Under Fire (15 page)

Rico turned on his side, draping himself over her protectively.

“I know how it feels to make up the life you want. What I told you about my mother being alive only a handful of people know.” Her breath hitched. “I think from the moment she left, I tried to do things for Danny I thought a mother would do. A head doc would say I’m pretty screwed up.”

“What about now?”

“Haven’t seen her since Danny died, and then we didn’t speak. She stood in the back of the church and at the edge of the mourners. Sam tried to get to her before she left, but…”

It was almost funny. The two of them; tough, taking on the world, dealing pretty damned well except when it came to emotion and loving. Go figure.

She snuggled against him. “Rico?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” His arms tightened around her, and she thought about how different the sex with him had always been. Tonight, the intimacy, tenderness and passion were on a different level. Recreational sex had turned into an emotional bond. They’d made love. Here, under the night sky, the world melted away. The pleasure gave her a new calm and joy. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his heartbeat were as soothing as the words he whispered.

This was a feeling she didn’t want to lose. She titled her head back to see his face. Their eyes met and her breath caught. Was this what love felt like? A drop of fear sent a ripple through her calm pond of pleasure. She couldn’t be in love, she was terrified of love.

“Look—” Rico pointed, “—a falling star.”

Olivia looked. “Is not. You can’t see the stars with the lights from the city and the haze.”

“I swear I saw a light flash over.”

Olivia heard a familiar sound. Rico heard it too.

“Get dressed,” he said, grabbing for his clothes.

“What? Why?”

Too late, she realized the police chopper was almost over the garage swinging its search light from side to side. Rico sat, struggling to get into his shorts, using every cuss word he knew.

“Stop,” she laughed, pulling him down. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Lay on your side and kiss me,” she yelled over the noise of the chopper. “This way they’ll only get a side view of our asses.” She pulled him against her, tangling her arms and legs with his.

“Kiss me. Now.”

Rico kissed her hard and long as the helicopter’s search beam bathed them in blinding light. Plastic chairs blew over, small items tumbled by, and Olivia heard a glass break. Without looking up they each raised an arm and extended their middle finger.

When the chopper’s engines couldn’t be heard anymore they flopped onto their backs, laughing until they both fell into coughing fits.

Mornings were special for Olivia. Her senses were heightened. The air smelled sweeter, the sheets against her skin felt delicious. Sounds were clear, not distorted by things mechanical. The diffused light made the world look like a painting. This morning she’d been awake for some time, still savoring the feel of Rico’s muscled body against hers and thinking about what lay ahead. Judging by his breathing Olivia guessed he was also awake. Was he thinking about the mission to come, or struggling to make sense of last night? She was doing what her Coast Guard training taught: prioritize and concentrate on the task at hand. After this was over they could sort out their feelings.

“You awake?” he asked, running his hand lightly over the rise of her hip.

“Mmm.”

He rested his chin in the curve between her neck and shoulder. “I’ve been lying here going over everything, looking for a hole, something we forgot. Couldn’t find one. We’re good and you’re ready.”

They were silent for several minutes.

Rico moved away enough for her to roll onto her back. His electric green eyes worked a jolt through her. He smiled and half covered her body with his.

“I’m going to make some coffee and get the kid up,” he said. “We’ll go downstairs so you can get ready.”

With a slight nod, she steeled herself. The moment he left the bed things between them would change. The sex, the kisses, the touches and looks would be put aside. Her only focus would be getting her brother’s killers, Silva and Baker. Nothing else.

Rico rolled away, stood, pulled on his shorts and threw Olivia his T-shirt. She shrugged into it and moved to the warm spot in the bed where he’d been. She pulled the sheet over her head, listening to the sounds of coffee brewing, then his bare feet padding to the sofa.

She reviewed the plan, plotting important points like a flight mission. Mission goal: Get info on Silva. Meet this Baker guy. Mission tactics: Assume a new identity, follow Rico’s instructions, improvise when necessary and sell it like your life depends on it.

Remember, getting information is a delicate process.
Too forceful and she’d blow it. Not forceful enough and she’d be blown.

She showered and attempted to arrange her hair the way the girl in the Little Havana shop showed her but, exasperated, gave up. Only a beautician with all the appliances known to the profession could straighten her hair today. Makeup went much better. She decided on a tailored chocolate brown shirt and slacks made of some kind of soft, clingy material. It looked like something a woman would wear for traveling, was comfortable, and reminded her of her uniform. Her shoes were brown leather with peek-a-boo toes and three-inch heels. Standing back from the mirror, she twisted to one side then the other checking her image. Her gold earrings and chain belt looked sharp against the dark color. After some consideration she undid the top two buttons of the shirt, enough to see a hint of pink lace from her bra. Pleased, she called out, “I’m ready.” Showtime.

Seconds later Rico and Mouse stood at the top of the stairs, staring.

“Okay?” She turned slowly.

“Okay.” Rico nodded.

“You look super, Miss Olivia.”

“Thank you—both.” She looked pointedly at each of them. They were her crew now. Rico was no longer her lover, but a fellow officer she was trusting with her life. She fought back a seed of doubt. She was going into battle with this man and had no idea how he would act in a difficult situation. She could end this now, back out…No. Playing it out to the end was her only option.

“Take her bags down, kid.”

Mouse hefted the bags down to the old Lincoln.

“It’s time to go, Rico.”

He nodded and came closer. “Olivia.”

“Yes?” She bit her lower lip.

“We can stop this now if you aren’t sure.” He rubbed the back of his index finger down her cheek.

“I’m sure. I have to do this—for Danny.”

“Your brother is dead. This isn’t going to bring him back.
You
could end up dead for that matter. Why?”

“That birthmark on my ankle,” she said, “that was from Danny.”

“What?”

“I’m a minute and twenty-seven seconds older than Danny. When I was born, his fingers were wrapped tight around my ankle, where the birthmark is. Daddy would say that before we were born, we had a fight over who would be the oldest. I won, but Danny didn’t give up. He held on and I dragged him into this world. When his fingers were pried off me, we both howled until we were touching again.” She paused. “Daddy told me with the privilege of being the oldest came the responsibility of watching over Danny. I took it very seriously.

“As an adult I realize that story wasn’t true or even possible, but as kids Danny and I thought it was. We had a closer than normal bond. He had no mother. I stepped into that role. The birthmark is a constant reminder…” A shock wave went through her. Had she really said that about being a mother to Danny?
Christ.
She barely admitted that to herself, yet she’d blurted it out to Rico like some crazed motor mouth. Her fingers tightened into a fist. She took a step back and straightened in her best attention stance.

“I know what I’m doing, what I’m up against, how dangerous what I’m going to do is.” The words came out steady and resolute. “I’m telling you—I can’t go on with my life until I find Danny’s killers.”

The drive to Miami International Airport was silent. Rico stole sideways glances at Olivia. Other than occasionally pulling in her lower lip she looked calm, even relaxed.

He’d been ready to pull the plug on the whole scheme—again—when she told him that fucking story.
Shit.
He could have said “no way, you’re not going.” But she needed this as much as he did, no matter how crazy it was.

Rico pulled to the curb at the arrivals terminal, and the kid jumped out to retrieve her luggage from the trunk. Inside the airport, she would blend in with passengers arriving from Seattle. From there she’d take the rental company van to pick up a Jaguar. If Silva’s men did any checking, this was as far as they could go. Passenger records were strictly monitored by Homeland and even Silva wouldn’t risk broaching that security.

“Olivia.” She removed her sunglasses and turned to him. Her eyes were different, softer. In his hesitation, she put her index finger to his lips and shook her head, an unmistakable sign that she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. She replaced her fingertip with her mouth, giving him a soft kiss. He didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. When she opened them he was startled at the change. The softness was gone. Her face told the story. No way would she be talked out of this.

Mouse opened the passenger door. She covered her eyes with the glasses and exited gracefully from the Lincoln.

The warning tickle in his throat made him want to haul her back, but he knew the only way to stop her was to knock her out. His jaw cramped and he moved it from side to side to relieve his tension.

Outside, she straightened and ran her hands over her hips, smoothing out the slacks. Rico leaned across the seat to get a better view and watched Olivia give Mouse a kiss on the cheek. Her hands rose as if to hug him, but she hesitated. Instead she put a hand on the kid’s shoulder and said something he couldn’t make it out. Mouse nodded solemnly. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder, grasped the handle of her luggage and blended into the terminal crowd without looking back.

“Get in, kid.”

Mouse slid into Olivia’s empty seat and slammed the door. Silently, Rico moved the Lincoln into traffic and drove to where the rental company van would pick her up. Airport security was on the job. In less than five minutes he was forced to move on. Fighting terminal traffic, he came around to the arrivals gate again and didn’t see her. With no place to park, he made a second loop around. Mouse caught sight of her in one of the courtesy vans. Rico cut across two lanes, earning a few one finger salutes, and squeezed in behind the white van. At the rental office she and a man in a business suit exited the bus. The guy tried to help her with her luggage, but she shook her head and went into the office.

Rico made a U-turn then parked halfway down the block, pointed in the direction she would drive to the hotel. Several minutes later she emerged, followed by a middle-aged man with a paunch and bad comb over. He had to quickstep to keep up with her. Rico couldn’t suppress a smile. He liked the way she walked. Long strides, confident and commanding—not that silly bouncy walk some women had.

“Man down,” Mouse blurted.

Rico sat up straight, snapping his head from side to side. “Where?”

“You.” The kid pointed a bony finger at him.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, attempting to both keep an eye on Olivia and look at the kid.

“Oh, maaan.” Mouse folded his arms and huffed. “You’ve
fallen
for her.
Man down
. Duh. You get it?”

The kid was right.

He started the car. He was going to get her out of this now while he could.

“There she goes.” Mouse pointed.

“Shit!” Rico slapped a palm against the steering wheel, watching Olivia drive off the lot in a silver Jag.

They followed her to the small, very chic boutique hotel he’d chosen on Collins Avenue. The Obsidian Hotel was exclusive, with limited access. They employed an excellent security staff. No cameras inside, only at entry points and on the roof. Celebrities were frequent guests and they wanted their privacy protected. Each of the twenty-four rooms was a luxury suite. Olivia would be comfortable and safe. As they drove past, the doorman was helping her from the car. She didn’t even glance their way.

Why should she? She was confident, focused. She could handle herself. She’d proven it over and over. He was trying to rescue her like he’d done the night they met. She didn’t want or need to be rescued. Mouse was right, he’d fallen for her and it was screwing up his thinking. Stretching him between his need for her and getting the job done.
He
had to focus. All he had to do was sit back, let her do her job and do his—wait. Problem was, he sucked at sitting back and waiting.

Olivia felt like someone with a split personality using her newly minted IDs and credit card to check into the hotel. She’d found it easily using the rented Jag’s GPS. Hell, if she’d gotten lost all she would have had to do was stop and wait for Rico to pull alongside. The whole drive he was never more than two cars behind her.

Expensive furniture and original paintings decorated the lobby and the hallway to her suite in the Obsidian, giving her the feeling she was a guest in a large home rather than a hotel. An attractive middle-aged Hispanic woman came to the room with her and neatly stored her clothes in the closet and drawers. Olivia set aside the package containing the disposable cells and handguns that had been waiting for her at the desk. The attendant left with a dress that needed pressing and two of Olivia’s twenties in her hand. Tipping generously was a way to be remembered and gain immediate assistance should it be necessary. Olivia opened the safe, stacking the guns, cells and jewelry inside. As per Rico’s instruction, she set the combination the same as the entry code to the garage.

That done, she took time to examine the suite. A sitting area with a desk and a chaise positioned in front of the balcony doors. A small sofa and flat screen TV. The bed was piled high with pillows and wide enough for her to sleep sideways. The marble bathroom was absolutely decadent with a walk-in shower and an extremely large square tub. A careful examination of the tub confirmed she and Rico would fit. She found soaps, lotions and potions, soft towels and a robe.

Stepping onto the suite’s broad balcony, she was enveloped in the heavy perfume of tropical flowers rising from a lush interior garden where small colorful birds flitted in cages. Her third floor vantage point allowed her to clearly see the black-and-white tile design at the bottom of the pool. Yes, when this was over she would bring Rico here, her treat, and they would see how well they fit in that tub.

The doorbell startled her. A doorbell in a hotel room was something else she would have to get used to. She admitted the attendant with her now pressed dress. In Spanish, she asked if her clothing was appropriate for the Miami club scene.

The attendant ran a hand over the hanging clothes. “These are fine for most clubs, some others…” She shrugged. “What clubs will you go to?”

“The Replay tonight.”

The disapproving look told Olivia all she needed to know.

“No offense, miss. For
that
club you want something better.”

“None taken. When I packed I wasn’t sure. What do you suggest?”

“There is a boutique connected to this hotel. You can get there from the lobby. Tell them you are going to the Replay. They’ll take care of you. Or, the concierge can order a car and driver to take you anywhere you like. A beautiful woman like you should look her best.”

Olivia thanked her for the compliment and advice, and the woman let herself out. She really didn’t like to shop and had no desire to go all over Miami shopping for clothes. The boutique would have to do. She changed into shorts, put on a formfitting top similar to what she’d seen women in the lobby wearing and slipped into sandals.

She had to admit the clothes in the shop were beautiful. The sales associate was a big help. Forty-seven hundred dollars’ worth of help. Olivia had the clothes sent to her suite and headed for the bar.

“Tequila shot. Patrón Añejo,” she ordered as she dropped onto a bar stool. “Make it two.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. She put two twenties on the polished bar so he knew she was serious.

A blond man sitting a few stools over held his glass up to her and flashed a “can I join you?” smile. The bartender put the shots and lime slices in front of her and palmed the twenties. She sighed and lifted a glass. Rico said to attract some attention.
Make sure someone remembers your face.
What the hell, might as well be this guy. She saluted him with her drink, nodded, tossed the tequila back and quickly sucked on a lime. Before she could get the lime slice out of her mouth, he was standing beside her.