Running With the Devil (20 page)

And Tito Cortez couldn’t walk out of here alive. He glanced at Kenna. Her eyes were large with fear. He’d never wanted her to know the horrors his job entailed. But if he had the chance, he’d kill Marissa and Tito right in front of her to save her life.

“Don’t hurt him,” Kenna pleaded. “The only reason he’s here is because I kept in contact with Jerry over the last year.”

Marissa’s eyes went cold. “You did? Why?”

“He asked me to do three favors for him.”

“What kind of favors?”

“He sent me some packages from Florida. I repacked them and dropped them off where he told me to.”

Shit. Kenna had been the courier doing Jerry’s dirty work. No wonder she’d looked so spooked when he’d asked her why Jerry had paid her an additional three grand over the last year.

“What was in the packages?” Marissa demanded.

Kenna bit her lip. “I-I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I just did what he told me.”

“You stupid bitch.” Marissa turned and kicked over Kenna’s chair. Kenna went down so quickly she didn’t have time to scream. A sickening thud echoed as her head smacked into the ground. Then nothing.

Drake went absolutely rigid.

“Guess I don’t need you anymore.
Adios,
asshole.” Marissa calmly sited Tito’s chest and pumped five bullets into him.

She’d given Drake a small window of opportunity. Despite the ringing in his ears from close range gunfire, he hunkered down and tackled her. The gun flew from her hand and skittered into the shadows. Marissa shrieked. They crashed to the floor.

Marissa kicked and clawed at him, tried to bite his arm. She rammed her knee into his sternum. In the split second he gave in to the pain, she scrambled for her gun.

Drake knew his Glock was somewhere behind him. He scooted backward, over his clothes. His foot connected with the cool metal and he was back on his feet, gun in hand.

But he was too late.

Marissa had retrieved her gun, too. She hadn’t aimed it at him; she’d pointed it at Kenna’s head.

It required every ounce of concentration to remember his training. Hard to do with his entrails crawling up his throat and his brain paralyzed with fear. If Kenna died, it’d be his fault. He’d never forgive himself. Marissa might as well put a bullet in his head too.

“Drop it. Or I’ll kill her.”

Drake crouched and set his gun on the ground.

“Back up.”

He did. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. If you leave her alone I’ll do anything you want.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s innocent.”

Marissa snorted.

“Why did you bring her into this in the first place?”

“Because she’s the type of woman I hate. Never been touched by the harsh reality of life.”

“And you have?” He didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d called Geo. If he kept Marissa talking the shooters might have a chance to get in position.

“My papa worked his way up from the barrios. I’m no stranger to hardship. Unlike her. She acted as if the world would end if she couldn’t come up with money for her tuition. Stupid spoiled bitch. Like playing with rocks is even a real job. She has no idea what it’s really like to be poor and desperate with no options.” She angrily kicked at Kenna, aiming for her ribs. But with her attention focused on Drake, she missed and hit Kenna’s knee.

A keening moan escaped from Kenna’s prone form.

Killing rage burned inside him. “If you hated her so much, why keep up the pretense of being her friend?”

“I hadn’t planned on using her again this year until I found out about Jerry and Tito Cortez double-crossing me a few months back. Stupid bastard Jerry had developed a soft spot for her. I should’ve known Jerry paid her to deliver some bullshit packages to throw suspicion from Tito so his cousin wouldn’t get freaked out.”

In his own way, Jerry Travis had protected Kenna. By keeping in contact with her via email, paying her as a courier, and setting up the meeting at the Broken Arrow, he’d intended to warn her about Marissa.

She restlessly shifted her grip on the gun. “I knew she’d make the perfect bait. I’d planned on letting Tito play with her a bit before I killed her.” Marissa scowled. “But then you showed up. Another man wanting to protect her.

“I even shot at her, trying to scare her away from you so she’d come crying to me. When that didn’t work I paid a guy to mug her so I could drug her and hook Cortez.”

This woman was absolutely fucking psycho.

Marissa shrugged. “Worked out in the end. Actually, it’s working out better than I’d hoped. With Tito dead, Kenna dead, and you dead, there’s no one left alive who can connect me to Diablo. There’ll be chaos among the big boys and I’ll take my place at my father’s table, as I should have long ago. Then he can’t ignore me.”

“Who’s your father?”

“Hector Valero.”

Shit. Marissa’s father was Jerry Travis’s boss. Valero had handed over the reins to his son, her brother, Alejandro, five years ago. Alejandro now ran the entire north side of Miami. Evidently they’d never thought to include Marissa in the family business. Didn’t matter. She’d definitely developed their taste for blood and power.

“Clever, getting me to talk about my father. But the information won’t help you.”

She leveled the gun at him and Drake knew this was it.

A glaring beam of light shone in Marissa’s eyes, effectively blinding her.

“Drug Enforcement!” Geo’s amplified voice reverberated through the room, yet there was no sign of him. “Drop the gun. Now!”

“No!” Marissa screamed and swung the gun, firing wildly.

Drake dove for the floor and covered his head.

Several shots rang out. He heard, rather than saw Marissa’s body crumple to the ground.

Geo shouted, “Clear!”

A flurry of activity filled the room. Everything faded into the background as Drake focused on the only thing that mattered: Kenna.

He crawled to her. The concrete floor scraped the skin from his bare knees. When he reached her, his stomach clenched.

Bruises dotted her hairline. Blood trickled from her nose. Her skin was ghostly pale. Drake did a quick pat down of her limbs and torso, checking for gunshot wounds. None. He gently placed his fingertips on her carotid artery and his own pulse leapt when her heartbeat throbbed beneath his thumb.

“Hang on, hot stuff, I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” He needed to free her from the damn chair. He’d tear through the tape with his teeth if he had to. Then he remembered the knife Marissa had dropped and he crawled toward it. His arm shook. Through sheer determination he steadied his hand as he held the knife.

While he sliced through the duct tape binding her hands and legs, he babbled. Words of endearment. Promises. Threats. Anything he could think of to take his mind off the fact the woman he loved was lying on a grimy floor bleeding and unconscious.

Finally the bonds were free.

Drake carefully scooped her into his arms. Her head lolled on his shoulder. She flopped, limp as a rag doll. When she didn’t stir, he stared at her helplessly for what seemed like hours.

Please baby, be okay. Please baby, wake up.

“Boss?” Bobby said.

He didn’t lift his eyes from Kenna’s face. “What?”

“Sir, you shouldn’t have moved her. You’ve got to let her go. The EMTs are here. They’ll take care of her now.”

A gurney appeared. He set her down, his arms empty. With just a fingertip, he brushed a bloody tendril of hair from her cheek. Before he lost the chance he pressed his lips to hers.

God. Hers were so cold.

Drake didn’t know what to say. Seemed unfair to tell her he loved her when she couldn’t respond. All he could do was wait and hope like hell he’d have a second chance.

Kenna drifted in and out. During one cognitive moment she couldn’t help but focus on the loud voices she heard arguing in the hallway outside her hospital room.

“You go in there and wake her up to ask some stupid questions and I’ll throw your ass down the stairs.”

“Gonna have to grow a little bit, princess.”

A laugh followed. A melodious laugh she recognized immediately.

Shawnee.

But who in the world was Shawnee yelling at?

“You think it’s funny? Threatening to inflict bodily harm on a federal agent?”

Was that Geo? Drake’s partner? The mild-mannered, soft-spoken Geo? Shouting back at Shawnee?

Maybe it was the drugs. She had to be dreaming. She closed her eyes but the argument escalated.

“What? Don’t they issue you G-men a sense of humor when you get your billy club and badge, Field Agent Costas?”

“If your jokes were half as funny as your ridiculous posturing, I’d be laughing my ass off, Ms. Good Shield. Now move.”

“No.”

“I’m warning you.”

“No. I’m warning you. Back off. Now.”

Shoes squeaked. Feet scuffled.

A heavy sigh. “You really gonna make me arrest you?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to leave her the hell alone.”

“Didn’t get enough jail time the first go around?”

Kenna winced. Waited for the sound of Shawnee’s hand to meet Geo’s face.

But Shawnee laughed again. “Why am I not surprised you jerks ran my records? What happened to an individual’s right to privacy?”

“Superseded by 9/11 and the Patriot Act.”

“Did you get off on what nasty little secrets you found out about me?”

No answer.

“Come on, G-man, you don’t look the least bit sorry. So am I as dangerous as my criminal profile claims?”

“You are even more dangerous than I ever imagined,” Geo said softly.

Dead silence.

“W-well. Good.”

Shawnee tongue-tied? What was going on?

“Can I do my job now?”

“I’ll make you a deal; you can talk to her if she’s awake. But if she’s sleeping, you’re out of there so fast your fancy loafers will be smoking.”

“Fine.”

Kenna turned her head toward the wall. She didn’t want to talk to anyone besides Drake.

Footsteps stopped at the side of her bed.

“Satisfied? Now get out.” Shawnee hissed. “Hey. Let go of me.”

“If I can’t talk to her, I’ll just have to talk to you.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I know. Funny how fast things can change, isn’t it, princess?”

Shawnee’s scathing reply was lost as they drifted out of range and Kenna drifted off to sleep.

The air conditioner had conked out again. Kenna didn’t care. Even in the sweltering August heat she couldn’t seem to get warm. She clutched the tattered afghan and let her head droop to the back of the couch.

No matter how much she slept, she couldn’t get comfortable. She couldn’t forget the terror of nearly losing her life.

Everything had changed drastically. Finishing the last year of school, strangely enough the driving reason for becoming involved with Marissa in the first place, didn’t seem nearly as important.

Shawnee had returned home for five days, insistent on taking care of her. As usual Shawnee hadn’t gone into much detail about the family emergency involving her brother Santee, and she’d been extremely pensive about problems at the dig site. Still, Kenna had been glad to have her around, even if Shawnee spent most of the time bitching about “that Greek detective from hell.”

She shoved a pillow under her neck and sighed.

The headaches from the concussion were manageable with pain medication. The skin on her arms and calves where the tape had chafed was beginning to lose some of the redness. The bruises on her face were still a grotesque mixture of yellow, gray and green. Her body was sore, but it had started to heal.

Too bad she couldn’t say the same about her heart.

Kenna hadn’t seen Drake since that awful afternoon. Granted, she’d been knocked out and missed the whole damn showdown. After she’d awoken in the hospital, the doctors insisted on keeping her overnight for observation and banned all visitors. She wondered how much Shawnee had to do with that edict. So she’d spent a restless night worrying about Drake and suffering through her own injuries.

Bobby had driven her home late the next morning after Geo had asked questions and taken her statement. Although Geo had been solicitous, he hadn’t given her any information about Drake beyond the news he hadn’t been seriously hurt.

So why hadn’t Drake the super spy been around to wrap things up when he’d been so adamant about Diablo being “his” case from the very beginning?

The Diablo case was closed. Jerry was dead. Marissa was dead. So was Tito Cortez. Kenna remembered the cold look in Marissa’s eyes, but everything after she’d hit the floor remained mercifully blank.

Sometimes blurred memories danced just beyond her mental grasp. The sound of Drake’s soothing voice. The gentle touch of his hands. A sweet kiss. Half the time Kenna wondered if she’d dreamed it. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Drake’s concern for her hadn’t extended to a phone call or even a brief visit.

Obviously she’d read more into their time together than he had. Okay. Not his fault she’d fallen head over heels in love with him, the jerk. After the intensity of their connection, she thought he’d have the balls to face her before he hightailed it back to Florida.

Love sucked. Since she’d never been in love, she’d never believed those sappy love songs wailing about how much love hurt. A sob rose in her throat and she choked it back. God. If she started bawling again she might never stop.

Three raps sounded on her door. Kenna glanced at the clock. 6:30. Suppertime. She ignored the summons, assuming it was snoopy Mrs. Mahoney. She wasn’t in the mood for company or for another tuna casserole.

When the distinctive knock “shave-and-a-haircut-
pause
-two-bits” echoed, she froze.

Slowly, she lifted her head from the back of the couch and listened. There it was again. The same rhythm, a little louder.

Drake?

Her heart slammed and she nearly skipped to the door.

She didn’t bother peering through the peephole; she just unlocked the door and hoped.

Drake stood on the threshold, knuckles poised to knock again, his other hand clutching a spray of lavender orchids.

Her eyes ate him up. It wasn’t fair for a man to look so good. His handsome face was clean-shaven, the long-sleeved white shirt he wore was pressed, as were the khaki pants.

Their gazes met. His was unreadable, hers, she knew, wary.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No.”

He thrust the flowers at her. “These are for you.”

“Ah. Thanks. Please. Come in.” She stepped aside and shut the door behind him, clasping the flowers. Was this an official visit? Or was he coming to say goodbye?

Kenna faced him with a fake half-smile, which died the minute she saw his furious look. “What?” she snapped.

“I can’t believe what she did to your beautiful face.” Drake reached over and traced his fingertips over the bruises.

Her breath caught at his show of tenderness.

He moved back quickly as if he’d been burned. “Are you okay?”

“Getting there.”

“Good.” He raked a hand though his damp hair, releasing the woodsy scent of his shampoo.

Kenna’s knees buckled, remembering how thoroughly he’d lathered her breasts, her belly and every slick inch of her body with that shampoo.

He sighed and glanced around anxiously, acting like her crappy little apartment was the last place he’d wanted to be.

She couldn’t stand another second of his guarded perusal. “Agent March, why are you here?”

“To see how you’re doing.”

“If you’ve come to alleviate your guilt, I’m fine, as you can plainly see.” She whirled toward the curio cabinet, placing the flowers on top as she rummaged for a vase.

Drake turned her back around. “Well, I’m not fine.”

“How is that my problem—” And then his mouth was on hers, hot, hungry and forceful.

Relief washed through her. Kenna wound her arms around his neck, breathed his familiar tang deep into her lungs and welcomed the warmth she hadn’t felt in days.

After they were both breathless, he kissed his way up the side of her face, gently brushing his mouth over the string of bruises along her hairline. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I swear my heart stopped when Marissa had that knife to your throat.” He shuddered. “And afterwards, when you were just lying on the floor, not moving, I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

“Yeah? Well, I thought you’d lost my address, since I haven’t seen or heard from you.”

Drake pulled away from her slightly and frowned. “I’ve been in Miami. Didn’t Geo tell you?”

“No.” Geo had been too busy arguing with Shawnee.

“No wonder you’re so pissy,” he murmured.

“I am
not
pissy.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s okay because that’s the way I like you best.” His palm swept up her arm, over her shoulder and lingered on the spot where her pulse pounded. He cupped the side of her face in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

“No.”

“Liar.” He smiled. “I missed you too.”

He began to stroke his thumb lightly across her jawbone. A seduction. A sweet distraction. When she found herself melting against him, her back snapped straight. “So why are you here instead of in Miami?”

“Tying up some loose ends.”

“Such as?”

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

“Make what easy? You waltzing in here to tell me ‘hey, it’s been fun, but I gotta get back to my real life’?”

Just like that, he released her. “That’s what you think?”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to think, Kenna, you’re supposed to
know
that after all we’ve been through in the last week I wouldn’t just ‘waltz’ away from you. Jesus. What kind of man do you think I am?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t without giving too much of herself away.

His eyes narrowed until there was no trace of blue left. “Is that all I’ve been to you? A walk on the wild side? An adventure? A man you’d take to bed but not good enough to be seen in public with without wearing a disguise?”

Horrified by his shallow opinion of her, she gasped. “No!”

He grabbed her by the upper arms. “Then tell me goddammit. Tell me what you want from me.”

Kenna didn’t even hesitate. She just blurted, “Everything, all right? I want everything from you.”

The tension in his face disappeared. “Thank you.”

Immediately she shrank back.
That was it? Thank you? For dropping my soul at your feet? For letting you see my heart in my eyes?

Feeling like a fool, she angled her face from view, checking for a hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

She waited for him to say something, anything, but the silence between them grew.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“You have to.” Very gently he tipped her chin higher. “I want to look in those gorgeous lavender eyes when I tell you I love you.”

The room spun. “You d-do?”

“Yep. I was a goner from the moment you told me to fuck off.” He kissed her again, sweetly, delicately, with less certainty than she was used to from him. “You drive me crazy, which is fair because I’m sure I drive you crazy too.”

Kenna burst into tears.

He held her. Murmured declarations of absolute devotion. When the storm of her emotions passed, she placed a kiss on his heart and gazed into his eyes. “This happened so fast. I didn’t know if it was real.”

“I don’t think it gets any more real than this, sweetheart.”

“Even if I’m just plain, old boring Kaye?”

Confusion darkened his face. “Why are you talking about?”

“Kenna isn’t real, Drake. She’s flamboyant, outrageous, argumentative. She does things I’d never do.” She bit her lip and blurted, “Kenna isn’t really me.”

How did Drake react to her dramatic and heart-wrenching confession?

He rolled his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Maybe in the past you’ve hidden that part of you, for whatever reason, but it’s always been there. And I’m not talking about the sexy clothes and all that junk. Or what name you call yourself or even the name I call you. That isn’t what defines a person.” He tapped her heart, then her temple. “This does.”

Omigod. He really did love her. She started to cry again.

“Those had better be happy tears,” he groused.

“They are.” She settled her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart beating. Strong. Steady.

About thirty seconds passed before he demanded, “Well? Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Impatient much?”

“Come on. I’m dying here, Kenna.”

She circled her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” His beaming grin was a sight to behold. “Do tell.”

“The last week has been pure hell. I missed you so much it seemed like part of me was gone. I was so confused because I didn’t know how you felt.”

“Every time I made love to you I showed you exactly how I felt.” Drake hooked his arms under her butt and lifted her until her legs wrapped around his hips. Kissing her, he walked them backward until her spine hit the door. “In fact, I’d better show you again right now so you don’t forget.”

The brush of his body against hers turned her blood into liquid fire. Need, desire, love, ran rampant through her system. Drake buried his lips in her throat. He ground his cock into the soft notch between her thighs. His heat swamped her until she surrendered to the passion, arched and cried out.

He stopped and gave her a guilty look. “Oh man, I didn’t think about you still being hurt. Are you feeling up to this?”

“Yes.” Kenna licked his lower lip, then yanked his mouth back where it belonged.

Drake growled and shoved her cotton gym shorts to the side, so he could touch her where she was warm and wet for him. He pulled back and grinned. “No panties. I like that naughty side of you.”

Bracing her against the door with his upper body, he dropped his pants and boxers to his knees. He paused, keeping the smooth, hot head of his cock poised at her entrance.