Deadly Intent Read online

  She looked away.

  His gut tightened. “Why the hell would you be afraid of me?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “Nelson Cruz? The top ICE agent in the land who was handpicked to be on Victor Dupé’s Southern California VC Taskforce? Do you know what I would give to be on an elite taskforce like that?”

  Dupé’s taskforces ran lean and mean. To date, there were only three of them on the west coast, each team consisting of five to seven agents from various government alphabet agencies. Each agent was handpicked by Dupé for reasons no one quite understood, but Nelson suspected it had something to do with a group’s viability. Any agent with a big ego or their own agenda would never get an invite. Each member had to have experience and expertise in certain areas. When put together on a team, those experiences and skills formed a complete taskforce that could take on special missions. The SCVC taskforce had an eighty-five percent success rate at closing cases. The highest of all the taskforces, but the others weren’t far behind.

  “Wait a minute.” Thinking about the experts on his team, Nelson suddenly had an idea. “Let me see that ledger again.”

  He stood and opened the book to a set of pages. Taking out his phone, he snapped a picture of the coded words.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Bobby Dyer, one of the guys on my team, is an expert at everything. Computers, creating backstop identities, anything involving communications. Maybe, just maybe, he knows how to decode these ledgers.”

  That earlier spark of hope reignited in her eyes. She touched her mouth with her fingers, trying to suppress a smile. “Seriously?”

  Nelson attached the picture to an email and quickly typed a note to Dyer. “Worth a try, right? And if he doesn’t know how to decode it, I bet he knows someone who does.”

  A small shot of glee came from Sophie, and she jumped up, throwing her arms around Nelson even before he’d finished sending the email. She showered his cheeks and neck with light kisses. “Gracias, thank you.”

  Catching her up in his arms, he lifted her for a second and set her back on her feet. She would actually make a great taskforce member, except for one thing. “As far as being on the VC Taskforce, I bet Dupé would love to have you. You have the skills and experience, but…” Her brown eyes were so trusting, so happy at the moment, he hated to state the obvious. “You’re not exactly a team player, Soph. Dupé knows that. Hell, everyone knows that.”

  She released him and tried to step back, but he didn’t let her go far. “I know, but…I couldn’t be a team player before now.”

  She glanced away, still caught in his embrace, but searching for emotional distance. “All these years, I’ve been chasing Angelique. Not every assignment was about her, of course, but somewhere in the back of my mind it was. Everything I’ve done, including all the cases I’ve worked, I’ve been trying to make up for letting her down. Not just her, either. I want to save all the girls like her. I let my mother and my grandmother down by not keeping Angel safe. If I could save anyone, any young girl, I took the case, but my entire focus has always been on finding Angel. I didn’t have time to be a on a taskforce. A partner would only slow me down, get in my way.”

  He drew her close again. She had to tip her head back to look at him. “And now?”

  Her hands came up to rest on his upper chest, palms open. The heat of them seared him through his dress shirt. Here he was again, in the same situation as before. She’d lied to him, and now she was seducing him into helping her find her sister. Now that they’d failed, he expected she would kick him out.

  Instead, her gaze dropped to his lips, and she whispered, “Are you going to leave me again when this is over?”

  A part of him knew it was true, he would leave her. She was obsessed with finding her sister. She was FBI to her bones. She had no more time for a long-term, romantic relationship than she did for a partner. “Are we talking about finding Angelique? Or are we talking about…us?”

  He waited for her to say, “there is no us”, or something to that effect. Her lips parted, then closed. On a heavy sigh, she admitted, “Our jobs are not conducive to a relationship.”

  There it was. Finally, she was telling the truth.

  “But…” She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers. “We do have tonight.”

  Nelson loved the feel of her lips. The taste of them. They were soft and warm and tasted like cinnamon.

  The floral scent of her perfume drifted to him softly, her damp hair carrying the smell that rocked him back on his heels. He shouldn’t do this, take advantage of her when she was emotionally vulnerable.

  He checked himself as Sophie’s tongue teased his lips open. Who was taking advantage of who?

  He moved her around, dragging her into the living room. As he cupped her ass cheeks, she split her legs and he raised her off the floor, those sexy legs of her wrapping around his hips.

  Her body locked against his, arms around his neck, her pelvis rubbing against his erection. Their tongues collided in the dance they both knew all too well, teasing and exploring each other’s mouths.

  The bedroom was out. He wasn’t going to make it that far. Breaking the kiss, he placed his mouth against her neck and ran his tongue up to her earlobe. “Sophie? You sure about this?”

  “Oh, God,” she said, exasperation coating her words. “Of course, I’m sure. I don’t kiss anyone I don’t intend to get busy with. And just so you know, it’s been a damn long time since I kissed anyone.”

  Like two years? It was unrealistic to believe this hot-blooded woman would be a nun, but at the thought of her sleeping with anyone else, a growl issued from his throat.

  He kissed her, hard, wanting to erase the image of her in bed with another man.

  Returning his kiss with ardor, she tightened her legs around him. He firmed a hand against the back of her neck and staggered to the couch. As he set her down, she gave him an evil grin, her hands removing her shirt in a quick and easy up-and-over motion.

  Breasts. Full. Display.

  Fuck. She was so damn beautiful.

  The shirt landed on the floor and Nelson shoved the coffee table out of the way. The disk skidded off, landing on the floor.

  Leaning down, he kissed her neck down to her shoulder. Her hands raked through his hair, down to his back, nails digging in as she pulled him closer and parted her knees.

  “I’ve thought of this a hundred times,” he said, eyeing her skin, her breasts, her flat stomach.

  “A thousand,” she moaned, sliding her hands under his shirt and impatiently unbuttoning it.

  He straightened his arms and let her tug the shirt off, then dropped his mouth to one of her glorious nipples.

  She arched into his mouth and moaned again. He moaned as well. So good. So sweet. So…

  Hot.

  His little firecracker.

  Sucking harder, drawing the nipple out, he gently bit it. Her knees went wider still and she grabbed his ass, shoving his erection into the sweet spot between her legs.

  Too much fabric. Between their pants, there was too much barrier.

  He needed her out of her pants. Needed to be skin to skin.

  ASAP.

  Breaking away, he stood her up, switching gears so fast, she laughed and swayed on her feet. A quick zip and her pants were open. He peeled the damp fabric clinging to her skin down, down, down.

  Baring her to him.

  Oh, yes. This was what he wanted.

  She was commando and the sight of her sex, engorged and ready for him, made him swear under his breath.

  The pants pooled around her ankles and she kicked them off, then her deft fingers went to work on him.

  Unbuckle. Unzip. Whoosh. Fresh breeze on his own commando parts and no more pants between them.

  “Damn,” she said, staring at his erection. “It’s even bigger than I remember.”

  His ego caught fire, pride racing through him and making him jut out that much more. She licked her lips and smile
d.

  But if she did that again—that lip-licking—he was going to lose it.

  She did him one better.

  She moved forward and kissed him. Right. There.

  “Mmm,” she murmured.

  Holy Mother of God.

  Her tongue shot out and licked him. Just the tip, where her lips had just been, one of her hands tickling him from the underside.

  Grabbing her by the hair, he eased her back. “Keep that up, mi cariño, and this will be over before you can blink.”

  She peered up at him, a wicked grin once more on her face. “As I recall, you have a remarkably fast reset button.”

  Only with her. Their one night together, he couldn’t get enough of her. He’d been like a rabbit mainlining Powerade. “You do that to me. Make me want it over and over again, as much and as fast as I can get it.”

  With another of those lascivious licks of her lips, she arched back, raising her chest so her breasts pointed up at him. She spread her knees so her sex was on full display as well. “Take it. It’s yours. As many times and as hard as you want it.”

  Fuck me. Fifty Shades of Sophie all over again.

  She stretched out on the couch, wiggling her fingers at him. “Let’s see if you’re as fantastic as I remember.”

  He needed no further invitation. Climbing onto the couch, he grabbed her hips and positioned her the way he wanted her. With a quick jerk to elevate her pelvis, he drove into her.

  She cried out, her slick folds accepting him, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. He watched her throat work as she said his name over and over again, watched her beautiful, full breasts rocking with the rhythm.

  Wild. Unbidden.

  It’s yours.

  He let go. Let himself fall into her heat and her wildness. In order to do that, he had to let go of the past and only focus on the here and now.

  On Sophie.

  The storm gathering inside him was building too fast. He couldn’t hold back…couldn’t…

  Both of Sophie’s hands slapped his butt cheeks and she arched, crying out as the orgasm struck. He slowed her, milking her, but his own release was following quickly on the heels of hers. He had to buck, had to move hard and fast again.

  As if sensing his need, she increased the pressure on his ass and started undulating once more under him. “More,” she ground out. “I want more.”

  Happy to accommodate, he rode her, gathering speed and building the momentum again. Their bodies, locked at the hips, couldn’t possibly have gotten closer, but it felt like it to Nelson as she met him thrust for thrust, begging in Spanish for “more, more, more!”

  The momentum hit the wall and Nelson froze, his erection spasming deep inside her. Over and over, he came in a blinding force of heat, Sophie consuming him.

  His release caused another orgasm inside her, the tight walls milking him. Rubbing against him, she mewed, pressing down on him until he thought she would push both of them right through the bottom of the couch.

  The couch held, and in the aftermath, as Nelson’s arms gave out and Sophie pulled him close, he sank into her and knew he was gone. He would never feel this close to another woman again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sophie woke to a rumble that wasn’t thunder. The spot between her thighs ached and she rolled over and stretched languidly.

  The noise was coming from downstairs. She patted Nelson to see if he heard it too, only her hand hit air and then the sheet where he’d slept next to her, making love to her all night.

  The rumbling grew louder. Hastily, she dressed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt before raking her hair up into a ponytail. Forgetting shoes, she hustled out of the apartment to see what was going on.

  The rain had stopped, the early morning still and dark. At the bottom of the stairs, on the patio, sat a motorcycle.

  The rider, dressed once more in his biker gear, killed the motor and tossed her a helmet. The horizon was lavender, no clouds or fog this morning.

  Nelson’s face was deep in shadows, but she felt his gaze slide over her. “Let’s go.”

  A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of his voice. Or maybe it was caused by the memory of him doing wicked things to her all night. The damp, cold concrete made the bottoms of her feet itch. “Where?”

  Nelson glanced over his shoulder, scanning the grounds for guards, she guessed, before facing her again. He lowered his voice. “The pill mill. You said it’s about eight miles from here, right? I want to check it out. Will anyone be there this time of the morning?”

  She racked her brain to remember the warehouse schedule. “The employees work from seven at night until three in the morning. They box everything up from three to four a.m. and the truck picks up the merchandise at four a.m. sharp. What time is it?”_

  “Close to five. Let’s check it out. I want to see if there is anything besides drugs there.”

  He was still looking for the missiles. She tossed the helmet back to him, and turned for the stairs. “Let me grab my shoes and a jacket.”

  A minute later, she stood beside him, eyeing the bike. The backpack with the ledgers was dangling from her hand.

  The bike was black with silver chrome, running with a low, growly rumble. A track of black dirt cut through the garden. Rodrigo would have Nelson’s head for that.

  A bumper sticker was plastered to the leather seat where her butt was supposed to go. “My other ride is an army tank,” it read.

  Was she really going to do this? Climb on the back of his motorcycle and let him take her off into the night?

  Well, technically it was morning, but still. She’d never been on a bike in her life. Bikes were dangerous, wild. Little Gran had always warned her against them and the boys who rode them. What if he lost control and the two of them went down in a cloud of dust and chrome and broken bones?

  Nelson was staring at her. “Are we going to do this today?”

  Sophie swallowed. Inched her foot closer. Stared at the bumper sticker. Did they have to take the bike?

  She was about to ask the question out loud when she saw Nelson grin from the corner of her eye. He leaned forward, caught her around the waist and brought her close.

  Wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her head down so he could speak in her ear. He smelled like fresh air and dirty bars. Old leather and bike fumes. His hair tickled her nose.

  “Scared?” he muttered in her ear over the roar of the bike. His lips grazed her earlobe, his breath hot and seductive against her skin.

  Oh, yeah, she was scared. Nelson Cruz and a motorcycle the devil would love. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be terrified?

  Except fear was one thing she never gave into. Ever.

  Nelson drew back, eyeing her, and gunned the motor, making her startle. His grin grew into a challenging smile. “Store the backpack in the saddle bag.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Freedom beckoned with that smile of his. Eight miles of empty desert roads to the warehouse on a bike with a man who’d once again stolen her heart. Made her believe she wasn’t alone on her quest to find Angel and bring down Morales.

  The weight of the past on her shoulders, taking up so much mental space, suddenly lifted. It wasn’t the freedom in his smile seducing her onto the bike, although that was hard to resist. It was the freedom of moving on with her life.

  Yet, somehow, climbing onto that bike meant giving up something buried deep inside her. The thing that had been driving her all these years. The warehouse held no clues about Angelique. Going there wouldn’t decode the ledgers or offer up any fresh evidence against Morales. Her case against the drug cartel leader was already solid.

  Yet, Nelson hadn’t hesitated to go to the snake pit and help her find the ledgers. The missiles weren’t crucial to her operation, but they were crucial to him.

  And right now, he was all she cared about.

  She jammed the backpack in the side saddlebag.

  Her foot moved of its own accord, her
hand landing on his shoulder for balance. Pulse jumping, she swung her leg over the seat, planting her butt on the worn sticker.

  The bike vibrated under her and she caught Nelson’s smile in the rearview as it turned, knowing. He’d known she’d rise to the challenge.

  But she wasn’t doing it to prove anything to him. She was doing it for her.

  He handed her the helmet again. The Savages logo was on both sides, reminding her once more that her whole life was about lies and subterfuge. Undercover ops and false identities.

  Who am I?

  She didn’t want safety. Didn’t want the damn helmet. She wanted freedom and danger and a new life free of the past.

  A new life with Nelson Cruz.

  Stop it.

  Getting on this bike with him did not constitute a new life. But for a few more hours, it would be just the two of them. That was enough.

  Tossing the helmet aside, she leaned into his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What are you waiting for?” she said over the growl of the bike.

  And then as they shot out of the garden toward the compound gate, she laid her head on his back, enjoying the way the muscles there flexed as he steered them for the open road.

  The guard at the gate didn’t stop them, Nelson giving him a wave as he didn’t wait for the iron gates to open fully before gunning the bike and jetting through.

  They rode away from the compound, Sophie’s hair blowing around her face and streaming behind her in the wind. The ground was wet from the previous night’s rain, night-blooming flowers dotting the landscape here and there.

  The beauty of the Morales acreage was soon left behind. On the outskirts of the city, they passed outcroppings of homemade lean-tos surrounded by mud. The sun-lined faces of old ladies already up and cooking over open fires turned toward them when they heard the rumble of the bike.

  Somewhere in the midst, Sophie knew Rosalie was counting her winnings from the previous day and dreaming of a new life in America.

  The lavender sky turned dusky pink, then peach, as they drove east toward the desert, the miles licking away under the bike’s wheels. The two-lane highway was empty except for an occasional truck heading toward Tijuana.