Intimate Enemies (22 page)

“I’m sure there is something in your mother’s closet. I won’t take no for an answer, Cassandra. It will be good for you to get out socially while you’re here.”

She shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“Wonderful.” A Grinch-like smile lifted Saul’s thin mouth. “While you’re in her room, you might want to take a look at the box on the bed. I found several photo albums I’m sure you’ll want to keep.”

The thought of looking through those photo albums made her entire chest ache. Cassie crumpled the napkin in her lap and tossed it on the table beside her plate.

“Great.” She pressed to her feet and picked up the open wine bottle. “I think I’ll go do that right now.” Acid burned the lining of her stomach. A sudden sting hurt her eyes. “I’ll be looking at those accounting files in an hour, Saul. I expect those books to be complete, ready, and waiting for me.”

* * * * *

Rio watched Cassie pick up her wineglass in one hand, the open bottle of merlot in the other.

“Since you two have another,” she said, “I’m sure you won’t miss this.”

She started toward the hallway, then turned toward the wing housing Saul’s office and Alejandra’s suite, the room Saul had moved out of months prior, after Cassie forbade Saul from removing even one of her mother’s personal items. That was something Cassie had insisted she would do when she was ready, or so she’d told Saul.

Rio picked up the fresh bottle of merlot and uncorked it, topping off Saul’s glass, then filling his own for the fourth time. Three times too many.

Cassie had him on edge. She’d had an epiphany during the conversation, one that had sparked Cassie in a whole new way. One that was initiated by the fact that he was American. Now Rio couldn’t stop puzzling out how she could possibly use that against him. But there was something more immediate, more personal, burning Rio’s gut like a swarm of fire ants.

“What’s this about a boyfriend?” he asked, forcing his voice cool. “That could be one of the reasons I’m having such a hard time with her.”

“You think a woman with her looks isn’t screwing half a dozen men?” He turned that cold, hard gaze on Rio. “They’ll put up with anything to live the fantasy of doing her. They don’t care what she’s like out of bed. You’d better turn on some of that underused charm of yours and fuck her into stupefaction, or I will. And then I’ll have to kill her. So if you like living here, Rio, if you like your plush salary and all the fringe benefits, I suggest you get that nosy bitch busy in bed.”

Okay, that had gone
way
the hell off course. More signs of stress. Rio changed the topic. “What’s this about a party?”

“It’s about educating Cassandra in the balance of power. I’ve gotten fifty-five positive responses, including several public officials.”

Rio sat back. “Whoa. Fifty-five? Saturday? And this is the first I’ve heard of it? Saul, do you know what kind of security we’ll need? It would only take a few to make your point.”

“You don’t know her like I do.” His restless fingers started their familiar, tense crawl over the arm of his chair. “I suspected she’d want to go over the books, but not so soon. I planned the party after I told her not to come and she ignored me. That bitch has never respected my authority, and it’s time she sees the extent of my power firsthand.”

Rio took a long drink of his wine but secretly craved whiskey. Or vodka. Or better yet, 190-proof Everclear.

He needed to get Saul’s focus off Cassie. He pulled the phone off his belt and wandered toward the living room windows as he dialed Tomás.

“Got the dirt on Alvarado,” Tomás answered.

“Open information?”

“Sure, but wait.”

“What?” Rio braced for more bad news.

“Have you gotten laid yet?” The humorous, excited edge in Tomás’s voice abraded Rio’s nerves. “Is she as good as she looks?”

“Shut the hell up,” Rio muttered on his way back to the table.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Tomás drawled.

“You’re on speaker now.” Rio pushed a button and set the phone down. “How does Alvarado look?”

“Fucked,” Tomás said. “He’s done time in three different prisons. El Salvador, Peru, and here in Mexico.”

“For what?” Rio asked.

“You name it—drugs, weapons, assault, murder.”

A slow throb ached at the center of Rio’s head, and he massaged his temples.

“He’s known for packing half a dozen weapons on him at all times,” Tomás said. “And he’s not afraid to use them. He’s a shit-stirrer and a big guy. Stands six four, weighs in at two-fifty, and he likes to be top dog.”

“We’ll find someone else.” Rio exhaled heavily. “Why don’t you talk to—”

“No, he’s perfect.” Saul waved away Rio’s order with a thoughtful look of distraction. “Just the type we need.”

“We need competent,” Rio said, “not volatile independents.”

“I agree. We need competent for our inner circle. But it’s always good to have a few bad boys out there on the fringes. They’re useful scapegoats when trouble closes in. His record and reputation will draw attention, deflecting it from me, from us. In the event of discovery, he will be the one authorities go after first.”

“Saul—”

“I said,” Saul repeated slowly, deliberately, “he starts tomorrow. And add him to the list for security Saturday night.”

Rio shut his mouth and shoved his hands into his pockets. The only positive thing emerging from this whole asinine assignment was the intelligence on the terrorists, their contacts and training. Rio had to focus on that. He was determined to see something meaningful emerge from this situation. Hardly compensation for the loss of Alejandra and Santos, but all he could do for now. Aside from keeping Cassie safe, which had become priority number one.

And it was beginning to look like that would require sleeping with her, because scaring her pushed her away, threatening her made her rebel, and simply watching her didn’t hinder her in any way. He certainly couldn’t debrief her, and Kollman refused to pull her out. But truly seducing her meant putting himself at much higher risk—personally. As if he needed any more risk.

And he wasn’t just looking at simple sex either, he realized. He was looking at good sex. Great sex. The toe-curling, back-arching, multi-orgasmic sex she’d spoken of on the phone with her friend, because, if not, he wouldn’t be distracting her from this mission she’d launched.

Uncharacteristic nerves fluttered low in his gut. Could he be that good? Of course he could. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip, stuffed his hands into his pockets and thought back to the last fling he’d picked up out of town. But that had been months ago. He honestly couldn’t remember much. He didn’t do names. Didn’t do numbers. Didn’t meet the same woman twice. So…really…how did he know if he was capable of being good enough to keep Cassie distracted? He’d never had to be any better than it took to get through a couple of hours of uncomplicated, impersonal physical satisfaction.

He wiped a hand over his face. He either needed to stop drinking or needed to drink a hell of a lot more.

“Thanks, Tomás.” Rio closed his phone and straightened, facing Saul. “Are we done here?”

“One more thing,” Saul said. “I’m sending Tomás and Pedro out of town to collect women. There is too much talk locally about the accident, and they’re taking too much time to recruit. Normally, I’d have them pick them up off the street, but that will draw attention from the
Muertos
.”

Rio’s mind veered to calculate this new angle. He didn’t like the idea of having Tomás out of reach, but it wouldn’t be bad to have Pedro out of town. It didn’t seem to matter what Rio thought of the idea anyway; Saul didn’t ask.

“Remember what I said, Rio,” Saul finished. “I’m done playing Cassandra’s games. You deal with her, or I will.”

Rio should have followed Cassie’s lead and skipped dinner. He hadn’t eaten much, but between the few bites he’d forced down and that wine, his guts felt both tight and tumultuous as he stood staring at the door of Alejandra’s suite.

He had no idea what condition he’d find Cassie in—pissed, pitying, passed out. She’d had two full glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and who knew what had become of the still-half-full bottle she’d swiped. Maybe if she was drunk, he’d actually have a chance at getting past all her frustrating defenses.

He cracked the door and peered in without knocking. Cassie stood half facing the door with one hand on a newel of her mother’s hand-carved four-poster bed, the other slipping off one heel as she bent at the waist. The bodice of her shimmering sleeveless dress strained with the fullness of her breasts, and the supple flesh rounded beautifully over the edge. Rio’s sloppy brain prayed that fabric would give and those luscious breasts would win out and fall free of the restraint. And as Rio’s gaze roamed Cassie’s deep cleavage, his dick thumped against its own limitations, responding to an electrifying fantasy of being nestled between those full, soft breasts.

She slipped off her other shoe, left them to melt into the plush carpeting, and turned toward the closet. Her fingers gripped the bedpost until they paled; then she pushed off and disappeared into the closet.

Rio stepped into the huge master suite. It was decorated in the estate’s trademark earth tones and accented with turquoise to draw in the ocean’s tranquility. Everything about the estate followed Alejandra’s grand theme, even the name Villas Terra del Mar, village of the earth and sea.

He followed Cassie into the closet, a room nearly the size of Rio’s entire casita, and found her wrapped in one of Alejandra’s favorite silk shawls, a corner held against her face, eyes closed. A bundle of fierce and complicated emotions knotted beneath Rio’s ribs.

Shake it off.

He managed to harness enough frustration to keep his voice level, if not congenial. “Tell me you don’t have a boyfriend.”

She didn’t jump. Either he hadn’t been as quiet as he usually was, or she’d expected him. She turned with a ready glare. “Does it matter?”

“Hell, yes, it matters.”

She flinched.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to bark, but seriously? “Is that what you think of me? That I’d hit on anyone, regardless?”

“So you were
hitting
on me? Is that what you call it?” Her eyes narrowed. And something dark came over her features, something Rio had never seen in all her distress and anger. “Interesting choice of words. Are you one of
those
guys, Rio? Do you hit women?”

“Wha…?” His mouth dropped open, his mind scrambling to follow hers. But she made no sense, and her insinuation hit him in a low, vulnerable place. “What the hell? That is totally out of line.”

“Is it?” She dropped the sleeve she’d been fingering and turned to fully face him. “I consistently expect more from you, and you consistently disappoint me. Why not disappoint me here too?”

Pain snapped in his chest, a hot whip. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t about him, this was about her and Saul and something else. But it still hurt.

“
I
disappoint
you
? Beautiful, I’m not the one running around on my lover.”

Fire erupted in her eyes. “I’m not—” She pressed her lips together, then sucked in another breath and tilted her chin, gaze as dark as mocha. “So…what?” she taunted. “Does that warrant a beating? Would you hit a woman if she cheated on you?”

“What. The. Fuck?” Frustration and confusion and hurt blended into a fury so dark, he saw her through a haze. “I’ve
never
hit a woman.
Ever
. I’ve never even come close. How dare you accuse me— How dare you
judge
me. How
dare
you lump me in with the animals that killed my sis—”

Dammit, he didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to say these things. The darkness pushed in from the edges of his mind like ink, and he fought to keep his head clear. “I have
never
hurt a woman.” The girls from the truck accident flashed in his head. He gripped both sides of the doorframe. Squeezed until his fingers went numb. “I have four sisters, six nieces, and a mother still living. I would never
intentionally
hurt a woman.”

Rio pushed off the doorframe, pivoted, and exited the closet.

“Rio?”

He ignored the plea and apology in her voice. The part of his brain that was still functioning focused on his path to the bedroom door.

“Rio, wait.” She appeared in front of him, her hands flat on his chest. “Wait. I’m sorry.”
He pulled to a stop. Rubbed his face hard. When his head cleared, he looked down at her.

“What the fuck
was
that?” His voice came out as a growl. “Were you
trying
to get me to hit you? Do you
like
that or something? God.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, then sidestepped her for the door. “No way, Cass. I’m not into that. Not even for you.”

Rio escaped down the hallway leading to Saul’s office and out a side door. Outside, he pressed his back to the wall and dug his hands into his hair as the dark night slipped around him.

“
Shit
.” He stared up at the indigo sky dotted with pure, vibrant, white stars. Tried to slow his breathing. His heart rate. “I am so out of control.”

He’d royally fucked that up. So much for keeping his cool. Staying in charge. This situation had turned into a speeding freight train carrying a load of dynamite.

He made his way across the grounds toward his casita, replaying that scene in his head. It was his fault. He’d started it by attacking her as soon as he’d walked in. But that hitting women shit—that was… Out of the blue, completely unrelated, from left field.

The crisp ocean air, the rhythm of the sea, pulled at him. A swim. He so badly needed to swim out this frustration. But he needed answers even more.

In his casita, he pulled off his clothes and stood under a hot shower to ease the tension in his muscles. When his mind stopped rounding the same thoughts relentlessly, he pulled on cargo shorts and a T-shirt and snatched his laptop from the dinette table. He dropped to the sofa and tapped into his secure ICE account.