"You little tease," he growled as he covered her body with his own.
"Now it's your turn," she smiled and spread herself wide to accommodate him. He growled, a throaty sound that came from deep in his chest, and pulled her close. "Come here, you." He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply as if he were breathing in her very soul. "You smell good."
Hours later, sated and relaxed, Bella prepared a light supper and afterward they lounged on the couch, the television tuned to a sitcom rerun, the volume turned low. Rafe took her legs and stretched them across his lap, gently rubbing her feet. She felt languid and drowsy.
"You still look beat," he said, brushing his hands over her calves.
"Emotional tiredness," she said. "All that carnage… I can't stop thinking about it. I alternate between feeling helpless and being furious."
Rafe nodded and ran his hands over her thighs, the gentle kneading relaxing and arousing at the same time.
"I promised that girl… promised Esperanza that she'd be okay. I feel like I failed her."
"No one could've anticipated what happened. We did all we could," he soothed.
"What do we do now?"
"We use your plan," he answered, squeezing her calf. "We get Santos to turn."
"But you said – "
"I know," Rafe interrupted, "but now everything's different. If we have to get in bed with a beast to catch a psychopath, then that's what we'll do."
"Who do you think it is?"
"The inside man? Besides Ruiz?"
She nodded.
"I don't know yet. But I'll find out and when I do… "
She sat up and reached for his face, tracing her fingers down the stubble on his cheeks, running them across his lips. He sighed heavily and splayed his fingers through the hair at her nape and lowered his lips to hers. A delighted thrill ran through her, tired as she was, and she opened her mouth to him.
The steady pounding of his heart rumbled through her hand on his chest, and suddenly she wanted him again, close to her, no clothes between them, his large, warm hands sliding down her body. She tugged at the tee shirt he'd slipped back on. His bare flesh beneath her fingers was warm and smooth and he smelled of the mingled scents of their sex.
He groaned as she reached his chest and played with his flat, hard nipples. "God, what you do to me." He shoved her lightly backwards onto the wide sofa and covered her body with his, pulled her robe off her shoulders and bared her breasts. He lowered his mouth and -
The portable phone jangled alarmingly on the end table right by their heads.
"Let it go," Rafe murmured, busy with her breasts and his clever tongue.
Her breath shaky, she whispered, "I can't. It might be important… about the case." She reached over her head to grab the receiver off the set and answered quietly. "Torres." No sound came out and she cleared her throat. "Torres," she repeated.
"What are you doing with the case?" Only Barrington was rude enough to call her at home at this hour of the night.
Bella pushed the speaker phone button and placed the receiver back on the handset.
"Have you worked something out with Hashemi?" Barrington demanded.
"Uh," Bella said, staring at Rafe's narrowed, dark eyes, heavy with desire. "I'm working on something with him right now."
"Good. I don't need to remind you that he's got powerful friends in high places."
"Well, maybe I should sleep with the guy then," Bella quipped, her mouth inches from Rafe's, his breath hotly sucking the air out of her. "Maybe then he'll let me in on the action."
"Do whatever you have to do," Charles said coldly. "Just don't screw this up again." He paused before he disconnected. "And don't let them take all the credit, either."
"Well, you heard him," she moaned as Rafe tongued her nipple and moved lower to her navel, tracing lazy circles down her body. "I… have to do… whatever… you want."
"Hmmm," Rafe said, sliding downward and pushing aside her panties to reach the wet, hot core of her. "It's never wise to ignore your superior's orders."
Chapter Thirty-three
"I'm going to be there with you when you make the deal." Rafe braced himself against the bathroom door, his fingers gripping the top of the door jamb.
"No, I have to do this alone." Her face warm with insistence, Bella ran a brush through her hair. "And besides, Santos won't deal if you're there."
"He won't go for it anyway," Rafe argued, "and if I'm there at least I can add some pressure."
"No," she repeated, turning back to the mirror.
Shirtless, the pair of shorts revealing his long legs, Rafe glared at her. The flesh of his chest was burnished copper with dark tendrils of hair curling around the middle and funneling downward to disappear beneath his waistband. "He's got to know the feds will give him a better deal."
"Santos knows the feds could send him anywhere in the country," she countered, "and he won't go out of state. Besides, it's my deal to make," she insisted stubbornly.
"That's stupid, Isabella." Rafe's dark brows slashed in the middle of his forehead like sharp swords. "A man like Santos is too dangerous for you to confront alone. Don't even consider it."
His bossy tone rankled her and she took a breath to lash out when Rafe's cell phone buzzed on the dresser top. He held up a finger to indicate they weren't finished with the conversation.
Eyeing her through the bathroom door, he barked into the phone. "What?"
After a moment, he continued in a more controlled tone. "Ah, Max, shit, man, I forgot to call you." He ran his fingers through his hair and the ends stood up wildly. "Sure, yeah, whatever you say."
He nodded, listened a moment, and then repeated an address as he jotted it down on note paper. "Fine, I'll see you there."
He turned back to Bella. "Max," he said unnecessarily.
"Your cop friend from L.A.?"
"Yeah, he split from his wife and flew up to get his mind off the situation."
"Why all the way up here?"
"He was raised in northern California. I think his family still has property somewhere. He gave me directions." He laughed shortly, waving the note paper. "He probably wants a distraction from his personal problems. Thinks getting involved in my case will help."
"Why is he helping you on the Vargas case?" she asked curiously.
He shrugged a little too casually. "Max is an old friend."
"Have you told him about Santos?"
"He knows there's a leak, knows you have someone who's going to testify against Vargas."
"But he doesn't have a name."
"No," he said shortly, more angry with himself than Isabella because he knew better than anyone that in the vault meant in – the – vault. No one got to know anything. He followed her back into the bathroom.
"Look… I've known Max since fifth grade. He's not the leak."
Her eyes looked sad. "Are you sure?"
"Hell, yes!" He raked his fingers through his hair. "Maybe." He thought of the discrepancies over the last few years, of how Max had been privy to everything – Lupe's identity, the deliveries and pickups of the drugs – God dammit, everything! "Ah, Jesus Christ!"
Instead of berating him as he deserved, she wrapped her arms around him. "We don't know what's true yet."
"It's my business to know!" He hugged her tightly. "But Max… God, he'd have to be in some kind of deep shit."
"We can't do anything about it at the moment," she whispered in his ear, kissing his lobe. "Santos knows how to take care of himself. And as soon as he signs the plea agreement, I'll get him in protective custody."
He looked askance at her. "You think he'll go?"
"Not gently," she laughed. "But he'll go. He wants Vargas as much as I do."
"Really? Why?"
She shrugged and shook her head. "Don't know. Don't care," she spoke into his mouth, "but after Santos is secured, you can approach Max, discover the truth. If he's on Vargas' payroll, Santos will give me his name."