Chapter Thirteen

There were times in Julian’s life when he wished the floor would open and swallow him whole. I’m an ass, a total ass. He sat in the square institutional chair in the small office down the hall from the morgue and tensed every muscle to keep from cringing. These dull beige walls were closing in and crushing him. In his mind, he replayed every dopey comment he’d made about how she couldn’t protect herself. His questions about her background and whether she was dating Manny Harris, a DEA agent, must have sounded as naive as a third grader. Less than an hour ago, he’d made his great big declaration that he was CBI undercover. What a joke!

Angie sashayed across the office, stopped behind his chair and leaned close to his ear. “You must have had some idea that I was a cop...”

Didn’t have a clue. When he’d learned about her connection to Marigold, he’d thought Angie’s secret, unstated motivation for all her lies was revenge against Lorenzo.

She continued. “Right away, you knew that I wasn’t who I claimed to be. That was smart deduction on your part because my online profile and data were constructed by the geniuses in FBI cybercrimes.”

Was that the truth or was she patronizing him? “You’re a good liar.”

“So are you.”

And he was done feeling sorry for himself.

Abruptly, he stood. With an emphatic sweep of his hand, he shoved away all doubt and confusion. Whether or not she played him for a fool didn’t matter. He’d been working this undercover identity for three years, and he’d be damned if he allowed Nick’s to be turned into a hub for trafficking. He whipped off his glasses and stared down at her. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a low, authoritative level.

“Since we’ll be working together,” he said, “we need a plan to avoid bumping heads.”

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

“I’ll continue meeting with Lorenzo, Valentino and the Zapatas—both Nolan and Carlos. Maybe I can get them to open up about Damien and his role in the trafficking operation.”

“I’ve got ideas of my own,” she said. “Tomorrow, I want to take Cara into the hills behind the bunkhouse and search for the friend she calls Gigi. If this child exists and escaped from a prior trafficking attempt, she’ll have useful info. I’m also going to meet with Marigold.”

“I’ll come with you to search,” he said.

“Not a good idea. This little girl might be scared of men.”

“Sure.” He sucked down an angry breath. “But won’t she be frightened when confronted by a woman on horseback who doesn’t know how to ride?”

Before she could snap back at him, he noticed that her handler and his supervisor had put their heads together. They were grinning, nodding and shaking hands. He doubted their alliance would bode well for him or Angie.

Hemming came toward them. In spite of his mountainous size, he moved athletically. When he sat on the edge of the desk, Julian hoped the old wooden furniture would support Hemming’s weight. “You two have made errors,” Hemming said, “starting with those three dead men in the coroner’s office. It would have been better to take them alive so we could interrogate and get information.”

“You’re right,” Angie said.

He appreciated the fact that she didn’t try to hide behind excuses. Julian added, “While I was studying the surveillance on Damien, I noticed a skull tat on the back of his hand and three Hs on his fingers.”

“Good catch,” Hemming said. “The H tattoos stand for a cartel that started in Colombia and now operates from Juarez. I expect we’ll find similar markings on the other two men.”

“It’s a start,” Julian said.

“You’re good at your job, Parish. Shanahan tells me that your intelligence is responsible for major disruptions in black market drug sales, illegal gun smuggling and a prostitution ring.” He turned his head to focus on Angie. “This woman has equally impressive accomplishments, including the recovery of eight million dollars in jewelry and art.”

“But don’t either of you get bigheaded,” Shanahan said. “But we don’t want to shut down either of your investigations. You’re going to work together. And you’ll stay in touch with us through dedicated, encoded apps. Got it?”

He and Angie responded with a simultaneous, “Yes sir.”

They were on the same page, which was good. And the investigation seemed straightforward. This situation might not be too miserable.

SSA Shanahan said, “We’ve come up with an undercover story that will allow you to spend more time together and not look suspicious.”

Hemming beamed. “We want you two to pretend to be lovers.”

Julian’s momentary sense of well-being was gone. He and Angie would be undercover lovers? This plan had disaster written all over it.

TWO HOURS LATER, they were back in the SUV headed for Nick’s. Jostling along in the passenger seat, Angie didn’t dare close her eyes for even a second for fear that she’d drift into a deep sleep. The coffee they’d picked up from a hospital vending machine tasted like sludge, but the caffeine jolt was welcome.

She was just alert enough to notice that Nick had taken I-70, which was the long way around. “Why this route?” she asked.

“I want to approach from the west so it looks like I went deeper into the mountains to bury the bodies.”

She groaned. “Do you really think anybody will notice?”

“I like to be prepared for any and all possibilities. Whether or not anybody is watching, I’m covered. I also didn’t wash the blood out of the back. Cleaning my SUV is a job for one of the valets.”

“Earlier tonight when you took that weird detour past Red Rocks, did you think somebody might be following you?”

“I always drive as if somebody’s on my tail, using extreme caution. That’s why I’ve lasted three years at this assignment. I don’t take chances.” He glanced in her direction. “I’m not like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Angie, you know what I’m talking about. You’re lucky Valentino didn’t blow your head off when you showed up on his doorstep and started talking about cake.”

“He bought it,” she pointed out.

“He bought the whole package, believing that you’re a pretty blonde who is kind of ditzy. The act works for you, and that’s not a bad thing. But there aren’t many people who can pull off that kind of con job.”

She preferred to think of her approach as intuitive. Based on her intelligence and training, she charged in the right direction. If she stumbled into trouble, she used her skill at lying to escape. Still, she appreciated his ability to think ahead. “Planning is good. I promise not to jump into anything without talking to you first.”

“What was the real reason you went to the bakery?”

“I wanted to look for evidence in his delivery truck. Based on a bit of conversation I overheard, I think those vehicles are being used for trafficking.”

“Makes sense.”

An uncomfortable moment of silence stretched between them. They’d been lying to each other for days and had no basis for trust. Also, when you got right down to the bottom line, they were rivals. He worked for the state, and she was a fed.

She imagined he was protective of his turf, and she understood why he’d feel that way. The same didn’t apply to her. Though she liked to finish what she started, Angie wasn’t deeply invested in Nick’s. “You know, if I wasn’t so concerned about Marigold, I’d be happy to step aside and let you handle everything.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to believe your story about Marigold, do you?”

Did he think she was faking her breakdown when he found her on the balcony outside Marigold’s bedroom? “It’s the truth.”

“I’m going to assume that every word you’ve said to me is a lie, including that. Now, about this undercover lover thing...we need to figure out how to handle it.”

“No big deal. We’ll hold hands and give each other longing looks.”

“Not enough,” he said. “Nick’s is like a small town with everybody watching everybody else all the time. The place runs on gossip. It’s going to take more than a peck on the cheek to convince them that we’ve got something going.”

“You think?”

“Tonight, when I park at the curb outside Nick’s and come around to open your door, you need to kiss me. I want a real kiss, a big one.”

“With tongue?”

“You bet, and we should go to the same room as though we’re sleeping together. I suggest we use my suite because it’s bigger.”

This had to be the most clinical proposition she’d ever received. “Sorry, Julian, but that’s a negative. It’s my room, nonnegotiable.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get up in the morning and do the ‘walk of shame’ down to the concierge level. It’s a lousy way to start the day.”

“But it’s okay for me to do the walk?”

“Men don’t feel shame,” she said. “They strut.”

He laughed, and she was relieved to hear his chuckle—a sign that they were beginning to adjust to the crazy new reality that had been foisted upon them by his SSA and her handler. “I want you to know,” she said, “that this lover thing is new for me. I’ve never seduced a man as part of an undercover operation. My platinum blond hair, the jewelry and bedazzled clothes aren’t meant to attract male attention. I think of my outfits as armor.”

“Yeah, you’re real scary.”

In the distance, she could see the lights from the parking lot and from outside the seven-story wings. The neon Nick’s logo gleamed red. At this hour on a Sunday night, the lobby and entrance were still lit, but most of the hotel windows were dark. “Is the casino open all night?”

“The casino and some of the restaurants. They’re open but not very busy,” He drove into the driveway. “Remember, Angie, we’re going to give the valets a show. Don’t hold back.”

Kissing him wasn’t the worst thing that she’d done on an assignment. They had chemistry, and Julian was a good-looking man. Not that handsome was any guarantee of sexual talent. A great kiss needed pressure, a friction, penetration by the tongue and taste—all wrapped up in a Goldilocks package with not too much and not too little.

She dug into her purse, grabbed a tin of mints and popped one into her mouth. She offered one to him and was glad when he took two. Was he as nervous about this as she was?

At the entrance, Julian parked and climbed out from behind the wheel. As he circled the car, she watched him give instructions to the two valets on duty, no doubt telling them to scrub the interior of his car and use bleach to erase the bloodstains. Julian’s posture was strong and upright. He moved with the confidence of an alpha male.

When he approached the passenger side, he removed his glasses and tucked them into the inner pocket of his jacket. The door opened, and he took her hand to help her out. Though she was perfectly capable of bounding from the car and racing him to the entrance, she enjoyed the civilized gesture. She stood on the sidewalk, gazing into his amazing blue eyes encircled by dark lashes. He might have been grinning, but she didn’t know for sure. The eyes captured her absolute attention.

“Very gentlemanly,” she said.

“You’re my lady.”

Somewhat corny, but his words twanged an unthinking, visceral response inside her. A wave of excitement rippled from her scalp to her toes as his arm wrapped around her waist. He tightened his grasp until her body pressed flush against his chest. Her head tilted back, and her lips parted.

His mouth brushed hers, tentative at first and then he connected and increased the pressure so she had to respond. When his tongue swept against her teeth, she opened wider and welcomed him inside. He tasted of mint.

The main action stayed at the mouth, but she was aware of rubbing against him. Her hands slid inside his jacket and climbed his strong, muscular back. Though he was at least six inches taller than her five foot nine, they fit together nicely.

When he ended the kiss, her knees were weak. Best assignment I’ve ever had. She needed to send bouquets of roses to Hemming and Shanahan.

Julian kept his arm around her as they crossed the lobby and went to the elevators. The door whooshed open, and he escorted her inside. Before the elevator door could close, he held her face in both of his hands and leaned close. Under his breath, he said, “Surveillance camera. Kiss me again.”

She didn’t need another invitation. This should have been a quick kiss, only a few seconds, but when the doors opened on the fourth floor, Julian wouldn’t let them close. Using his foot, he blocked the elevator and continued to kiss her while the bong-bong-bong warning bell clanged.

When they stepped onto the floor, a husky concierge leaned against the front of his desk with his thumbs hitched into the pockets of his jeans. He watched them with a bemused grin. Taking a moment, she straightened her clothes. Quietly, she mumbled, “I forgot about all the cameras.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Planning.”

“Well, Mr. Planner, you’re lucky I remembered not to put on a fresh coat of lipstick. With all this kissing, you’d look like a clown right now.”

Julian stopped to talk to the guy at the desk while she gave him a wave and continued on to her suite. The living room was decorated in a southwestern motif with a sitting area, a desk by the window and a kitchenette. The bedroom was furnished with two queen-size beds, which meant she wouldn’t be forced to sleep with him. Too bad. She wouldn’t have minded taking this charade all the way...or would she?

In the bathroom, she took down her ponytail and massaged her scalp. Tonight had been intense—from the murders to the revelation about Julian, to the new undercover assignment, to the kiss. She needed to take a step back and figure out what was going on.

Julian tapped on the bathroom door. “I’m going to sweep the suite to make sure there aren’t any new cameras or mics.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

For the tiniest sliver of a second, she considered inviting him into the bathroom to share her shower, but that was a step she didn’t dare take. In her line of work, she couldn’t maintain a long-term committed relationship. And Julian didn’t fit the profile for a fling or a one-night stand.