Yours in Black Lace (2 page)

His gaze shifted to the man beside her in the picture, the man he planned to destroy. Emelio Sanchez had made the grave error of allowing his feelings to show and the camera had recorded the moment. Falling in love would be the death of him; Braga would make sure of it.

He lit a cigarette and imagined another face, another time. Braga crushed the photograph in his fist. Yes, Sanchez would pay. First with the Madison woman’s life and then with his own.

“Fine, I admit it. I’m an old-fashioned guy with a protective streak toward the fairer gender. But my decision is based on level of experience—”

“This is the twenty-first century, Emelio. A woman can do just about anything a man can. She doesn’t need to hide behind him. I don’t need to hide.”

He came around the desk and loomed over her, as if trying to use his size and stubbornness to intimidate her. “You know what I’m suggesting is the most logical solution. If you want to be treated like a professional, then act like one.”

His attitude was all it took for her to hit seriously pissed off. Stevie got in Emelio’s face, her height and two-inch heels putting her almost at his eye level. Stevie tried to concentrate on her argument, but the citrus and spice aftershave Emelio wore kept distracting her. She could feel the warmth emanating from his incredible body and the dark wisps of chest hair visible in the opening of his shirt was turning her on.

It didn’t matter that he was a walking pheromone, though. He was still a domineering dictator seriously jeopardizing her chance for career advancement. Her therapist would be proud that she’d, one, identified her emotions and, two, focused on the source. She was just about to follow step three, voicing her feelings, when the receptionist walked in.

“Jeez, Emelio, you got, like, a ton of mail today.” Tiffnee bounced over to where they stood glaring at each other, oblivious to the tension in the air.

He finally broke Stevie’s stare to acknowledge the bundle of mail thrust at him with a brief nod. “Thanks, Tiffnee.”

“No problem, boss.” The perky brunette grinned at him, revealing a wad of bright pink bubblegum. “Hey, Stevie. Great sweater. Beau-tique, right? I saw it last time I went shopping at Aventura Mall.”

She was irritated by the interruption, but being nasty to Tiffnee was a sin on par with kicking a puppy. So she listened as the girl launched into an inane conversation about the latest fashions. Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie recognized a small pearl-gray envelope. She saw Emelio tuck her ninth erotic note in his back pocket and continue to sort through the mail.

“Tiffnee.”

The receptionist turned her head in the same instant Stevie did, both of them alerted to the tone of his voice. In the space of a heartbeat Stevie realized that Emelio held a plain manila packet in his hand.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you.” Tiffnee pursed her rosebud lips in apology. “The messenger who just left said that one was, like, urgent.”

Emelio dropped the mail and sprinted for the door.

“Urgent means right-away-immediately-now, Tiff.” Stevie bent over and snatched the packet off the floor. “Sanchez” was written in thick black marker, just like on the envelope she got. She ripped it open with fingers gone cold from dread. A precisely cut article from the
Miami Herald
lay on top of another stack of photographs.

Stevie made a sound of acknowledgement before flipping the newsprint under the photos. She blinked in confusion. Who the hell had taken these? The pictures showed her in a guard uniform, arms stretched wide to hold back a crowd of onlookers.

“I remember that. Miramax asked us to provide extra security while they were filming
Angelfire
near the Bayside Marketplace.”

Tiffnee grabbed her arm. “Ooh, I just love Will Smith! He’s so hot.”

The next photo was of Emelio standing watch outside of a large white trailer, then one of them together near the expensive car used in the movie’s chase scenes. Stevie shuffled the stack to the last picture and the breath caught in her throat. She stared at the close-angle shot.

Her head was turned to the left, smiling at something out of view. Emelio stood beside her and the camera had captured his unguarded expression. Several indefinable emotions were reflected in his gaze, lighting his hazel eyes with a smoldering intensity.

“Wow, Stevie. That man wants you bad.”

She choked out a laugh. If she wasn’t looking at Mr. Calm, Cool and Controlled with her own eyes, she never would have believed the depth of his regard. A warm tingling feeling spread through her body and settled in the apex of her thighs.
That man wanted her bad.

Just then Emelio came back into his office. Tiffnee snatched the one picture and shoved it inside her T-shirt. She whispered under her breath, “I’ll put this in your purse.”

Stevie turned to Emelio, hoping her expression showed concern and not unexpected delight. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead as if he’d shoved it out of his eyes, revealing the small stud in his left ear and giving him a fresh-from-bed sexiness. “Did you find him?”

He scowled and stalked across the room, moving with his signature long, fluid stride. “I took the stairs since the elevators are notoriously slow, but I didn’t see any messenger.”

Stevie listened closely while Tiffnee briefly described the “blond hottie” who’d delivered both packages.

“I want a full, written description of him, everything he said and anything else you remember.”

“For sure, boss. Like, written written or typed written?” At the look he gave her, the receptionist backed toward the door. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

Emelio shook his head as she bounced back out the door. “That girl is lucky she’s Alex’s cousin.”

Stevie passed him the contents of the manila envelope. “I’d say this blows your ‘harmless admirer’ theory.”

“Feel free to open my mail.”

“I did, thanks.”

Emelio sank into his chair while reading the article, his brooding expression firmly in place. Considering he’d just run down ten flights, there was only the faintest sheen of sweat on his forehead and he wasn’t even out of breath. A woman had to admire that kind of stamina.

She sauntered around the desk and rested one hip on the edge, allowing her blue-and-white skirt to creep up her thigh an inch or so. “That headline relates to your investigation at the Cayo Sueño Resort, right?”

Against his better judgment, Emelio allowed his gaze to travel. It moved from the long, slim thigh, over her knee and along her shapely calf to the high-heeled sandal dangling off her bare toes. It took him a second to remember her question. He raised his focus to Stevie’s face.

“Yeah, we were working an SOD case against the Dominican cartel. Alex went undercover down in the Keys as an investment broker, trying to use a man named Rogelio Braga to get to Frankie Ramos, former head of the cartel. I operated behind the scenes to gather evidence of money laundering. Braga disappeared two days before the arrest, but we finally took down Ramos and seized over a hundred million dollars from their organization.”

“I didn’t work on that case. So I don’t understand what this has to do with me.” She indicated the pictures from the movie set.

“Neither do I. Not yet.”

As he laid the newest set of photos on the desktop, he accepted that Stevie’s safety was now his responsibility. He didn’t want to tell her any more than necessary, not until he was sure. But it seemed obvious Braga intended to use Stevie to get to him. Braga prided himself on being a man who never forgot a favor. Or a slight.

Emelio had more than slighted him. He had infiltrated the cartel right under the man’s nose.
Gracias a Dios,
Alex had taken his wife, Meghan, and their newborn son to Baltimore to visit her family. That was three less people he had to worry about.

“I want to be on the road within the next hour.”

Stevie’s eyes darkened to a stormy gray, her sexy pout twisting into a frown. “Where are
you
going?”

“Wherever you go, lady. I’m not leaving your side.”

A warm frisson of awareness passed between them. Her pupils dilated in the dark blue depth of her gaze and he heard the quick intake of breath before she turned her normally subtle Southern accent into a sensual drawl.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Emelio. I am a bodyguard. Well, at least I’ve been through the training.”

“Then you know how it works. We stay together 24/7 until this is over.”

The photograph that had captured his rare moment of openness was hidden in her handbag, but she didn’t need to take it out to remember Emelio’s expression. That look of unguarded lust had her feeling hot and tingly. So did the touch of his hand on her forearm.

Emelio stood in front of her, checking in all directions as he held the freight elevator open. His palm felt smooth and warm and strong and a bolt of desire shot though her. How many nights had she dreamed of having his hands stroke and caress her? How many times had she settled for her own?

Excitement hummed along her veins as her eyes roamed over him. His long hair touched the top of his collar in dark waves. The pistachio cotton shirt stretched across the wide expanse of his back was tucked into a pair of black jeans that molded to his butt and thighs.

The guy looked just as good going as coming.

A grin spread over her face. She hadn’t seen him coming yet. But she hoped to before the week was out. Stevie sobered her expression just as Emelio turned his head and nodded.

“All clear.”

His hand slid down to clasp her fingers, and the casual touch sent ripples of longing throughout her body. After another glance around, he led her down the cement-block hallway toward the service entrance. She stumbled as she followed him across the alleyway to the parking garage.

“Slow down, will you? I’m wearing sandals.” He shortened his stride with an apology, allowing her to catch up. To her surprise, he bypassed the VIP slots at the front of the garage. “Isn’t that your Lexus parked right over there?”

“Yeah, it is. We’re taking another car.”

Her hand flexed involuntarily beneath his when her pulse leaped with a different kind of excitement. “What are you going to do, hot-wire one?”

“Something like that.”

He looked around once more and let go of her hand before opening the door to the stairwell. She felt an odd sense of separation at the loss of contact. She also felt her calves screaming in protest.

“You take the stairs. These shoes are more decorative than functional. I’m catching the elevator.”

“One, we don’t want to get trapped in an elevator if anyone’s waiting for us. And two, we’re only going up two flights. You’ll live.”

Her sandals clattered on the concrete. “My life has become a spy-thriller movie.”

“Oh, yeah? Which Bond girl are you?” When he glanced at her a flash of amusement lit his hazel eyes.

“I always thought Holly Goodhead was a great name.” She smirked when his step faltered. The flare of heat in his eyes was quickly extinguished, but she saw it. And she would use it to her advantage later. “But I’d rather be Wai Lin, the heroine in
Tomorrow Never Dies.
”

“You don’t look Chinese.”

“Funny. She was the best, very strong and independent. Her character was more Bond’s equal. You should watch that film before assigning the next interesting case to one of the guys.”

“I like Sean Connery’s Bond girls better. You can’t go wrong with a woman named Pussy Galore.”

Stevie wrinkled her forehead and grimaced. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“How about, ‘Ooh, James’?”

A chuckle escaped her at his impression of the line spoken by every woman in every Bond movie. Great body, bad-boy attitude and a sense of humor. What more could she ask for?

As Emelio pushed open the level-three entrance, Stevie took a quick look around and then followed him toward the corner parking spaces. It was all very stealthy and exciting. She watched him walk to the passenger side of a silver sports car and pretend to check the tires. Then he reached inside the wheel well and pulled out a small metal box. Inside was a set of keys.

“Well, I’m disappointed. I thought I was finally going to learn how to hot-wire.”

“I’ll teach you some other time.” He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

She lowered herself onto the gray leather seat and swung her legs inside. “Mmm. Very nice. Whose car is this?”

“It’s registered to the corporation, so technically it belongs to the agency.” He shut her in and walked around the rear of the vehicle.

By the time he reached the other side, she was already in the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window when he tapped impatiently on the glass. “Since it’s the agency’s car, I get to drive. Hop in, handsome, and I’ll take you for a ride.”

At her choice of words frown lines appeared between his eyebrows, warring with a flash of sexual interest in his gaze. Then his expression cleared and she saw the corner of his mouth relax, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

Emelio nodded once in agreement. “Makes sense, since you know the way to your apartment.”

She started the engine and snuggled into the driver’s seat. “Sweet getaway car. Does it have a rocket launcher or remote-controlled steering?”

“You watch way too many movies.” He handed her the card key to get past the garage’s electronic gate.

As she turned her head to check for oncoming traffic, a beige sedan idling against the curb caught her eye. Looking at the man behind the wheel triggered alarms in her brain. “Emelio, I think that’s the messenger Tiffnee described.”

He swung his head to where she indicated. “Start driving and see if he follows.”

She eased out into traffic, trying to watch where she was going and peer into the rearview mirror at the same time. The presence of the messenger was unnerving, but she welcomed the challenge. She’d always wanted to drive a getaway car.

Emelio’s cell phone began to chime. “Hello? Angie. I can’t— Yes, I know—”

Didn’t those women ever stop calling him? The sudden stab of jealousy annoyed the hell out of her, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. “The beige sedan is pulling away from the curb, heading this way.”

“We’ll have to talk later,
cariña.
” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone into the beverage holder.

Cariña,
again. He could at least show enough imagination to give his girlfriends different endearments. Envy had her growling as she glanced in the mirror again. “He’s only two cars behind us now.”

“Find someplace to pull over.”

“Forget it. We’ll be perfect targets.” Stevie waited until the traffic light turned yellow. Then she shifted down into second gear and hit the gas. The powerful V-6 engine roared in response and she peeled across the intersection, tires squealing.

“Are you crazy?” Emelio braced one arm against the door handle and tightened his seat belt. He held his breath until they shot past the delivery van barreling toward his side of the car. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Staring straight ahead, Stevie answered him through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to lose the bad guy.”

He rolled his eyes, unsure whether to laugh or pray. But a glance in the side-view mirror confirmed that the beige sedan had dodged the car in front of it and run the red light.
Mierda!
Thanks to Braga, and the wild woman beside him, he was going to end up a big smear on the pavement.

He turned his head to look at Stevie in case she was the last thing he ever saw. Her color was high and a daredevil grin split her face as she gripped the steering wheel in both hands and sped around a motorcycle. She was really loving this. And he was going to die.

“Hang a right onto First Street, then we’ll switch places so that I can drive.”

Stevie cut across to the far lane, downshifted and took the turn on two wheels. “I’m an expert at this, Emelio. I’ve been trained in high-speed, evasive and counterambush driving techniques.”

“Counter. Ambush. You’re kidding, right?” When he snickered, she shot him an offended glance.

She darted in and out between slower-moving cars. “No. I took a couple of classes with a former Secret Service agent. Graduated with honors, too.”

Of course she had. Out of nowhere, he wondered if she approached sex the same way. Just the thought of being on the receiving end of all that relentless enthusiasm got him hard. What the hell was going on? He’d never considered sleeping with her before. And he couldn’t consider it now.

Emelio checked the mirror again. “Damn, that beige sedan won’t let up.”

“No problem.” She slowed the car, as if stopping for another light, then whipped the steering wheel to the left and raced along East Flagler Street. “I’m serious about doing fieldwork, Emelio. I’m ready.”

“Can we talk about this later?” He closed his eyes and waited for the impact when she tried to pass the freight truck in front of them.

“I’ve studied martial arts, explosives recognition, tactical firearms and hostage survival skills.”

“We’re private investigators, Stevie, not the Navy SEALs.”

“Just know, I’m not giving up on this. I’m tired of sitting behind a desk designing alarm systems.”

“Later.” His heart leaped into his throat as she made a hard right around a minivan and careened onto Second Avenue.

“Listen, I’m more than qualified for the job—”

“Watch out!” He had to yell over the blare of honking horns. “Didn’t any of those classes teach you how to read a One Way sign?”

She managed to evade the oncoming cars and got off on Fourth Street. From behind them, Emelio heard the squeal of brakes followed by the crunch of metal against metal. He looked back to confirm the beige sedan was no longer behind them.

“Hoo yah!”

He turned at Stevie’s victory shout, not surprised to see her triumphant grin. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes alive with excitement, and he imagined she’d wear that same expression after a few hours in bed. Looking at her, he wasn’t sure if the rush he felt was adrenaline or attraction. Either way he wanted to reach over and kiss her, long and hard.

Stevie finally slowed down to the posted speed limit, but his heart beat an unsteady tattoo and his right hand still had a death grip on the door handle. He ought to flay her alive for taking ten years off his life, then have her committed to the nearest asylum.

Instead, he answered her proud grin with a quirk of his eyebrow. “So. What other classes have you taken?”