to Hernandez’s sister.” She shivered. The movement had nothing to do with the cool night air.
“It’s hard not to feel that way. But we can’t just give up. That’s not who we are.”
For the first time, he saw doubt in her eyes. “I’m not sure I can live with the idea of my mother being involved with people like this. It’s so contrary to everything I know about her.”
“Give her some credit.”
Her eyes widened as he spoke. Defending Gloria was obviously the last thing Rose expected out of him. “She raised you,” he explained. “And she did a damn fine job. Not to mention that fact that she did it on her own. She made some mistakes, some really bad ones, but she’s tough and she’s smart, and so is her daughter.” He leaned forward and skimmed the soft rose flesh of her mouth with his lips. “Despite what that daughter did last night.”
Rose stiffened. “We agreed that what happened between us didn’t mean anything.”
“No. I promised you no strings. That’s different.”
She dropped her fingers from his wrist. “Santos—”
“I told you already I’m not playing any games, Rose. I can’t make love to you and pretend it was just sex.” He put his hands on her waist and tugged her closer. “I haven’t changed that much. And I refuse to believe that’s what you want.”
“We can’t undo the past.”
“But we don’t have to repeat it, either. I’m not the person I was before ACES.”
“And I’m not the rookie cop who thought you could do no wrong.” She shook her head. “I’ll help you find my mother and maybe, just maybe, she can help us locate your agent, but that’s all this is about, Santos. My heart can’t afford any more than that.”
He cupped her head with one hand and pressed his mouth to hers, this kiss long and slow. She tasted sweet and sexy, and he wanted her even more than he had earlier. No, he thought suddenly, wanted wasn’t the right word. He craved her; the need coursed through his blood with a raging desire that put to shame any of the drugs Ortega sold. With a tiny, frustrated groan, she kissed him back, her fingers tightening on his leather vest, her breasts pushing against his chest.
Tearing his mouth away, he dropped it to her throat, the bristles of his beard scraping the tender skin red. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact she drew him even closer. His heart stuttered, and he couldn’t hold back. His hands went to the zipper on her jeans, and he yanked her into his lap, the heat building between them as surely as it had last night.
Overhead, a shooting star blazed a path through the darkness. He closed his eyes and kissed her once more. Rose had captured his heart. Again.
…
It didn’t take too long to find the Enrique home. The house was the largest structure in the village, the stucco a bright orange that somehow fit with the blue-tiled roof. Off to one side of the yard, a concrete grotto provided shelter for a small religious statue. Similar shrines dotted homes, large and small, on both sides of the borders. This one looked well-tended with a vase of fresh flowers before. Santos pulled into the driveway then circled in behind one of very expensive SUVs parked there, pointing the big Harley toward the street. “You sure his mother won’t recognize you?”
“Nothing’s a sure bet right now,” Rose answered, pulling off her leather gloves. “But I doubt it. She was in jail when I got elected sheriff, and she came here as soon as she got out. His grandmother’s a different story. She shouldn’t be here, though. They’re completely estranged.”
Taking off his helmet, he led the way up the sidewalk. Because they’d polished their backstory before leaving Rio County, they were ready when a man opened the front door, pushed past a screen, and came outside. Slim but muscular, he wore pressed jeans and a loose-fitting short-sleeved shirt that didn’t quite cover the gun-shaped bulge at his waist. His black hair was neatly trimmed, his skin lightly bronzed. He would have been handsome except half his face was horribly scarred. The tight, shiny skin spoke volumes about the fire that had obviously caused the damage.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“We’re looking for Juan Enrique,” Santos said, holding his helmet at his side. “I’m Santos, and this is Angela.” Santos spoke again when the man didn’t answer. “Is he