Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,41
and a long-sleeved, white T-shirt. The leather vest with the patches he’d explained that first night was on his back. The car’s lights illuminated the grinning skeleton, the splayed-out cards in the specter’s bony fingers wavering in the beam. The warning in its red eyes felt personal. Stop now while you still have a chance, he seemed to be telling her.
If there was a more dangerous undercover life Santos could have chosen, she didn’t know what it might be. But she did understand the angle he’d chosen to play. The cartels sold a drug-filled life to those who could least afford it, and the biker world sold the image of wild sex and freedom from responsibility. It was a match made in…hell. And the perfect covert setup.
Santos flexed his shoulders and stepped back, and she could see he’d been working on a helmet. A visor sat beside it. He picked up a different shield and started toward the Jeep.
He planted a hand on the side mirror and tilted his head, peering through her open window. “Having second thoughts? You look like you aren’t too sure about this, sitting there in the car.”
“I’m as ready as I’m gonna be. I’m still a little worried about the cooperation we’re going to get on the other side of the border.”
He nodded as if expecting her answer. When they’d discussed the details earlier, he’d assured her that the Rangers, especially when they were undercover, sometimes worked with Mexican authorities, but she still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure it was a good idea.
“It’s going to be fine. My contact knows we’re going over the border. We’re going to keep a low profile regardless.” His eyes softened momentarily. “Don’t worry, Rose. It’ll be fine. The I’s have all been dotted.”
“Would it make a difference if they hadn’t been? You’re the man who gets the job done, regardless.”
He paid no attention to her comment. “Do you have a bag?”
“In the back.” She climbed out and headed for the rear of the SUV, opening the hatch to grab a soft-sided tote. Reaching across her, he took it, their hands brushing. Instead of pulling away, he clamped his fingers over hers and stared down at her. She stilled, except for her heart, which started to thud like a runaway jackhammer. He hadn’t shaved, and she suddenly remembered what it felt like when he kissed her on their Sunday mornings, sometimes staying in bed the whole weekend.
“We can’t ride across the border acting like two cops who’ve teamed up,” he said. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I know what working undercover means.” She tugged her hand, but he tightened his grip preventing her from moving.
“I wasn’t implying that you don’t. We both know you’re solid in that department. But this isn’t just ‘working uncover.’ These people are suspicious of anything and everyone—they have to be if they want to stay alive. It’s been drilled into them. If they catch a whiff of something they don’t like, they’ll disappear and so will my informant, if she hasn’t already. Worst case, we all vanish, and no one ever finds us.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
He yanked her closer. When her breasts were pressed against his chest, he bent his head to hers and spoke softly, his whisper reminding her of other times and places. “I’m not worried about you.” His stubbled jaw tightened. “I’m talking about me. When I get on that bike, I’m someone else, and that someone I have to be isn’t a man you’ll like.”
She felt herself tremble—not at words but at his closeness. To cover her reaction, she retorted, “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
His eyes glittered in the dim light. “That’s a good idea,” he said harshly, his fingers biting into her wrist. “Otherwise we’ll both be sorry.”
…
Leaning against the workbench with his arms crossed, Santos watched as Rose stepped into the leather chaps he’d brought her. Despite her answer, he remained unconvinced she grasped exactly what he’d tried to tell her. Every good undercover cop morphed into what he needed to be in order to fit in. When Santos got on his Harley, though, he was becoming that man, growing more comfortable in the outlaw role than he was in his own skin.
The view before his eyes began to register instead of his thoughts. He’d asked Jessie if he could borrow a pair of her leather coverings, yet seeing these on Rose made him wonder if Jessie had gone out and bought