Holiday Heat Page 16

He leaned over her, his long hair swinging over those catch-your-breath eyes. “The lighting is infinitely better in my bedroom. You can ask my wife.”

  Under any other circumstances, Marisela might have socked him for flirting with her when he was married and unavailable, but she didn’t have the strength. She’d been prone and still for over a half an hour. Any quick movement could set off a cascade of pain she’d rather not experience.

  “Who are you again?” she asked.

  “Annoyed that you’re wasting my time.”

  “It’s for a good cause,” she assured him. “Where’s the detective now?”

  He shrugged. “No idea, but I don’t think she believed you were hurt.”

  “I’m not,” she said, grunting as she pulled up onto her elbows and yanked the saline solution tube from the IV imbedded in her hand.

  He cursed as he rushed around to the other side of the gurney to do the rest of the job himself. His hands were soft. Ridiculously soft. The kind of soft a girl could get used to, when she wasn’t about to run off and hunt down the men who’d kidnapped her sister.

  “I’m impressed you could remain so still while they put in a line,” he said, covering her stinging wound with an adhesive bandage.

  “You’d be surprised at what I can do when I’m perfectly still.” She waggled her eyebrows and the doctor’s suntanned cheeks pinkened.

  “Did I mention how much of my time you’re wasting?”

  He tried to look stern, but it was hard for him to pull off with those baby blues.

  “How’s my friend?”

  “In surgery,” he said, “but she’s going to be fine. The ophthalmologist was on site for another case, so he took her right back. You were both lucky. Her family is here if you want to see them.”

  Marisela snagged her jacket from the floor. She was grateful Lia was going to recover, but wasn’t anxious to wait around while she did so—especially not with her family. Ever since elementary school, Lia’s parents and brothers had worried about Marisela’s influence. They’d never out-and-out banned them from hanging out together—well, not until Marisela had started running around with Las Reinas—but they’d voiced their displeasure over Marisela’s less-than-legal activities with impressive Italian verve and volume.

  They loved her, but hated the way she lived. After the beat-out from the gang that had left Marisela nearly dead in this exact hospital, Lia had insisted on remaining by her side twenty-four, seven. Only then had Lia’s family realized that the bond between the two different personalities would bend, but would never break.

  Still, they hadn’t been happy when Lia had given up her job with the mayor to run the Titan office with her reckless best friend. Despite Marisela’s assurances that she’d protect Lia at all costs, she’d failed. On an innocent trip to the airport, she’d nearly gotten her blown up.

  “Has anyone else come looking for me?”

  Dr. McFuego grinned. He had a dimple, not unlike the man she was waiting to get her out of this house of horror.

  “A man. Dark skin, dark hair, scar under his lip. Skillfully avoided catching the attention of the police, I noticed.”

  Marisela tried to temper her smile, but the observant doctor wasn’t fooled.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked, having the manners to sound disappointed.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Sounds like an interesting story. I half-wish you were going to stick around and tell me all about it.”

  Marisela raised her eyebrows. “Trust me, it’s a sad story and you probably get your fill of those around this place. Think you can get me clear of having to answer uncomfortable questions?”

  The doctor’s mouth bent into a frown, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you do anything illegal?”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m the victim here.”

  “Do you know who blew up your car?”

  She shook her head. “No, but if you help me slip away, I’ll probably find out long before any cops do.”

  “And then what?”

  She slinked across the room to where he blocked the door—her one and only way out. “I won’t take the law into my own hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” she lied, sliding her hand up his chest and twisting her fingers around his stethoscope.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  She feigned surprise. “Do I look dangerous?”

  “Very.”

  She dropped the innocent act and patted him forcefully on the chest. “You’re a smart man. But I’m dangerous not only by birth, but by trade. I’m a security specialist. I work for one of the best firms in the country. Let me find out who tried to kill me and my best friend, okay? I won’t avoid the police forever.”

  Though she would certainly try.

  The doctor thought hard for a minute, then held up his hand to tell her to stay put. He pushed on the swinging doors, took a long look out and around, then waved her over.

  “Last time I saw him, your swarthy friend was flirting with the nurses at admitting.” He pointed. “If you head that way, you should run into him.”

  “And the Amazonian detective?”

  He smirked. “I’m a doctor, not a lookout.”

  Marisela quirked an eyebrow. “You’re also a red-blooded, heterosexual male. Which way did she go?”

  After grinding his teeth, he admitted, “She hit the elevators right before you miraculously woke up.”

  Marisela lightly slapped his cheek. “Gracias.”

  After double checking for any signs of police, either uniformed or standing tall in platform pumps, Marisela tugged her jacket closed and slipped from the exam room.

  Not surprisingly, there were two uniforms standing sentry by the main exit. She ducked into the women’s bathroom and texted Frankie her location.

  A minute later, voices in the waiting room outside rose from a steady hum to shrieks and shouts. Pushing the door open a sliver, she watched the crowd charging the admissions desk, fists and arms raised high. Frankie sure as hell knew how to stir up a distraction. The police stationed beside the exit waded into the fray, their hands on their guns, ordering people to disperse.

  For once, Marisela followed their instructions. She dashed out of the double glass doors, then spun into the shadows, into the arms of the man who’d yet again saved her ass.

  “You work fast,” she complimented.

  Frankie ran his hands over the small of her back and then down to her ass. His hazel eyes glinted with his relentless machismo, and for once, she was thankful beyond words.

  “When I need to work fast, I work fast. But I much prefer to go real, real, slow, ¿verdad?”

  For one stolen moment, Marisela allowed Frankie’s spiced, musky scent to erase the medicinal odors clinging to her clothes like a terrified child. His warmth eased her aches and pains, but his kiss, one stolen swipe across her lips, popped her awake.

  “They took her, Frankie,” she said, hating how her voice cracked. “They stole my sister right from under my nose.”

  “But they didn’t take her far.”

  “She could be in another country by now.”

  “No, she can’t.”

  He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a slim, navy blue packet, which she tore open to the first page. Belinda’s face reflected back at her, looking entirely bored with the process of sitting for her passport photo.

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “Crime scene,” he replied.

  “This doesn’t mean they couldn’t take her out of the city,” Marisela allowed herself a split-second of triumph before reality slammed her in the gut. “They can get a fake in about an hour.”

  “Four hours,” Frankie corrected, “And only if they have the right contacts and a hell of a lot of cash. Fake passports aren’t as easy to come by around here as they are to Titan operatives. And if the kidnappers didn’t have an exit strategy that accounted for one of their guys getting shot, that buys us even more time.”

&nb
sp; “You’re going to help?”

  He tugged her close and she relaxed, for a second, against his chest. She just needed a heartbeat of a moment to process everything that had happened—and everything she had to do to get Belinda back.

  “I’m not abandoning you. Did you really think I would?”

  She twisted her mouth into a grimace. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s get out here. Work out a plan.”

  “But what about staking out the ER? It’s the closest one to the airport. I got in a good shot. If he loses enough blood, they’ll have to bring him here.”

  “Or dump his body by the side of a road,” Frankie said. “We don’t know if that guy was hired muscle or the one in charge. And we can’t wait around to find out. Too many cops.”

  “Let me go back inside,” she suggested. “Talk to the doctor.”

  But true to form, Frankie took her by the arm and forced her out of the shadows far away from the ER entrance.

  “I got it covered.”

  She’d bet a half-dozen nurses now had his number, but she didn’t complain. For one, her relationship with Frankie was far from exclusive. And two, if one of them gave up a clue that would lead them to her sister, she’d consider sleeping with them herself.

  Well, maybe not. But she’d make sure Frankie made risking their jobs worthwhile. That, she could guarantee.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he boosted her over a fence that separated the hospital’s parking lot from the medical center where he’d parked.

  He cleared the chain-link barrier with the ease of a cat, grinning like one who’d just finished lapping up a bowlful of cream.

  “Isn’t that always the question with us, vidita? Your place…or mine?”

  Chapter Six

  He’d tempted her. Marisela had been riding his ass for over a month for a chance to see the inside of his condo, but instead, she directed him to her place, which was only a few blocks away. There, she’d have access to her work phone, computer and equipment, even if she didn’t have the mighty Titan machine to back her up. This time around, she had only him.

  Just like the old days—the days before he broke her heart.

  Not that he felt guilty about it—his decision to choose his gang over her had probably been stupid, but he couldn’t change the past. And he wasn’t so sure things would have turned out differently even if he had gone straight. He wouldn’t have gotten to know her sister any better. Her parents had sent her to a special school shortly after he and Marisela had met and all he knew was that she had some kind of mental condition that made her super-smart when it came to numbers and patterns and shit, but really dumb in people skills. But no matter how much her situation caused Marisela pain, she’d risk her life to get Belinda back unhurt.

  Although he wasn’t as keen to get between Marisela and her death wishes as he used to be, he wouldn’t leave her on her own. Quitting his position as her partner at Titan had been rough enough. Quitting her entirely? Impossible.

  “Who called?” he asked after she reset the alarm in her office while listening to the messages on her cell, both of which had come in while they’d been casing the neighborhood to make sure they weren’t being watched.

  “My mother. The cop. She said I should call her at my ‘earliest convenience.’”

  “Which means you won’t be calling at all,” he concluded, flicking on the lights.

  He didn’t blame her. He might have connections to the police department that he had exploited to get onto the crime scene, but even he knew better than to involve the cops in to this mess so early in the game. If the kidnappers made some outrageous demands, Marisela needed to consider all possibilities—not just the ones sanctioned by the law.

  “So the passport is all we have,” Marisela said.

  We. Marisela and Frankie, together again. He figured there could be worse ways to spend his time before the holidays.

  “It was just dumb luck I got that. Found it lodged under the wheel of a car parked not too far from yours.”

  She twisted in her seat and eyed him suspiciously. “How did you get so close?”

  He fiddled with a photo on Lia’s desk, which seemed to be the center of Titan’s satellite operation. From what he could tell, Marisela didn’t have a desk, though he suspected the curve in the plush couch near a laptop and a moldy cup of café con leche would perfectly fit her ass.

  “I have a contact who used to work the gang task force,” he explained, careful to leave out names or ranks. “That got me into the staging area on the parking garage’s bottom level. I swiped a crime scene tech jacket and blended into the chaos.”

  He’d gotten a hold of the passport because no one had found it, but he’d watched them recover what he believed to be Belinda’s cell phone. Unfortunately, once it was bagged and tagged, the chances of him getting near it had disappeared.

  “You took a chance getting this for me,” Marisela acknowledged, shaking the passport. “I owe you.”

  He scoffed. “Vidita, if I made you pay me back for all the things you owe me for, you’d be on your back for the rest of your life.”

  “I thought you liked it better when I was on top?”

  “Any way you want it, baby, I’m game.”

  He hoped she’d pick up the sexy banter and run with it, but she immediately put her attention back on the office phone. She called in to her office voicemail while she checked emails on Lia’s computer.

  After a long silence, she clicked off the phone and slammed the keyboard drawer shut. “El silencio está matándome.”

  He could only imagine how not hearing anything was tearing her apart. Marisela and patience had never been friends and inactivity was her mortal enemy. In situations like this, she could act without thinking, which would result in getting both of them—and her sister—into a shitload of trouble.

  The instinct to grab her, hold her tight, distract her with sex, fought with the knowledge that if he did any of the above, she’d gift him with a painful black eye.

  “You should call Max,” Frank suggested instead.

  Max, not Ian. Ian Blake, the Boston-Brit who ran Titan, was a first-class prick who put his Christmas holiday ahead of the safety of his people. But Max, Ian’s right-hand man, wouldn’t leave Marisela out in the cold if he knew she was in trouble. At least, Frank didn’t think he would.

  “His phone isn’t on and his texts aren’t going through. He said he was going off the grid and Max never lies.”

  “Unless the boss man orders him to,” Frank muttered, suddenly thankful for the business he got tracking down bastards who didn’t give a shit about their wedding vows. Tailing bastards who gave their mistresses diamonds for Christmas while the mother of their children got a vacuum cleaner had sucked the holiday spirit right out of him, but even that was better than working for Ian Blake. “Where is your fearless leader anyway? Why didn’t you call him instead of me, since he’s the one you stayed with?”

  Marisela threw him a look that said, “Fuck you.” That was oversimplifying things, but Frank was a simple guy. He’d paid his dues working for Ian. He’d learned everything he could about investigation and protection, socked his salary away and at the first opportunity, went out on his own. He’d wanted Marisela to come with him, but she’d declined the offer. Said she wasn’t ready. Said she had more to learn. She was probably right, but the choice still got under his skin.

  “Bryn and Ian are out of the country, touring the damned North Pole or something.”

  “Don’t you mean South Pole? Unless they’re into mushing dogs and sub-zero weather.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they’re into,” Marisela snapped. “I need them and they’re too far away to help, bonding with each other over the holidays or some shit. ¡Coño! Why would anyone take Belinda? She’s useless. They must have wanted to get back at me.”

  “Self-centered much?” Frank challenged. Marisela’s brain fired faster when she was pissed. Right now, she was pacing like a jungle c
at with a thorn in her paw, changing directions without warning, anxious and unpredictable. But she hadn’t done anything to alter the situation in her favor—and that worried the hell out of him.

  “I know my sister,” Marisela insisted.

  “How? You haven’t seen her in years. You have no idea what she was into in London.”

  “I know someone was into her,” Marisela said. “She’s pregnant.”

  He tried not to react, but this was news he hadn’t anticipated—ever. He’d only met Marisela’s older sister once and she gave off a vibe that even the most clueless hombre couldn’t miss: Don’t Touch.

  “She told you?” he questioned.

  “Didn’t have to. She looks like she’s going to pop at any minute.”

  No wonder Marisela was off her game. She was in shock.

  “When is she due?”

  “I didn’t have time to ask!”

  “You must have seen that she was pregnant before you went up to the top of the parking garage.”

  Marisela stomped her foot and shoved a load of file folders off Lia’s desk, sending them onto the floor like manila snowflakes. He arched a brow, watching her kick the mess around until there was no way they’d ever reconcile the paperwork.

  So, he’d hit a nerve. Luckily, slipping into her psyche was as natural to him as sliding into her body. She’d probably seen Belinda’s fat belly and had a fit, one that was more about Marisela yelling and less about Belinda telling her how she’d ended up with a bun in her oven.

  He inhaled deeply and forced his voice to be gentle. “What do you know?”

  She flopped into the nearest chair. “I know I’m an idiot! I know that whoever moved my car did it to throw me off. Or to separate us. I know whoever took my sister was smart, but not a pro.”

  “Why not a pro?”

  She stared at him. “Pros would not have left witnesses.”

  “Pros might not care if you didn’t see anything useful, which you didn’t.”

  “They wouldn’t have taken that chance.”

  He slid Lia’s wheeled chair out from the desk and sat. “What if they need you to pay a ransom?”

  “Then they would have called by now. And they might have killed Lia to prove they were serious.”