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Well, problem was Moose’s middle name. Just so happened it was each of his brothers’ middle names too. And their hackles were all standing on end, their mouths frothing to take a chomp out of his hide.
But Quick wasn’t about to let his pack step out of line. Not now, especially not in a public bar, and especially not when he was attempting to do things diplomatically.
“Does your girlfriend know her sister is sleeping with the devil?” someone asked, but Moose’s vision was filled with red and narrowed to a pinpoint focus, so he had no idea who he was addressing when he replied with a, “Not yet, but she’s about to find out.”
Then he took out his phone and snapped a few pictures. Evidence. When he confronted that lying little wench, he wanted proof to back him up. He wanted to look her in the eyes when she tried to lie her way out of this one. Angel said her sister had a way of always getting herself into trouble, but Moose just hadn’t realized how deep she would go.
This was new ground. A delicate situation that could blow up in their faces fast if they didn’t handle it properly. If talks with Contreras didn’t go well, if they pushed the wrong button on his hair-trigger temper, no doubt Contreras would use Rena as a bargaining chip.
As much of a problem as she’d been, Moose had no doubt that Angel loved her sister fiercely. If anything happened to her because of them, she’d never forgive him. She’d always blame him for her sister getting caught in the cross fire.
Moose turned his head, catching his president’s eye. “This changes everything.”
twenty
Rena hadn’t expected to be taken out tonight, as Manuel preferred to stay in. But tonight he’d emerged from the house with a worn expression that grew even deeper, creating deep lines across his forehead when he spotted her poolside with his daughter.
No doubt the man who controlled the world didn’t like the vision of the two women in his life chatting, perhaps conspiratorially, about him. Of course, he had no proof they were discussing him—even though they had been. In fact, Rena felt she had successfully navigated the choppiest waters with Victorjia in the nearly two hours that they’d been talking. She was a lovely young woman, not much younger than Rena, which she suspected aided in their connection—one she wasn’t opposed to capitalizing on.
Being the stern kind of man that he was, Manuel had simply walked up and asked how his two lovely ladies were getting along, then, holding out a hand, he’d told Rena to get dressed because he was taking her out.
And here they were, back in the same place they’d first met. The bar hadn’t changed at all—just the scenery. Rena had to be careful not to get sucked in by his charms. The way Manuel held her waist as they walked, the soft way that he talked to her, the commanding presence he exuded, and those delicious lips that kissed her with total finesse made her weak. Each day, her ability to keep the mission separate from her personal life grew harder. Rena knew if she didn’t find what the FBI needed soon, she might not have the strength to simply cut ties and walk away when the time finally came. Was that what Agent McKinnon meant when she’d eluded to knowing what Rena was going through? Had she experienced the same conflicting emotions on a past case? But the biggest question was, how had she fared? The woman appeared to have done okay for herself, but there was a look about her—bruises beneath her bloodshot eyes, frown lines bracketing her lips and carving a line between her brows, and a sheer tiredness to her voice—that suggested she was stressed to the max. So maybe they were both slowly sinking under their respective situations.
God, she really hated thinking that way. It was just another reminder of how she never failed to screw up. Whatever Rena did, it seemed like she was always making the wrong choices. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Whether it was a selfish act or matters of the heart or just a self-fulfilling prophecy, she couldn’t seem to keep herself out of trouble. Maybe Angel was right. Maybe shewasher own worst enemy.
Sitting beside Manuel, Rena took a moment to admire the sharp cut of his broad jaw, his wide nose, thick lips, and big brown, intelligent eyes lined with enviably thick black lashes. He appeared completely at ease, even in his three-piece suit in the middle of a country bar, as if he simply belonged there. Nothing and yet everything about him screamed he should be avoided, that he was dangerous, but she couldn’t escape the natural draw he had toward him. Manuel was…magnetic. Even knowing she was slowly falling farther down the rabbit hole toward her demise, she couldn’t stop herself. Or maybe shewouldn’t. At this point, it was hard to know the difference, since she’d been singing the same song and dancing the same dance her entire life.
But maybe the problem wasn’t with Rena. Maybe it was with the rest of the world. Maybe she couldn’t make herself fit because she simplydidn’t. Like a square peg in a round hole, maybe she wasn’t made for the world her sister was a part of, but was made for Manuel’s instead. After all, they did have an undeniable connection, even if it did take place mostly in the bedroom.
Manuel ordered a whiskey, neat, and a cocktail for her. He didn’t ask her order, just made it for her. Any other woman might take offense to that, but Rena kind of like his self-assuredness. And what was more impressive was that he was right on the money in his assumption. She did like cocktails. Then again, there weren’t many alcoholic beverages she’d hadn’t met and liked.
“So when are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Rena asked, putting it all out on the table. She’d always been a forward kind of girl, so she might as well just play par for the course. Besides, she couldn’t get answers if she didn’t ask questions, and Manuel had been quiet all evening, that pensive look on his face making it obvious that he had something weighing on his mind.
Twisting the whiskey glass between his fingers, he simply told her, “It’s none of your business.”
Harsh words delivered by a harsh man. Rena tried and failed not to be hurt by his blunt delivery, but she couldn’t deny the sting. Yet another sign she was in trouble.
“Maybe not, but when it affects our time together, I’ll make it my business,” she asserted. Manuel might not realize it, but she could match him. She hadn’t gotten as far as she had in life skating by on niceties. When push came to shove, she always shoved.
He cast her a droll look, forcing her to steel her spine and not shrink back. Oh, but if looks could kill… Although she was fairly certain he wasn’t truly mad at her, and she didn’t think he would try to hurt her, Rena felt the strike of fear all the same. Here she was, sitting beside a man who was a known criminal with even deeper criminal ties. Even though she was never made privy to the extent of his background, she wasn’t stupid. This man had done things in his lifetime that would send him straight to Hell. It was in his eyes, a coldness that reached so deep inside of him, it likely touched his soul. There was no coming back from that kind of darkness.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t savable.
Rena had witnessed softness and kindness in him. He was lost, but not totally. That was the little something that she was grabbing onto, the tiny shred of decency that kept her hanging in there just a little longer, kept her wanting more.
He’s not so bad.
“Step lightly,” he warned her, his voice deceptively calm.
“I’ll step where I want, Manny. I don’t answer to anyone but myself. But I will and do respect your privacy. I have from the start, but I’m allowed to express concern and ask how you’re doing. I deserve to know something, even if you leave out the details.”
He looked at her with those dark eyes, searching for she didn’t know what. “Why do I like you?”
The question confused her, and Rena frowned, unsure of how to answer.
“Maybe it’s because you have a mouth on you. Reminds me of…” He cut himself off, scowling as he gulped down the rest of his drink and raised an arm, signaling the waitress to bring him another.
Rena didn’t ask. She figured whatever had stopped his words had to do with his late wife. And when she made that connection, she could almost see the pain in his eyes and realized then that a lot of the anger bubbling at the surface of ninety percent of his expressions was actually him just trying to cover up the turmoil going on inside.
