Oh, my. Oh, my my. He was aroused. Extremely aroused. Hugely, extremely aroused. She tried not to look, honestly, she tried, but her eyeballs appeared to have a mind of their own, and took themselves on a happy tour.
As she already knew, Bo Black really had it going on.
He stepped into the shower with her, not cockily, but completely unselfconsciously, easily showing her everything he had as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do so.
He’d always done that, from the very beginning, shown her everything.
For a moment that truth hit her so hard she couldn’t even breathe.
His smile faded. “Mel?”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, you are. Let me in,” he urged softly, stepping close. “I’m getting cold. Certain things aren’t pretty when they get cold, Mel.”
“Bo-”
“Look, there might be trust issues between us. Truth issues, too. But one thing we don’t have is a chemistry issue.”
She stared at him, then scooted back, giving him room beneath the water with her.
He took it, and more, pulling her wet, naked body to his.
The next morning Mel was on hold with Matt when Bo stuck his head in her office.
“That number in Mexico,” Bo said. “It’s to a place called El Pelicano Blanco. The White Pelican.”
“The number is to El Pelicano Blanco,” Matt said, back on the line.
Mel stared at Bo.
“And,” Matt continued in her ear, “one interesting thing. That return address stamp on that letter you got via USPS!”
“Mexican?” she asked weakly. “From the same zone as the White Pelican?”
“Yep.”
Mel hung up and looked at Bo. It didn’t escape her that he was still sharing all his info, when she wasn’t quite sure if she’d have shared hers.
“Get your passport,” he said.
“I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you I’m doing this by myself.”
“No point,” he agreed. “We’ll take the Gulfstream.”
They left immediately, going through Los Angeles for customs, and then landing in Hermosillo. Mel had grabbed a picture of Sally along with a small overnight duffel bag, which she really hoped she wouldn’t need because that would mean another night with Bo.
Probably a naked night. Sweaty, too, with what would undoubtedly be myriad orgasms, all in a delicious, delirious blur.
Her body tightened in anticipation at his knowledge of her body and all he could do to it, and how easily he could do it, but she knew another morning after would kill her.
She wasn’t so good at this casual-sex thing. It lingered in her mind, messed with her heart and soul, affecting her job, her everything.
How was it going to feel when he finally left?
Plus, they had a mission here. Find Sally once and for all. Figure out what the hell was going on so that Bo could get on with his life and Mel with hers.
The thought brought a pang to her heart but in the long run, it was for the best. She wasn’t a happily-ever-after sort of woman. She’d never dreamed of a white wedding dress and kids all around her. All she had dreamed of was flying, and she had that.
There was no need for more, she reminded herself as they deboarded and headed through the small airport and toward an old, beat-up rental car. The sun was bright and bloody hot above, but Bo stopped Mel next to the car. They had a map, they knew where they were headed, so she looked at him impatiently.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stared up into his face, his lean jaw, his unsmiling mouth, at those green eyes that had seen so much. There was genuine concern there, and for a moment she let herself think…Maybe they could make something of this…“If we find her here, what’s going to happen to her?”
“I want her to stop threatening you.”
“And…?”
“And I want answers on what happened all those years ago.”
“And…?”
“And…” He shrugged. “And then I’ll accept it and move on.”
To Australia. He didn’t say it, he didn’t have to. His home country was an innate part of the man.
“Australia isn’t that far away, you know,” he said quietly.
She laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s on the other side of the world.”
“We could-”
“No,” she said flatly.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“That you’ll e-mail? Call? Fly to come see me a couple times a year? Not going to work for me.”
He looked as if maybe he was going to press her about it, but she brushed past him and headed for the driver’s seat.
He grabbed her by the back of the shirt. “I’m driving.”
“Why?” she asked. “Because you have the dick?”
“And the balls, mate. Let’s not forget the balls.”
“You got to fly all the way here.”
She had him there, and she got behind the wheel. He was both a good sport and a good navigator so he got them to the El Pelicano Blanco in no time.
At night the building might have passed for a bar but by day it was nothing more than a dive. A few dead trees spotted the lot. The windows had no glass, just boards. The front door was open wide, and from within came the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
To the left of the front door was a public telephone booth, no bench or phone book, just a beat-up-looking telephone.
Mel and Bo looked at each other. Had Sally called from right there?
A woman swept the dusty floors inside, a chicken at her heels following her like a dog. She looked up when Bo and Mel stepped inside and shook her head. “No servicio.”
“Do you speak English?” Bo asked.
“No.”
Mel began to flip through the English-to-Spanish book she’d bought at the airport, muttering, “How do you ask if she knows Sally?”
Bo rattled off something in Spanish, and Mel stared at him. “You speak Spanish?”
“Enough to get by.”
“Enough to get by,” she repeated to herself. “You might have mentioned.”
Bo said something else to the woman, sounding quite fluent.
“Ah, sí,” she said, and followed by more quick-paced dialogue.
“You catching any of this?” Mel asked Bo out of the corner of her mouth.
“Shh.”
Damn it, she hated when he shushed her, but he was listening intently, clearly having to concentrate, so she decided not to kill him. At least not right then.
Bo said something with Sally’s name in it, then turned to Mel. “Show her the picture.”
Mel pulled out a photo she’d brought of Sally standing in front of the sign of North Beach, smiling.
The woman’s eyes locked on Sally, and hardened. “Rosario,” she said. “Rosario Lopez.”
Bo’s gaze met Mel’s for one beat before turning back to the woman. “You know her?”
The woman’s eyes were flashing good now. “Rosario, sí.” She turned her head and spit on the ground.
“I take it they’re not old friends,” Mel murmured.
The woman pointed to both of them, then to her eye, then back at them, saying without words that she was watching them, then left the room.
“That’s probably not good,” Mel said. “I think she just put a curse on us.”
“Or something.” Bo took her arm and pulled her toward the front door, but before they got there, the woman was back with a man, a big man who was growling, fierce-looking, and…
Gulp.
Carrying a gun.
“Fuck,” Bo said softly, then tried to shove Mel out the front door ahead of him, stopping short at the very audible click of a gun cocking.
Together they slowly turned back.
The man jerked the gun toward them and spit out something in rapid-fire Spanish.
Bo raised his hands. “Raise ’em slowly,” he said softly to Mel while the man raved on and on in Spanish, eyes bulging, practically foaming at the mouth. “Let’s not piss him off any more than we already have.”
Mel’s heart was in her throat, pounding so hard she was shocked she could still hear anyone speak at all as the man railed on and on in loud, staccato Spanish.