Caught in the Act (18 page)

Kari turned off the shower, her breath quickening.

After she finished him off, he’d have returned the favor, kneeling between her spread thighs and kissing the swollen lips of her sex.

Groaning, she leaned back against the stall and touched herself there, imagining her slick fingertips were his tongue. Her breasts quivered, water droplets clinging to her skin. She rubbed her clit in slow circles, her eyes drifting shut.

She came with a hoarse cry, her hand between her legs, his name on her lips.

A moment later, she stepped from the shower stall, wrapping a towel around her body. Her cheeks were
flushed, her eyes luminous. Not bothering to dry her hair, she climbed into bed, naked and wet and alone.

Sometime during the night, a cab pulled into the driveway, its headlights pooling into Kari’s dark bedroom. She lifted her head from the pillows and looked out the window, smoothing her damp, disheveled hair. Maria exited the cab and hurried toward the front door, her face calm.

Kari was glad to see her. She rose from the bed, donning a summer nightshirt before she went out to the living room. “What happened?” she asked, letting Maria inside the house. The cabdriver drove away.

Maria collapsed on the couch, rubbing her tired eyes. “You first.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but it can wait. Tell me everything.”

Kari nodded, detailing her border-crossing fiasco and the intimidating visit from Moreno’s henchman.

“This is terrible,” Maria said, frowning. “What will happen if you refuse?”

“They’ll probably hurt Sasha. Or burn down my store.”

“The man who visited you is the same one who came to your house? Medium tall,
cara de cuero
?”

Kari was amused by the description, which translated as “face of leather.” Mexican people rarely minced words. “Yes.”

“That is Armando. I will talk to him. Find out.”

“Are you crazy? He’s a maniac.”

“I don’t think he’s so bad.”

Kari shook her head, exasperated. “Don’t talk to him. Don’t even go back to that hotel. You’re stressing me out, Maria!”

Maria gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

“Where were you tonight?”

“I was with the border agent. Foster, I think his name is.”

“Doing what?”

Maria explained that she’d hidden him in a hotel room and stayed there until he was sober enough to walk.

“Why would the dealer care if he was drugged out?” Kari asked.

“I’m not sure. He is very strange, this man.”

“What do you mean?”

“He pretends to not remember me. It’s almost like he is a different person. Only Agent Foster on the inside.”

A thought occurred to Kari. If she hadn’t been spending so much time with Adam, wondering if he was working undercover, it might not have occurred to her. “Maybe he’s a narcotics officer.”

“What is that?”

“A policeman, playing a part. Like an actor. Collecting information.”

Her eyes lit up. “You could be right. His clothes are ugly, dirty. Underneath, he has nice muscles, clean skin.”

“You saw him without clothes?” Kari asked, surprised.

“I try to wake him up with a cold shower. But it did not work.” A crease formed between her brows. “I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“Can a man stop in the middle? During sex, I mean?”

Kari’s jaw dropped. “You had sex with him?”

“No! I am only curious.”

Kari closed her mouth abruptly, realizing she had no
room to judge. She’d slept with a strange man this afternoon, and enjoyed it so much she’d masturbated to the fantasy. “He should be able to stop, yes.”

“Even after …” Seeming embarrassed, she made a crude gesture, sliding her forefinger into a half-closed fist.

“Yes. Even then. The only time he might have trouble is at the very end, when he’s …”

“Coming?”

“Right,” she said, relieved that Maria understood. “And just because you ask him to stop doesn’t mean he will. Some men won’t listen.”

Maria’s shoulders stooped. “I am more familiar with those kinds of men.”

Kari rubbed her arms, wishing there weren’t so many abusive scumbags in the world. She also wondered if Maria was too innocent to know the difference. Young, inexperienced women were fooled every day.

Kari was tired of being at the mercy of bad men. She hated getting jerked around by Moreno and watching Sasha throw her life away. From this moment forward, she wasn’t going to wait for his orders and hope for the best.

For Sasha’s sake, and her own, she had to go on the offensive.

12

The next morning Maria went back to the Hotel del Oro.

She convinced Kari that she’d stay out of trouble, but she planned to keep her eyes and her ears open. Unfortunately, she also had to go back to room 28. Sometime between dragging Agent Foster out of his hiding place and shoving him into the shower, the pepper spray canister had become unclipped from her waist. It wasn’t in the supplies closet, near the vending machines, or inside the elevator.

She must have left it in that hotel room.

Maria performed her cleaning duties as quickly as possible, glancing around for Armando. Just because she hadn’t bumped into him lately didn’t mean he wasn’t around. When the coast looked clear, she approached the damaged room with stealthy movements, using her key card to get in.

Safe
.

Pressing her back against the closed door, she let out a slow breath, her heart racing. No one had seen her.
Although it wasn’t wise to linger, she found herself staring at the bed she’d occupied with Foster.

His touch had been like a very sexy dream, not quite real. She’d responded without thinking, without her normal inhibitions. As she became more alert, she’d been struck by the startling realization that they were two short steps from intercourse.

Letting him continue would have been a disaster. As much as she liked and admired him, Foster was a different person now. The man who’d found her on the dunes and held her hand in the hospital seemed like a distant memory. She didn’t know this new Foster. He was still a nice guy, she supposed, but she couldn’t sleep with him. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong situation.

After what she’d gone through at El Caracol, she needed to feel safe and be with someone she could trust.

Maria tore her gaze from the bed and crossed the room, looking for the small black spray canister. The bathroom was the most likely location, so she went there first, glancing in the shower stall, around the toilet, underneath the sink.

It wasn’t there.

Frowning, she checked behind the door. Nothing.

Maybe Foster had picked it up by accident and taken it home with him. Or maybe the canister had rolled under the bed. She walked out of the bathroom and knelt beside the mattress, peering into the dark space.

While she was down there, she heard an ominous click. The door!

Acting on instinct, she lay flat, hiding behind the bed. When she heard the faint, almost indiscernible creak of
an approaching footstep, she panicked, wiggling her slender body under the bed frame.

It was a hot, airless space. She prayed that Chuy and Sonia hadn’t come for an early tryst. The thought of him heaving and grunting on top of the pretty receptionist made her sick. And their combined weight would suffocate her.

The intruder moved through the room
como indio
, without noise. She knew then that it was Armando. Only he could step so lightly. Appearing out of nowhere was one of his talents, like whittling.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to become invisible.

There was a muted thud in the bathroom as the doorknob hit the wall, but no shoe sounds on the linoleum floor. He’d probably just pushed it open to make sure the area was clear.
Chingado!

She stared at the carpet in her immediate vicinity, her heart in her throat. A pair of black low-heeled boots came into view.

Maria made the sign of the cross.
Por favor
, don’t look!

But God wasn’t here at the Hotel del Oro. There was only Armando, and he worked for the devil.

He crouched down, meeting her eyes. “Looking for something?”

She glanced at the object he was holding. Kari’s pepper spray. Pulse racing, she scrambled out from underneath the bed. Her hair snagged on the mattress springs, yanking several strands from the roots.

Rising to her feet, she smoothed a hand over her head. “I must have dropped it,” she said in Spanish.

He stood also. “What were you doing in here?”

“Looking for it.”

His
cara de cuero
appeared impatient. “I mean when you dropped it.”

“Using the bathroom,” she said, moistening her lips. “It’s more private.”

He didn’t believe her. That hard face seemed incapable of revealing what he was thinking, let alone showing an emotion, but she sensed his skepticism. Instead of disputing her, however, he held out the canister.

She stared at his upturned palm, wary. He smiled coldly, daring her to take it. Lifting her chin in defiance, she reached out to snatch it from him.

A mistake.

He locked his other hand around her wrist and spun her around, wrenching her arm behind her back. The pepper spray bounced off the bed. He put a cold blade to her throat, applying a terrifying pressure.

Maria froze, her mind flooded with memories. She flashed back to a man holding her down, another forcing himself on her while she kicked and screamed.

“Maybe you were here with a customer.”

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’d die first.”

He didn’t take the knife away from her throat. His body felt hard and strong against hers, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Maria was beyond fear, beyond pride. She couldn’t bear to be raped and beaten again. She’d do anything to avoid another brutal attack. “If you want something from me, just name it. I’m willing.”

And she was. She’d rather
choose
to do this than fight him and lose.

After a long, tense moment, Armando released her.
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard a woman say.”

She rubbed the marks he’d left on her skin, whirling to face him. “Why?”

“Because there are two kinds of men in the world. The first don’t give a damn if a woman is willing. They want to inflict pain no matter what. Why do you think so many prostitutes get raped?”

She swallowed hard, afraid to answer.

Armando sheathed his blade. “The second kind of man, who doesn’t like to use force, will agree to your offer. Either way, you’re fucked.”

His crude words made her flinch. “Which kind are you?”

“The second.”

She looked from the empty bed to his dark eyes. “Then why …”

“Maybe there’s a third kind,” he allowed. “The kind who prefers women to be wanting, rather than willing.”

She shook her head, wordless. For him, she would never be wanting.

His mouth twisted wryly, as though he could read her thoughts. “Did you have that when Chuy grabbed you?” he asked, nodding at the pepper spray.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you use it?”

“I don’t know. I was … afraid.”

“No defense tactic works unless you practice it.”

Maria couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. She picked up the canister, clipping it to her waistband. If she had a bit more nerve, she’d practice on Armando’s cold black eyes right now.

“Don’t come back to this room, little butterfly,” he
said, dismissing her with a wave. “And keep that spray can ready. If you continue working here, you’ll need it.”

Kari’s number one priority was contacting Sasha.

Her sister hadn’t been returning her calls, and she lived like a recluse. Moreno had curbed her shopping addiction, to some extent, by keeping her on a strict allowance. Drug use and bouts of depression isolated Sasha further. Most days she stayed in bed and didn’t leave his house.

But there were some indulgences her sister continued to enjoy. Sasha’s hairdresser and manicurist saw her more often than Kari did. She also frequented a New Age spa that did everything from body wraps to “spirit cleansing.”

Kari closed up Zócalo and visited all of Sasha’s haunts, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sister dashing to or from an appointment. The stylist at Wild Hair was very understanding. She admitted that she’d been concerned about Sasha and promised to call Kari the minute she heard from her.

The manicurist was angry rather than sympathetic. Sasha owed her several hundred dollars. Kari didn’t think her sister would dare show her face at this particular nail salon, but she left a twenty and her phone number.

Kari’s last stop was Soul Oasis, Sasha’s favorite spa. Kari had been there with her just two weeks before, getting a painfully embarrassing bikini wax.

The girl behind the counter smiled. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for my sister,” Kari said, glancing around
the waiting room. “Can you tell me if Sasha Strauss has an appointment this week? I remember she said something about needing a toxin cleanse or a seaweed wrap.”

The receptionist, whose name tag read Tracy, had a delicate dragonfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “I’m sorry,” she said, closing the appointment book. “We can’t give out personal information. At Soul Oasis, our clients enjoy total privacy.”