Under Fire (7 page)

She turned and ran down the hall.

“You got anything back there for pain?”

“Yeah.”

That was a relief. The shot they’d given him in the ER wore off hours ago. “What’s taking you so long?”

“I’m grabbing everything I can think of.”

“Stop. We need to be gone ten minutes ago.”

She appeared wearing shorts, a T-shirt and deck shoes and carrying a black duffel and clothes. Looking at her took his breath away.
No.
He shook his head to clear it. Not her, the pain.

“Can you take Demerol?”

“Yeah.” Right now he’d take animal meds.

“Here.” She jammed two white pills in his hand. Without waiting for water, he downed them.

“Go easy getting me out of these scrubs. I’m pretty sore.”

Opening the drawer beside her, she brought out scissors. “Stand still.”

In seconds the scrubs were on the floor in a heap. Bending over, she held out shorts for him to step into. He grabbed her shoulder for balance and stepped into the shorts. Looking down, he saw her face inches from his dick. What the hell was wrong with him, thinking about sex right now?

“Don’t get any ideas, secret agent man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he snapped. Buttoning his shirt, he watched her cram a few more things into the duffel. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She snatched up the scrubs and bag and headed for the door with Rico close behind. Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned in time to take the collision head on.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rico growled, holding on to her for balance.

“There are some rules,” she said, making no attempt to back away. In fact, he thought she leaned into him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rules? What are they?” He circled an arm around her waist, not for balance, but to feel her against him.

“Be up front with me. You need to tell me something, come out and say it. Don’t dance around like you did a few minutes ago. Don’t lie to me. If you can’t—or don’t—want to tell me something,
say so
.”

“Okay. Can we go?”

“No. There’s more. What happened between us is past. It won’t happen again. This is business only. Understand?”

Her eyes blazed and his aching body quickened. “I understand. Business only,” he said solemnly.

“One other thing. What’s your last name?”

“Cortes.”

She opened her mouth to speak. “No,” he said before she could ask, “it’s not my real name. Anything else?”

“Yeah. You don’t drive my car.”

He laughed. “That junker? Agreed. Now can we go?”

She squirmed out of his grip and hustled out the door.

“You think that old Jeep is going to make it to Miami?” He followed her to the garage.

“We’ll see.” She opened the garage door exposing her beat up Jeep parked next to a black Corvette. Rico whistled.

“I knew it. You
are
the sports car type.”

“Nope. It’s my brother’s. I take care of it while he’s out on a cruise.”

“Cruise?” Rico asked, as she forced the duffel into what passed as the cargo area of the Vette.

“Sea duty. He’s a Navy jet jockey stationed aboard an aircraft carrier.”

Olivia slammed the trunk shut and clicked the doors open. “Don’t worry about the LoJack.”

Worry?
He hadn’t even thought of it.

“Sam shut it down. Doesn’t like the idea of anyone tracking him down.”

“How’d he do that?” Rico said as she helped him jam his six-three frame into the car.

“No idea. Knowing Sam it was probably with a hammer.” She closed the door, went to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.

In a matter of minutes they were on I-95 heading south to Miami.

Olivia drove silently, wondering about the man sleeping next to her. Could she trust him? He hadn’t offered any proof he was DEA. She’d just have to wait and see. Wait until they reached Miami and he told her more. Not even the thought of losing her career could dampen the excitement of finally having a good lead.

She was close, she could feel it. No thanks to those two asshole detectives working Danny’s case. The three of them were going to have a nice heart-to-heart about why they’d kept Silva’s name from her. She sure as hell couldn’t trust them enough to pass on any info she learned from Rico. For God’s sake, they could be the informants. Her shoulder twitched at that thought.

Like Rico, she no longer knew who to trust.

He stirred and shifted in the seat, attempted to stretch and found no space for his body.

“I’ll stop soon.”

He made a grumpy man sound, turning on his side to face her.

“What makes you think you were discovered?” she asked to break the silence.

“I told you, the boat was rigged with explosives.”

A chill ran through her. Had she been hovering any closer that explosion would have taken down the helo.

“Are you sure? We thought the boat trailing you fired on us, missed and hit you.”

Glancing sideways, she could see confusion in his expression.

“I heard the rescue crew talking about a second boat. As far as I knew, Trini and I were out there alone. You’re telling me there
was
a second boat?”

She nodded. Rico cussed in Spanish under his breath.

“I couldn’t figure it. In our pre-flight briefing, the feds said they were leery of the whole thing and warned us we could be a target.”

“Nothing about me?”

“No. The drugs, that’s all.”

“You knew where to look for us?”

“Yeah. They had a tip. Time, location, everything. Said drugs were being moved from a fishing boat to a go-fast. Nothing about you specifically.”

“Did they locate the fishing boat?”

“No.”

“That’s because there wasn’t one.”

Olivia stared ahead not daring to even chance a glance at Rico. If what he was saying was true, he had been set up. Only by sheer blind luck had he survived. Had the same man who killed Danny been responsible for the detailed tip the feds received? Why had they tried to kill Rico? Was he good cop, or bad guy?

Several miles passed before he spoke. “Finish.” His liquid voice sent a shiver through her.

Olivia gave him the details of the night up to when Defoe went into the water.

They fell silent again.

“Rico, how did you survive the explosion?”

He sighed. She gave him a sideways look and he gave her a lazy smile. “I figured we would have to swim for it. Opened the cabin for a life vest, the trigger device was right there, ticking off in pretty red numbers. Seven seconds left. Survival mode kicked in. I hauled ass and yelled at Trini to go overboard. As my feet left the side, the fucking thing blew—it was filled to the top with fuel.”

He fidgeted in the seat.

“I’m stopping at the next exit for gas. I’ll get rid of the scrubs. You get out and walk around or by the time we get to Miami you’ll be too stiff to move.”

“Don’t worry, when I get stiff I move very well,” he muttered as he turned to face away.

“I heard that.”

Swinging off the interstate, she chose the gas station with the fewest customers. Rico started to speak, but she beat him to it.

“I know, don’t use a credit card.”

Olivia filled the tank and moved the Corvette to a spot outside security camera range, where she helped Rico unfold from the car’s tiny interior. She paid and bought snacks. He stretched and walked a few feet, careful to keep his face hidden from other customers. He didn’t want her help getting back in the car. As he grunted and groaned his way in, she retrieved a couple more pain pills from her bag. They weren’t very strong; a man his size could handle a couple more.

“Here.” Olivia handed him the capsules which he swallowed without hesitation.

“Why do you have these meds?”

“Marine collision.”

“What?”

“Not the kind you had. Interservice baseball. I took a hard hit defending home plate. A Marine the size of a truck found out I’m tougher than I look.” She drove to the on ramp.

“I know the feeling.”

Olivia saw an opening in traffic and floored it, accelerating fast enough to press their bodies into the leather seats.

“You don’t have to go so damn fast,” Rico grumbled. “This isn’t a chopper.”

“Go to sleep,” she shot back.

He moved to look at the speedometer.

“Come on, Olivia. The speed limit is 70. You’re doing 95, and this car is ticket bait. I don’t want to risk getting stopped.”

“I’m traveling with the flow. This is I-95. If I go the speed limit I’ll stand out.”

He scowled.

“Okay.” She slowed the Corvette.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “You always drive like this?”

“Yep, I grew up in Texas. Speed limits there are only a suggestion.”

They both laughed. Levity was good. It relieved the tension.

“I promise I’ll keep it down. But the next time a couple in their eighties pulling a trailer pass and flip me off ’cause I’m going too slow I’m taking it back up to air speed.”

Rico snorted and settled back.

He woke fifty miles down the road as Olivia pulled to the shoulder…and a state trooper’s car pulled in behind the Vette.

“Keep your mouth closed and listen,” she snapped. “You are my brother, Navy Commander Sam Carver. Your date of birth is 10-08-70. You’re on leave from the USS
Harry S. Truman
. You were in a boating accident and I’m taking you to your place in Miami. Got it?”

Rico said nothing, just nodded.

“And for God’s sake keep that cap on.”

The trooper peered in the window and asked for ID and registration. He took them and she saw no ring on his left hand.
Okay.

“I stopped you today for speeding. Do you know how fast you were going?”

“When I saw your lights in the rear view I looked. I was doing 85.”

Olivia used her military voice. “Sir, I’ve been cramped in this car since Jacksonville. Would you mind if I step out and join you?”

He looked past her to Rico. “What’s wrong with your passenger?”

“Accident.”

The trooper looked at her ID. “Lt. Commander Carver, you can get out. Go to the back of your vehicle quickly. Move to the rear passenger side for your safety.”

Olivia opened the door, stretching out her legs and receiving the reaction she’d hoped for. Following the trooper’s instructions, she walked quickly to the rear of the car not bothering to pull her shorts down. A glance at the trooper let her know the view of her butt cheeks had his full attention. Good. She didn’t want him looking carefully at Rico.

“Thanks for letting me get out. I need to stretch.” She pushed her shoulders back, pressing her breasts in his direction. “Sorry about the speeding. I know better.”

He shifted his gaze to examine her ID and the registration. “This says the vehicle is registered to Sam Carver, occupation Navy pilot. Your husband?”

“No. My brother.” She looked to where Rico sat.

The trooper followed her gaze. “Does he have ID?”

“No, sir. He lost everything in the accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

Olivia mover closer to the trooper. “Boating. He disintegrated a five hundred thousand dollar speed boat. He’s damn lucky he didn’t do the same to himself.” The trooper’s expression softened. She knew it would be okay. “Officer, I know I was speeding and I’m sorry. He has me a little crazy.” She looked Rico’s way again. “He checked himself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders. Talked me into driving him to his place in Miami. Which, right now, I’m really regretting.”

“You have any other speeding tickets?”

She puffed out a breath. “Three in Texas, where I grew up. Kid stuff. When I was stationed in Hawaii got stopped, no ticket.” This was no time to lie.

“Why no ticket?”

“I’m a helicopter pilot.” Jackpot. She had his full attention. “I’d been recalled to base to fly a rescue.” She leaned on the Vette. “The officer who stopped me was kind enough to use his lights and siren to help.”

He didn’t say anything.

“And, then there is this one,” she added, chagrined.

“Commander, stand right here while I check your information.”

Olivia waited, chewing her lower lip, while he ran her ID and the car tags. She prayed they hadn’t been put on the
be on the lookout
list already.
Damn it!
It had been stupid of her to speed.

The trooper walked her way, smiling. He handed back her ID and registration.

“So, how much is this ticket going to cost my brother?” She took an exaggerated deep breath.

“Nothing. Today you get a written warning.”

“Trooper Cameron, I could kiss you right now. Thank you.”

“I
will
enter this into the system,” he cautioned. “If you get stopped speeding farther down the road you won’t get off so easy.”

“Promise, I’m done speeding.” She held up her right hand. “Since you have my name and other info—” she removed her glasses and gave him her best smile, “—call me next time you’re in Jacksonville.”

Before he could answer, a voice on his radio ordered him to respond to an accident. He touched the brim of his Smokey the Bear hat. “Gotta go. And, ma’am, next time I’m in Jax you can count on seeing me.”

Relief flooded through her. She gave him a silly finger wave as he pulled into traffic.

When she settled back into her seat, Rico was staring, gaping really. “What?”

“I seem to remember you giving me a lecture about not lying.”

She nailed him with a wicked look. “I said ‘Don’t lie to
me.
’ Nothing I said was a lie.”

“Don’t give me that. I heard everything. The invite was a nice touch.”

Olivia turned the keys and the sound of the Corvette’s engine filled the interior. “Since you heard everything, tell me what I lied about.”

Rico was silent. She gave him a sideways glance. “Well?”

“Damn. You’re right.”

“Hmph. I thought so. And, we learned there isn’t a BOLO on me yet.”

“Okay. No more speeding, traffic flow or not,” he said and pulled the cap down over his eyes.

He guided her through Miami, deep into little Havana, to what appeared to be a deserted gas station.

“Pull up to the bay on the right.”

Olivia did as directed. With a lot of effort Rico climbed out and went to a small electrical box on the wall next to the bay door. He punched in his code and it slid open. He stood aside and motioned her to drive in.

Inside, he repeated the action with another keypad to close the door.

“Where now?” she asked, taking her duffel from the Vette.

“The stairs.”

Rico pointed to a concrete stairway on the far end of the cavernous room. He switched on lights, revealing a beach mural covering the entire expanse along the steps.

At the top, the walls were a very Miami salmon color. She waited as he opened another electrical box and flipped more switches. Steel hurricane window coverings ground open. An air conditioning unit started humming. Three huge ceiling fans came to life and stirred the hot air. Track lighting concrete block walls covered with art. Enthralled, she stepped to the center of the large room, turning slowly, taking it all in.

Rico folded his arms, leaned against the wall and watched.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, awed. “Did you paint all of these?”

“Not a one.” He laughed.

“Then who?” She couldn’t take her eyes from the paintings. Most were water colors, some pencil sketches. A few were oils and acrylics.

He pushed off the wall, going to the small kitchen area where he lit several candles on the counter.

“Neighborhood kids. Mostly street kids, it’s how they make a few bucks to survive. I buy their art and they watch this place.”

“The mural?”

“Here when I bought the place.”

The pleasant smell from the candles reached her nose. “What’s that scent?”

“Don’t have a clue.” He walked closer.

“I like it.” She took a deep breath, getting the full effect.

Rico shrugged. “It takes away the old gas and oil smell until the air conditioner gets working.”

She turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room. The furnishings were simple, comfortable. A huge overstuffed sofa and chair, slip-covered in natural canvas, dominated one corner of the open space, and a modest-sized flat screen TV hung on the wall. The small kitchen held a vividly painted table and chairs. The table top depicted a jungle scene. She traced her fingers over the image of a jaguar hiding among lush green foliage. A portion of palmetto tree trunk with bird carvings supported the table. Each chair portrayed a different colorful scene.

“It’s like being in an art gallery.”

On the other side of the room stood shelves holding what looked like thousands of CDs, and a king size bed atop a platform. Past the bed, a sink and counter were visible. Curious, she headed to the doorless room.

Rico went to the sound setup. “What kinda music you like?”

“Just about anything. Surprise me,” she called out, stepping into what she assumed was the bathroom. Six nozzles protruded from the bare concrete at different heights and intervals. Nothing was close enough to get wet, so no need for a wall or curtain.

“You did all of this?”

“Yeah. In all my spare time.”

Olivia looked at him as he selected CDs. Was he being sarcastic? Not being able to tell when he was lying or telling the truth made her uneasy.

The sweet sound of an alto sax filled the room. The half a dozen speakers produced such a great sound it seemed as if the saxophonist stood in the room with them.

“Frank Morgan.” She looked at him wide eyed. “You like Frank Morgan?”

“Yeah.”

“Art Pepper, Beegie Adair?” Anyone who liked Morgan had to like those two. She’d seen Beegie in Nashville once and the woman was phenomenal.

“Yeah,” he said, followed with a smile.

The uneasy feeling, fed by questions and contradictions, grew. Who was the real Rico? The good ole boy with the million dollar condo? Drug smuggler? Slick undercover agent? Or, she glanced around the room, a handyman extraordinaire, an art and music lover who cared about kids? She didn’t have anything except that one night to gage it against. She sure as hell hadn’t been taking notes on his baseline behavior.

Rico opened one of the electrical boxes and punched the key pad inside. There was a whir, a little click then a compartment slid from the side of the box. He tossed her a worn black leather wallet. She looked up at him, causally leaning against the wall, arms folded, grinning. She opened the flap, revealing a heavy gold badge emblazoned with Drug Enforcement Administration Special Agent and a golden eagle. Olivia ran her finger over it. It felt real but…She flipped it over. “This is only the badge, no ID. You could have….”

“Jee-sus, woman.” Rico pushed off the wall and snatched the wallet. “I
am
DEA.” He returned it to the compartment, banging it shut. “What more do you want?”

“I want to be able to trust you. I want to know you are who you say you are.” Drug agent or a drug smuggler—either way, she had to know. Her life was based on trust. She trusted it to a dozen people every time she climbed into her helo. She was trusted to fly a craft worth fifteen million and bring it—and more importantly its crew—home safe. “If you are an agent, give me something. Prove it and I’ll help you.” Rico said nothing. “If you’re a smuggler, admit it. I’ll help you get Silva and the man who set you up. When we’re done I’ll go back to Jacksonville. I won’t turn you in.” She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “Tell me and I’ll tell you why I want Silva.”

Shit.
She sounded desperate.
Shit.
She was desperate.

Rico calculated how much truth he could tell her. She could have turned him over to the feds at her place and to the trooper on the interstate. She wanted Silva as much as he did. He owed her the truth. Involving her in an unauthorized action to find the fucker giving up UCs?
That
he didn’t owe her. It would push the limits, even for him. But…

His hand went to one of the many sore places she gifted him with. She did know how to handle herself. “I know why you want Silva.”

“How could you possibly know why I want Silva?” She took a step in his direction, giving him the same hard look she had a few hours ago. Right before she jumped him. He was in no mood to have her open a can of whoop-ass on him again.

“Last time you were in Miami asking questions, you hit up a DEA undercover. He reported it. You were checked out.” He leaned against the wall. “It was my investigation. The info was passed to me.”

“What was your investigation?” she asked, each word carefully enunciated. Brown eyes boring, mining for truth, she advanced another step.

What the hell
? Might as well end this and tell her.

“I was investigating the deaths of four undercovers. Your brother, Daniel Carver—your twin brother—was one of those officers. I know Miami P.D. let you see the murder book. Ask me something that’s in there.”

“How many days after he died was his body identified?” she said with no hesitation.

“Nine days. His body was found three days after he died.”
Naked, beaten beyond recognition.
“ID delayed because he was listed as a John Doe. Made from a single thumb print.”
The only digit the creatures left untouched.

Color crept up Olivia’s neck into her face, mottling her cheeks.

“If you knew who I was, why didn’t you call me and say back off?”

“Gimme a break,” he said, passing her to get to the sofa. His head pounded and he needed to sit before his legs gave out. “Would you have backed away?”

He stretched out, put his head back and closed his eyes. She said nothing. He opened one eye.

Olivia sat next to him, one knee pulled up, her arm resting on the sofa back “No,” she finally said. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

He closed both eyes again.

She touched his arm. “Why did you set up that meet?”

“To scare you off.” He moved his arm away from her hand.” That didn’t work too well.”

“No,” she said. “Tomorrow…You’ll tell me everything.”

He raised his head, looked her in the eyes and lied. “Yes.”

“You won’t regret letting me in on this.”

His stomach chose that moment to emit a long growl. Not the best way to break the tension but it would do.

“Geez, Rico, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“Nothing for a couple of days except for that crap we had in the car.”

Olivia stood. “You have anything to eat in the place?” She headed for the kitchen. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can do simple.”

He shook his head. “Nothing fresh. There’s an all-night market on the corner. You have any more pain meds?” He had plenty in his stash but wasn’t about to let her know where that was.

“Sure.” She retrieved a couple from her bag and a bottle of water from the fridge.

“I’ll hit the market and be right back,” she said as he downed the pills. “Anything in particular you want?”

“Naw.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“The neighborhood gang hangs on the corner. They’ll try to give you a hard time.”

She held up the purse. “No problem. I’m carrying.”

“If anything happens, try to talk your way out. Don’t want attention drawn here.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a half-assed salute.

“Olivia.”

“What now?” She threw up a hand and rolled her eyes.

“The security code to get out and back in is 195591.”

“195591,” she repeated, and hurried downstairs.

Twenty minutes later Olivia climbed the stairs. The sound of water hitting the concrete walls stopped her cold. He was in the shower, and the moment she cleared the stairs his naked body, surrounded in a cloud of steam, water dripping from his shoulders and other parts, would be there for her to see in all its glory.
Whew.
Heat seared her neck and cheeks. She took the remaining steps two at a time and deposited the bags on the counter, keeping her gaze on anything but him. Hell, it was no use.

She couldn’t help herself, she looked. Not a little glance or a peek between her fingers—an all-out, spellbound, slack-jawed stare at the long legs that had felt damn good tangled with hers. The tight ass her fingers had clenched.
Gawd.
She was coming unglued watching Rico’s soapy hand move up and down his belly and chest. She remembered that hand washing
her.
She wanted him, and it wasn’t because of the constant adrenaline high of the last hours. Her lust-o-meter was in the danger zone because she was genuinely attracted to him.

She turned away and took out her frustration on half a dozen helpless eggs, beating them viciously and whacking the hell out of chorizo sausage with a very large knife. The water sounds stopped, replaced with the sizzle of sausage. Several minutes passed. She stole a glance over her shoulder.

Rico stood naked in front of the mirror, combing his long hair. He smiled.
Crap.
He could see her.

“You about ready to eat?”

“Yeah.”

He joined her, wearing loose fitting shorts. No shirt. No shoes. His wet hair hanging loose, framing a freshly shaven face.

“Smells good,” he said. “Thanks for cooking.” He pulled out a chair and stood, waiting for her to sit, then plied his plate with the spicy sausage and scrambled eggs. “How did you know I liked chorizo?”

“The old man at the market.” She settled into the chair across from him. “I described you, asked what you generally buy. He told me everything right down to the porn magazines you prefer.”

His lips twitched.

“Did you have any problems?”

“Oh. Ten guys attacked me.” She took a bite.

His head jerked up, his eyebrows popped. “What?”

“Relax.” She gave him an amused look.” I disemboweled and dismembered them. The world is safe now.” The warm smile he gave her spread to his dark eyes. It was impossible not to return it. Doing that had gotten her into…She glanced at the bed. “Have you come up with a plan to find the man responsible for Danny’s death?” Her mind needed to be on track.

Rico stopped. A fork full of egg suspended between plate and mouth. The smiling eyes gave way to a cold stare.

“No, I haven’t. I told you we’d talk about it tomorrow.” The eggs disappeared between his lips.

“Right.” She lowered her head and concentrated on eating, not looking up until he broke the silence.

“I feel better with a full tank,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

She was tempted to reach across the table and squeeze his arm to see just how good he did feel. “You look better.” He looked damn fantastic. “How’s the pain? I have more pills.”

Rico twisted, stretched his torso and flexed his arm muscles. He ran a finger over a long scratch on his forearm, then raised an arm and brought the hand to his back. “I’m stiff.” He stopped and eyed her. “And sore. A couple more of those pills and a few hours’ sleep, I’ll be good to go.” He yawned.

Oh, yeah. He was trying to get to her. Well fuck this shit. Three of those pills should put him out for the night, and she wouldn’t have to worry. Olivia was on her feet, going for the pills. Rico reached out, handcuffing her wrist with his hand. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to reach out and touch his smooth chin or tangle her fingers in his hair. He pushed to his feet, standing so close his body heat arched into hers, stoking the fire she’d tried to forget about.

“I haven’t thanked you properly for everything. Getting me here and—” he glanced at the table, “—this.” He leaned until they were nose to nose, and she prepared for a kiss. “Thanks.” He let go of her hand and took a step back. “You cooked. I clean up.”

It took a moment for Olivia to find her voice. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No. You lie down. Rest. The sooner you feel better, the sooner we get to work.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Sure. Get to work sooner.”

Rico lay on the bed watching Olivia clean the tiny kitchen. Having sex with her tonight would complicate things tomorrow when he sent her back to Jacksonville. The lizard brain instinct for sex after danger had taken over. He wanted her so bad his teeth hurt. That stuff he did in the shower was stupid. The innuendoes were even worse.