Red Hot Christmas (34 page)

      She wrestled against an urge to giggle.
Wait a minute, giggling?
 

      He made his way to the bed, deliciously naked. Impossible not to admire the hard ridges of his broad chest. A path of dark hair dusted his olive skin, narrowing down his amazing abs.
 

      “You are gorgeous,” he said.

      “You haven’t seen all of me.” She grasped the hem of the sheet, and wondered if she was talking about her mind or body. Did it matter?
 

      “That’s why there’s always tomorrow, like my father used to say.” He ran his finger down her nose, and a thrill of excitement spread through her.
 

      A grin teased her lips. “I doubt your father meant this specific circumstance.”
 

      He chuckled, the sound hearty and rich like the man in front of her. “Guess not.” He snatched her into his arms. “I would say you are safe if you are naked with me…although I guess it depends on your idea of safe.”

      “Trust me, from someone who’s been to prison…people have different concepts of safety.” Her voice hardened against her consent. Shit. There she was, blurting this out again. She didn’t want any of that—to express her past, a chapter of her life she much preferred keep hidden. There was something about Alejandro, the way he studied her, his eyes attentive and kind, that made her want to share with him more than she should allow herself to.

      He delved his fingers into her hair, and the caress had her leaning into his hand, needing more. “Tell me about it.”

      “I can’t compress one year into one bitter sentence,” she said, then sobered. “It was awful. Shower time was the worst. There were guards, but sometimes they pretended not to see what was going on…because they had a special deal with some of the inmates. Contraband and stuff. They sold the stuff they brought under the table.”

      “Were you ever taken against your will?”
 

      She closed her eyes, the image of a burly, tattooed inmate cornering her against a stained wall. The smell of urine and body odor filled the air. Her temples throbbed as if it was happening again, but he started to massage her shoulders in a soothing motion.
 

      “No.” She opened her eyes and kissed the salty curve of his neck. Post-sex intimacy was a novelty for her. Catching a whiff of the wonderful clean scent of his skin, she continued, “A few times, though, this woman tried…I said no, and she hit me.”

      He stopped massaging her, and heaved his hand over her shoulder blade. “I’m sorry you had it so rough,
Tesoro
. I wish I could have known you then.”

      Really? They belonged to different worlds. If he had known her then, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. “I doubt you would have been on my side.”

      He pulled her up until they were eye level. The intensity in his gaze sent shameful electric ripples through her. She swallowed hard, but he cupped her face before she could escape from his contemplation. From him.
 

      “I can’t think of a better place to be.”
 

      Her heart raced, and, for a moment, she wished that was true.
 

***

The warm water glided over her body, and she tilted her head back for more. Within seconds, the powerful spray soaked her hair, and she glanced at the pristine marble countertop. There should be a hairbrush somewhere, right? Of course, one would wonder why she chose to wash her hair at midnight. For the same reason she had been under the oversize showerhead for the last fifteen minutes—stalling.
 

      What should she do next? They had sex, and of course, it had been fantastic. That said, the best thing to do moving forward was to keep her head in the game. Someone had killed the writer, her coworker and quite possibly tried to harm Alejandro’s family. They needed to get to the bottom of things so she could start over. Yet again. Somewhere new.
 

      She was good, no, great at starting over and making a new life for herself. Living that same life for a long period of time, well, that was a different story.
 

      “Got any room for me?” he asked, his deep sensual accent a bit more pronounced.

      She blinked and there he was, opening the door, proud in his birthday suit. She parted her mouth to protest, to send him away, but c’mon, not doing something about his throbbing erection was like throwing a perfectly delicious, mouthwatering piece of
filet mignon
in the trash. Pure blasphemy.
 

      “Maybe.” She gave him a shrug. “What’s the magic word?”
 

      There should be a law against filthy rich men having chiseled bodies and the ability to turn women into putty in bed. It just was not right. He winked at her and reached for the shampoo bottle, his body brushing against hers enough to set a path of goose bumps on her arms. “Orgasm.”
 

      “The season of giving.”

He grinned. “Who knew you were so traditional?”
 

She chuckled, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.
 

Before she lost her courage, she got down on her knees and slithered her tongue over his cock. He groaned and she could feel the frantic rush of blood pounding in his veins, the stiffening of his muscled thighs. The sharp intake of his breath. She began to taste him, and savored the soap-scented skin, warm in her mouth. He grew more, and she moaned, anticipating what would happen later. He murmured her name, and she swirled her tongue around him leisurely, feasting on his large, thick cock.
 

“Come here,
tesoro,”
he whispered, pulled her up, and in one swift movement, placed her against the wet tiled wall. She gasped.
 

She wrapped her legs around him, so organically it was like they had done that for ages.
 

“It’s been far too long since I was last inside you,” he said in a coarse voice.

Her toes curled, and she quivered. Where did he learn to talk like this? Some sort of Renaissance man intensive workshop on how to pick up women?
 

She barely registered when he retrieved the condom he brought with him from the soap holder and ripped off the foil, wrapping his length. A couple seconds later, her world shook again. His deep, powerful thrust yanked her from further rationalizations. With a low moan, she clenched her sex around him, snuggling his cock against her clingy, soaking walls. Out of everything she knew, this made sense—Alejandro impaling her, driving into her, in a fast motion that left her gasping.
 

“More,” she demanded. “More.”

He lifted her a bit, and removed his length almost all the way out. Temporarily, she panicked. Then, he returned home again, and one last time, he thrust into her until she choked out his name. Her mind was like the sun shining down through a cloudless sky on an empty field.
 

Chapter 8

Sydney dialed Jacob Berg’s number, her fingers gripping the cordless phone.
 

“Hello,” said a low male voice after the third ring.
 

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Berg?”
 

A sigh from the other side of the line. “Yes.”
 

Crap. She hoped a family member would pick up the phone, like last time, just to give her a couple more seconds to prepare. She rubbed her forehead. Who was she kidding? “Hi. I’m Sydney Bell, I met you a couple of times when you visited the base.” She cleared her throat. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Patty was a dear friend and colleague.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice clipped. The man was probably tired of talking to people and repeating the same thing over and over.

“Listen, I know this will sound crazy, but I’d like to respectfully ask for your permission for an autopsy of Patty. She and I worked together that last shift, and we transferred a patient who told us a confidential message. He died shortly after, and I was attacked in my place the next day.” She paced in the airy, spacious room. “Mr. Berg, I have reasons to believe she was murdered.”

A clearing of throat. “Have you told any of this to the police?”

“No. There’s a private detective on the case. We just wanted to make sure our theory is right before we get the police involved.”

“Sydney, my wife had a very stressful job.” He coughed. “She was sixty-two.”

“I know. But she was in great shape. I mean—”

“I disagree with cutting a dead body. That goes against the faith I was raised in.”

“I thought Patty was Christian.”

“Yes, but my father is Jewish, and although I struggled with some aspects of my religion over time, I strongly believe no one should be buried without parts or fluids removed during an autopsy.”

“Even if that means she could have been killed?”

“I lost my wife of thirty-two years. I can’t deal with this right now. If you believe strongly that something happened, call the police and let them handle it.”
 

She registered Alejandro walking in the room, holding two cups of coffee. For the next several minutes she let out a couple more condolences and finished the conversation per Jacob’s request. Alejandro placed the cups on the bedside table, opened the glass French doors, and the drapes swooshed. A powerful ray of sun stretched over the marble tiled floor.
 

Drawing a breath, she tossed the phone on the big bed, and refused to stare at the stunning beachfront view. The brightness of the day couldn’t fool her; as far as finding Patty’s killer and her attacker, they kept hitting brick walls. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” He had only a pair of forest green pajama pants, and she had to exercise hardcore self-control to keep from running her fingers over his hair-dusted chest. “Don’t get discouraged. I got a missed call from Joe, maybe he has news.”

“Yes. Maybe. Call him on your cell. While you do that, I’ll call my supervisor at work and see if anyone was looking for me, or if there is news.”
 

She couldn’t give up on finding out what happened, if she wanted to get her life back, and honor her friend. She wouldn’t.
 

***

Alejandro sipped on coffee and dialed Joe’s number. “I saw you called. Got any news for me?” He had decided on making the phone call in the living area, as Sydney was still prowling the room, calling her work in NY.
 

“Yes.” Joe coughed on the other side of the line. “I’ve been working with Meryl, Frank’s former assistant. She’s been helpful. A bit of a chatterbox, but—”

Alejandro sat the coffee cup on the counter. “What have you found out?”

“Turns out Frank’s wife, Courtney, was still talking to an ex boyfriend. She was at home when he died. I located the guy, but he’s tough to crack.”

“That still doesn’t explain why Lewis would say someone was after me.”
 

“Yeah. I’m working on finding out if there’s a connection there. I have a better lead, though. The night before Frank died, he had a meeting scheduled that he didn’t go to. Instead, he went to meet your uncle Evandro.”

Alejandro clenched his fingers on the cordless phone. “My uncle was in New York City?”

“Yes. I discovered a few phone calls made between Evandro and Frank. I’m looking into offshore bank accounts to find out if there was a money transfer. Do you believe Frank knew something about your uncle or you, which would make him blackmail Evandro?”

“No. Couldn’t Frank have been interviewing my uncle for my book?” Alejandro asked, but a cold shiver ran down his spine. He came to a halt, his gut instinct screaming at him there was something wrong. Maybe he wanted to interview Frank to get his help to pen his own memoir in the near future. In that case, wouldn’t he have mentioned it during dinner? Or any other time?
 

“Maybe. Why wouldn’t he put it on the calendar, or mention it to his trusted assistant?”
 

“I don’t know,” Alejandro reluctantly admitted. “How did you find out he met my uncle?”

“I interviewed a few people. Visited Frank’s building.”

“Thanks, Joe. I’ll find out why.”

“I’ll give you an update on Frank’s bank accounts soon.”

He hung up the phone and marched to the bedroom. He found her staring at the still scenery, and he followed her eyes to the view. It was too early for the beach to be crowded with anything more than seagulls. The tide was low, and the waves barely overlapped each other.
 

Alejandro scratched his chin. Should he tell her? About the possible connection between his uncle and Frank?

She turned around, and smiled at him. His heart jolted.
Not yet.
He would tell her when he found something concrete.
 

“No news from my work. My boss put me on unpaid leave, the bastard. What did Joe say?” she said.

“It seems Frank’s wife had a lover, but she has an alibi for that night. He’s trying to verify the guy’s alibi. Listen, let’s go back to Buenos Aires. I already contacted the airfield staff. I need to meet my uncle to talk business. I will drop you off at my mother’s with the bodyguards.”