Darby’s eyes widened. “Are these—”
“Mug shots. Yes. That’s my twin sister. Is that a problem?”
Darby cleared her throat and shoved the pictures into her purse. “Of course not. Just leave everything to me.”
Chapter Ten
Leaving everything to Darby had been a colossal mistake.
Back at the hotel in Key West again, Heather desperately searched her suitcase one more time and shook her head in disbelief. Darby had taken her shopping assignment to the extreme. She’d bought three outfits, probably to give Heather a choice. But every single one was far too risqué. Even the underwear was like what her sister would wear. The bras were tiny scraps of lace that would barely support her. The panties looked like neon silly string. There was no way Heather could wear this stuff.
She wanted to make others believe she was Lily, yes, but she couldn’t dress quite as...revealing as her sister did. She’d mentioned that to Darby. She was sure of it, and yet everything Darby had bought was too short or too tight or just plain too indecent for Heather to even consider wearing.
She sighed and flipped the suitcase closed. Instead, she pulled some of her own clothes out of the closet. She mixed and matched, trying to figure out something that would work. The above-the-knee skirt and short-sleeved blouse would have to do. Mitch’s amazing artwork would show just fine with this top. That’s all that mattered.
Nick was sitting at the small table next to the kitchenette studying a map spread out before him when she walked out of the bedroom.
His brows climbed to his hairline and he rolled his eyes. “Please tell me that’s not what Darby bought you. Didn’t you give her the pictures of Lily?”
Heather glanced down at her ensemble. It’s not like she’d tucked the blouse in or anything. She’d left the last three buttons undone and had even dared to tie the ends of the blouse together. For goodness’ sake, her belly button was showing. No one who knew her would ever expect her to dress like this, not even on one of her forays into the bar scene while doing her P.I. job.
“The clothes Darby bought didn’t work out, so I had to get creative with some of my old clothes.” She waved her hand at her blouse. “This is like something Lily would wear.”
Nick laughed. “No. It isn’t.” He pushed back from his chair and strode toward her.
“How would you know? You only met her once. The night you threw both of us in jail.”
He stopped in front of her. “We’re not having that argument tonight. We have too much to do.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you even seen the cell where they house the women prisoners? It’s disgusting. It smells like pee.”
His lips twitched. Lucky for him, he didn’t smile, or she would have been tempted to kick him in the groin.
“No, I didn’t know it smelled like...pee,” he said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bedroom.
“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to get to the bar by nine.”
“You’re not going out looking like that. No one would believe you were Lily.” He let her hand go and flipped the suitcase open on top of the bed. He pulled out a pink tank top with spaghetti straps. “How about this?”
She shook her head and held the top against her. “Look how short it is. It would barely cover my breasts.”
He stared at the shirt for a moment. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Right.” He grabbed another shirt out of the suitcase and held it up.
Heather shook her head. “Too low-cut. I’d fall out.”
Nick’s gaze shot to her chest, as if he were trying to imagine just that thing. His mouth tightened and he balled up the shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He dug around in the suitcase some more. “Aha.” He pulled out a leopard-print tank and held it up. “Long enough to, ah, cover you and not too low-cut.”
She took the shirt and held it up, eyeing it critically. “There’s something that isn’t quite right about this.” She understood the spaghetti strap on the right side. But what held it up on the left side? The neckline didn’t even look straight. She was seriously having doubts about Darby’s so-called shopping expertise. “I’m not even sure I know how to put this on.”
Nick pulled a short black miniskirt out of the suitcase and handed it to her. “You’ll figure it out. Hurry. We should have left ten minutes ago.”
She huffed and headed into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later, she stared at herself in the mirror, horrified.
A knock sounded on the door. “I’ve got your shoes. Or, at least, I think these are the right shoes. They’re black. That matches everything, right?”
“I am not wearing this...this...outfit,” Heather said, raising her voice so he could hear her. “I look like a hooker.”
The door opened. Heather’s gaze shot to Nick’s in the mirror as he stepped in behind her. He set a pair of six-inch stilettos on the countertop.
Heather gasped. “I can’t possibly wear those...those medieval foot-torturing devices. I’d break my neck.”
He grinned. “Medieval torture, huh?” He cocked his head to the side, studying her reflection. “I don’t think that’s the way that’s supposed to work.” He tugged the left side of the shirt off her shoulder. “There. That looks better.”
Heather stared into the mirror. One side of the shirt was held up by the spaghetti strap. The other side hung low, revealing far more of her breasts than she’d ever revealed in public before, except maybe at the beach in a swimsuit. Even then, she wasn’t sure she’d shown off this much skin. She shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t go out like this. The top is—”
“Perfect. It shows off your lovely...tattoos.” His grin broadened, letting her know he’d substituted tattoos at the last second.
She eyed the artwork Mitch had so painstakingly painted on her arms and upper body. The pink dragon peeked out of the top of her skirt. She’d blushed profusely the entire time Mitch was working on that particular tattoo. Her skin had felt as though it was on fire, especially when Nick sat down beside her, watching every stroke, after Rafe and Darby left on the shopping trip.
“That one’s my favorite,” Nick breathed next to her ear.
She shivered and refused to meet his gaze.
He picked up the shoes and held them out. “I can’t wait to see how you look in these.” The teasing laughter in his voice told her he knew how hard it was for her to stand here in this outfit, and he was having fun at her expense.
“No,” she said. “I told you I’m not wearing those. And I’m not wearing this ridiculous outfit. I’ll put my own clothes back on.” She turned to leave, but he didn’t budge an inch.
His thighs pressed up against hers and his chest rubbed against her breasts. He set the shoes on the countertop and braced his hands on the sink, trapping her.
“How did you and your sister grow up in the same household and end up so completely different?” His voice was low and husky. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, or the way his pulse was slamming in his chest. She could feel every beat of his heart against hers.
“Let me guess. You prefer the way my sister dresses.”
“I didn’t say that. But dressing so...minimally...does have its advantages.” He winked.
Heather didn’t know what to make of his flirty mood. She tried to focus on her memories of the jail cell to combat her softening feelings toward a man she could never have, but with Nick standing so close, all she could think of was how good his hard body felt against her soft curves. And how perfectly...edible he smelled.
He reached up and traced the barbed-wire tattoo on her left bicep. “So, how did two identical twin sisters end up so different?”
Heather cleared her throat and took a step back to put some space between them. “Lily was always, ah, competitive, jealous, I guess. She thought I was the favorite. And she...” She shivered when Nick smoothed his fingers up her other arm, lightly tracing the outline of one of the swirling flower tattoos.
“And she...what?” He slid his hand up her shoulder.
“She left home when she was sixteen. Dropped out of school. I didn’t see her for a long time. I only recently...”
He gently massaged her shoulder, making her skin flush hot wherever he touched her.
“Go on,” he urged, both of his hands heating her skin, leaving a fiery trail in their wake. “You recently what?”
“I...I don’t remember what I was going to say. Nick, what are you doing?”
His nostrils flared and he dipped his head down toward her, but before his mouth claimed hers, he hesitated. Time seemed to stand still as Heather looked into his eyes, so close to hers.
“Nick?” she breathed, waiting, hoping.
He shuddered, his brow furrowing as if he were in pain. Then he stepped back and turned away. “I’ll wait in the living room. Don’t change clothes. What you’re wearing is perfect for pretending to be your sister. If you want to get Gonzalez to notice you, that’s the way to do it.”
His voice was hard and cold, with none of the warmth she’d heard earlier. He stalked from the bathroom, leaving her wondering what in the world had just happened.
* * *
“D
ON
’
T
FORGET
CONDITION
number two,” Nick said.
Heather clutched his hand, afraid she wasn’t going to be able to do this. He had her backed up against the wall in the dark hallway to the bathrooms in the marina restaurant, pretending to be amorous in case someone saw them, but he was actually giving her last-minute instructions.
“Heather, did you hear what I said?”
“Condition number two, yes, got it.” She glanced down the long hall toward the main room of the restaurant. She had to go out there, by herself, in this horrid outfit, and pretend to be okay with that while she waited for a dangerous drug dealer to approach her. She clutched Nick’s hand even harder.
He cursed and gently eased her grip, bringing her attention back to him.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. What’s condition number two?” he asked. “I need to make sure you’ve got this.”
“I hate your stupid conditions.”
“I know, but tell me anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “Condition number two—I do exactly what you tell me to do at all times. I remember. And don’t worry. I’ve got that ear thingy in. I’m not going to try to wing it on my own. I’m scared enough as it is.”
His mouth twitched. “Earwig, not ear thingy. And why are you scared? It’s just a restaurant, nothing like the bar you were in before. There are no fewer than ten DEA agents in here undercover, plus me. You’re surrounded by people who want nothing more than to keep you safe. Nothing’s going to happen, as long as you follow instructions. The second I feel it’s not safe, I’m pulling you out. If I tell you to leave, you jump out of your chair and hightail it out of here. Some of the agents will follow you out. If I tell you to duck down, you—”
“Yeah, yeah. I drop to the floor. You reminded me of all your conditions a million times on the way over here. I’ve got it. And I’ve got
this.
I didn’t dress up like a two-bit hooker for nothing. I’m not going to humiliate myself looking like this without doing everything I can to make this work. I don’t want to have to come back here again. I want this to end tonight.”
His hand circled her waist and he pulled her close. “Trust me. You don’t look like a two-bit hooker.”
“I don’t?” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat at the heat in his gaze.
He shook his head. “I’d pay a lot more than two bits.” He winked.
She drew a sharp breath and shoved his hand away. Without another word, she whirled around and headed for the high-topped table reserved for her. Her dramatic exit was ruined when she lost her balance on the ridiculous stilettos and almost fell. She grabbed the back of a chair, forcing a smile when the startled man in the chair turned.
With a slower, more sane pace, she made her way to the table. She climbed onto the bar stool, certain she looked like a fool trying to keep from flashing everyone as she tugged on her miniskirt.
When a waitress stopped by, Heather ordered her sister’s favorite drink, tequila, straight up. But when the drink arrived, Heather only pretended to sip it. The smell alone told her she’d be gagging or half drunk in minutes if she really drank any.
It didn’t take long for someone to notice her. A tall, thin man with coffee-colored skin threaded his way through the crowd to her table. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she focused instead on watching the people at the other tables, eating dinner.
“Stranger approaching at two o’clock. He’s not Gonzalez, but he might be one of his men,” Nick’s voice spoke in her ear through the two-way transmitter. Heather couldn’t help but jump when his voice first sounded. Hopefully no one noticed.
“Mmm-hmm.” She raised her glass for a pretend sip.
“Lily.” The man she’d seen approaching was suddenly standing beside her chair. “What are you doing here?” He glanced around, as if afraid someone might see him with her.
Her pulse sped up. This man obviously knew her sister, and expected she would know him, too. She tried to focus on what Nick had told her to do. Lowering her glass, she crossed her arms on the table and tried for a world-weary expression.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m having a drink.”
He leaned in close, still not looking at her directly. He kept scanning the room as if he was afraid someone was watching him. “Obviously, but why here?”
“Why not here?” she countered. “Where else should I be?”
He quirked a brow, facing her directly this time. “Does Gonzalez know you left the compound?”
“Be evasive,” Nick’s voice whispered through the transmitter in her ear.
Heather moved her glass in tiny circles on the tabletop. “I couldn’t say if he knows or not. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”
The man’s brows lifted. “How much have you been drinking?”
“Not enough.” She lifted the glass and held it to her lips. Then she set it back down and wiped her mouth. “Say whatever it is you want to say and go away. You’re ruining my good mood.”
He shook his head, his face reddening. “If Gonzalez realizes you left, there won’t be a safe place within hundreds of miles for you to hide. You’d better go back, now, before he realizes you’re gone.”
“Go back where?” She purposely slurred her words, trying to give him the impression she was a little tipsy, to explain why she wouldn’t know where Gonzalez was.