Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Read online

  “He’s got his own cover, so he’s working it.”

  “And you won’t tell me what that is?”

  Ric’s attention shifted back to the papers. “It’s best that you know as little as possible.”

  “But what if I get into a situation where I’ll need to protect his cover?”

  Ric’s eyes shot up. “What situation are you planning on getting yourself in to? You’re not to leave this tent. It isn’t safe. We can avoid all the trouble you’re conjuring up in that pretty head of yours if you stay put.”

  Mel tried not to physically respond to the compliment. He thinks I’m pretty? Should it matter? No.

  “Since we’re on the subject of your troubles, what are you running from?”

  The fork stopped halfway to her mouth. The question caught her completely off-guard. She took her time savoring the chunky piece of kiwi. “I’m not running.”

  “Sure you are. You’re out here in Dubai, of all places, for a vacation when most women would be sunbathing in the Bahamas with friends. You are here alone, right?”

  Melody’s head snapped in his direction. He reclined easily on some pillows, his hands clasped behind his head. His eyes revealed nothing about his thoughts. An old, familiar cover story she had used on several undercover assignments lay at the tip of her tongue. Why lie to him? He’s helping you, right? Trusting herself was a guarantee. Even if he was Alejandro’s brother, they hadn’t connected in many years. Ric’s job was dangerous. And I might have to rely on myself to get home.

  “Tell me. What’s got you so scared that you have to travel halfway around the world to escape it?”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Okay, angry?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just here enjoying the hot, dusty, dangerous sights — by yourself.”

  Mel turned her back on him. She eyed a bottle of water and snatched it off the table, unscrewed the top, and took her time gulping the liquid down her parched throat.

  “You’ll run out of water and then we’ll talk.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being alone.” She wiped her wet mouth with the back of her hand.

  “True.”

  “It’s better than being with someone you love and trust who could hurt you.” Her mind conjured images of the man she thought she knew.

  “I can relate to that.”

  What? Melody cut her eyes to him. She hadn’t expected them to trade stories. “You can relate?”

  “My father left my mother a few years after I was born. Imagine, three young boys under the age of ten, no income, all the bills.”

  Melody’s jaw dropped. No, she couldn’t imagine. Alejandro had left that part of his childhood out whenever they had late-night talks at the office. It almost annoyed her that her partner couldn’t trust her with that information. Three children and no money?

  “Three rambunctious boys who grew into juvenile delinquents. We gave our mother…we gave her a lot of grief.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ric,” Melody breathed. “I met your mother at Alejandro’s wedding. She looked…looked like she hadn’t known that grief.”

  He gave her a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. Melody knew he still struggled with that grief and perhaps some bitterness over his father leaving. “Thank you for saying so. Although I only have a few hazy memories of my father, I know what could have been if he had stayed. I believe our lives would have been…very different.”

  “But you turned out okay, didn’t you?” Melody gestured around the tent. “Look around you. You are living your life in service to others. I’d say that’s progress.”

  Ric chuckled. “Blowing sand out your nose and checking your boots every morning for sand spiders isn’t progress.”

  “You’d rather be somewhere else?”

  “Anywhere else,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m thinking Florida is nice right about now.” Melody swallowed a gasp. Did he really want to return to the US? Was he losing interest in field work?

  “I thought you loved—”

  Ric held up a hand to silence her. His eyes darted to the front of the tent. Mel strained her ears and heard Hakeem and another person in what sounded like a heated argument. The voices got closer. A hand on her arm yanked her from her seat and down onto the pillows. Oh, no, not again! What are we— In a split second, she was on her back with warm lips gently caressing hers.

  Melody’s mind reeled. Instinct demanded she shove Ric away but a strange and foreign desire held her lips to his. The voices were loud now, probably in the tent, but she barely heard them. A rebellious sigh escaped when Ric parted her lips and deepened the kiss.

  By the time she realized it was over and her lids fluttered open, Ric was already in a deep conversation with Abdul. Mel’s brow furrowed. What was he doing here? Why did Ric want them to be kissing when he entered the tent? Abdul said something in Arabic and Ric lazily answered. Abdul’s face tightened, and then she was kissed again.

  Her skin burned beneath her clothes as warm fingers glided from her neck to rest on her hips. His beard was silk against her skin, the heat of him inviting. Mel found her lips gently pulling at his for more. Then it abruptly ended. Ric answered Abdul, who must have said something while she and Ric kissed.

  Mel blinked. Am I the only one involved in this kiss? She trembled slightly, embarrassed by the sudden realization that Ric was putting on an act and she, a genuine performance. She felt hot liquid behind her eyes and blinked several times. Why am I so emotional? She hated herself for waking up when clearly she needed rest. She would not cry. Pull it together, Mel. Trust Ric!

  Her spine steeled just as Abdul’s hard stare struck her. She didn’t flinch. Whatever the argument was about, earlier it had brought Ric to his feet, but now it had silenced Abdul. Abdul glared at both Ric and Hakeem before he stormed from the tent without another word.

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Hakeem.”

  “I figured if I started yelling…”

  Ric slapped him on the shoulder. “It was a good move. I knew Abdul would come around sooner or later.”

  “I’m surprised he let you have the night with her.”

  “Probably didn’t want to upset Hassan’s orders.”

  “But why is Abdul so keen on her?”

  Both sets of eyes shifted to Mel. She swallowed at the slitted stares of both men. “I…what…what did he want?” Mel hated that she stammered. Ric’s kiss made her brain mush and she didn’t need Ric to know that.

  Ric took a step toward her. “That’s a good question, Ms. Lewis. What does Abdul want with you?”

  ****

  He knew innocence when he saw it. However, right now, there was only one person he trusted and that was Hakeem. Mel’s wide eyes stared back at him; her gaze shifted nervously between him and Hakeem.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in a shaky voice.

  That was probably true. Abdul claimed she was a look-a-like for Hassan’s wife and that motivated her kidnapping. And of course I can trust anything that guy says.

  “You said Faruq mentioned gaining favor with Hassan,” Hakeem offered.

  “He did, but how much sense does that make? Is he somehow out of favor with Hassan? What more could he want from the sheik?” Ric mused. He threaded all ten fingers through his hair and groaned as his mind worked to produce answers. “Hassan hasn’t mentioned any issues with Abdul either.”

  “But what did he say? What did you say?” Mel asked.

  Ric searched her face for any sign that perhaps she held the answer to his questions. “He didn’t believe we were still here.”

  Mel shook her head, her brows meshing. “I don’t understand.”

  “He thought after I asked for you that I got you out of here. Like it was some sort of rescue attempt.”

  “Rescue attempt?”

  “He believed I had knowledge of your kidnapping and that’s why I was so eager to have you.”

  “But you didn’t kn
ow. Why would he think you’d know?”

  Ric remained silent, wondering the exact same thing. Perhaps his lack of objection to Hassan’s earlier claim that he hadn’t had a woman in quite a while wasn’t as convincing a reason as Ric had hoped it would be. Abdul heard Hassan’s command: he’d receive the woman after a few days. What’s his hurry?

  He doesn’t treat the women kindly.

  Faruq’s words sickened him. Had he mistreated Mel? Ric offered his hand to her and she accepted it. When she was on her feet, she attempted to pull away but he held her hand fast. Her curious eyes met his. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered softly. Hakeem cleared his throat and left the tent. Mel’s appalled stare didn’t dissuade him from asking her again. “I know it’s a personal thing to ask, but I’ve heard he can be…brutal.”

  “No, he didn’t,” she said, her voice faint.

  She avoided eye contact, but her hand now clutched his. She’s hiding something. “You can tell me.” Her eyes snapped to his. “Whatever happened…you can tell me.”

  A strange mixture of emotions crossed her features. Confusion, pain, uncertainty. All of them quickly emerged and with the shadow in her eyes, faded almost as swiftly. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.”

  “Okay.” He believed she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  Ric cocked an eyebrow. “I needed to be kissing you to show them how preoccupied I am with quenching my thirst.”

  “Your thirst?”

  He smirked. “The men think it’s been a long time since…”

  “Got it.” She tugged her hand from his and sat back down at the table to busy herself with her breakfast. “I think I want to eat some more food.”

  Ric resisted smiling at her. She wouldn’t have seen it anyway because she was working hard to keep her gaze on her plate. “You’re quite a kisser.”

  She choked on whatever piece of fruit she was eating. Ric rushed to assist her, but she held her hands up for him to stop. She drained the water from her bottle until it was half-empty, beat her chest with her fist, and released a few deep coughs. “I’m fine,” she said in a raspy voice.

  “Hakeem!” Hakeem entered the tent. “Thanks for waiting. Stay with Mel.” Ric snatched a headscarf from the back of one of the chairs and wrapped it around his head.

  “What are you going to do?” Hakeem asked.

  Ric finished securing the scarf. “I’m going to see the sheik. Abdul is accusing me of being an American spy.” He eyed Mel, whose concern for him was clearly visible on her face. “Now I know Abdul is targeting me. It probably has something to do with you, and we need to know why.” A pair of dark shades was on the table and Ric slipped them on. “Keep her here, Hakeem. Use force if you have to.”

  Chapter Five

  He wasn’t going to be able to forget it. In fact, he wasn’t going to be able to get it out of his mind in the foreseeable future. The kisses he shared with Mel were fantastic. Her excited gasp almost made him forget why he started the kiss, and her eagerness nearly undid his restraint. His chest was still in pain as, his heart had in vain to break through, although it nearly succeeded.

  Leave it alone, Ric.

  Yet, there was something about the way her lips molded to his that told him forgetting about the dark beauty in his tent wasn’t going to be easy. Her entire body had trembled beneath his; her hands pushed into his pectorals as if she tried to force him away, but there wasn’t any real show of resistance behind the action. Instead, when he had opened her mouth, the sigh that had escaped her lips was one of pleasure, not disgust. The sound had tightened every muscle in his abdomen, and Abdul’s squeaky voice had faded beneath the pounding of the blood in his ears.

  What am I supposed to do with her?

  He only planned to be at the oasis for a few days, no more. The intel from the analysts back at command had given this fact-finding mission a small window of opportunity. Whatever he could discover about the terrorists would be vital in thwarting the attack on the American Embassy. He just didn’t anticipate anyone frustrating his plans. First Mel, and now Abdul.

  What did I do to make him think I’m a spy?

  Other than show an eagerness to have Mel all to himself.

  So where did that leave Mel?

  Now he’d have to protect her. Not just from those working in the facilitation of the attackers, but from…Abdul? The sheik’s lackey seemed peculiarly interested in the woman and it couldn’t just be because she bared a striking resemblance to Hassan’s dead wife, Fatima.

  There has to be more to this. Ric trudged through the sand to Hassan’s tent. The heat of the afternoon sun had already singed his clothes, and they burned against his skin. Abdul’s decision to bring her here was wildly inappropriate — and hazardous. Hassan dealt in international commerce. Legitimate international commerce. If word spread he’d been a part of a kidnapping of an American citizen, he’d lose foreign investments and relationships, not to mention his life if a Special Forces hostage rescue attempt was sanctioned before Ric had an opportunity to get her to safety. Coupled with the knowledge that Hassan was a source for the agency, the amount of scrutiny he’d receive not only at home, but also from abroad, would put his life and the lives of his family in danger from America’s enemies.

  What was Abdul thinking?

  He’d have to figure that out while he was out here, but that would be a back-burner issue. First, he’d keep Mel out of sight and second, he’d confirm exactly who intended to blow up the embassy. Besides, Mel’s kidnapping could be nothing more than just Abdul trying to please his master. But with Abdul, Ric couldn’t be sure.

  Ric waited until his name was announced before he entered Hassan’s tent. Hassan’s girth tumbled over the array of pillows he lounged on in the center of the tent. To the man’s right sat several elevated trays of fine cuisine and native dishes, and to his left, a bottle of chilled wine in a bucket of ice.

  The man had grown grotesquely fat since his wife’s passing. People often grieve in different ways, most eventually coming to terms with the natural course of life, but Hassan had chosen to feed and had gained an astounding number of pounds in a few short months.

  “Come in, my friend.”

  Ric stepped forward, his eyes trained on the unbelievable number of pastries Hassan jammed his right hand into.

  “What are you doing?” Hassan waved Ric forward with his left hand. “Come. Join me on the cushions. Would you like some wine? Are you hungry?”

  Not anymore. Ric couldn’t drag his eyes away from Hassan’s hand. Jelled food ran down his fingers as he fisted the rest into his mouth. The biscuit he managed to grab early this morning before joining Hassan and his team of advisors for a financial meeting had long since digested into fuel his muscles had eagerly expended. Unable to continue standing unless he wanted to appear rude, Ric settled on the edge of the pile of pillows, refusing Hassan’s offer of both the food and the wine. Food he could get later and the wine he’d only accept when absolutely necessary. The answers he needed lay within Hassan’s knowledge of the surrounding trade routes and personalities. Questioning a source was a delicate matter. He’d be no good to the mission inebriated.

  And Hassan could drink anyone under the table.

  “What are you doing here, my friend?” Hassan’s lips smacked as he chewed on a bushel of grapes. “I’d thought you’d be enjoying the beauty Abdul brought me. She is as lovely as my dear Fatima. Does she not please you already? It has barely been twenty-four hours—”

  “No, Hassan. She’s…” She’s what? Beautiful? Afraid? Someone he couldn’t very well get to know? Attachments — the romantic kind — were highly discouraged in his line of work. In fact, not counting the occasional coitus affairs, relationships with the opposite sex were unsanctioned, unless you wanted to be pulled out of the field and placed behind a desk.

  A desk.

  The thought rocketed shivers of fear down Ric’s spine. He was a field agent. He’d worked hard
— trained hard — for this job and nothing in the world made more sense than for him to be out here in the thick of the war against terrorism. Innocent lives were constantly threatened, freedom forever at risk, especially in certain areas where people were oppressed to the point of enslavement by their dictatorial governments. Whatever he could do to aid his country and that of his allies in the fight, he’d gladly make that sacrifice.

  “Already so deep in love, are you my friend? Can you not even describe her beauty to me?” Hassan eyed him curiously.

  He couldn’t deny a connection with the woman. After their conversation last night, he’d spent hours asking himself why he was so eager to share personal information with her. Once she revealed her association with Ale, Ric dropped his guard just a little bit.

  Ric ignored the perspiration that seeped into the shirt from beneath his armpits and the heat that scorched his neck. Instead, he chose to concentrate all his might on pouring himself a glass of wine without sloshing the drink.

  “Ah, so you have not poured your seed into her.”

  Steady. Steady. Ric recited his mantra as he slowly lifted the glass to his lips.

  “Do not tell me something is wrong. How can you be happy if you cannot bed her?”

  His cheeks were in flames. Ric emptied the half-full glass of wine in two gulps. “Nothing is wrong,” he blurted.

  Hassan raised two caterpillar-sized brows at him. Between chews, he spoke. “And yet here you sit, with me. Instead of listening to the sounds of the woman’s pleasure.”

  “I can’t say I’m happy about it.”

  Hassan barked his laugh before he hacked and subsequently spewed out a chunk of what Ric couldn’t guess due to the extent of the mastication.

  “Well, whatever it is, perhaps you want to tell me so you can go make sons.”