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Her straight, golden eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “Excuse me?”
He slid the pictures back inside the envelope, handling them carefully by the edges. While his actions were slow and methodical, his mind raced with possibilities. Braga was sending a message, but damned if he knew exactly why, or how Stevie could be involved. He had to get her out of danger’s way until he could figure out what Braga was after.
“Whoever is stalking you may be a shy admirer, but more likely they mean you real harm.” Emelio glanced at the thin gold watch on his wrist. “You’ve got twenty minutes to wrap up whatever files are on your desk. Is there someplace you can stay?”
She shot to her feet. “Wait a minute. I’m a professional in an agency full of other professionals. I’ll admit to being a little freaked out, but there’s no reason—”
“Nineteen minutes and forty seconds, Stevie. Come get me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
She crossed her arms defiantly, enhancing her cleavage as the cotton material stretched across her breasts. Her round, full, perfectly shaped breasts. Emelio dropped his gaze but found himself eyeing her slim hips and sleekly muscled thighs instead.
“I’m not running again.”
“Again?” He looked up.
Her eyes darted away, then back. Her tone had revealed more than she’d intended. “I did my best secret-agent impression to get a cab here this morning. It looks more fun in the movies.”
“Then don’t think of it as running. It’s a strategic retreat.” The telephone rang before she could retort. “Yes? Put her through, Tiffnee, thank you.” Emelio cupped one hand over the receiver. “Seventeen minutes, fifty. Go.”
This was unbelievable. She still wasn’t being allowed to do fieldwork, not even on her own case! She felt her temper shift from annoyed into irate. Another good-looking, arrogant, overbearing male thought he could control her life.
“Hola, Connie. How are you?” He shot a pointed glance at the door in a bid for privacy.
And infuriated was on the horizon. Emelio had just blatantly dismissed her to take a call from one of his girlfriends, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. After giving him a nasty look, she flopped back down on the guest chair.
Emelio sighed and began to speak in Spanish. Stevie gave him the courtesy of turning her head, but she couldn’t shut her ears. His voice was affectionate and warm, and, though she didn’t understand what he said, his tone held an underlying tenderness that cut straight to her heart. She felt jealous, embarrassed at eavesdropping on his intimate conversation, but she wasn’t going anywhere, damn it.
Finally, he said, “Okay, cari?a. I’ll call you later, I promise.”
She snapped at him before he’d even hung up the phone. “You know more than you’re saying, Emelio. Since this involves me, tell me what’s going on.”
He held her gaze, searching for something, obviously debating how much to reveal. Then he set his features and lied to her, she’d swear to it.
“I don’t know anything, Stevie. I only suspect. So, you’re taking a leave of absence from work until I can get to the bottom of this.”
“I’m not some damsel in distress that needs a big strong guy to keep me out of trouble. It’s my life that may be in danger—”
“Trust me. You are in danger.”
She cocked her head to one side, baiting him. “But you just said you don’t know for sure. So let me do what I’ve trained for. I’m nobody’s victim, Emelio.”
Not anymore, Stevie thought. Never again.
THE MADISON WOMAN had seen far too much and she could not be allowed to talk. She could ruin everything he’d worked toward. She had to be silenced.
Rogelio Braga studied the photograph on the table before him, brushing his fingers lightly over the slick surface. She was quite lovely, despite her short hair and masculine name. What made her most attractive was her usefulness as an instrument of revenge.
His gaze shifted to the man beside her in the picture, the man he planned to destroy. Emelio Sanchez had made the grave error of allowing his feelings to show and the camera had recorded the moment. Falling in love would be the death of him; Braga would make sure of it.
He lit a cigarette and imagined another face, another time. Braga crushed the photograph in his fist. Yes, Sanchez would pay. First with the Madison woman’s life and then with his own.
THEY’D SPENT THE LAST ten of her twenty minutes in heated debate.
“I don’t see why you’re being so unreasonable. If it were Jason or one of the other guys, you’d be all for it.”
“Fine, I admit it. I’m an old-fashioned guy with a protective streak toward the fairer gender. But my decision is based on level of experience—”
“This is the twenty-first century, Emelio. A woman can do just about anything a man can. She doesn’t need to hide behind him. I don’t need to hide.”
He came around the desk and loomed over her, as if trying to use his size and stubbornness to intimidate her. “You know what I’m suggesting is the most logical solution. If you want to be treated like a professional, then act like one.”
His attitude was all it took for her to hit seriously pissed off. Stevie got in Emelio’s face, her height and two-inch heels putting her almost at his eye level. Stevie tried to concentrate on her argument, but the citrus and spice aftershave Emelio wore kept distracting her. She could feel the warmth emanating from his incredible body and the dark wisps of chest hair visible in the opening of his shirt was turning her on.
It didn’t matter that he was a walking pheromone, though. He was still a domineering dictator seriously jeopardizing her chance for career advancement. Her therapist would be proud that she’d, one, identified her emotions and, two, focused on the source. She was just about to follow step three, voicing her feelings, when the receptionist walked in.
“Jeez, Emelio, you got, like, a ton of mail today.” Tiffnee bounced over to where they stood glaring at each other, oblivious to the tension in the air.
He finally broke Stevie’s stare to acknowledge the bundle of mail thrust at him with a brief nod. “Thanks, Tiffnee.”
“No problem, boss.” The perky brunette grinned at him, revealing a wad of bright pink bubblegum. “Hey, Stevie. Great sweater. Beau-tique, right? I saw it last time I went shopping at Aventura Mall.”
She was irritated by the interruption, but being nasty to Tiffnee was a sin on par with kicking a puppy. So she listened as the girl launched into an inane conversation about the latest fashions. Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie recognized a small pearl-gray envelope. She saw Emelio tuck her ninth erotic note in his back pocket and continue to sort through the mail.
“Tiffnee.”
The receptionist turned her head in the same instant Stevie did, both of them alerted to the tone of his voice. In the space of a heartbeat Stevie realized that Emelio held a plain manila packet in his hand.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you.” Tiffnee pursed her rosebud lips in apology. “The messenger who just left said that one was, like, urgent.”
Emelio dropped the mail and sprinted for the door.
“Urgent means right-away-immediately-now, Tiff.” Stevie bent over and snatched the packet off the floor. “Sanchez” was written in thick black marker, just like on the envelope she got. She ripped it open with fingers gone cold from dread. A precisely cut article from the Miami Herald lay on top of another stack of photographs.
DRUG CZAR TRIAL CONTINUES
After a series of legal delays, Francisco Guillermo Ramos, who was arrested last year at a Florida Keys resort on several counts of drug trafficking and money laundering, is scheduled to take the stand…
Tiffnee leaned in close to read over her shoulder. “Hey, that’s the trial Em and Alex testified at a few weeks ago.”
Stevie made a sound of acknowledgement before flipping the newsprint under the photos. She blinked in confusion. Who the hell had taken these? The pictures showed her in a guard uniform, arms stretched wide to hold back a crowd of onlookers.
“I remember that. Miramax asked us to provide extra security while they were filming Angelfire near the Bayside Marketplace.”
Tiffnee grabbed her arm. “Ooh, I just love Will Smith! He’s so hot.”
The next photo was of Emelio standing watch outside of a large white trailer, then one of them together near the expensive car used in the movie’s chase scenes. Stevie shuffled the stack to the last picture and the breath caught in her throat. She stared at the close-angle shot.
Her head was turned to the left, smiling at something out of view. Emelio stood beside her and the camera had captured his unguarded expression. Several indefinable emotions were reflected in his gaze, lighting his hazel eyes with a smoldering intensity.
“Wow, Stevie. That man wants you bad.”
She choked out a laugh. If she wasn’t looking at Mr. Calm, Cool and Controlled with her own eyes, she never would have believed the depth of his regard. A warm tingling feeling spread through her body and settled in the apex of her thighs. That man wanted her bad.
Just then Emelio came back into his office. Tiffnee snatched the one picture and shoved it inside her T-shirt. She whispered under her breath, “I’ll put this in your purse.”
Stevie turned to Emelio, hoping her expression showed concern and not unexpected delight. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead as if he’d shoved it out of his eyes, revealing the small stud in his left ear and giving him a fresh-from-bed sexiness. “Did you find him?”
He scowled and stalked across the room, moving with his signature long, fluid stride. “I took the stairs since the elevators are notoriously slow, but I didn’t see any messenger.”
Stevie listened closely while Tiffnee briefly described the “blond hottie” who’d delivered both packages.
“I want a full, written description of him, everything he said and anything else you remember.”
“For sure, boss. Like, written written or typed written?” At the look he gave her, the receptionist backed toward the door. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”
Emelio shook his head as she bounced back out the door. “That girl is lucky she’s Alex’s cousin.”
Stevie passed him the contents of the manila envelope. “I’d say this blows your ‘harmless admirer’ theory.”
“Feel free to open my mail.”
“I did, thanks.”
Emelio sank into his chair while reading the article, his brooding expression firmly in place. Considering he’d just run down ten flights, there was only the faintest sheen of sweat on his forehead and he wasn’t even out of breath. A woman had to admire that kind of stamina.
She sauntered around the desk and rested one hip on the edge, allowing her blue-and-white skirt to creep up her thigh an inch or so. “That headline relates to your investigation at the Cayo Sue?o Resort, right?”
Against his better judgment, Emelio allowed his gaze to travel. It moved from the long, slim thigh, over her knee and along her shapely calf to the high-heeled sandal dangling off her bare toes. It took him a second to remember her question. He raised his focus to Stevie’s face.
“Yeah, we were working an SOD case against the Dominican cartel. Alex went undercover down in the Keys as an investment broker, trying to use a man named Rogelio Braga to get to Frankie Ramos, former head of the cartel. I operated behind the scenes to gather evidence of money laundering. Braga disappeared two days before the arrest, but we finally took down Ramos and seized over a hundred million dollars from their organization.”
“I didn’t work on that case. So I don’t understand what this has to do with me.” She indicated the pictures from the movie set.
“Neither do I. Not yet.”
As he laid the newest set of photos on the desktop, he accepted that Stevie’s safety was now his responsibility. He didn’t want to tell her any more than necessary, not until he was sure. But it seemed obvious Braga intended to use Stevie to get to him. Braga prided himself on being a man who never forgot a favor. Or a slight.
Emelio had more than slighted him. He had infiltrated the cartel right under the man’s nose. Gracias a Dios, Alex had taken his wife, Meghan, and their newborn son to Baltimore to visit her family. That was three less people he had to worry about.
“I want to be on the road within the next hour.”
Stevie’s eyes darkened to a stormy gray, her sexy pout twisting into a frown. “Where are you going?”
“Wherever you go, lady. I’m not leaving your side.”
A warm frisson of awareness passed between them. Her pupils dilated in the dark blue depth of her gaze and he heard the quick intake of breath before she turned her normally subtle Southern accent into a sensual drawl.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Emelio. I am a bodyguard. Well, at least I’ve been through the training.”
“Then you know how it works. We stay together 24/7 until this is over.”
2
STEVIE FORCED ASIDE all thought of danger until she focused on getting Emelio alone. She was going to have him to herself, twenty-four hours a day…and night. That was definitely the silver lining in the dark cloud hanging over her life right now.
A spark of excitement ignited in her belly. She’d spent the past four months creating the seduction. Now she was going to climb over the professional wall standing between them and, with any luck, land right in his lap. With a little planning, and a lot of opportunity, she could move their work relationship to an up-close-and-personal level.
The photograph that had captured his rare moment of openness was hidden in her handbag, but she didn’t need to take it out to remember Emelio’s expression. That look of unguarded lust had her feeling hot and tingly. So did the touch of his hand on her forearm.
Emelio stood in front of her, checking in all directions as he held the freight elevator open. His palm felt smooth and warm and strong and a bolt of desire shot though her. How many nights had she dreamed of having his hands stroke and caress her? How many times had she settled for her own?
Excitement hummed along her veins as her eyes roamed over him. His long hair touched the top of his collar in dark waves. The pistachio cotton shirt stretched across the wide expanse of his back was tucked into a pair of black jeans that molded to his butt and thighs.
The guy looked just as good going as coming.
A grin spread over her face. She hadn’t seen him coming yet. But she hoped to before the week was out. Stevie sobered her expression just as Emelio turned his head and nodded.
“All clear.”
His hand slid down to clasp her fingers, and the casual touch sent ripples of longing throughout her body. After another glance around, he led her down the cement-block hallway toward the service entrance. She stumbled as she followed him across the alleyway to the parking garage.
“Slow down, will you? I’m wearing sandals.” He shortened his stride with an apology, allowing her to catch up. To her surprise, he bypassed the VIP slots at the front of the garage. “Isn’t that your Lexus parked right over there?”
“Yeah, it is. We’re taking another car.”
Her hand flexed involuntarily beneath his when her pulse leaped with a different kind of excitement. “What are you going to do, hot-wire one?”
“Something like that.”
He looked around once more and let go of her hand before opening the door to the stairwell. She felt an odd sense of separation at the loss of contact. She also felt her calves screaming in protest.
“You take the stairs. These shoes are more decorative than functional. I’m catching the elevator.”
“One, we don’t want to get trapped in an elevator if anyone’s waiting for us. And two, we’re only going up two flights. You’ll live.”
Her sandals clattered on the concrete. “My life has become a spy-thriller movie.”
“Oh, yeah? Which Bond girl are you?” When he glanced at her a flash of amusement lit his hazel eyes.
“I always thought Holly Goodhead was a great name.” She smirked when his step faltered. The flare of heat in his eyes was quickly extinguished, but she saw it. And she would use it to her advantage later. “But I’d rather be Wai Lin, the heroine in Tomorrow Never Dies.”
“You don’t look Chinese.”
“Funny. She was the best, very strong and independent. Her character was more Bond’s equal. You should watch that film before assigning the next interesting case to one of the guys.”
“I like Sean Connery’s Bond girls better. You can’t go wrong with a woman named Pussy Galore.”
Stevie wrinkled her forehead and grimaced. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
