Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) (32 page)

SLOAN WALKS THE STREETS OF historic downtown Guadalajara, taking in the various squares and beautiful parks. Her eyes observe the stunning Gothic architecture of the Metropolitan Cathedral. The sounds of cars and crowds bustling through the streets fill her ears. Her flip-flop-clad feet stride comfortably—even leisurely for her normal pace—towards the small café in the heart of Plaza de los Mariachis.

The vibrant sounds of mariachis playing urge a small, wistful smile to her face. She internally wishes that Nix were with her, that she were visiting Guadalajara for pleasure rather than business. There are so many things she would love to explore and experience with him by her side.

She reaches her destination—El Gato Café. Her hand pushes open the small, wooden door and her eyes scan the quaint establishment that’s surrounded by large, open windows and smells of rich coffee. She finds Agent Sims sitting at a red bistro table that’s tucked in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes or nosy ears.

“Did you already order?” Sloan asks once she reaches the table. She sets her brown, leather briefcase down and makes herself comfortable in the metal chair. Her mind is still subconsciously skimming the room, taking a mental picture of each person milling about the café.

“No, I was waiting on you,” he responds in an easy tone as he brushes a strand of his thick, black hair away from his dark-as-night eyes.

“Sorry. I was running late. I had a surgery that lasted a little longer than expected,” she explains as she opens up the plastic menu written entirely in Spanish.

A young waitress takes their orders—coffee and a bagel for Sloan, espresso and a muffin for Sims.

The two agents maintain an easy conversation while waiting on their food. He discusses the few touristy things he’s enjoyed while Sloan updates him on her current surgery schedule. To an outsider, the conversation isn’t anything out of the norm, but Sloan and Agent Sims discreetly exchange information regarding their current locations in a roundabout way.

After their food arrives, he glances around the nearly empty room. He leans forward on his elbows, focusing his gaze on her. “I think we have a little more on our hands than we originally expected,” he begins. “But I’m confident that I’ve found the connection that will help us.”

Sloan’s eyebrows rise in intrigue. The biggest challenge of this mission will be finding the easiest way to get inside the Arturo compound without raising red flags of suspicion.

“I’m all ears,” she encourages.

He pulls out a few black-and-white pictures taken from a distance, the name
Alejandra Arturo
written on the bottom. The woman in the picture is downright stunning and looks to be around twenty-six or twenty-seven. Long hair that’s highlighted with rich chocolate and mocha tones, slim build, and large eyes that accentuate her feminine face.

“Sister?” Sloan asks before flipping the photo over to avoid anyone else in the café from seeing it.

Sims nods in response.

“What’s my angle?” she questions.

“She is the schoolteacher of the compound and has been seen taking any sick children to and from a physician’s office that’s about fifteen miles from your hospital,” he informs as he slides another photo across the table.
Dr. Juan Mendez
is written across the bottom. “I know it goes without saying, but there are interesting things coming and going from that office.”

Translation: Dr. Mendez is working with La Familia Arturo.

Sloan nods in understanding as she commits the photo to memory. “As long as we’re careful and handle our connection delicately, I think we have the right angle for our approach,” she declares. “I’ll talk with my colleagues at the hospital and delve deeper for more information regarding the overall response I would receive if”—she points to the photo of Dr. Mendez—“I paid him a visit.”

“Okay,” Sims responds in agreement.

“I’m surprised that Chief Dubois was on board with us meeting face to face,” she states.

Sims only shrugs his shoulders in response.

She takes inventory of his demeanor and an odd sensation punches her gut. Sloan tries to brush off the weird feeling with the fact that this is the first time they’ve ever worked together. Her overall read on him is probably off and her feelings of uncertainty—which seem to be aimed at him—are probably just secondary to the anxiety that revolves around this intense mission.

Right?

She chooses to handle this in the best way she knows how—a way that will prevent any further opportunities for her and Sims to be seen together.

“Well, even if Chief is okay with these impromptu meet and greets, this will be our last face-to-face meeting,” she says with a serious expression encompassing her face. “This information could have been easily discussed during a phone call. We can’t risk being seen together from here on out,” she adds as she watches Sims take in her words that could be construed as harsh.

Harsh or not, this is something that Agent Sims needs to hear.

There is zero room for error while they are in Guadalajara.
Zero.

And with that, Sloan leaves money on the table and gathers her leather briefcase before heading out of the café. Her nerves twitch in irritation. She is pissed that Sims left her that voicemail asking to meet him at the café to discuss information that didn’t require a personal visit. She is pissed that Chief Dubois—a man who should be looking out for her—agreed to it as well. The complete lack of regard that’s been portrayed makes her feel uncertain and slightly sick to her stomach.

They’ve only been in Guadalajara for four days and Sims has already risked their cover once.

Translation: Agent Sims might be a bigger risk than Hector Arturo himself if he doesn’t get his act together.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Four Days

How are you? It’s only been four days and I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve laid eyes on your handsome face. Bottom line: I miss you.

I wish you were here to experience this city with me. I was walking through downtown today and just kept daydreaming about all of the things I wanted to see with you by my side.

How about we play a little game of Remember When?

I’ll start…

Remember When…The one and only time that we indulged in a little Mary Jane after one of the football games? You got really pissed because Billy raided your candy stash and completely demolished your supply of Starbursts & Snickers. Billy wasn’t the candy culprit. It was me. I ate the candy. All of it. And it was fucking delicious. Mary Jane’s peer pressure was too strong to deny that night.

I hope you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

Always,

Meli

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: 108 Hours

It’s actually been 108 hours, sweetheart. And I miss you too. More than you’ll probably ever know...

Daydreaming about me? I hope it was dirty…

I’m keeping busy. We’re going to be heading out soon.
Guys stuff.
You get the drift. How are you? Safe, I hope. I’m thinking about you all the time, baby. All. The. Fucking. Time.

I can’t believe all this time I thought Billy was the asshole! Fuck, I practically fell out of chair when I read that one. You’re a sly one, my little Sasquatch.

Remember When…We went skinny dipping because I forgot the bag with our swimsuits? I didn’t forget the bag. I left it at my parent’s house on purpose. I was praying you’d at least flash me a little boob that day.

It was fantastic boob by the way. I can still picture it.

I love you.

Always,

Caveman

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Dirty? I like dirty…

My daydreams of you are endlessly sweet and full of kisses, holding hands, and looking into your gorgeous blue eyes…but my fantasies of you? Well, those sexy little thoughts that fill my head more often than I should admit are, as you say…
dirty
. Very, very dirty.

So dirty that my panties are wet just thinking about them…

Guys stuff? Yeah, I get the drift, and I hope that you’ll be safe too.

I had a feeling that you forgot the bag on purpose! You’re lucky I took pity on your tricky ass and showed my boobs anyways.

Remember When… The first time I gave you a blow job? I was nervous as hell since I had never done it before, so I did a little research. Porn research. I probably clocked in about forty hours’ worth of skin flicks before I did the deed. I hope my overachieving ways paid off.

Always,

Meli

P.S. I’m safe and there’s no need for you to worry your sexy little head about me.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: #%#$@$#@

Are you toying with me, sweetheart?

My cock is throbbing just thinking about your very dirty mind. Oh, the things I’ll do to that sassy little mouth of yours once you get back. Tell me more about these fantasies and maybe I’ll share a few of my own…

I can’t wait until we make these daydreams and fantasies of yours reality.

And you call me the randy bastard? I had no idea that I had such a porn enthusiast on my hands. We’ll have to enjoy that little hobby of yours when you get back.

Remember When… That guy friend of yours, Ellis, switched lab partners on you in Mr. Franklin’s biology class? That little dickhead never stopped looking at you and it drove me crazy. One day after class, I threatened to pummel his face in if he even breathed in your direction. So, I’m the real reason you got stuck being my lab partner. Ellis wasn’t the asshole, I was. Don’t be mad. I only did it because I had the biggest fucking crush on you.

Okay, I’m going to do two this round. I’m hoping this next RW will make you a little less pissed at me.

Remember When… You sent me pics of your gorgeous face from Italy? I still have them. Those pictures got me through some pretty dark times.

Always,

Caveman

P.S. Sexy little head? I agree with the sexy part, but I’m anything but little. The word huge comes to mind…

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: HUGE.

This will be the first and only time I’ll say these words. You’re right. Huge is a better description for you. You loving the fact that I’m stroking you to satisfaction right now? I know you get off on my ego boosts...

One of my fantasies? Hmmmm… It includes me, you, and eight hours of never leaving your bed. I might also have a desire to endeavor in a few public escapades with you. I have memories of sex on the beach that I’d like to revisit.

And all this time I thought Ellis was an insensitive jerk! Gah! You were such a Neanderthal!

Two things: 1. I really want to see those pictures. 2. You’re a hopeless romantic.

Remember When… our letters actually made it to each other? I saved the last one I ever received from you. I still have it. I read it the day of the NWF Dinner. The very day I laid eyes on your handsome face again. I guess I’m a romantic too…

I think I’m going to need a sexy phone call soon so I can hear your voice speaking delicious things into my ear. You game? I’ll bring my wet panties if you bring your HUGE, throbbing cock… I think it’ll make for a good night.

xxx

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: HELL YES.

I’m more than game. Consider me and my MASSIVE cock ready and waiting.

I love your fantasies, but I’d love them more if you described in full detail what you plan on doing for those eight hours. My fantasies of you are endless and always seem to end with one perfect, fucking moment… You riding me, screaming my name as your tight, little pussy grips my cock. Pretty fucking perfect, right? Go ahead and say it, baby. I’m right. Saddle up, cowgirl, because you’re going to need to get used to saying those two words for the rest of your life.

And yes, I’m hopelessly in love with you. You’ve turned me into a fucking pansy-ass-sap and I fucking love it. Keep up the good work, sweetheart.