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Authors: Ninette Swann

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense

Just the Messenger (10 page)

BOOK: Just the Messenger
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Without speaking, she lathered him, starting at his pectoral muscles and making her sudsy way down his rippled abdomen.

“Such a beautiful body,” she murmured, stopping to rinse the bubbles away. She dipped her head to him, sucking his small, brown nipple into her mouth. Her hands moved even lower, and he welcomed the glorious feel of her soft fingers stroking his erection through the slippery sheen of the soap. She cupped his balls, her fingertips pulling the sac gently toward her, causing it to tighten with a pleasant pressure. An ache began building at the base of his spine as she stroked and rubbed, and desire tingled throughout his limbs. Her mouth broke from his chest, and she stared at him, her smoky eyes tinged with high emotion. He took her bowed lips in a conquering kiss, thrusting his tongue deeply, taking in the taste of her, the fresh mint of her toothpaste mingling with her naturally sweet flavors.

The kiss left them both breathless when he finally broke away from her. The soaked air sank into his lungs, leaving him with a heady sensation. Her hands worked a faster rhythm now, firmly stroking and pulling him, and the ball of fire sitting low within him increased in intensity until he felt he could no longer hold it inside.

“Grace,” he groaned into her wet hair. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

“Good,” she whispered, adding a twist of her fingers over his head. The added pressure pushed Marco into orgasmic oblivion, and he shouted as he came. Gripping her hips to keep himself standing, he shot rope after rope onto her slippery, wet stomach.

As the world came back into focus, he saw Grace rinsing herself in the crystal water.

“I don’t want to have sex with those men,” she said with a slight smile. “I only want to have sex with you.”

Marco gathered her into a bear hug, willing negative thoughts away, but one overpowering doubt broke through, and he had to voice it.

“And Gene?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she pondered as she gently disengaged herself from him and bent to shut off the tap. “And maybe Gene,” she decided aloud, then glanced at Marco. “I’ve been in love with Gene for a long time.”

Marco chuckled, unsure of all the emotions swirling through him. “Me, too,” he said, but before he could react to Grace’s surprised look, a harsh knock sounded at the door leading from the bathroom to the other bedroom.

“Hey, you two! Hurry it up in there, will you? I want a shower, too, before I spend my afternoon…sightseeing, if you know what I mean!”

“Be right out, Warren!” Grace called back. “We’re just changing.”

“Sure you were,” the shout came back.

Grace giggled, scampering out the door to her room.

* * * *

“No, I’m on my way,” Gene tried not to yell into the phone as his blood pressure rose with the news. “Tell me what happened again, Marco. Just the bullet points.”

He listened, taking mental notes as he packed a quick bag—an extra suit, shaving and bathroom kit and some water. He stopped in front of his wardrobe and decided on a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, too. Should he get into trouble on the ground, he was going to need clothing in which he could run.

“We found the guys, Luis and Gomez. We looked them up on the Internet and in Lexus Nexus—Luis Contrado and Gomez Rodriquez—the head honchos. We got their picture. There’s a meeting tonight during a festival. We’re headed there later. The problem is, Grace told them her name. And she told them where we’re staying. She must have been the only Grace checking in today.”

“And you’re still staying there?” Gene sputtered. “What’s wrong with you? Do I have to do everything myself?”

“Well, I didn’t see the harm in waiting one night,” Marco defended. “They’re kind of busy right now.”

“You don’t think they see right through you? You need to get the hell out of that hotel. Now.”

“No can do,
compadre
,” Warren Bell’s voice came on the line. “We’ve got a meeting to bust.”

“They’re going to bust you, if you’re not careful,” Gene bit out. “Which you’re not.”

“But, I’m still alive, I might add,” Warren said. “Here, talk to Marco again. He’s more your style with the sour, wet blanket thing of his.”

“Marco?” Gene asked.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“God, he’s an idiot.”

“He is,” Marco agreed. “But his idiocy gets things done. He’s right, Gene. We’re not going to blow our cover by switching hotels.”

“Fine!” Gene threw up a hand even though no one was there to see it. “I’ll have to do everything myself.”

Marco sighed into the phone. “What time will you be here?”

“It’s 3:00 p.m. now, and I’m chartering a flight and calling for emergency arrangements to get us out of there if need be. CableNette is going to have a hefty bill for this.”

“If we break the story for them, they won’t complain.”

“I think I’ll land at 11:00 p.m. Keep your phone on. And for Christ’s sake, stay alive until then, got it?”

“I got it.”

“And keep Grace alive, too.”

“Yeah. I will. Hey, Gene?”

The question came just as Gene was about to click off the phone call. “What?”

“She loves you, man.”

“I know.”

Gene hung up and hurried down to the town car waiting to take him to the airport. If he kept moving, he could keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay.

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

“Oh no!” Grace fumbled with her camera case in the back seat of the cab as the trio headed to the city center. She and Marco had spent the afternoon there already, scouting places where they could watch without being seen while Warren kept his rendezvous with his waitress informant.

“That camera better not be broken,” Warren said, turning around from the front. “I’m going to need you snapping shots of everything. Hey, that thing has video, right?”

“Yeah, it does,” she said. “But it doesn’t have the picture of Contrado and Rodriquez on it!”

“What?” Marco leaned over to see, brushing his hand against Grace’s thigh.

Warren laughed. “Don’t worry, you two. I uploaded the shots onto my laptop and erased them. Someone could easily rip that camera from you, girlie, but they’re not going to get my satchel from me. Plus, the machine is CableNette’s and hooked into their network. If I need to get something on air tonight, I’m going to need that photo.”

“You’re planning on doing a story
tonight?
” Marco seethed, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m not planning on it,” Warren replied, looking out the window at the passing ramshackle homes. “But I have to be prepared. We go live as soon as I’ve got something to go with.”

“What about safety?”

“God, Marco, you’re such a stick, dude. This is
TV
. What association did you think you were working with, NPR? We don’t sit on stories here.”

“I signed up to be your assistant, not your bodyguard.”

“You signed up to leech my shit and give it to the IIB. So why don’t we cut the charade and start working together, hmm?”

Grace had to give it to Warren; he had brains and balls to boot. She only hoped his reckless attitude wouldn’t get them all killed…or worse.

The cab pulled up to a street corner, and Marco paid the tab while Grace and Warren stepped out onto the cobblestone sidewalk. The buildings here were quaint and unassuming, mostly one-level stucco offices, with a few ornate multi-level buildings sprouting here and there. The streets around the center were bustling with traffic, but the center itself was pedestrian only. Great for tourists who wanted to amble around. Not so good for people who needed to make a quick escape.

Warren positioned his satchel diagonally across his body so that the pouch was secured under his arm.

“Look, there’s Maria,” he said, pointing. “I’ll meet you at the fountain at eight o’clock, okay? I’m going to go sightseeing.”

Grace could only nod at Warren’s retreating back.

“Where’s he going?” Marco asked, coming up behind her and placing a proprietary hand on her shoulder.

“He saw his waitress over there.” Grace shrugged. “I guess we’re on our own. What do we do?”

“We’ve got to stick together,” Marco said, his mouth a grim line. “Let’s follow Bell for a while. If we see the two goons, we’ll break off from him. He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine. But you,” Marco looked at her, his brown eyes filled with worry. “I can’t let you go off with them tonight. You understand that, right?”

Grace nodded again. “You’ll have to play the embittered ex-boyfriend, though.”

Marco laughed, a trace of harshness in his tone. “I’m sure that won’t be hard.”

They tailed Warren at a distance, Marco sighing as the man draped his arm casually around the waitress’s shoulders as they walked into a large building used for community events.

“Such a ladies’ man,” he said wistfully.

Grace felt suddenly self-conscious, remembering Marco’s flaring jealousy just hours before. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she conceded, training her gray gaze on his facial structure. She admired the hard planes of his jaw, the slightest shadow of stubble already forming there. “When this is over—”

“We’ll talk about what happens when this is over when this is actually over.” Marco took Grace’s hands in his, stopping them for a brief moment. “For now, we play our parts, and we do our damnedest not to get killed.”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth fully, sucking in her lower lip and brushing over it with his tongue. She was about to lean into him when a voice startled her, and she jerked her head up.

“Making up after your little lover’s quarrel?” The sharp, almost squeaky voice of Luis fit his character.

Grace felt herself blush but hastened to recover.

“No, he’s just trying to embarrass me into being with him again,” she said coolly, rolling her eyes and praying they took the bait. “You found us just in time.”

Luis contemplated them with a shrewd eye before shrugging. “Gomez is at La Canta getting a beer. He requests your company.”

They turned to follow the small man.

“Just her,” he said.

Marco shook his head. “I go where she goes,” he said.

“Suit yourself.” Luis shrugged again. “But you’re not invited. I advise you not to make any trouble.”

“Surely you can handle that, can’t you?” Grace hated her sugary sweet tone, but she knew Marco would understand.

He grunted and fell into step behind her and Luis.

The small restaurant was only a block from the large dance hall where Grace had seen Warren stepping inside. The yellow stucco was molding at the corners and an old drainage pipe hung uselessly from where it used to be fully attached.

“Your friend likes high dining, huh?” Marco quipped.

Luis didn’t turn around. “The service here is…good,” he said.

They entered a dimly lit room, the smoky atmosphere making Grace’s eyes water.

When Gomez spotted her, he motioned to the empty seat next to him. A glass of chardonnay was already placed at the spot. She lifted it to take a sip, but out of the corner of her eye saw Marco shake his head at her. She put the glass down.

“Did you like your flowers?” Gomez asked with a smile full of charm.

“They were extraordinary,” Grace gushed, not hinting that it was entirely inappropriate to send dozens of bouquets to her hotel room.

“The people at the desk were very helpful.” Gomez’s face turned flat, unreadable. “They later reported that while you had one of the bedrooms alone, you may now be sharing it?”

Grace’s laughter sounded nervous to her, and she tried to overcome it by babbling, even while her mind raced over the fact that Gomez had people tracking her every move.

“Oh, him?” she said as casually as she could. “That’s temporary. Our friend got himself a love interest and needed their room alone for a while.”

“Doesn’t like to share, eh?” The smile returned, but Gomez’s eyes remained intense upon her face. “Neither do I.” He took her hand. She let him.

“So, when do the festivities start?” she asked before the silence could stretch too long.

“Well, I have some business to do tonight, so I won’t be around for the majority of it, but there’s a concert on the green at nine and fireworks after that. Should be quite a show. I was hoping you would eat here with me, and we could get to know each other a little better.” His other hand reached under the bar and caressed her thigh. “Then, I’ll try to find you at the fireworks show and treat you to a real after-hours party. What do you say?”

Grace looked toward Marco.

“Don’t worry,” Gomez said. “The boyfriend can come. He just has to stay out of my way.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “So, what are we eating?” She tried to make her voice sound light and carefree.

“They have a great clam dish here. It’s got a paella side and is plenty big enough for two. Share it with me?”

Just as the words left his mouth, the plate appeared, gigantic and aromatic. Grace realized she hadn’t eaten since their previous meeting, and she was famished. Gomez offered her a fork before cutting into his side of the plate.

BOOK: Just the Messenger
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