Under Fire (13 page)

The Police song “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da” started. Olivia laughed, jumping to the music, bumping hips with the kid. In seconds she had Mouse laughing. Hell,
he
was laughing.

Mouse finished KP and Rico put him to work arranging sheets on the sofa. The kid looked tired. He tossed him one of his shirts to sleep in. Mouse refused, preferring to sleep in the shirt Olivia bought.

“Can I lay here and watch some TV?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Rico gave him the remote. “Olivia and I are going downstairs to talk.”

“Yeah, talk.” Mouse said through a yawn.

Downstairs Rico guided her to the Lincoln and opened the back door, inviting her to climb in. Instead she stepped into his arms, kissing his lips lightly. He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her scent.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he said in a husky voice.

“What am I doing?” she asked, wide eyed.

God, he loved her eyes. “Being in the same room with me.” He kissed her.

Wedging her hands between them, she pressed away. “How old are you? You act like a sixteen-year-old. I get within five feet of you and the front of your pants bulge.”

Sighing, he moved back a couple of inches and raked a hand through his loose hair. “I know.”

“I like it,” she whispered and bent to slither out of her shorts. When she straightened he peeled her shirt away. Quickly she shed her bra and molded her body to his. Her hands worked their way under his shirt, cruising over muscles, stopping at his nipples. He cupped her buttocks, lifting her off her feet, turning them in circles. He might not be sixteen, but he sure as hell felt like it. His dick was already so hard it hurt. He put her down on the back seat of the Lincoln. She lowered her head to the seat and watched him strip out of his clothes through half-closed eyes.

“I love your body.”

“That’s me, twisted steel and sex appeal.” He said and leaned in, placing the flat of his hand on her chest. Her heart pounded as hard as his. Slowly, he dragged his hand past her breasts, increasing the pressure. Lower to her stomach, where he could feel her muscles quiver. Lower still, until his thumb sank into soft, wet heat.

“Ohhh.” Her body hitched up against his hand. When his tongue found her center she tangled her fingers in his hair, her body twisting.

“Rico,” she pleaded, over and over as if she wanted him to stop. But he held her fast until he felt she couldn’t take any more and entered her.

“We need to talk.” He tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. “About Mouse.”

“What about him?” she asked, burrowing against him.

Rico sat up and climbed out of the car.

“Come back.” She held her arms out to him.

“No.” He rested his arms at the top of the door and leaned in to speak.

“Why not?” she whined.

“Because if I do, we’ll have sex again.”

“Mmm. Now there’s a good idea.”

“No, it isn’t.” He pulled on his shorts. “The lack of blood in my brain is making it difficult for me to think.” Her foot on his crotch caused him to jump.

“Take those shorts off.”

He grabbed the offending foot and stopped. His gaze fell to what looked like a bruise encircling her ankle. She squirmed out of his grasp and put her foot on his shoulder.

“How’d you get that bruise?”

“Not a bruise. Birthmark.” Her other foot was now on the opposite shoulder. Raising her hips, Olivia locked her ankles behind his head and pulled him to her.

Twenty minutes later, Rico levered himself above her. “I’m glad…you said…no sex,” he wheezed.

“Oh?” She gave him a puzzled look.

“If we were—” he paused, still breathless, “—
having
sex, I’d be dead by now.”

She laughed, made a contented sound and squirmed under him.

He pushed off her, exited the car and stood out of her reach to pull on his shorts. He picked up her clothes, went to the opposite side of the Lincoln and slid in. Olivia, still lying on the seat, scooted in his direction and propped her head in his lap. He took a deep breath. “Never smoked a day in my life but if I did, now would be the time for a cigarette.” He rested a hand on her breast.

“Rico.”

He looked down to find her staring at him, her eyes still glazed from the sex.

“Tell me your real name.”

“No.”

Olivia rose and curled up in the seat, staring intently. Her fingers grazed his jaw line. “I want to know.”

He grasped her hand. “When this is over. Knowing could be dangerous for the both of us.”

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Live a lie. A made up life.”

“Don’t think of it like that. It’s acting a part in a play or movie. My job. Whatever I say or do is what the script calls for. My words and actions are all…What do they call it?”

“Improvisation?”

“Yeah. I’m good at improvisation.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Now, can we talk about the kid?”

“What about Mouse?”

“I don’t know what to do with him. He knows too much and he’s seen too much.”

“What do you want to do with him?”

“Handcuff him to a pipe until this is over.”

“Are you serious?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Let him help you.”

“No.” He picked his shirt up from the floor and got out. He shot her a look. “Get dressed. What if he comes down here?”

Olivia scooted out the other side to confront him.

“You brought him into this, why won’t you let him help?”

“Olivia, he’s a kid, what can he do?” Rico pushed past her.

“He’s a kid who’s survived on the street for two years. He could hang out at the hotel and keep an eye on me.”

Rico stopped. “Keep an eye on you? Are you scared or something?”

“Of course I am, you moron. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

That went easier than he thought it would. He was getting a better grip on how to present things to her. Or, maybe the sex was muddling her mind also.

“You want him to hang around you?”

“Yes, at the hotel. Get him some more clothes, keep him clean. He can hang around in the lobby. I wouldn’t expect he could do much, just watch my back.”

Rico nodded, eyeing her thoughtfully. This
was
going well. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I think we can make it work.”

“Good.” She smiled, stepping closer. “I’m glad you aren’t going to fight me on this.”

“Oh, I make it a point never to argue with a beautiful, naked woman.”

She hooked her fingers inside his shorts and he grabbed her wrists. “Get dressed, Olivia.” He did his best to sound gruff. From the look on her face he failed miserably.

“But, we won’t be alone again for days, maybe a couple of weeks.” She pouted.

“If we do that again, I won’t be able to get out of bed for a couple of weeks.”

They slept on their sides. Olivia’s sleep-warmed back lodged against his chest and belly in a full body snuggle, his arm over her, his hand cupping her breast. He felt more at peace, content than any time he could remember. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d never felt this way. He took in a deep, languid breath. She used the same soap and shampoo he did and yet she smelled different, sweet and sexy. He tasted her earlobe and took what southern women called sugar bites on her neck until she woke.

“Morning,” she said, in a half-awake voice, wiggling against him.

“Morning, to you,” he said, putting his lips to her ear.

“Do me a favor and get up now,” he whispered.

“Why?” She ground her hips against his erection. “Because of that?”

“I would have that,” he pressed back, “whether you were here or not.”

“You
are
sixteen.”

“No, but that kid on the sofa is, and I don’t want him to see you showering.”

“Oh.” She turned enough to give him a kiss. Under the sheet she pulled on his shirt then scurried to the shower.

Rico’s gaze shifted from her to the sleeping boy. The kid hardly stirred. Probably the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks—if not months. Olivia showered in record time, dressed and left for the market. When he heard the bay door close, he threw the sheet off, pulled on his shorts and went to the kid.

“Time to get up.” He grasped his shoulder, shaking him hard. Mouse’s arms flew up to a defensive position and his body jerked wildly to break Rico’s grip. He looked terrified, disorientated. Rico backed off. “Take it easy. You’re at my place.”

Recognition set in and the frightened look faded.

“You okay?”

The kid nodded.

“If you wanna use the john, now would be a good time. Olivia went to the market.”

Mouse nodded, rose and headed for the bathroom.

Rico cooked everything Olivia brought for breakfast. Two pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs, grits, biscuits, and put it in front of Mouse. The kid was skinny as hell. It would take packing on thirty pounds just to bring him up to a normal, thin teenage boy. He’d been like that, tall, way too thin, never getting enough to eat. He and Olivia drank their coffee watching the kid devour the food. Sensing she was going to harass Mouse about how much he was eating, Rico banged her knee under the table with his. When she looked at him, he shook his head to keep her silent.

“What’re we gonna do today?” Mouse asked, finishing off the last of the orange juice.

“
We’re
going to figure out what you can do to earn that grand I’m paying you.”

“Anything, man. That money will keep me going a long time.”

Yeah, it will if some street thug doesn’t take it from him first.
He put Mouse second on his to do list. Rico was getting him off the streets.

“You gonna eat that?” Mouse asked Olivia, pointing at an untouched biscuit on her plate.

She shook her head and gestured for him to take it.

“Are ya gonna tell me what you want me to do?” he mumbled through a mouthful.

Rico took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He didn’t like the idea of telling the kid what they were about. But he didn’t have a choice. He glanced at Olivia.

“We’re doing some undercover work.”

“Yeah, I know.” The kid glanced at the bed.

Rico’s hand shot out and smacked him on the side of the head, earning a loud protest.

“This isn’t the street, kid. Apologize to the lady.”

“Sorry, Miss Olivia,” he said, rubbing his head.

“Like I said, the lady and I are doing some work.” Rico paused. “I can’t risk being made so she’ll be doing the inside work.”

“This for real?” Mouse squeaked. “You’re an agent?” He pointed a skinny finger at Rico. “She is too?”

Olivia and Rico nodded.

“Prove it.”

“You skinny little…” Rico raised his hand to deliver another whack.

Mouse pulled back, putting his hands up defensively. “Take it easy with the head. Those big hands of yours could kill somebody my size.”

“Mouse, Rico and I are after men responsible for killing undercover agents,” Olivia began.

“Stop. He doesn’t need to know all that.”

“He needs to know.”

“I say he doesn’t.”

“Geez, you two. Can I come back when you’re done fighting?” Mouse attempted to stand. Rico and Olivia each put a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Stay,” they ordered in unison.

“One of the men was my brother,” she continued. “They’ve tried to kill Rico.”

“Ah, shit,” Rico said angrily. He shoved back from the table, the chair scraping the floor screaming in approval of his anger. He went to the coffee pot, cursing when he found it empty.

Unfazed by Rico’s temper display, Olivia went on. “We’re close to getting enough on the cartel to do some damage. Since they think Rico is dead, I’m the one meeting with them.” Rico returned to his chair and she paused, looking at him. Resigned, he made a gesture with his hand indicating she should keep going.

“I’ll move to a small hotel in South Beach. We want you to hang around the lobby, pool, whatever, in case I need something from Rico.”

“Like help?”

“Yes. Like help.”

“Why can’t you just call him?”

“I can. But there may be a situation when I can’t or I’m being followed. You let Rico know. I’ll feel better with you there as a backup. Can you do that?”

“Where are all the other undercover guys?” He looked at Rico then back at Olivia.

“There aren’t any,” Rico said. “This is a last ditch thing. The last time we’ll try to get this guy.” He glanced at Olivia, cautioning her not to challenge him.

“Will you help us?” she asked.

“Sure. Who’s the drug guy?”

“Silva.”

“Silva?” Mouse yelled, standing so fast it startled Olivia. “Are you two out of your freaking minds?” He looked at them, his head whipping back and forth like he was at a tennis match. “Forget the dough. I’m outta here.” He turned to leave.

Rico reached out.

Olivia held Rico’s arm. “Let me.”

“Sit down, Mouse.” Her voice was smooth and pleasant. He didn’t sit.

“I said sit down.” Smooth and pleasant turned into tough and commanding. Mouse sat.

“I’m sittin’, but I’m not staying.”

“Whether you help or not, you stay. If you don’t help, Rico will handcuff you to the pipes in the bathroom. You
will
stay here until we say you can leave.”

“Olivia, I wasn’t serious.”

“I am.” She shot Rico a vicious look. “I won’t let anyone mess this up.”

“Look, kid, your exposure is next to nothing. You sit in a corner around the lobby or pool with a hat and sunglasses on, watching. No one will give you a second look.” He paused. “Or you can stay here.”

“All I do is sit and watch?”

“Yes. I’ll give you a cell. You call if you see anything suspicious.”

“Can I get stuff to eat and drink?”

“Yes.” What else was he going to ask for?

“I want an iPhone.” Mouse’s eyes brightened. “Loaded with games. I’d look stupid sitting there staring off into space all day.”

“Done.”

“He’ll need more clothes,” Olivia said. “He can’t show up in the same things every day.” Rico nodded. They both turned to look at Mouse. “Good. We’re all on the same page.”

Rico stood, pointing at Mouse. “Since you ate all the food you get KP.”

For the hundredth time, Rico and Olivia went over details.

“Anything else you want me to do?” Mouse asked when he was finished.

“No. Go watch TV.”

Mouse ambled to the sofa, flopped down and immediately began channel surfing.

“What guns will I be taking with me?” Olivia asked.

“A Smith & Wesson and a snub .38.”

“I want to take my H&K. I can depend on it.”

“You can depend on what I give you.”

“How will I get these guns? I certainly can’t say I brought them on the plane with me.”

Shit.
He’d forgotten about that. The sex
was
fogging his brain. He didn’t like making that kind of mistake.

“Certainly there are places in Miami to buy. Give me the name of a street contact likely to sell weapons.”

Rico thought for a few moments. He didn’t want to give her the names of people he used and trusted. “Kid!”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna buy handguns. Give me a name.”

“Quality or a piece of shit?”

“Quality.”

“Close or anywhere in town?”

“Close.”

“Paddy McGuire.”

Rico’s eyebrows shot up. “An Irishman in this neighborhood?”

“He’s Dominican.” Mouse shrugged. “He likes using an Irish name.”

“What does he look like?”

“Little. Ugly. Has a couple of big guys as bodyguards.”

Rico looked at Olivia. “You get all that?”

“Yes. But you didn’t tell me
how
I’ll get them.”

“I’ll have a gypsy cab driver deliver them to the hotel. Mouse, get over here. We have to go over some things.”

Rico laid out scenarios, instructing Olivia and Mouse on what they should do in each situation.

“This is cool,” Mouse blurted.

“And dangerous,” Olivia told him. “Remember who we’re dealing with.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Slammed with that reality, Mouse slumped in his chair.

The afternoon wore on with plans until Olivia called a halt. “I’m done. Stick a fork in me. Can’t handle any more. I’m going downstairs to work out for a couple of hours to get rid of the tension.”

“Good idea. I have a project on the roof. The kid is going to help me.” Rico rose, dragging a frowning Mouse from his chair.