One Wrong Move (16 page)

“Tell me about Mike.”

Rayma bent down and touched her toes. The way her butt arched upward made his skin tighten. He should practice some of those
relaxation
moves himself.

“Tell you what about him?” she asked.

“How did you meet? Did you intentionally seek him out after you learned about Darrell’s operation, or did you learn about it after you started dating Mike?”

She came up, her arms stretching to the sky then down in front of her chest. She whisked a piece of hair out of her face then slumped. “Yeah. I knew he was Darrell Weberley’s accountant. I’d already gotten the first anonymous tip about the restaurant, while I was still working for the news. The production crew wouldn’t let me do a story, so I decided to blog about it.”

Of course she’d sought Mike out. Everything Camden had learned about her thus far revealed her inquisitiveness. He groaned to himself as she turned away and sauntered across the room, hips swaying, head held high.

He might have admired her courage if not for the fact it could get her killed.

***

Rayma

Rayma blew out a breath as she sat on the bench in the corner of the room and put on her shoes. She had to get out of the gym. Her relaxation technique was no longer working since Camden stormed through the door looking hot, dirty, and grumpy.

And God, that body. Why did he have to have such an intriguing body? Even with the mud and gunk all over him, and the frown that defined the hard but oh-so-beautiful features of his face. No man should look that good. He’d be a lot easier to ignore, a lot easier to handle, if he wasn’t so freaking hot.

She yanked on her shoes, tied them, then stood. Camden hadn’t moved, only continued to frown at her as he held the tall can of beer at his side.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your shower,” she said as she stomped to the door.

He vaulted toward her and gripped her arm.

“Ow.” She tried to shake him off, but he only softened his hold. No matter how lax, his hands were like an iron grip. Not effeminate like Mike’s or even Keegan’s.

“You can’t be writing articles on things you know nothing about.” His hard-edged voice sent tremors to her stomach.

“Well, I won’t be anymore, thanks to your group.”

“Why didn’t you give that tip to the police and let them handle it?”

“I tried at first. Nobody did anything about it, and everybody said I was crazy. Then I figured most of the cops were involved.” She blinked at him, aware he wanted to know why she decided to pursue the information on her own. She regretted that decision now. If she hadn’t decided to probe, she’d still have her job at News 12, still be safe in her own apartment and not thinking about falling into bed with Camden Alexander.

And she’d still be bored out of her mind.

“Look, you’re not going to understand why I do what I do, and I won’t understand why you do what you do. So let’s leave it at that.”

“So you sought out his CPA?”

“It wasn’t that difficult.” Actually, it’d been a lot easier than Rayma had imagined. She’d gone to an art gallery during a fundraiser, and Mike had immediately been smitten. She only played hard to get for a couple days so as not to lose her chance to nab his interest.

Camden dropped his hold and backed away. Flecks of sand lined the sheen of his muscles like golden dimples on his skin. A slurry of dirt and God knew what should have made him repulsive, but it didn’t.

I guess I like my men dirty
. God, she was an idiot. A complete and total idiot.

She pivoted toward the door and made her exit before she did anything stupid. Like kiss him, or join him in that shower. She was done with making reckless decisions, and dreaming of Camden and the way his body felt next to hers was definitely reckless.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Camden

Days later, Camden found Rayma lounging on a chair near the beach. Dex was on guard a few feet away. Dusk painted a mural of purple and gray across the sky, and sea foam frothed leisurely on the sand. The sun rested against the top of the ocean and offered rays and shadows across the earth.

Her hair was twisted up in some type of ponytail atop her head, half of it spilling out. The thought of tugging free those strands and running his fingers through them turned him on. He shook himself out of his reverie before she noticed the effects of his fantasy, and plopped himself down on the sand next to her chair. The surf saturated his denim shorts but he didn’t care. The cold water against his tightness was an aching relief.

“Don’t you think you should be inside?” he asked. The waning sun produced a dull light to read by, but the kaleidoscope of colors against the horizon was like peering into a deep abyss of heaven. He inhaled, and the scent of the sand and the salt combined with her perfume roused his hormones.

He’d never wanted a woman more than he wanted Rayma. And she was off-limits. As a witness, a relationship with her was strictly forbidden and could subject him to a hell of a mess.

Rayma stood, and her leg accidentally grazed his shoulder. He wrapped his hand around her ankle to stop her, but she shook him off. Sand flew across his chest.

“No,” she said as she gave him a sideways glance and gathered her belongings, her movements stiff. “I must go in, per your request.”

“Dammit, Rayma. If you’re going to listen to my requests then I demand you sit back down and hear what I have to say.”

She sighed, practically fell back in her lounger, and grabbed her book, making a show of her anger.

“Someone is trying to kill you—”

“Not someone,” she said. “Darrell Weberley. Someone you work for. Someone you could have busted by now.”

“And you’re on the beach as if you have no cares in the world.”

“Didn’t you know? There are agents all around me.” She waved her arms as if to show him. He’d trust Dex with his life, but he trusted no one when it came to Rayma.

Not even himself.

He waved at Dex to indicate he could take a break and thus give him alone time with Rayma.

“You can stay mad at me all you want,” Camden said. “But that won’t change anything. If you think I should just let you go, then you don’t know this business, or how much danger you would be in if you left here. If you think I should let you go so you can play bait, you’re out of your mind. They’re out to kill you, and I won’t be able to protect you, or myself, if they find out I’m not really a chef.”

“I wouldn’t tell them.”

“Darrell isn’t stupid.”

“Someone must be. You’re still his chef, and he’s still dealing drugs.”

“Do you know an agent was watching over your house the night those goons came in to kill you? We could put dozens of agents around your house and it wouldn’t matter when Dare found out you were back there. If I hadn’t overheard them talking about their plan that night, you’d probably be dead.”

“Should I thank you for saving my life?” she asked.

“Unless you think Beacon could have saved you.”

What the hell was he doing? Was he expecting gratitude from this heartless woman? That wasn’t his original intention, but damn, she got under his skin in more ways than one.

Starting with the way those nipples strained at her barely there top.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. She opened her book and glared at it. Why was she pretending to read when the damn thing was upside down?

She turned it upright, and her gaze moved across the page, but the waning sunlight convinced him it was all an act, an obvious attempt to ignore him.

Shadows stroked every curve of her body, and he wondered if the chill bumps dancing across her flesh were because of him.

He hoped so.

He fingered the strap of her top. She shuddered, but kept her eyes averted. That night in her attic flashed through his mind. He wanted to do more, so much more with her, and that memory burned him like a brand.

Despite what Rayma thought, he didn’t consider women only good for one thing. He admired women, appreciated them, respected them, and would never force one to do something she didn’t want to do. He didn’t mind challenging them out of their comfort zone, however, and he definitely wanted to draw Rayma out of hers.

His palm skated down her waist to untie the sarong that covered her, and he wondered why she kept herself hidden. Most women with a body like hers would be itching to expose it.

She ignored him, but didn’t push him away. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath. He rubbed his hands down the inside of her leg and then up the other.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she continued to study the book and ignore him. He knew it was foolish to give in to his temptation to touch her, tease her, and make her react, but he couldn’t help himself.

He studied the angles of the house and knew their location was private. The other agents had all left the area, and he could hear Lacey arguing with Moore over something, voices rising but staying distant. He shifted to kneel, and his knees dug into the sand as the waves crashed against the shore.

Slipping his finger under Rayma’s bikini bottom, he slowly touched the folds of her warmth. She quivered and bit her lip, her hips slowly undulating. His finger slid deeper and he peeped one more time at the house. The sun was down, too many shadows now, and he was sure no one could see, so he dipped his head and tasted her.

The book fell in the sand. She gasped and clutched the back of his neck. “God. No.”

She opened her hips and rested her head on the lounger. His tongue moved against her as he drank.

She bit down a soft moan. He slid his finger in and out of her as his tongue continued to lick her wet heat. She tightened around him, her body trembling as she came, and he slowed his ministrations.

When he pulled away, he knew by her jerky movements that she was no longer in the throes of passion, and not at all happy with what just happened.

***

Rayma

Rayma hated him. He was exactly the kind of man she accused men of being. An egotistical, sex-driven maniac who thought every girl wanted to be with him.

She hated that it was true for her, hated the way he made her insides feel like a butterfly attempting to weave through hurricane winds. She hated the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and lit on her as if she were the focal point of his private musing. His hands were soft, yet rough like a man’s hands should be.

Her body betrayed her at his touch.

She snatched her sarong and wrapped the minuscule cloth around her waist. She swayed, almost losing her balance, but dug her heels into the sand to regain some semblance of normalcy, if not mentally then at least physically.

Camden gripped her elbow. “Are you okay?”

Thank God the sun had gone down. Maybe he couldn’t see the way her face flamed. How could she have let herself go like that?

“I’m fine,” she muttered. She should be better than fine, after that explosive orgasm, and if she could just get herself together, she might be able to take the upper hand. Use him like he had used her. She had a story to write, after all.

“Don’t be angry at me,” he said. “You could have stopped me.”

Oh, so this was all on her, was it? What a jerk. Well, two could play this game. “Why should I stop you? Might as well have a little bit of enjoyment while I’m here.”

“So why not go back to my place and finish that enjoyment.” His voice was like a slow, sexy drumbeat. Her hips almost swayed to his rhythm again. And to just think about his mouth literally being on her moments ago.

She was so mad at herself for surrendering to his touch. “No, thanks. I’m done here.” She wheeled around and tramped through the sand to the house, praying she wouldn’t have to face any of the agents, especially Moore or Lacey. No doubt they’d be able to tell exactly what had happened out here on the beach.

As she opened the door, Camden followed her inside. Moore stormed past her and told Camden, “I’m taking the night off.”

“Must be nice to go out,” Lacey called after him.

Moore whipped around. “Oh, give me a break. I’m starting to think I need to put a homing device on you. You disappear all the time.” With that, he turned and left in a huff.

“Where’s he going?” Rayma said, to no one in particular.

“There’s nothing in the house to eat,” Lacey fussed as the door slammed behind Moore.

“There’s plenty to eat if you weren’t too damn lazy to fix it,” Camden said.

Rayma’s temper rose at Camden’s callous words. Lacey might bitch way too much, but she was not lazy. She cooked and cleaned for everyone, did their laundry, ran errands and went to the store for all the agents, and guarded Rayma the rest of the time. She imagined that in itself had to be tiring.

Before she had a chance to join the argument, Lacey continued. “I was supposed to be off today.”

“Me, too,” Camden said, “and when I’m hungry, I’ll fix myself something to eat. You can do the same. I’m damn sure not cooking.”

“It’s all about you, isn’t it?”

The tension in the house had been rising over the past few days. It had oozed from Lacey all afternoon, as if she resented watching over Rayma soaking up the sun. What else was she supposed to do when she was stuck here? And Lacey had seemed to enjoy the sun just as much.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Rayma asserted, tired of the fights but powerless to do anything about them. She had been alone too long to try to live with a woman whose moods fluctuated every moment.

Lacey rolled her eyes. “I’m going out,” she said, then stalked out the door, leaving Rayma alone with Camden again.

No matter how much she enjoyed his touch, she wasn’t about to be weak again, regardless of how quivery her legs still were.

“You need to stop being so hard on her,” she demanded. “She works her butt off around here to keep things going. Her job is just as important as yours and not nearly as recognized.”

“Well, maybe if she wouldn’t bitch all the time.”

“She has every right to when she’s treated like shit.”

“She isn’t treated like shit, but she wants to be out where the action is and wants to blame everyone for that not happening, even though she knew exactly what this assignment was when she took it. Her job isn’t easy, I get that, but give me a break. I have to put myself in a drug dealer’s control and keep my head on straight so I don’t get killed, when all I want to do is curl up in the sand and let the waves wash over me. Then there are people like you who think I’m a bad person, just because I’m trying to bust creeps like Darrell, like I’d waste the past few months of my life trying to bust him and then turn on my crew so I can work for him.”

Surprise at his outburst kept her from responding.

“You think I’d do it for money?” He raised his shoulders, then lowered them, but she wasn’t sure if it was a shrug, a stretch, or a mask of agitation. “Money doesn’t mean shit to me.”

Rayma pointedly examined the unconventional carvings on the ceiling that looked as if angels were peering down on them, the white walls making it look as if heaven was just around the horizon, and the marble tile floor, obviously expensive.

“This isn’t my house,” Camden said.

“Whose is it?”

“Special Agent Tom Dunsky and his wife Melinda. She’s a sculptor and makes a lot of money. This is one of many the agency uses as a safe house during operations, and they’ve leased it to us for as long as we need it.”

Rayma nodded and studied the floor, unsure what to do next as awkwardness consumed her. She felt bad for accusing him of being in with Darrell, even though she hadn’t ever really believed that. He took his job way too seriously to become a criminal. He reminded her of James in that aspect.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Camden rubbed his hand through his hair. His jaw was tense, brows furrowed. “Sorry for what happened moments ago. I lost my head a moment. Stress, I guess. If you want to report me to my superiors, I understand.”

“And what happens if I report you?” Rayma asked, needling him. She had no plans to report him, but it was fun to see him squirm.

His gaze jerked to her, surprised. “I’d lose my job more than likely. Might even face criminal charges.”

That confession surprised her. “Criminal charges?”

“Things turn complicated when you develop a relationship with a witness.”

“Wow. So if I ever got really mad at you…”

His eyes crinkled, face relaxed once he realized she was teasing.

“Can we forget it ever happened?” Rayma asked. She didn’t want to forget it. His touch still burned on her. But she knew it would be best if they could both go on without having to second guess each other.