Intimate Enemies (3 page)

Rio’s stomach contracted. What little he’d eaten for dinner rolled toward his throat. He pushed off the wall and planted a hand over his face. “
Fuck
.”

“It’s my fault,” Tomás said. “I shouldn’t have let Pedro drive. He doesn’t have the skills I do—”

“No way.” Rio dropped his hand and stared hard at the window. With night blanketing the waves, the glass reflected the twist of anguish on his face. He looked away, setting his eyes on the ebony grand piano instead. “I’ll be damned if you’re taking the blame for these animals. This was not, in any way, your fault. Do you hear me? Get that out of your head right now.”

Now, if Rio could only take his own advice, he might be able to get his own shit straight. No one was supposed to die. Certainly not innocent women simply searching for a better life in America. Certainly not girls barely into their teens with their whole lives ahead.

“Kollman’s going to shit bricks over this,” Rio said. “And when you report, don’t say what you just said to me, got it? You know how fast they’d pull you out? I can’t afford to lose you.”

“Don’t worry.” Tomás’s voice sounded lighter, more like the partner he’d worked with for eight years. “I don’t want to be sitting in some state-appointed shrink’s office for the next two months talking about my
feelings
.”

Rio almost smiled. “What’s the fallout of this going to be?”

“The
policía
were easy. I paid them off,” Tomás said. “And I talked to Kollman. He’s making sure the families are still getting US citizenship, the homes, the jobs, the same life we give all the women once they hit the border and we take out the receiving smuggler. It won’t make up for the loss, but… Look, we may have another problem.”

Rio’s mind scanned trouble spots. “What?”

“Someone stopped.”

He swung his arm out to the side, exasperated. “You’ve
got
to be kidding me. Who the hell would be stupid enough…?”

The front door closed behind him. Rio spun toward the foyer and reached to the small of his back for his gun. A woman stood in the shadows, three duffle bags at her feet.

Shit. Had to be one of Saul’s whores.

“I’ll call you back.” He disconnected and slid the phone into its holster.

The hallway was dark, but it took only a glance to know this wasn’t Saul’s typical playmate. She was young and had the lithe build Saul favored, but everything else was off. She wore a
baseball hat
—of all things. A Padres cap, which, okay, gave her a favorable point in Rio’s book, but it was filthy. She wore her dark hair in a messy ponytail, and her khaki shorts were stained
.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

One of her hands dropped into the pocket of her shorts.

Rio’s senses came fully online. He slid the gun out of his waistband another inch.

“Who the hell are
you
?” she said. “And where is Saul?”

Heavy attitude and lots of bite. No accent. American English.
Who in the hell?

“I’m not playing twenty questions. I’ll get Señor Flores as soon as you tell me who you are.”

She took two steps forward, bringing her into the light. But that damn hat…

“Considering
I
own this house,” she said, “I think
you
should be answering to
me
.”

His mind stopped turning.
Owned this…

Oh, for the love of God. Cassie Christo.

Excitement and confusion and fear mixed until he was sure a swarm of bees had been let loose in his chest. Rio shoved his weapon back into his waistband and rested his hands at his hips, his memories of the sweet thing he’d held in the cemetery six months ago warring with the real woman standing in front of him.

He slid a look over her, starting at that hat… Something dark dripped from her knee and trailed down her shin. “Is that blood?” Alarm brought him a step closer. She dropped back the same distance. “Are you hurt?”

She looked down, made a negligent wave toward her leg. “It’s nothing.”

Saul entered the foyer. She turned and again stepped backward.

Rio’s worlds collided—fantasy against reality.

Cassie was his fantasy. She’d been the center of his dreams for months. Dreams that had been sustaining him since he’d last seen her.

Saul was his reality. The man he’d committed to build into Baja’s premier terrorist smuggler in hopes of tearing him down and turning him over to US authorities. A reality that had taken a very long year to construct. A reality that could kill him if he didn’t give it his absolute undivided attention.

“Cassandra.” Saul had his smile amped to its brightest setting. “This is a surprise.”

She realigned her shoulders like a soldier, her body one stiff line of challenge. “I don’t know how that’s possible, since we discussed my visit just last week.”

Rio crossed his arms. They’d spoken only a week ago? So, Saul was still keeping information from him. And here Rio thought he’d finally gained the man’s trust.

Saul slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rolled back on his heels. Even at the end of the day, the man appeared polished and pressed, every hair in place, every fold in his dress slacks crisp. “But I thought we decided that you would hire someone to finish the clinic.”

“No, Saul.” Cassie’s tone held something edgy, either hate or disgust. Rio couldn’t tell which. But as long as it wasn’t aimed at him, he liked it. “I was very clear. I told you I was going to handle this project myself.”

“Nonsense. There’s no need to take time from your busy schedule. If supervision is needed, I’ll find—”

“No, thank you. I’m here, and I’m staying.”

Rio’s muscles tensed. He pulled his inner cheek between his teeth and watched for Saul’s reaction. If this was how they were going to continue interacting, yes, they would definitely have problems.

But Saul kept himself together. Kept the smile in place. Kept his voice smooth. “Of course,
mija
, of course. Whatever you want. I’m only trying to help.” He tipped his head, and the smile faltered a little. “Darling, you know how I feel about baseball hats. And in the house? Please, take that off.”

Cassie didn’t even acknowledge his statement. She shot a suspicious glance at Rio, then directed her question to Saul. “Is there something going on here that I should know about? Who is this, and why is he here? Is there anyone else in the house?”

Rio fought a wince. He hadn’t really expected her to remember him. Had he?

“No,” Saul said, “just Rio and me. You remember Rio Santana.”

“No, Saul. Since you fired Lorena, I don’t know anything about your employees.”

“I already explained, Cassandra, I didn’t fire Lorena.” The slight edge in Saul’s voice made Rio’s focus sharpen. “After Alejandra passed, she wanted to move on and take care of her own family. You and Santos were grown and gone. She wanted to find somewhere she could be more useful. Her granddaughters are still young.”

Rio watched Cassie tap her foot on the tile, expression blank.

“And Rio’s the head of my security.” Saul’s expression dropped into practiced grief. “He brought you home from the cemetery after the funerals, but, of course, you were too distraught that day to remember.”

Cassie’s foot stopped tapping. Her body went still. And Rio immediately sensed danger. Danger of the emotional kind. He didn’t know her. Didn’t know why he thought she would pitch a fit. Though if their situations were reversed and he discovered he’d leaned on an employee of his enemy, yeah, he’d be livid.

Only, when she turned to look at him, anger wasn’t what he saw. Her face had opened. And with the tension gone, her cheeks were smooth, her lips full, her chin soft. And her eyes…her eyes lit with surprise, yes, but also…affection? No. That couldn’t be right. But, he could swear that was warmth hiding in the shadows beneath the ball cap.

His heart didn’t beat quite right.

“You’re…” she started, her voice soft and unsure, so drastically different from how she’d been talking since she’d walked in. “You…?”

Christ, nothing like a roller-coaster ride when you weren’t expecting it. Now he felt nauseated, because what the hell could he do with that little window of opportunity? Nothing. He could do absolutely nothing.

“Yes, Ms. Christo.” He had no idea where he found this boy-Friday, I-was-just-doing-my-job voice. “I brought you home.”

Sometimes at night when he remembered that day, the memories of dragging her up from the dirt where she’d curled beside her mother’s open grave were so vivid he could almost relive the moment. He could almost still hear the sorrow in her sobs. Almost still smell her rose-sweet perfume as he’d helped her stand. Almost still feel her body pressed against his as he held her close. So close.

She fit him so perfectly.

He watched the memory of their tentative but compelling connection return. At least it had been compelling for him. Cassie had given him someone to grieve with. Really, truly grieve. Not all the fake tears people who’d barely known Alejandra and Santos had cried that day, but someone who’d loved them as much, or more, than Rio had. Of course, she hadn’t known that at the time. Still didn’t know.

But Rio knew. She was the first person he’d opened up to in years. The first woman he’d shared anything meaningful with in a decade.

Pathetic. Screwed. But true.

For the briefest moment, her features gentled. Emotion washed across her pretty face in miniature waves—shock, disbelief, confusion, gratitude, longing. That was when he saw the woman she’d been that day, the one who’d kept this hope burning inside him for months on end—the woman who’d needed him. She’d had her stepfather, her aunt, her cousins to lean on, but she’d turned to him. She’d needed
him
above everyone else.

As if she could read his thoughts, an unmistakable shot of embarrassment wiped all the other emotions away. And as quickly as those warm feelings opened her face, shame, disappointment, and hurt closed it off. Then her sharp gaze blazed with anger before she tightened her lips, twisted back toward Saul, and reset her shoulders.

“Why was someone handling security acting like a chauffeur at the funerals?”

“He was merely following orders.” Saul’s practiced performance didn’t waver. “I assigned him to your protection.”

Her brows shot up as if the idea were ridiculous. “Protection?”

“I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d only fuss over the idea. But,
mija
”—Saul’s voice lowered in fake grief—“after losing Alejandra and Santos, I couldn’t take any chances with you.”

“Was there a threat I didn’t know about?”

Rio should think of Saul’s stupid mouth as job security, but this entire mission could have been over by now if Saul wasn’t so impulsive. So distrustful. So secretive. Yet, if it had ended sooner, Rio wouldn’t have met Cassie. Then again, Alejandra and Santos would still be alive.

He couldn’t win.

Rio cleared his throat to interrupt the direction of their conversation. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”

Cassie’s gaze shot to his, burned there a second as if she were trying to decide whether to start a whole new fight with him or focus on the current one with Saul.

“Well?” she prodded Saul. “What happened that made you think we needed security?”

He shrugged. “At that point, we didn’t know what had happened,
mija
.”

“We still don’t know what happened.” She crossed her arms. “Unless you’ve received a settlement from the insurance company or word from the investigators that I don’t know about. Have you?”

Relentless. She was relentless. And that confidence and fire was off-the-charts sexy. While he’d found the fragile, sweet woman at the cemetery that day heartbreakingly precious, this one was far more exciting. This one, standing her ground and holding on to what was rightfully hers while taunting the devil incarnate with a filthy baseball hat and a nasty attitude.

The only problem was, now that she’d seen Rio with Saul, he would forever be one of Satan’s demons in her mind. His chance for anonymity had passed. That dream he’d had of finding her in San Diego when this mission was over, of getting a fresh start with a few normal dates…

Dead.

In the water.

“No,” Saul said. “Nothing has changed. I know you want answers, Cassandra, but life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to.”

She smiled, slow and cunning. “That’s a wise piece of advice, Saul. I hope you keep your own counsel.”

Something about that expression on a woman with her personality made Rio distinctly uncomfortable. Since she was obviously going to be trouble, he had to determine just how much. “What clinic are you talking about?”

Saul glanced his way. “Cassandra’s building a medical clinic downtown.”

“Really.” Rio pocketed his hands and fisted them until they ached. Saul had omitted far more information than a casual visit. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. So you’ll be here a few days?”

She fixed him with a veiled, cool look. “More like a few months.”

The wheels of Rio’s brain hitched. Months?
Months?
Fuck no.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what your plans are, but you need to realize it’s really dangerous here right now.”

“I’ve heard.” Her gaze never left Rio’s, its intensity making him feel as if they were alone. Or maybe that was just him,
wishing
they were alone. “Which is all the more reason this clinic needs to get up and running. Gang activity hurts the community. Tourism drops; people lose their jobs and can’t afford medical care. Or they get hurt or sick and don’t know who to trust to take care of them. Todos de Santos will fill those needs.”

Saul clapped his hands together and took a step forward. “I’m sure you’ll have everything done much sooner than you expect. You always were an overachiever. Why don’t you…?” He gestured toward the guest wing, then seemed to take his first good look at Cassie. “My dear, you look like you’ve been working the fields. What…?” He took a half step back. “Is that blood?”