“Yo, Vásquez!”
TJ did not bother glancing up from the stack of files splayed across his desk. He simply raised a hand and waved his fellow agent over as he continued to read. But moments later, as two more folders landed atop the report he was studying, he was forced to sever his concentration.
“Gracias.”
“De nada.” Joaquín’s wide grin greeted him as he cuffed the black motorcycle helmet from the spare chair, his gaze sweeping the DEA office discreetly as he sat.
TJ knew full well whom his friend was seeking.
She was not here.
Joaquín covered his disappointment well. “What are you still doing here? You know what they say—while the cat is away, the mice should—”
“Stay.” TJ chuckled as his friend’s grin wilted. “A joke, my friend. Go home. Your assignment tomorrow will make up for this.”
The grin was back. “A finer temporary boss I have never had. But what of you? You should be taking off as well, no? You are last to leave—again.” His smile faded once more as he leaned forward to tap the preliminary autopsy reports he had dumped onto the desk. “The girls are dead, Tomás. Much as I dislike admitting this, a few hours more will not make a difference.”
TJ’s swivel chair groaned as he leaned back to stretch his legs and rub his eyes. Joaquín was right. The girls were dead. A few hours more would not change this. But he had already dropped Reese and Jade at the airport. If he left now, there was naught left to do but go home and listen to his phone. A phone that had refused to ring.
For six days.
Once again he suppressed the sigh he had been holding throughout the week. “Soon.” He tapped the new folders. “I must review these first.”
A frown. “She has not called then.”
It was not a question. It also required no response.
“I am sorry.”
TJ shrugged.
“Have you eaten?”
He shook his head.
“There is this new seafood spot on the Embarcadero. Perhaps we should visit a club after?”
“Joaquín, I thank you, but no.” The San Diego waterfront would not be wise tonight, nor would it be for some time. Dios mío, had he not gazed his fill of the empty ocean these past months?
And a club?
He sighed. Joaquín knew full well he did not do this anymore. But then, for all his friend’s attempts at distraction, neither did he.
Another sigh. This one belonging to his fellow agent as he thumped the helmet onto the reports, then leaned back to withdraw a slip of yellow paper from the front pocket of his jeans. He flicked it beside the helmet. “Gina handed this to me on her way out, said to give it to you.”
TJ retrieved the message slip and unfolded it, sucking in his breath as the neat script ripped into him.
Madre de Dios! It was not possible.
Or was it?
He tore his gaze from the memo to stare at the now-taunting folders scattered across his desk as his mind raced his heart. It was a tie. He shot up from his chair. “When did Gina take this?”
“I do not know. Why?”
He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair and shoved his arms into the sleeves. By the time Joaquín had shot to his feet, as well, TJ had cuffed his motorcycle helmet.
“Tomás, what is wrong? Is it—”
He did not hear the rest, because he had already left.
Karin stared at the LED clock on the back of the stove and frowned. Seven-fifteen. If Reese didn’t return her call soon, he wouldn’t get the chance. Not for two weeks, anyway. In half an hour the flight he and Jade had booked to Hawaii would be leaving. Come to think of it, the plane was probably already boarding. She plunked the copper teapot onto the rear burner and sighed. Now what?
What about—
She might have a remaining option or two, but calling TJ Vásquez was not one of them. She’d just spent six months purging the man from her mind. There was no way she was letting him back in. Not until she was forced to, anyway.
Damn, it wasn’t even fair.
She’d never even dated the man.
All she’d done was spend two lousy months planning a wedding for their best friends with him. Unfortunately it had been enough. The man’s pull was that steady, that strong.
That inescapable.
Hell, who was she kidding? TJ had hooked her the moment they met. Charming, smooth and way too sure of himself, Special Agent Vásquez had arrived aboard the USS Baddager as Reese’s backup at the tail end of an undercover operation designed to flush out a heroin dealer on the ship—and he’d damn near left with her heart. Except, it wasn’t her heart he’d been interested in, was it?
At least not permanently.
The proof had slapped her in the face less than a week later. TJ had thrown a party at his weekend place just south of the Mexican border to celebrate Reese and Jade’s engagement. She’d been leery about attending, mainly because she hadn’t been able to get the party’s host out of her head in the preceding days, but Jade had begged her. Not one for parties to begin with, her friend had been nervous about being thrust into a house full of DEA agents with whom she had absolutely nothing in common except that she was marrying into their tight group.
She should never have succumbed to Jade’s pleas.
In the hours that followed, she’d gleaned more about the DEA in general than she’d ever wanted to know…and about one special agent in particular. While TJ was showing her the courtyard, she’d overheard two of his fellow agents laying odds that she was his next conquest. Even more appalling was that they couldn’t agree on what number to assign her. Both held an opinion and both exceeded civilized comprehension. Humiliated, she’d turned to TJ and asked if there was any truth to his reputation.
To her horror, he’d said yes.
Of course, he’d promptly sworn it was behind him.
Right. Under him was more like it.
Either way, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t into one-night stands. And even if she was, she was no match for that level of experience. No match at all.
And yet…those eyes.
Six months and the mere memory of that dark smoldering gaze could still send smoke whispering through her body. Worse, even now, knowing the man for the hound he was, deep down she still wanted to believe the shame and regret she’d seen on his face that day in his courtyard had been real.
But
