"There was a great deal of confusion. We thought the job was complete, but later, when we counted the bodies, we were short one."
"Which girl?" Santos asked because that was the most important question.
"Tell me she is not one of the older girls," Vargas said, rising abruptly. "Or one who speaks English."
An older girl might be more outraged about what had happened to the younger girls. One who spoke English could relate a compelling story. Often Mexican girls who spoke English were educated, intelligent, and outspoken. Vargas did not like either older girls or ones who complained.
"I believe it was Esperanza," Alejandro said. "Most of the bodies were small."
Ay, Esperanza, she could cause serious trouble. "Where is she?" Santos asked.
"Our contact in Nevada told us she's under guard at a hospital near the Tahoe turnoff. I don't know which one. She is under heavy guard."
At the sound of the girl's name, Vargas turned ashen and then angry. He raised his hand to strike the man, but Santos stepped between them.
"Do not blame the messenger, Diego," he cautioned and motioned Alejandro to step outside.
After the man had left, Santos said, "I will find out where the girl is."
"She can destroy me," Vargas said. "She knows too much and she is the only girl who speaks fluent English."
"I will take care of the girl and the shipment," Santos promised. "Do not worry."
At that moment, a noise from down the hallway to the left drew Santos' attention. When he turned in that direction, he saw a naked blonde stumbling through the archway into the living room.
"Wass goin' on, honey?" she mumbled. "Come to bed, baby." She held her bare arms out toward Vargas. Her brassy hair glimmered in the pale light and her tanned, toned body looked lean and muscled.
A showgirl, Santos thought sourly, barely of legal age.
"¡Salga de aquí!" Vargas yelled harshly. "Go back to the bedroom, bitch!"
Even around his young daughter, Diego behaved like a pig. At least when Magdalena was here, he did not conduct himself so carelessly.
His boss was deteriorating rapidly.
"I need a shower," Bella said, climbing off the bed.
"Great!" Rafe smiled, slipping his hands beneath the sheet and running them over her hips. "I enjoy team sports."
She adjusted the shower spray and water temperature, dropped her robe, and jumped in. Suddenly shy, she was grateful the steam blurred the image of her naked body behind the textured glass of the shower. Through the foggy glass she watched Rafe pull off his shorts and open the door. She thought again how magnificent his dark, coppery skin looked, how the muscles rippled beneath the surface of his flesh, and how fine thick hairs covered his chest and legs.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and cupped her breasts. "You have the most gorgeous breasts."
He kneaded them gently and teased the nipples. "They feel like satin, smooth as silk." He nuzzled her neck, moving his mouth over her ear and gently nipping the lobe.
"Your nipples are so small and pink I want to do this." He turned her around and bent his head to take her nipple and breast into his mouth, the rasping of his tongue an erotic and scintillating texture against her sensitive peaks. He reached for the soap and lathered his hands, running his slick palms over the breasts he'd just teased with his mouth. His caresses lit tiny fires in her blood as he smoothed her arms, belly, between her legs.
When he finished, she performed the same for him, reveling in the smooth, soapy feel of him beneath her hands. She took his penis and rolled it between her fingers, loved hearing him groan. This time he entered her from behind, languidly and slowly, pressing her against the glass shower as he moved within her and touched her in an exquisite rhythm. At last he pounded into her with an almost desperate urgency and she came at the same time as he spilled himself within her.
When her heart had stopped racing and she no longer felt the thunder of his chest against her back, he turned her around and kissed her sweetly on the mouth and cheeks and neck. "That was nice," he whispered, rubbing her wet arms and back. "You are nice."
Nice? she thought, what a… mild word.
Later they toweled off and wrapped their nearly naked bodies in warm quilts. They sat on the sofa in the living room, drinking hot chocolate. Bella stretched her legs across his lap and he rubbed her feet with his free hand. "This is nice," Rafe said, running his hand up her bare thigh.
"What's with the N word?" Bella teased, half disgruntled.
"What?"
"Nice, you keep using that word."
"You don't like it?" He laughed. "I'll find another one."
"It's just so… pedestrian."
"Pedestrian? Like a jaywalker?"
She punched him lightly on the arm. "Not like a jaywalker, silly, just… ordinary, average."
"Oh, baby, you're anything but ordinary." He leaned over to kiss her knee, opened the front of the quilt, and gazed at her chest. "And those are… God, nothing less than spectacular."
She flushed and pulled the blanket around her. "You're embarrassing me," she protested.
He ruffled her still-damp hair and laughed. "But you're so gorgeous when you blush." He winked. "Gorgeous," he repeated, "not at all pedestrian."
She stood, let the quilt fall away from her body, and reached for his mug, wiggling her hips in her skimpy panties as she strutted into the kitchen.
Rafe followed her, reaching for her waist and missing. "Oh, no, baby, not ordinary at all." He caught up to her at the sink and swung her around, bringing his lips down to hers. "I think I'm addicted."
She felt his erection pressing through his shorts into her stomach and laughed. "At least some part of you is."
He lifted her long hair off her neck and pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear. "Wanna try again?"
She reached inside his shorts. "I'm game."
Then Rafe's cell phone vibrated annoyingly on the counter. "Hell," he mumbled.
"Leave it," she said, working her hand up and down his hard length.
"Ah," he groaned before pulling away with a painful grimace. "I can't." He took a deep breath and flipped open the phone. "Slater," he said, nodding at Bella.
Suddenly embarrassed for no reason she could have explained, other than Slater was on the other end of Rafe's cell phone, she went into the bedroom and slipped on jeans and a heavy shirt. Rafe remained standing at the counter, naked but no longer at full alert, she noticed. His brow was furrowed in thunderous disapproval. He reached down and pulled up his shorts, then brushed by her on his way to the bedroom.
She stood in the doorway, watching him put his clothes back on. "What's wrong? What did Slater want at this hour?"
"The girl's ready to talk," he said. "Slater's driving her down here himself. Has a safe house all picked out."
"Good, that means she's well enough to travel."
"Evidently." Anger etched every line of his face and his movements were stiff and hurried. "He wants us to meet him there, but won't identify the place until I'm on what he calls a secure line."
"Why? Doesn't he trust you?"
"He says there's a leak." He paused before scooping his wallet, badge, and change off the dresser. "And he's sure it's not in his department."
"He thinks it's on your end," she confirmed.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Slater gave Bella directions to the safe house, but only after she called him from a pay phone halfway between the courthouse and the unknown location. "Are you sure all this secrecy is necessary, Slater?" Bella complained from the phone kiosk. "It seems like overkill."
His voice sounded tinny over the phone. Poor reception? "After the hit on the van carrying the girls? What do you think?"
"I guess, but…" She looked over her shoulder at the gasoline pump where Rafe stood beside his car, drumming his fingers on the hood. "Hashemi's pretty steamed about it."