already have, and there’s no point in getting Saul riled up for something that’s not going to happen. Believe me, he has had that
fideicomiso
inspected upside down and sideways, and there are no loopholes. And good luck trying to get something illegal to stick to him. Just because you want him out doesn’t mean you’ll get him out. But if he finds out what you’re doing, you’ll have succeeded in pissing him off—big-time. Which brings me back to my original point.”

“Why are you always trying to scare me?”

“I’m trying to get you to face reality. The fact that it scares you should tell you something.”

“Cassandra?” Saul called from the house and startled her. “Cassandra, can you hear me?”

She knew Saul couldn’t see her from that distance. Not at night and not this close to the water. She didn’t have to answer, even considered ignoring him, but he’d just come find her later.

She yelled over the wind, “Yes?”

“Police Chief Fermin is here to see you. Please come in,
mija
.” Without waiting for an answer, Saul stepped inside and shut the glass door.

Rio’s expression intensified with a look of disbelief. “What the fuck is
he
doing here?”

“Why would you expect me to know?”

“Mario, Caesar, Santiago, now Fermin?” He took a step forward and leaned close, anger tightening his handsome face. “Do you have a fucking death wish?”

She pulled back. “Death wish?
Death wish?
What the hell does
that
mean?”

He turned and looked out at the sea, jaw ticking.

“Rio, what is going on?” Dread had adrenaline spilling through her body. Her stomach ached; her limbs tingled. “How do you know I went to see Santiago? You said you came back to the estate.”

“Just because I’m not following you doesn’t mean someone else isn’t.” The lowered, serious tone of his voice sent another cold shiver down her spine. He reached out and cupped the back of her neck in a strong grip. Cassie drew in a sharp breath, caught somewhere between excitement and fear. “Would you rather have me with you or someone else? Someone Saul chooses?”

He was so close. His warmth stretched the short distance between them and touched her. She longed for the security of his arms. Ached for the feel of his mouth.

Those smoky green eyes lowered to her lips, and hurt from their previous encounters flared.

“Don’t you dare kiss me again if you only intend to push me away.”

“You’re an intelligent woman.” He released her and turned toward his casita but didn’t look away. “Don’t be stupid.”

He’d jogged several yards by the time Cassie thought to yell at him, “I told you not to call me—”

The wind howled, so she gave up, but the bite of his earlier words rang in her ears.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?”

She hadn’t thought so, but she had to admit he’d just put a hell of a lot into perspective, only that view was skewed and twisted. She rubbed her bare arms even though the wind was warm. An uncomfortable tension shivered across her shoulders, a culmination of all Natalie’s concerns, all her husband Mike’s warnings, all Cassie’s own dark fears she’d been pushing aside to keep herself driving forward. Now she added the new concerns Rio had brought to light.

She needed to settle the past before she could move on with her future. She needed answers. Dammit, that shouldn’t be asking too much.

And, hell, Fermin was the last place she would ever find answers. He was as warped as Saul and as corrupt as Fidel Castro. He made Cassie squirm just as Saul did, but in a different, even darker way.

Crossing to the house, she hardened her shell. There were only two things he could be here to see her about—the clinic or the accident—and everything at the clinic had been fine when she’d left just a few hours ago.

She brought the night of the accident up in her mind to refresh her memory. No doubt the smugglers had Fermin on a bribe IV. He’d want her to forget everything she’d seen. Maybe even recant her statement.

Like hell.

In the house, she didn’t put her heels back on. It made her even smaller and less threatening. She followed the men’s voices to the living room, where they stood at the bar with drinks. Fermin, in his early fifties, wore his navy blue uniform. He looked polished and authoritative compared to his officers, who wore olive fatigues in the street. His dark hair had grayed evenly throughout, and he wore it slicked back from a face smooth for his age and pleasant for his true nature, even while in an intense conversation with Saul.

When the door clicked closed, both men turned toward her and assumed their roles. If she hadn’t seen it so many times, the stark change from frustration to congeniality would have startled her.

“Cassandra,” Fermin greeted with enthusiasm, then swept a look over her dress. His gaze returned to her face with a wicked heat. Truly wicked. Not sexy-wicked, the way Rio looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. “My,” Fermin said, “don’t you look…lovely.”

He approached her, drink in hand and with an expression that made her want to take a hot shower and scrub her skin raw.

“Thank you, Chief. Are you here about the accident?”

His gaze lifted from her breasts. He paused a few feet away, standing a full foot taller than her now that she was in bare feet, which was just why she’d left her shoes off—to allow him to feel superior. Allow him to lower his guard.

“Accident?” His expression took on an authentically startled appearance. “What accident?”

No way.
“The one on the highway, two nights ago? A truck turned over? Carrying a dozen women?”
Sound familiar, asshole?
“One died. Several were badly injured. There were quite a few minors in the group.” Her fingers curled into fists. “I reported it, but even if I hadn’t, how could you have not heard about something so severe?”

Her accusing tone had hardened his jaw and wiped his smile away. And all she could hear was Rio’s voice in her head.
“You’re an intelligent woman. Don’t be stupid.”

Cassie choked down her temper and painfully backpedaled with a perfect impression of a first-year medical resident, complete with contrite smile. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me, Chief. I’ve had a long day.”

He nodded. “And I assure you I’ll look into this accident you’ve mentioned.”

Rio walked in through the side entrance. He wore the clothes he’d been dressed in at dinner and a look that told Cassie he was restraining as much frustration as everyone else in the room.

He approached the group with a hand held out for Fermin. “Chief. What brings you out?”

The question reminded Cassie there could only be one other reason he’d come—the clinic. And Nina. Suddenly, none of this bullshit Cassie was dancing around mattered.

“Rio,” Fermin greeted with the shake. “I’m here to talk to Cassandra.”

Fermin turned back to Cassie, shoulders straight, a businesslike flatness to his expression. A familiar burn developed beneath her ribs—the anticipation of receiving the unbearable news she imparted to others far too often.

“We are investigating a missing person,” he said. “Caesar Nuñez.”

Shock zigzagged through her body first, then relief. Relief so clear, so beautiful her knees went weak. But she didn’t show any emotion on the outside. Just as she covered her reaction to the discovery of dire symptoms in a patient, she hid the knowledge of Nina’s safety behind a mask.