“You’re testing my patience.”
“My deepest apologies for that.”
“When I find you—”
As Holden snapped his fingers, Cate interrupted Rivera with a cheerful laugh. “Oh darn, I’m afraid I have to go. Later, Mateo.” Then she hung up and turned to Holden with an eager expression. “Well?”
“Call came from the Westin,” he announced. “You were right, Cate. He’s with the wife.”
Chapter 27
“We’ve got a visual on Camila Rivera,” Ash reported two hours later.
Liam nearly sagged over in relief when the rookie’s voice filled his ear. He and Sully had barely exchanged ten words in the hour they’d been holed up in this hotel room and he was getting tired of the silence. It gave him way too much time to think about the way his friend had looked in the shower yesterday. On his knees, heated eyes peering up at Liam, hot lips wrapped around Liam’s dick.
They hadn’t fooled around since, and although Liam’s head insisted that it was probably for the best, his body was primed for another round. He’d been walking around with a semi ever since. Sooner or later that need would spill over and he and Sully would wind up naked again.
“Is she alone?” Liam asked Ash.
“Negative. Got a female friend with her. No sign of Mr. Rivera.”
Sully spoke from the other double bed. “Noelle—permission to roll?”
“Not yet,” she answered over the feed. “Give Cate and the rookie five. We need to make sure she’s not just making a quick pit stop.”
“Roger that,” Liam said.
The moment the comm went silent, his agitation returned. Sully’s gaze was glued to the door, not once straying in Liam’s direction.
He knew exactly why he was being frozen out—because of last night’s heart-to-heart in the barracks. That was Sullivan Port’s MO. When shit got too real, the man shut down.
For as long as Liam had known the guy, Sully had always held a part of himself back. He’d share that his mother abandoned him on the front steps of a church, but never reveal the crushing sense of abandonment it had caused. He admitted to never knowing his father, but left out how much that hurt him. He described the shitty conditions of the foster homes he’d grown up in, but neglected to mention the loneliness he’d felt.
Yesterday, when Sully spoke about the girl he’d loved, it had given Liam insight into his friend that he’d never had before. Sully passed himself off as a cocky ladies’ man. He had a reputation for fucking anything that moved and for never, ever taking life too seriously. He’d once described himself as superficial, confessed the belief that he’d make a terrible father or partner, but Liam saw through that bullshit now.
Sullivan Port was a coward, plain and simple.
“You’re staring at me.”
The flat voice broke through his thoughts. “Yes.”
Sully glanced over warily. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Just figuring a few things out.”
His teammate’s gaze shifted back to the door.
“What, you’re not going to ask what I’m figuring out?” he said lightly.
“Why would I bother? You’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”
Oh yeah, Sully was definitely in shutting down mode. He only turned into an ass when he felt like he was in danger of exposing any vulnerability. And he’d exposed a shit ton of it yesterday. The pain in his voice had been so visceral when he’d spoken about Evangeline. And his boat, the fucking boat that Liam and the team mercilessly teased Sully about being his entire life . . . turned out it was a tribute to the girl he’d lost.
“You wouldn’t have hurt her,” Liam said, his voice low, cautious.
Sully’s gaze flew to his. “I wouldn’t have hurt who?”
“Evangeline. You loved her. You wouldn’t have hurt her. And you would’ve kept your pants zipped if she’d lived.”
There was no response.
“It’s true,” Liam insisted.
“Whatever you say, Boston.”
“For fuck’s sake, Sully.” He drew a calming breath. “You go on and on about what a whore you are. You constantly remind me that you’re an orphan and don’t have a family. But truth is, it’s you that doesn’t want a family and it’s you that can’t keep a relationship. Not because you can’t be faithful, but because you’re too fuckin’ scared.”
Those gray eyes narrowed. “You’re psychoanalyzing me again.”
“Maybe you need to be psychoanalyzed.”
“Yeah? Then I’ll go see a shrink. I don’t need you doing it for me.”
“You do that, man. But any therapist worth their salt will figure you out in a heartbeat.” Liam cast a challenging look. “They’ll tell you that you’re terrified of getting hurt.”
“Sure,” the other man muttered. “If you say so.”
“You’re really going to deny it? I see you, Sullivan. I see who you are deep inside. You’re a scared little boy whose parents abandoned him. You’re the guy who found someone to love, someone who mattered the world to you, and she left you too. That’s what it boils down to. It’s not about monogamy and it’s not about you getting bored. It’s about you being scared shitless.”
Sully’s lips curled in a sneer. “You really want to talk to me about scared? You’re too chickenshit to tell your family that you’re bisexual. Too chickenshit to tell them that you don’t want marriage and kids and all that normal bullshit. You just let them believe that it’s going to happen eventually, that you’ll settle down once you get all the action out of your system. But we both know better. It’ll never be out of your system.”
Liam stiffened. That wasn’t true. He would tell them . . . eventually. And he would have that normal life.
Except . . . when he thought back to all the things he’d dreamed of doing in life, having a kid wasn’t one of them. He’d seen a house, sure. A home base to come back to in between his travels.
But he’d never pictured kids or a wife in that house.
He took a ragged breath and met Sullivan’s accusatory eyes. The tension was back. Not of the sexual variety, but the strange animosity that kept cropping up each time they tried to have a meaningful conversation.
They’d been best friends for years. They’d talked for hours about anything and everything. But, he realized, they’d never truly dug beneath the surface.
Fuck. He was no better than Sullivan, now that he thought about it. He’d told Sully about his past, his family, his goals, but he’d never taken that extra step either. Never admitted how any of that shit actually made him feel.
Jesus Christ. Maybe he should see a therapist.
“Looks like she’s gonna be here a while.”
Ash’s voice jerked them out of the tense stare-down, and once again Liam experienced a burst of relief.
“Good,” Sully answered gruffly. “I’ll get our girl Paige on the line. Let us know if Rivera’s wife ventures back this way.”
“Copy.”
Sully swiped a finger over his phone, then put it on speaker. A few seconds later, a polished British accent greeted them.
“You boys all set?” Paige chirped. She was the only one of Noelle’s chameleons that Liam had yet to meet, and truthfully, he didn’t know much about her other than that she was a tech guru hermit who lived in northern England.
“Yep,” he told her. “How’re things on your end, darling?”
“Almost ready.”
“Are you sure we’ve got the right room?” Sully asked.
“The room’s registered to Victoria Kern, one of Camila’s known aliases. If she’s staying at the hotel, this is our best bet.”
The question was, was her dear old husband with her? That’s what they were about to find out.
Liam stood up and drew his sidearm. “Just give us the word and w
e’ll go in.”
“One sec.”
He and Sully headed for the door as they waited. The sound of fingertips moving over a computer keyboard clicked out of the phone speaker. Like Holden, Paige could make magic with a wireless connection and a laptop. It was all so over Liam’s head that he never even bothered asking for explanations.
The typing lasted for several more seconds before Paige spoke again.
“Done.”
“Thanks, love.” Sully ended the call and tucked the phone in his pocket.
Liam touched his earpiece. “Noelle. We’re all set.”
“All right. Go do your thing.”
As they stepped into the carpeted hallway, both men kept their weapons out of sight by palming them against the sides of their cargo pants. They’d already made sure that housekeeping was done with this floor, and the corridor was empty as they soundlessly approached the door across from theirs.
They nodded at each other. Sully raised his gun slightly. Liam reached for the knob. Paige had deactivated the magnetic key panels, disabling the hotel’s entire lock system. The concierge would be dealing with a lot of confused and unhappy patrons soon, but Liam didn’t worry himself with that.
He pushed open the door. His teammate slid inside first and they worked in perfect unison, Sully moving forward into the suite while Liam ducked into the small powder room to his right.
“Clear,” he murmured.
“Clear,” Sully murmured from deeper in the suite.
Liam entered the living area in time to see his friend’s broad frame ducking into the bedroom through a pair of open French doors.
“Clear,” Sully said again. There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice.
Shit. It wasn’t like Liam had expected Rivera to be sitting in the room patiently waiting for them to show up and kill him. But from the looks of it, he hadn’t been here at all.
A search of the suitcase on the floor turned up nothing but women’s clothing. A pair of black high heels sat on the carpeted floor near an overstuffed armchair. On the end table by the sofa was an empty wineglass with a pink lipstick stain on the rim. In the bathroom, Liam found women’s toiletries. Sweet-smelling soaps, lotions, a makeup case.
All around them were signs of a woman’s presence, but nothing that belonged to a man.
Still, they continued to flip the room, checking every drawer and cabinet and coming up empty-handed. The room safe wasn’t even locked—Liam peered inside to find an empty space. Pressing redial on the phone directed him to the front desk. The last call out of this room had gone to room service.
“Son of a bitch.”
The angry oath had him hurrying to the bedroom, where he found Sully standing in front of the closet. The door was open to reveal the full-length mirror hanging inside it, but Sully’s muscular body blocked Liam’s view.
“What’s wrong?” he barked as he marched over.
Sully took a slight step to the side so Liam could see the mirror.
He instantly let out a curse of his own. There were four words written on the clean, shiny surface, scrawled in the same shade of pink as the lipstick on the wineglass by the bed.
Nice try, little girl.
* * *
Ash didn’t know how Morgan did it. How he was able to work with Noelle in the field or stand idly by while the woman placed herself in one dangerous situation after another. The problems for Ash were twofold: he wanted to hide Cate in one moment, and in the next, he wanted to flip up that long gauzy skirt of hers and remind himself what she tasted like.
He smothered a groan as Cate bent over a market stall under the pretense of inspecting a handmade necklace.
“¿Cuánto cuesta?” she asked the merchant, holding up the amber-colored beads to the sun.
“For you, pretty lady? It is twenty-five American dollars.”
“The drone is up and running,” Holden said in Ash’s earpiece. “Your target is coming out of the jewelry store and will pass you in”—he paused to do a quick mental calculation of speed, distance, and time—“three minutes, twenty-two seconds. Give or take.”
He smiled and winked at the vendor who was still haggling with Cate. “I love you, man. Glad you’re back.”
“It’s good to be back.” Holden sounded surprised by his own words.
Ash fully understood it. Holden had suffered the worst blow a man could ever face. He’d lost his woman, and from the stories Ash had gleaned around the compound, Holden had been in bed with her at the time. That shit didn’t just scar. It scooped out your insides and left you a shell of a person. That Holden had kept going was a testament to his personal strength, and Ash silently saluted that.
His gaze once again drifted over Cate’s gorgeous body. He didn’t know how he’d be able to handle it if Cate was taken from him. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Morgan would probably shoot him on sight after he learned about the plans Ash had for Cate.
Ash had wanted to talk to her about those plans this morning, but she wasn’t ready. He could tell by the panicked look that filled her eyes whenever he opened his mouth. Hell, last night she couldn’t wait for him to leave. If he’d dallied any longer in the bedroom, he had a feeling she would’ve gotten up and dragged him out. One would think four orgasms would have driven out her self-consciousness, but apparently not.
Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked the jaunty gait of Camila Rivera. She had a friend with her and they were talking animatedly. You wouldn’t know Guatana was on the brink of collapse by looking at Camila, who wore sky-high heels, tight white jeans, and a flowy top. On her wrist were half a dozen gold bangles, and the rings on her fingers sported rocks that Ash figured could probably feed an entire village for a year.
“Got her,” he murmured loud enough for the mic to pick up. He laid a hand on Cate’s back. “Go ahead and buy it, sugar. You know you’ll regret it later if you don’t.”
Cate nodded and handed the money to the seller, who clapped his hands and promised her that she would be the envy of all her friends.
Straightening, Cate eyed their mark under the guise of readjusting her sunglasses. “How about we head over to the shop we saw earlier? It had a beautiful scarf in the window.”
Ash bent down and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Anything for you.” He hid a self-satisfied smile when he felt her tremble.
“Great. I think it’s over there, right?” She deliberately pointed in the opposite direction of Camila Rivera.
“Try that way, sugar,” he teased, steering her in the right direction.
She responded with a fake giggle and allowed him to push her toward their target. “Where do you think she’s going?” Cate murmured when they were out of earshot.
“Who knows. It doesn’t look like she bought anything in the store.”
“This entire place looks so sad.”
Ash couldn’t disagree. Overhead, the remnants of colorful pennants hung on the crisscrossing telephone lines. Lining the stone streets were dozens of brick and metal stores painted in reds and teal greens, but most of the shops were closed. Tape, cardboard, and wood planks covered smashed windows, and the once busy city center was filled with more birds than tourists.
Up ahead, Camila Rivera and her friend walked briskly up one of the never-ending hills in Guatana City.
“It’s no wonder all the women here look like supermodels,” Cate groaned as they climbed a slope steep enough to require mountain-goat-like balance. “And she does it in heels.”
“She’s probably on drugs and can’t feel a thing,” Ash told her.
“Give me whatever she’s on, then. And check out her ass—it’s disgustingly perfect. I’m so jealous right now. How is she in her mid-forties?”
“Your ass looks fine, sugar. Feels good too.” He allowed his hand to drop a little lower than was publ
icly appropriate.
“Ash, seriously,” she grumbled. “We’re on a mission.”
“Yeah, you two are on a mission,” Holden repeated in their ears.
He pulled his hand up reluctantly, because they were both right. “Where’s she going, Holden?” he asked to distract himself, though it was damn hard with Cate’s sweet body swaying next to his.
“She took a left turn on the next block. It’s down an alley.”
“This is no shopping trip. Not up here in the hills.” He glanced around again. The neighborhood was far from affluent; the buildings were too shabby for that.
“Maybe she’s going to meet Rivera,” Cate said, her excitement evident.
Ash wasn’t so sure. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? When they turned down the alley that Camila had disappeared down, a buzz kicked up in his stomach and it wasn’t one of anticipation. It was a warning. This particular alley had four-story-tall buildings on either side and was just wide enough to accommodate the tiny cars that were so common on the streets of Guatana. In fact, Ash could probably stand in the middle and touch both buildings with one arm span.
“I don’t like this,” he said bluntly.
He spared a sideways glance in Cate’s direction, careful to make sure it didn’t seem like he was checking up on her. He was sick of fighting with her, and any indication that he thought she wasn’t performing up to task was bound to rile her. But he couldn’t stop caring. That’d be like cutting off his arm or something. Even then he’d still have those phantom pains.
She looked all right, though, if not a bit tired. He felt a pang of guilt for keeping her up so late, but he hadn’t been able to control himself last night. And she’d been so damn willing each time he’d reached for her, flooring him with her passion. Cate was wild in bed, willing to do anything, wanting to do everything. Ash had never experienced that kind of enthusiasm before.
He was dying to experience it again.
“As far as I can see, there isn’t anything ahead of you except a couple old ladies hanging up laundry on the third floor. Nine o’clock,” Holden reported.