“I love Mexico,” Rafe breathed. “I want you, too, Olivia.”
Her toes rubbed the still-damp denim at his shinbone. She framed his face with her small, competent hands, and kissed him with all the passion and tenderness she felt in her heart. “Show me,” she whispered.
He didn’t need to think how. His body took over, touching her, sliding her dress up her thighs until he could feel the swell of her bottom under his rough hands. He moaned—or she did—when he cupped it solidly; he couldn’t tell which of them made the sound.
The calluses on his hands snagged at the delicate nylon of her panties. They were pink, he remembered. He’d bought them only this morning, not allowing himself so much as a single image of her wearing them as he’d stuffed them into the paper sack.
Now he allowed himself an image or two. “Olivia,” he said frantically. “Sit up.”
Olivia sat up, straddling his waist, careful of his sore ribs. “Take your dress off. I want to see you.”
His voice was thick, raspy, sexy. And so deep. It had fallen another octave. Olivia thought she might climax from the sound of it alone.
She took the hem of the dress in her hands and slowly, slowly raised it to her waist. “This dress?” she asked.
Rafe looked from her half-lidded eyes to the pink panties he could now see, quite clearly, in the firelight. “Oh, man.”
Olivia laughed lightly at his desperate groan. She’d never done anything very wicked before, and she found she enjoyed the risk. She raised the dress another inch.
He could see her belly button now. Exquisite. His tongue flicked out automatically, so badly did he want to taste that little nub of skin. He stared at her, unable to so much as raise his eyes to hers. “A little more,” he rasped.
Olivia bunched the fabric of her dress in her hands. “This much more?”
“Higher, Olivia.” He could see the glimmer of nylon where her breasts filled the underside of her bra. “Higher.”
Up the dress went, just a fraction of an inch. His fingers were twitching, his lower body jerking upward instinctively. “You’re killing me,” he moaned.
She whipped the dress over her head and off.
He stared at her for a minute, then reached up with one big hand. Olivia held her breath. Her nipples were already stiff inside her bra, her breasts full.
But he didn’t touch her where she was dying to be touched. He traced the bandage on her arm with one finger. “I could kill him for this alone, you know,” he said, his voice nothing more than a low growl in the darkness.
She moved his hand away from the wound, placed it on her left breast. He cupped her automatically, and Olivia watched his eyes dilate to pinpoints, following the motion of his hand.
His other hand came up, then, and caressed her right breast. Olivia tipped her head back and let him play. He pressed his palms against her, rubbing, molding, pinching lightly, until her back was bowed and she was grinding herself against his abdomen, looking for relief.
“Take off the bra,” Rafe ordered, his dark eyes fixed on her breasts.
She reached back, unsnapped the hooks and let the bra fall to his chest.
His breathing accelerated to a dangerous level. “You have the most perfect breasts,” he said. He cupped them again, whisked his thumbs across the dark, puckered tips. “Small and high and proud. Like a queen.”
Olivia could do nothing more than whimper. She would have liked to tell him she was no queen, no woman to be treated like royalty, but she couldn’t get a single coherent word past her lips. He spent minutes playing with her, studying her, as though they had all the time in the world, as though he intended to make her climax simply from touching her breasts.
But no. He sat up suddenly, scooting her into his lap by moving those amazing hands down to her bottom and clamping her hips to his. And then…oh, then, Olivia thought, dazed. He played with her breasts a little more. With his mouth.
She was probably going to die. This kind of pleasure would kill her. He sucked, hard, until she moaned out loud. Then he moved to the other peak, and sucked again.
He was almost at the edge of his composure. One more wiggle of that panty-clad little butt over his fly, and he was going to embarrass them both. He dug his fingers into her hips to keep her still. The feel of her eraser-hard nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth was more than enough, without the added stimulation of her writhing.
She was doing something with her hands now. Oh, man, taking off his shirt. Her fingers brushed his nipples as she pushed the shirt to his shoulders. He did five quick algebra equations in his head and tried to remember the batting averages of at least three San Diego Padres. Then, when she flicked at them again, on
purpose
this time, tried to recall the name of the Charger quarterback from 1976 to 1984.
Dan Something.
“Olivia, slow down.”
“No, you hurry up,” she implored frantically. She yanked at the buttons of his jeans.
Rafe grabbed her hands. “You’re going to hurt something,” he said, breathing unsteadily. He eased her to the sand next to him, where she knelt, nearly naked.
He shucked his jeans and briefs in an instant, and knelt in front of her, taking her hips in his hands again.
She looked stunning in the firelight. Her skin was the color of honey where the sun hadn’t touched her. He reached up, ran a fingertip from the base of her throat to her navel. “Beautiful Olivia,” he murmured.
“You have bruises,” she whispered. She touched his chest gently.
“I do?” he said, managing a smile. “Right now, Olivia, I couldn’t even tell you if I had ribs, much less bruises on my ribs.”
“Then you’re okay?” She worried her lower lip, stared at his chest again. “For this?”
“Look lower.”
She did. And blinked. “Oh.”
He had to laugh. “Olivia, are you sure about this?”
She met his gaze. “I’m sure.”
“Then finish,” he said.
“Finish?”
He gave her the slow once-over. She felt her skin flush, his dark eyes were so hot. “Finish.”
She sat back in the sand, slipped her panties down her legs. Then, because it was the most natural thing in the world to do, she lay back, stretching her arms over her head, and let him look his fill.
“Finished,” she said.
He came over her like a conqueror, no longer wondering how or why, knowing only that he had to be inside her or die. He kneed open her legs. “I want to taste you,” he said, almost to himself. “I’ve wondered what you taste like. But I can’t wait any longer to be inside you.”
She wrapped her legs across his back. “Then be inside me,” she urged.
She was so small, and he was not small by any means, and the joining was slow, sweet torture for them both.
He rocked back and forth for the longest time, letting her adjust, talking himself out of spilling inside her quickly, marking her with his seed as his own.
Olivia couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was up on his hands, levering his weight off her, his jaw taut and his eyes squeezed shut in intense concentration. The veins in his neck were distended with effort and one slow bead of sweat dropped from his chin onto her chest. He opened his eyes, followed the droplet as it slid between her breasts to rest in the hollow at the base of her throat. He cocked his elbows and, lowering his head, licked it up with one long swipe of his tongue. Olivia whimpered and closed her eyes.
Her hips seemed to rise against his of their own accord. She couldn’t bear the slow stroke of him any longer. She wanted speed, heat. And because she’d always been a woman who went after what she wanted, she lifted herself to him again and again, changing the pace of their love-making until they were slamming into each other, flesh against flesh, fast and hot and wild.
Rafe heard her cry out, felt the clench of her body around him. His vision began to gray but he battled it back. He looked down, watched her buck beneath him. She was beautiful, remarkable.
His.
He wanted to tell her he loved her so she would know it as she came.
“Olivia.”
She opened her eyes languidly, smiled up at him in wonder and satisfaction. A jolt of sexual electricity zapped every thought from his mind but one.
“Do that for me again,” he whispered. And he began to move.
“No,” she groaned. She couldn’t possibly.
Moments later, she did. And this time he came with her.
“Olivia, we have to get back to the boat.”
She lay on her back, pressed into the sand by his big, incredibly warm body. She ran one limp hand down his damp back. “Can’t.”
“Have to,” he mumbled against her shoulder. But he made no effort to climb off her.
“You’re lying on me,” she reminded him.
“I know. I’m going to get off in a second. As soon as I can see again.”
“Are you blind?”
“Yes.”
Olivia chuckled. “Sorry.”
“And paralyzed.”
“You’ll have a hard time swimming.”
“I’ll have a hard time ever thinking again,” he muttered. “Am I crushing you?”
“Mmm. It’s nice. Don’t move.”
He shifted slightly. “I’d better.”
She clamped her legs around his, wrapped her arms around his back and hung on. “Why?”
“Can you feel that?”
He was growing inside her. Already. Olivia laughed from the sheer, joyous flattery of it all. “Yes.” She moved against him.
“Don’t move. Olivia, stop it! We need to—” His instincts took over and his hips began to thrust forward. It felt so…good. “Oh, man,” he mumbled, and gave in to it.
It went more slowly this time, and they watched each other carefully, reading each nuance of expression.
He slid his hand between their bodies. Olivia’s eyes glazed. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she breathed. She lifted her head, took his nipple between her teeth and bit down. He moaned. “Do you like that?” she asked.
“Oh. Oh, yes.”
It ended quietly, but by no means moderately. Olivia’s back arched from her shoulders to her heels as he slid adroitly, expertly against her. His eyes stayed open until the last, and he linked his fingers with hers without knowing it.
He rolled off into the sand afterward, to keep from crushing her again. And to keep some physiological miracle from happening to his body that would keep them from getting back onto the boat.
“We really do have to go now,” he said once his breathing returned to normal.
“You go,” she said sleepily. “I’m going to take a little nap.” She rolled to her side on the sand, her bottom to the dying fire.
Rafe chuckled, ran the back of his hand down her spine. He rubbed her back and watched the stars for a few minutes, while she took a catnap. But he knew they needed to get back to the boat. He shook her gently. “Come on,
princesa.
Time for another little swim. Get your dress on.”
“I’ll just swim without it,” she mumbled. “I don’t have the strength to put it back on.”
“I don’t think so. I’m going to have to blindfold Manny and Bobby as it is. If you climb aboard naked, I’ll have to cage them.”
Olivia giggled drowsily. “You overestimate my appeal. I’m sure Bobby and Manuel have seen a naked woman before.”
“Not in a while. And never one who looks as good as you.”
Olivia rolled over to face him. She was definitely awake, Rafe noted with something close to trepidation. And she had a wicked little gleam in her eye.
“Oh, yeah?”
Rafael stared at her in surprise, then shook his head. “No. Forget it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”
She crawled over on her hands and knees. Rafe felt his mouth go dry at the sight. Her breasts were too small to swing properly, but what they lacked in heft, they more than made up for in responsiveness. Her nipples were pebbled already.
“Stay away from me,” he warned halfheartedly.
“I have stayed away from you. I stayed away for three whole days, when I didn’t have to. All your fault, I’d like to remind you.”
She wriggled on top of him and stretched out. His hands came up and stroked from her bottom to her neck and back again. He didn’t want to encourage her, but he couldn’t seem to control his own impulses.
“I don’t know what you expect is going to happen here, Olivia.”
“Oh, I can think of all kinds of things,” she said.
“Didn’t you take human anatomy courses in college?”
Olivia’s laugh rumbled against his chest. “You know, for the most humorless person I know, you say the funniest things.”
“I’m not humorless.” He clamped his arms around her and sat up. “You just don’t understand my subtleties.”
She kissed him, grinning. “Yes, I do. I’ve determined you have at least three separate gradations of pissed off.”
“I’m all strata and substrata,” he agreed.
She levered up on her good arm to look at him. “Very un-cop like words to be tossing about,
señor.
”
“I took one geology class at San Diego State.”
“You went to college?”
Rafe nuzzled her. One wayward, unbiddable hand slid up to cup her breast. He felt a stirring that shocked him. Maybe his human anatomy was not as subject to the whims of physics and blood flow as he’d previously thought. “Mmm?”
“You went—” Ooh, he was flicking at her with his thumb. “You went—?” She was supposed to be asking him an important question. What the hell was it? He shifted her on his lap. “Oh, do that again.”
Rafe groaned and chuckled at the same time. “You want to ride me,
princesa?
”
She locked her eyes on his, wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Can you take it?”
“I can if you can.”
She grinned. “Then hold on.”
Chapter 12
T
hey fueled up the boat in Pico Cupula, and continued up the coast of the Sea of Cortéz. Olivia stayed at the helm, usually with Rafael standing at her back, while the other two men watched the sea and the shore for any sign of Cervantes.
At dusk, Rafe went below for something to eat, and by some unspoken signal Bobby came to stand at her side. “How far?”
“Another couple hours to the beach at Aldea Viejo,” she answered. “But I’m assuming you guys want to stop before then, or overshoot it?”
Bobby grinned. “Those little letters after your name aren’t just for show, are they, Doc.”
“You’d be surprised how often they’re
entirely
for show,” she answered wryly.
Bobby looked out to sea. “Looks like you outsmarted them, Doc. We haven’t seen them, they haven’t seen us. You’re pretty good at the covert stuff.”
“Really? Then why have you and Rafael been plastered to my back all day?”
“Snipers,” Bobby said simply. “You can evade the other boats, but you can’t stop a bullet coming from shore.”
Olivia’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”
“I never kid,” he said with a completely straight face.
“You know, I don’t know why Rafael just doesn’t tell me these things—”
“Because Rafael thinks you have enough on your mind without worrying about getting shot at again,” Rafe said, climbing the steps from the galley. He punched Bobby, hard, in the arm. “Keep away from her, bigmouth.”
Bobby rubbed his arm. “You’re just afraid she thinks I’m charming and funny.”
Rafe snorted his opinion of that, then muscled Bobby out of his way and took up his place behind Olivia again. Just in case she
did
think his cousin was charming and funny.
He had told Bobby he wanted to keep close to her during the trip up the coast, the primary reason being that they had no idea what kind of firepower Cervantes had along the shore. Cervantes knew they were out on the gulf somewhere, and he knew Rafe and Bobby planned to steal the shipment of raw coke coming in from the mainland Tuesday, so chances were excellent he’d be watching the shoreline.
Thanks to Olivia and her uncanny ability with the little fishing boat, they’d evaded Cervantes so far. But Rafe was taking no more chances with Olivia’s life. So he and Bobby had taken turns watching her back all day.
He had to admit, though, it was more than his well-honed survival instincts that kept him close during the long hours motoring up the rugged desert coast. He realized, after tomorrow, he wouldn’t see her again. And it made him ache. She would be gone, returned to her high-class family, doing prestigious research, socializing with well-educated scientists. He would be back in his routine of living undercover where a bullet could take his life any day of the week. She could never be happy with a man like that, he told himself harshly. She was from another world. Her life would continue in high society, and he could never hope to be a part of it. Never before and never again would their paths cross, he thought, the ache filling him with sorrow.
“How close do you want to get?” Olivia asked him.
He watched the water over her shoulder, resisting the urge to bury his nose at the curve of her neck. She smelled, as she always did, of the sun and the water and that warm scent that was just Olivia. He knew he’d never smell anything so wonderful again in his life. “I don’t know, exactly. I want to be able to get to the beach on foot.”
“Okay. I know a beach near here. I spent a week there last fall with a water temperature team. There’s an animal path that leads through the dunes that will take you north in a couple hours’ walk.”
Rafe nodded. “Good. The Mexican
federales
are going to be in the dunes at Aldea Viejo, waiting for a signal from Bobby or I. We don’t have any transportation waiting, so we need to be fairly close.” Olivia turned her head to study him. He met her eyes. “On the other hand, I don’t want to be too close. Cervantes will likely have someone patrolling the beach for miles, waiting for us to come in.”
“How are the
federales
going to get past him, then?”
Rafe grinned. “They’re already there.”
“The moles?”
“Yes, but don’t call them that to their faces.”
She stared at him. “But if you have people on the inside already, why can’t you just arrest him at the
hacienda?
Why risk your lives like this?”
“Because we have four men inside, and he has dozens. Besides, no one has been able to determine whether he keeps any kind of records in the
hacienda.
I told you last night, we have to be able to connect him physically with an actual shipment or we can’t get him out of Mexico to stand trial. That’s what the past few months have all been about. Drawing him out of his hole.”
“Okay, I can see that. But what about the past few days? Where were your
federales
when we were being chased all over hell and back? And when Cervantes shot me?”
“One of them was driving one of the Land Cruisers, which is how we managed to stand on the street as they drove by and not get nabbed. Two more were passengers in the vehicle with Cervantes. The fourth, I guess, stayed in Aldea Viejo to coordinate. As for being shot at, I suspect the reason Cervantes didn’t continue shooting is that our guys interfered in some way, or convinced their boss not to draw a crowd to the dock by blowing us out of the water so close to town.”
“Is that who you called when we stopped for food that first night? You actually called Ernesto’s house?”
“No, too risky. We’re sort of working independently. I called our guys in La Paz and Loreto to make sure we were all still going for the Tuesday shipment.”
“This is huge,” Olivia breathed.
“Cervantes is a big fish, on both sides of the border. Everyone wants him, and we know this is our best chance.”
“Okay, now I’m worried,” Olivia said. Her hands had gone sweaty on the wheel. “There’s not much chance of anyone getting out of this whole deal with a few shots fired, is there.”
“Nope.”
Olivia sagged back against Rafe. “Wonderful.”
He circled her waist with his arm. “Don’t worry,
princesa,
” he whispered in her ear. “You just get us close enough in this little dinghy of yours, and Bobby and I will take care of the rest.”
She moored several miles from Aldea Viejo, off a beach that, as far as she knew, had no roads leading to it from the main highway. Rafe and Bobby would have to walk overland to keep their appointment in the morning. Olivia chose the place with as much care as she would choose a home for the rest of her life. She knew if Cervantes came upon them in the night, they would have little chance of surviving the attack.
She and Rafe did not swim to shore. Because he had eaten earlier, Olivia shared the last of the rations with Bobby and Manny, while Rafe kept watch. Then, as she had the night before—after she and Rafe had crawled back onto the boat, dripping wet and giggling like lunatics— Olivia headed below to sleep.
She paused at the top of the steps leading to the small galley and single forward bunk.
“Rafael.”
He turned from his place on the bow.
“Don’t leave tomorrow—” She fought against both dread and longing, knowing he needed his mind on his work. “Don’t leave without waking me.”
Rafe nodded once, then looked back over the water.
Olivia went below, used the tiny head and crawled into the snug bunk. She thought she would never sleep, but a day of staring out onto the bright water worked its magic, and to the familiar rocking of a vessel on water she fell fast asleep.
Topside, Manny slapped Rafe on the shoulder. “You staying up? I’ll take the morning watch, if you are.”
“Fine,” Rafe replied. He didn’t think he’d be able to go to sleep yet, anyway. He needed to think.
Not about the morning. He’d been planning that for months. For years, in one way or another. He knew everything about what he was going to do, how he would act and react to keep them all alive and make sure Cervantes was brought down at the same time.
No, he needed to think about Olivia. About how he was going to let her go.
At midnight, Bobby came to the bow. He’d been sleeping on one of the bench seats at the stern of the boat. Manny was on the other, snoring loudly. “Come on,” Bobby said, yawning hugely. “Get some sleep.”
Rafe went to the stern and lay back on the bench seat. It was too short for him, and he had to keep his knees in the air to fit. The cushions were baked hard and rough as hay bales from constant exposure to the sun; the one under his head was cracked, and the crumbling foam felt like pebbles against his skull. He barely noticed. He’d slept under far less comfortable circumstances over the past few months.
But he didn’t drift off. His eyes would not close, his mind would not shut down.
She was below, and after tomorrow he’d never see her again.
He lifted his head. Manny was snoring, and Bobby was peering through a small pair of binoculars Manny had scrounged up, using the light of a half-moon to scan the shoreline.
Rafe rolled to the deck, stood up and slipped silently down the steps to Olivia.
She was asleep. He knew it was unfair to wake her; after all, she’d taken on the Baja coast in a tiny fishing boat all by herself today, and had done a damn good job of it. She deserved to rest now.
But he was desperate, trembling with need and regret and desire. He inched his way onto the bunk beside her. She felt warm and smelled so good. She sighed and turned in to him, snuggling close in her sleep.
“Oh, God, Olivia,” he whispered. “How am I going to let you go?”
“Hmm?” she murmured.
“Olivia, wake up.”
She opened her eyes slowly, like a cat waking from a nap in the sun. “Rafael?”
“I need you.”
She blinked once, then opened her arms.
He didn’t remove her dress, just flipped it to her waist and tugged her panties down her legs. He unbuttoned his jeans, freed himself and plunged into her.
He made love to her silently, desperately, Olivia thought, his mouth fused to hers, his hands sliding over her as though he might never touch her again. He didn’t wait for her climax, but reared back at the last minute, reaching his own release with an expression that was almost painful. His lips were drawn back from his teeth, and he seemed barely able to contain the low growl that erupted from his chest. Olivia watched him, wondering at the despair etched into every line of his sharp face. All she felt, aside from the lust, was joy.
When he rolled to her side, he touched her delicately, until she was writhing and bucking under his hands. After the glorious peak, as her system calmed, he stroked her belly.
They didn’t speak. After a while, Rafe toed off his shoes and rebuttoned his jeans. Olivia pushed her dress back around her knees. Then, hands linked tightly together, they went to sleep side by side.
He knew it was morning before he opened his eyes. He shifted to cuddle Olivia closer, though he was already spooned around her from head to toe.
“What time is it?” she whispered in the dark.
Rafe lifted his wrist to check. “Four.”
Olivia stared at the hull of the boat. It was inches from her face. Rafael took up more than his share of the bed. She’d have to get a bigger bed when she got home to San Diego. And, good heavens, her own house. She didn’t think she could ever make love with him again and keep from screaming out loud.
If she ever made love with him again. The thought had been there in her sleep, had come to her even as he’d buried himself inside her. What if she never made love with him again? She’d been so confident the night before last, alone with him on that small stretch of beach. Now, when he was just hours away from facing his enemy, she couldn’t summon a shred of the same brash conviction.
A shiver started in her stomach, radiated outward until she was shaking uncontrollably.
“Stop it,” he said in her ear. “Stop shaking.”
“Okay,” she stuttered through chattering teeth.
“Olivia, it’s going to be all right. You’re going to be fine.”
Was she? It hardly seemed to matter. “I know,” she said.
He clutched at her, thinking if he held her tightly enough, she’d stop shaking. He wanted to go on holding her forever, but he knew he only had a little time and a lot to say.
“Listen, I haven’t wanted to use the boat radio in case Cervantes was monitoring the coastal transmissions, but after we leave, I want you to wait two hours, then radio La Paz for help. Make sure Manny knows who you’re talking to. He’s a local cop there. We think there’s a leak in his unit, but he says he has a guy he can trust. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Olivia, stop shaking. I want you to give them the coordinates where we’re anchored. Do not get off the boat until someone Manny knows and trusts comes to get you. He has a weapon, but only one. You need to stay hidden here in this cove until someone comes for you, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
But I want you to come for me,
she wanted to say. She pulled her lips between her teeth to keep from crying out.
“Good girl. When you get to La Paz, get the first flight out. I don’t care where it’s going. Take it. You can get a connector wherever you land. If you have trouble at the airport, let Manny take care of it for you.”
“All right.”
“I have to go.” He kissed a spot between her shoulder blades. He knew if she turned around, offered her mouth to him, he’d never be able to tell her goodbye. Forever.
He slid to the edge of the bunk, unlaced his shoes.
“When—” Olivia cleared her throat of sleep and anxiety, trying to be brave for him. “When will I see you again?”
Rafe steeled himself. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning distraction. He knew this was best for them both; would allow him his dignity and wouldn’t keep her from her real life. If they went on pretending they had any chance together, she’d only end up resenting him for the
barrio
kid he really was, and he’d end up with his heart in a million bloody ribbons.