Deception

by Riley Magnus

 
 
Zack lay, sparkling with sweat on the beach, his eyes closed, his fingers idly sifting the sand at the edge of his towel. He considered a dip in the green and turquoise ocean to cool off. Considered a beer, or three. And tried not to consider the fact that it was the last day of his vacation. Seven days, gone just like that. Poof.
 
Of course, the first day was tough, adjusting after the travel. Zack fucking hated flying, even though he’d never admit it to a living soul. Day two, he thought, okay, now I’m here, what the hell do I do with myself? Day three, rain and he slept when he wasn’t drinking, eating or prowling for a warm body to share is overpriced, oversized bed. No luck.
 
Day four, finally Zack was getting into the rhythm of the island. He wasn’t thinking about the Bureau, wasn’t worrying about Eric, he was just relaxing. Sort of. At least he wasn’t thinking that maybe he should have taken a cruise or gone to Cancun instead. Christ, he didn’t want to even imagine being trapped on a ship with the same people everyday. Hell, he could do that at home. And the idea of trying to speak Spanish and pick up a woman gave him the willies. He never could remember the difference between senora and senorita. Couldn’t get it clear if a senora meant the woman was married, or that the woman was older. If senorita meant jail bate, or engaged. And he didn’t even want to imagine which ear the flower was tucked in meant available and which ear meant back off, buster. He was glad he chose to stay in the states. The good old U. S. of A. where he knew the currency and the language. And he was glad he’d decided to go to the Florida Keys. Back east. Almost home, at least on the same ocean.
 
Zack grew up in New York. Met his wife in college. She wanted to head back to Los Angeles after graduation, so he figured what the hell.
 
Since then, he hadn’t taken a single vacation. Not one. And never alone. At first, after they got married there was no way they could afford one. By the time he’d earned his first paid vacation, Sam was pregnant with Eric. Had to save for the baby. Then, well, then . . .
 
Day five, Zack got himself stinking drunk, tossed into the local Key West jail to sleep it off and still had no idea exactly what he did in Margaritaville that earned him a bruised rib.
 
Day six, he paid his bail, crawled back to his hotel and nursed a hangover the likes of which he’d never had. Well fuck. He was on vacation. What the hell is vacation without at least one good binge?
 
But now, it was day seven and already he could feel himself going back. His FBI training kicked in without his even realizing it. There he was, trying to get a tan and analyzing the results of the mission. The vacation experiment. Well, it didn’t take an expert to see, it was a rousing, A-1 fucking failure. What the hell did he expect? That he’d get off the plane in Miami, see the perfect woman across the concourse and sweep her off to his king size bed on Beau Street to make love all week? Shit. It don’t happen that way. And never had a chance of happening that way for him. Apparently his sex appeal was the same on both coasts. Nonexistent.
 
Instead of going for a drink, Zack picked up his sandy towel and headed back to his empty room. He packed to leave the next morning, showered and dressed for dinner then decided to forget the whole thing. Call for take out or something. He sat on his deck and sipped beer, trying to figure out what he wanted to eat, if anything.
 
***
 
It was more of a pounding than a polite tap, but Zack was pretty damn sure it was his pizza at the door. Out on the deck, he probably hadn’t heard the first knock, so the overgrown-beach-boy-pizza-delivery-shit-without-a-real- job was fucking pounding for his fifteen-eighty (plus tip).
Pulling a twenty from his wallet, Zack strolled to the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he groaned, tugging the door opened.
 
Like a speeding bullet, someone far smaller than his regular delivery guy swept into the room and back to his bedroom. “What the fuck?” Zack snapped, following the fast moving human through his suite. Not even the scent of fucking pizza. “Where the hell are you? Who the hell are you? God dammit!”
 
The empty closet jangled with moving loose hangers and Zack cautiously slid the mirrored door opened. Whoever it was, it was obviously terrified, and his first suspicion was that the shivering being huddled in the corner of his closet was a child hiding from a pretty pissed off dad by the looks of it. It was wrapped in one of those oversized beach towels covered with pictures of Sponge Bob Squarepants.
 
Zack leaned against the doorjamb. “Come on outa there. Whatever you did, I’m sure you don’t need to be hiding in my closet. Come on.” He reached to take the child by the arm but got the shock of his life when the tear covered face rose and looked up into his eyes.
 
Jesus, what a face! And good God, what a gorgeous woman! She was small, probably five foot nothing, but as she slowly stood, the stupid blue and yellow towel fell from her shoulders displaying a perfect body, covered with the perfect tan the perfect tiny black bikini, and all topped off by the perfect shining black hair. But it was her eyes that brought Zack back to the moment. The desperation in them was very real; it wasn’t his little fantasy that a beautiful, exotic woman was hiding in his closet. It was a reality, and the reality was that she was terrified of someone. Probably not her pissed off dad either.
 
Instinct kicked in. Zack took his gun from the suitcase, checked the rest of the room, the hallway, locked the door and returned to the closet. Damn, she was still there, curled in the corner again. He knelt on one knee, careful not to frighten her. “Now,” he said calmly. “What are ya doing in my closet?”
 
She was shivering, wet, the scent of fear, coconut suntan lotion and salt water floating around her like a cloud. Her eyes penetrated Zack’s. Man, he had to remind himself to keep breathing! Her eyes were like black diamonds, her dark hair, so black it sparked blue, was long and straight, glowing in the darkness. Her lips, soft and full, naturally rosy, shiny, outrageously inviting. Zack cleared his throat, suddenly feeling strangled in the tight space so close to her. He stood.
 
“Okay. Listen lady, you’re safe, come on. You can come out.”
 
She stood. Her head barely reached his chin. She took a deep breath and slipped past him to stand in the center of his bedroom. Her luscious curves were accented with a golden warm tan, she wore a small waist purse, the kind runners use that teased at the swell of her hips, begging to be un-clipped, removed. The black bikini was strings. Really. Strings. All knotted together. Zack wasn’t sure, but the word macramé came to mind. Unfortunately, the knots were pretty tight where he’d rather they not be. When his eyes finally reached past her lovely navel (a perfect inny), over the gorgeous globes of her breasts beneath all those lacy knots and above her strong chin it was once again her frightened eyes that put the professional back into the FBI vacationer.
 
He led her to a chair. Sitting across from her at the tiny corner table, his eyes made a quick sweep of her face. No bruises. No cuts or fresh bleeding. “Can you tell me what happened? But first, first. Tell me your name?”
 
“Mio Dios! Mi nombre?” She gasped.
 
Zack’s head dropped to his chest. “Ah fuck. Tell me that isn’t Spanish.”
 
“I speak English,” she said, her eyes brightening. “I was afraid. Afraid you are, um, Cuba.”
 
“Cuba?” His brows knotted and he leaned back in his chair. “Cuba the country? Or the name, Cuba?”
 
“No, no name. Cuba. Country.”
 
“Good. Good. We’re making progress here. You thirsty? I’m fucking thirsty.” Zack went to the mini frig and pulled out two beers, sat and slid one across the table to her as he gulped a chug then groaned.
 
“Okay. Now, back to names. What’s your name?”
 
She pointed to her heaving breast and he struggled to keep his eyes on hers. “I am Lillianna Riviera,” it rolled off her tongue like an erotic invitation. “Lillianna . . . Riviera,” she repeated slowly.
 
“Ah, right. Ah, I’m Zack Grant.” He swallowed more beer, took a deep breath and let it out slow, hoping to get a grip on himself. “Lillianna Riviera, why are you hiding in my closet?”
 
“Safe. Please, help me . . . I need safe . . . hide.”
 
“From?”
 
The speed of her rapid fire Spanish made his brows shoot up.
 
“Whoa, whoa! Wait, slow . . . and in English  . . . please.”
 
She leaned dangerously over the table toward him and he almost set his hand out to catch the possible falling fruit. “Fios Espanoza,” she whispered.
 
Zack sat back hard, all images of loosened breasts from fragile black strings dissolved. “I see.”
Frios Espanoza, one of the largest known Columbian drug cartel leaders. What the hell had this girl gotten herself into? She didn’t look stoned or on anything he could identify. His mind flashed over a number of solutions to whatever her problem was, but those pretty full lips were being licked by a lovely pink tongue and it was obvious that the tiny gerbils in her head were spinning Spanish into English.
 
“Frios say . . . he say . . . if I do not,” and a blush flamed across her cheeks, her eyes dropped. “Then he say he send me back to . . . Cuba.”
 
Ahh, back to Cuba?  “Lillianna, if you don’t do what, he’ll send you back to Cuba?”
 
The girl was fighting tears. “I am . . . puta,” she said the last word so quietly he had to lean forward to hear.
 
“Puta? English please?”
 
“Zack Grant, I am . . . puta . . . ah . . . whore.” She blinked but before he could reach for his handkerchief, her face was cover with tears. Crocodile tears, huge and flowing like a river. She continued. “He take me from mi madre, he make me . . .” What followed was a raging rapid ride of Spanish that made his head spin.
 
Zack blinked and shook his head. What the hell was he gonna do with this?
 
***
 
Lillianna was still sobbing an hour later at his little table; Zack went to the phone, rethought and finally dialed the front desk.
 
“Front desk. How may I help you, Mr. Grant?”
 
Could he say ‘with a few more days vacation’? Not likely. “Yeah. Do you know where I can get a translator?  Does anyone down there speak Spanish?”
 
“Yes, we have several Spanish speaking employees, sir. The manager, the shuttle driver, and one of our on duty maids.”
 
Zack turned a look at the poor girl. The manager was a nice enough guy but he looked like a Sumo wrestler, would probably scare the hell out of Lillianna. The shuttle driver was a prick, so he was out too. “The maid, can she come up here, room 522? Tell her I’ll pay her to translate for me.”
 
“I speak a little Spanish too, Mr. Grant,” teased the desk clerk.
 
“The maid, okay?”
 
“Yes sir, I’ll send her right up if she’s still on the premises.”
 
“Call her if she isn’t. This is important.”
 
Within minutes the extremely Mexican looking maid stood at his door, a quizzical look in her eyes. “How much?”
 
“How good is your English?” Zack retorted.
 
“Good enough for a fair price.”
 
“Fifty.”
 
“I’m your girl. What do you need translated?”
 
Zack stepped back to reveal his guest. “Who, is more like it.”
 
The maid gawked, horror on her face. “Hey I’ll translate, but I’m not sticking around for the foreplay.”
 
That did it; he stomped to his jacket and pulled out his badge. “FBI, I need a translator. It can be you or it can be Sumo manager. Who wants the fifty bucks more?”
 
“I do.” She went to the table and sat across from a very frightened, confused Lillianna.
 
Zack stood nearby. “Tell her I need to know if she’s been hurt.”
 
A long conversation ensued and the maid turned to Zack. “No.”
 
“No?” Zack spat.
 
“No. Mister, she’s a well paid sexual escort for a very wealthy man. She cooperates, thus, no hurting.”
 
Zack blinked and she leaned closer.
 
“She’s a whore,” the maid whispered.
 
Irritation ragged at the edges of his already frustrated nerves. “Ask her how she came to be the well paid sexual escort for this very wealthy man.”
 
Another conversation, this one very long and accented with Lillianna’s tears. The maid had visibly softened, patting the girl’s hand often and shaking her head with sad eyes. She finally led the sobbing girl to the bed and bid her to rest. As Lillianna curled into a ball on his bed, Zack took the maid aside.
 
“What the hell was that all about?”
 
She led him outside the door and told him a story that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
 
***
 
“This has got to be a crime!” Hissed the maid and Zack waited, leaning back against the door.
“That girl,” she pointing frantically. “That poor girl is the granddaughter of Sohpia Manorca!”
 
“And who the hell is Sophia Manorca?”
 
“Only one of the wealthiest women in Cuba! Wealthy, but not with money, mister. Wealthy in her family, very, very powerful. Even Castro answers to the Manorca family! This man, this Fios Espanoza, whoever he is, had dealings with Lillianna’s father and one night she was stolen while she slept and sold into slavery. Sold to be a whore. She was fourteen!”
 
“Jesus. She’s not fourteen anymore, right?”
 
“No, she’s twenty. But Frios kept her, uses her to entertain his business associates. Mio Dios! He had her . . . um . . . cut . . . fixed so she can’t get pregnant and basically ruined the girl. But she’s a smart one, she found out he’s into something illegal.”
 
No shit, thought Zack.
 
“And in an attempt to win her freedom, she threatened to turn him in. Mister, do you know why she’s hiding?”
 
“Yeah, she said he intends to send her back to Cuba.”
 
“He sure as hell does, in a casket. And in pieces!”
 
Zack began to pace. He cleared his throat and pushed a hand through his hair. “Did she say where Espanoza is?”
 
“Yes, she did,” the maid grinned. “Right in this hotel, room 728. I’m calling the cops.” She turned to charge away but he caught her arm.
 
“No, no, I’ve got a better solution. The police need a crime to hold him. The FBI already has a two hundred page reason to hold Espanoza. I’ll handle this.” He pulled a fifty from his wallet but she refused. “Listen, can you get some coffee or something up here for her to eat?”
 
“Will do, but I still think I should call the cops.”
 
“You talk to no one, you hear?”
 
She reluctantly nodded. Zack shook his head and went back inside. Two phone calls and it would be finished. He reached for the phone and glanced at the bed. It was empty. “Lillianna?” he called, walked out onto the balcony. Tapped on the bathroom door then checked in the closet. There, bundled in the silly child’s beach towel slept one frightened young woman. He left her there for the moment and made his first call.
 
“Rosie, it’s Zack.”
 
“How’s the sun and surf in Florida? It’s raining cats and dogs here.”
 
“Fine, fine. How would you like to help capture Frios Espanoza?”
 
“Ohh, fun and games.”
 
“I’m dead serious. Get the Florida Feds to room 726 of the Ocean Front Ramada in Key West and do it pronto.”
 
“You’re not joking, are you?”
 
“Fuck no. I’ve got everything I need to prove he’s here.” Zack glanced at the closet. “And I can hold him here for a little while longer, but we need to move fast.”
 
“I’m on it.”  
 
The maid returned with a tray of food, hot coffee and some clothes for Lillianna. She mumbled about still wanting to call the cops and Zack leveled a glare on her.
 
“Listen, you say anything to anyone and you could ruin the biggest drug cartel bust in a decade.”

Her mouth dropped and she blinked.
 
“Am I making myself clear? Keep it quiet.”
 
She squirmed and Zack straightened his shoulders. “Who’d you tell?”
 
“Just my husband, and I know you’re right ‘cause he said the same thing about that Espanoza guy.”
 
“Jesus! Will he keep his mouth shut?”
 
She nodded with her eyes wide. He wasn’t buying it. Time for his second call.  And he made one more, extending his stay in Key West for a few more days.
 
***
 
Later that night, Lillianna sound asleep in the bed and the maid and her husband in protective custody, Zack sat out on the balcony with a beer in hand. There were two men looking up at the balconies. He raised his beer to one, knowing damn well it was Espanoza’s man and not one of the good guys, figuring he could just play the game, look like any other tourist enjoying a Coors on the deck.
 
He went inside and dialed the phone.
 
“Rosie, what the fuck is taking so long?”
 
“They’re confirming, Zack. They’re already surrounding the place, but it looks like Espanoza’s already run.”
 
“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”
 
Lillianna stirred and turned terrified eyes to him. His hand reached out and patted her shoulder to comfort her, but his irritated voice raged on. “Fuck, Rosie! I give you Espanoza and they spend time confirming? What the hell?”
 
“Procedure, Zack. Remember what that is?”
 
“Fine. Keep me posted, dammit.”
 
He paced the room as Lillianna sat up and pulled her legs tight against her chest, watching.
 
“You’re gonna be fine, don’t worry about anything. I just need to figure out what the hell to do next,” he rambled on and on, knowing full well she wasn’t catching much of anything he was saying. Taking a cautious glance out his window, there were now three men sitting at the pool in the dark, watching his window and no other. “Shit,” he growled and lifted his phone again.
 
He called the Florida State Federal office, was bounced from department to department before someone who finally knew what he was talking about was willing to speak with him. Investigator Filmont sounded like an old fuck, but at least he listened while Zack ranted.
 
“What the hell is wrong with you guys? Some kind of information would be greatly appreciated here, a little professional courtesy! Jesus, it’s not like I’ve given you the whereabouts of some fucking petty thief. We’re talking Frios Espanoza here! The Frios Espanoza!”
 
“Yes, Grant. I know who the hell you’re talking about. We did a full investigation and have received confirmation of his presence in Key West Florida, but he’s slipped. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation? You’re office said you were on a well earned and mandatory R&R.”

That word mandatory again. What the hell? So he was exhausted, so he was starting to loose his edge, so the fuck what? He was well rested and in full swing now. “Fuck you, what the hell does that have to do with this?”
 
“Grant . . . it’s out of your hands. Why the hell do you want to get in the middle of this anyway?”

Zack turned to Lillianna and made the crucial decision to keep her a secret, even from the Bureau. “Maybe I’m just the ambitious type.”
 
“Yeah, well put your ambition aside, Grant. There’s shit going down that a guy on mandatory R&R has no reason to be concerned with.”
 
“Filmont, don’t do this, man. Get me in the loop, I’m sitting two fucking floors below Espanoza’s room, got three of his goons watching me already. Get me some surveillance equipment; at least I can assist from in here.”
 
“Out of my hands, buddy. And way out of yours. Get a fucking tan. Espanoza’s men aren’t interested in you, you’re being paranoid.” And the prick hung up.
 
“Fuck!” He thumped on the bed next to Lillianna. “Looks like we’re on our own, pretty lady.”

She nodded, if not understanding his words, at least seemingly comprehending the intensity in his voice. Lillianna shuffled to her feet and collected her swim suit. “I . . . go now,” she said with a sad look in her gorgeous eyes.
 
“Oh hell no. Lillianna, where?”
 
She shrugged and walked toward the door.
 
“No, you can’t leave here! Jesus, they’re watching for you. Are you crazy?”
 
“They will hurt Zack Grant. I go!”
 
His arms wrapped around her small shaking frame. “Hey, don’t worry about me, if I get hurt it’s better than you getting dead.”
 
She pulled away but he had no intention of relinquishing her. He tugged her closer and lowered a soft kiss on her hair. “You have to stay here, Lillianna. This is the safest place for you right now.”
 
Her tear cover face rose and Zack felt his heart go into overdrive. This was an astonishingly, beautiful and terrified woman. He wanted to comfort her and he had two choices. Do it from across the room, or do it from between the sheets. He cleared his throat and acted fatherly, holding her shoulders and lowering his nose to meet hers. “You are staying right here.”
 
Lillianna blinked then slowly, so painfully slowly, she moved until her lips met his. Decision made. She was far more delicious than he even imagined. He lifted her into his arms and took her to the bed. Sitting her there, he let his mouth babble a hundred things he was pretty sure she wouldn’t understand. Unbuttoning his shirt he watched her. “This is wrong. It’s unprofessional, but hey, I’m not working right now, right? Mandatory R&R. Supposed to get my head on straight. This probably ain’t gonna do it, but . . .” His eyes fell on hers. “Jesus, Lillianna. You are seriously beautiful.” He knelt at her feet then kissed her, kissed her deep and long, moving his tongue over her teeth until she permitted him entry.
 
As he tenderly removed her blouse, Lillianna did something he didn’t expect. She slowly pushed him away and shook her head. “No . . . I am puta . . . not good . . . not clean for you. You special,” she gasped sobs. “No.”
 
“Aw Jesus.” His hands cupped her face “What the hell kinda life have you had, sweetheart? Shh,” he held her close and rocked. “You are good. You are better than good. Shh, we don’t have to do this, quiet now.”
 
Zack slept in the chair.
 
***
 
When he woke, Lillianna was gone. Not even in the closet and he panicked. Checking the window, the three goons were still out there. Pulling on his holster, he left the room without even covering it. At the front desk he demanded to see Sumo Manager.
 
“Listen Buddy,” the big man said as Zack closed the door to his office. “You’ve already cost me a maid and a guest. You think maybe you can put the gun someplace where you don’t scare the living shit out of the rest of my guests?”
 
Zack thought of a few choice places, but shook it off. “You have surveillance cameras in the hallways. I need to see the tapes.”
 
The manager grunted but popped the tape into the viewer. “Last night? When the pretty girl left your room?”


Zack glared.
 
“Here,” Sumo pointed.
 
Zack could clearly see Lillianna walk out of his door, close it carefully then kiss the door before she slipped out through the stairwell. The next tape the manager showed was four minutes later. Lillianna climbing into a flamingo pink Key West taxi that quickly drove off the lot.
 
“You got what you need?”
 
“Why were you watching her? You have this shit all cued up and everything.”

Sumo manager’s brows rose. “So, I watch beautiful women. Sue me.”
 
Holster hidden beneath his jacket, Zack spent the entire day searching for Lillianna. It was one of those days, starting with the cab company, locating the all night cabbie and trying to carry on an articulate interview with a man so high, the walls of his trailer were permeated and stained with cannabis smoke. He flashed his badge and asked everyone he could think of who might have seen her. What the hell? It’s a small island. No one saw a hitchhiker going across the bridge. She had to still be within the mile and a half! When he headed back to his room, all he knew was that the stoned cabbie had left her off at the beach, never even asked for the fare.
 
He returned long after dark, deflated, disappointed and worried for Lillianna. Had he handled the whole thing wrong? He should have told the local Bureau that he had her. Maybe then he’d have gotten help. He picked up the newspaper from the lobby and scanned it for any possible news of a dead young woman as he rode the elevator upstairs. Nothing. “Fuck,” he groaned as he pushed his key card into the lock.
 
Dark inside, but as he reached for the switch, someone captured his arm, swung it behind him and snatched his weapon. “Fuck!”
 
“Fuck, yourself, Grant.”
 
Zack turned to the familiar voice. “Fillmont?” The man released him and Zack reached for the gun. It was willingly surrendered and the light was switched on. Lillianna sat in the center of the bed, terror in her eyes and two more Feds were in the room. One at the window, watching the goons still stationed at the pool.
 
“What’s going on here?”
 
Fillmont was a graying, wiry man with bushy dark brows that moved when he talked. “I thought I told you to leave this fucking case alone.”
 
Lillianna leapt from the mattress and into Zack’s arms. She was shaking so hard he hugged her tight.
 
“Ahh, I see,” chuckled Filmont and he plopped into a chair.
 
“Just tell me someone explained to her that you’re the good guys.”
 
“Yeah, yeah. But she’s scared because she isn’t one of the good guys. This girl is a known associate of Espanoza’s. Fuck, Grant, you sure can pick ‘em.”
 
“Yeah, and she’s a victim.”
 
“They all are.”
 
Ignoring the comment, Zack took Lillianna to the bed and let her sit, ran his hands over her hair and went to his mini fridge for a beer he wanted more than air. Empty. Glancing around, he noted more than six opened bottles sitting here and there. “You guys always drink on duty?”
 
The window watcher shot him a scowl and the other nameless agent chuckled.
 
“It’s an easy job, Grant. In and out.” Filmont eyed Lillianna with a look that curdled Zack’s blood. He was beginning to wonder if she was in more danger from the FBI than Espanoza himself. He cleared his throat.
 
“So, what’s the game plan here?”
 
“Why didn’t you tell us you had this little gem?”
 
Zack glared.
 
“Well,” Filmont shuffled in his chair and crossed his legs comfortably. “No biggie. As soon as we knew you had her we were able to use her to get Espanoza out of hiding. She’d not a smart cookie, is she? The mere mention of her grandma’s name and she strolled right out of your room. Right under the nose of those goons out there. Took a little doing to get her back and bring her here. We’re just sitting, waiting for the man himself to claim her.”
 
“And you think that’s gonna work?”
 
“Turns out this little puta helps close a lot of important and extremely lucrative deals for the cartel. She’s as valuable as gold with her looks and her heritage and all. Espanoza isn’t willing to give her up. He thinks he can make a trade, information for her. He’s coming right to this room.”
 
“They’re on the move, Filmont,” announced the agent at the window. The atmosphere suddenly went as professional as any Zack had ever seen. He looked to Filmont.
 
“Grant, you got one job, protect that girl.” Zack nodded and took her hand, quickly running her to the closet and sliding the mirrored door opened, but not shutting her inside till he kissed her and whispered that she be silent. Another kiss to make sure she understood . . . both his instructions and his feelings. He reached behind for his pistol and leaned against the wall, awaiting the next development.
 
***
 
Espanoza walked into the room like he owned the place. He casually sat at the little table and smiled an arrogant grin, nodding to each of them. Even though there were guns aimed at his chest, he was relaxed and comfortable. Filmont settled across the table and chuckled, sliding his pistol into the shoulder holster and sipping a beer.
 
“We meet again, Mr. Espanoza. So, how are you enjoying Key West?”
 
“As well as you, as it seems we are both working, correct?” The man’s English was impeccable, but his accent was unmistakable. Zack had read that Espanoza was Spanish, a wealthy son of some royal lineage who never seemed to have enough money.
 
Filmont shrugged. “Depends, now doesn’t it? What have you got for me?”
 
“Where is the girl?”
 
“Oh, she’s safe. Hey, I heard we’re facing a little dilemma in Cuba. Care to clarify?”

Espanoza visibly tightened, even though his smile remained calm and controlled. “There is no problem; you will have your share.”

Zack was starting to see the light, but he waited silently for any clues to confirm. Confirmation; it was procedure, right?
 
Filmont leaned forward and hissed into the guy’s face. “I wouldn’t call losing Manorca’s backing ‘no problem’, amigo.”
 
“Ah, the rumor mill is at play, mi compadre. Manorca will never walk away from me.”
 
“Something happens to his granddaughter, and you are up shit creek, buddy. Food for the crocodiles. Speaking of the rumor mill, were you really intending to kill Lillianna Riviera? I mean man, she’s such a good lay, I’d think you’d keep her for yourself rather than play Petrie’s game. Seems bad policy to murder your most productive work horse.”
 
“Petrie has no game, Filmont. Information comes after the girl.”
 
“No pun intended, I’m sure,” Filmont teased. “The anti’s been upped, Espanoza. Truth about the Manorca mess, or no woman. Besides, my men have been enjoying her company.”
 
Espanoza shot to his feet and glared. “There is no Manorca mess. Petrie controls nothing in my camp, and the girl is my property!”
 
“Ah well,” Filmont leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “You keep forgetting. Here in America, we had something called the Emancipation Proclamation. Can’t own property like her.”
 
“You bastard! You have never double-crossed me in this way before and you will pay for this!”
 
“Sit the fuck down! What double cross? We’ve always had the same fucking deal. You give me what I want and I keep the Feds off your back.”
 
Sweat prickled at the back of Zack’s neck. He was in deep and Filmont was probably right to tell him to back off. This was the sting everyone in the Bureau knew about . . . without the names, places or details of course. He swallowed hard and glared at the agent near the window. The man’s eyes blinked calmly and the safety was tightened on his pistol. Zack was superfluous to the operation and he knew it. But if he kept his mouth shut, it should go down as planned. Using Espanoza to gather not only Cuban political information, but cartel activity was the only goal. That and protecting Lillianna. Just as Zack was feeling sure footing, Filmont directed a statement at him that nearly shattered his resolve.
 
“Bring the girl; let our guest see that she’s fine.”

Zack hesitated. Blinked, but before he could turn to the closet Filmont spoke again.
 
“Nah, leave her rest. She’s been a very busy puta.” He turned to Espanoza and leaned across the table, leveling a glare that could make a grisly piss itself.  “This isn’t a double-cross. It’s the fucking end of the road, Espanoza. Since you refuse to confess, I’ll lay it all out on the line. Manora has pulled every shred of support from the cartel, opting to play the game with Petrie. You figured to threaten to murder the old Cuban’s grandkid to keep him in line, but that, mi compadre, has seriously backfired. Petrie has already met with me, guaranteeing to protect Manorca’s granddaughter and trying to grease the rails for my support . . . and of course, he’ll have it. And you? What shall I do with your sorry ass, Espanoza?”

Sweat glistened on the man’s face.
 
“Thinking here,” Filmont leaned back and tapped a finger on the table. “If I kill you, Petrie will be a happy man, and have one pretty whore to help his cause.”

Espanoza seemed to completely believe Filmont’s threat. “No, I can still be of service to you!”
 
“How? Just how the hell can you help me? That threat to little Lillianna has gotten to Manorca and fully changed his loyalties. He was already leery of you, you stupid ass. Where the hell is your head?”
 
“I can give you more! Much more! Things that will make you an honored man with your superiors . . .  and things that will make you very, very wealthy! I know things your FBI has no clue about!”
 
“So, you want to go to prison?”
 
“I want protective custody.”
 
“Oh, nothing more protective than prison, I promise you.”
 
Espanoza seemed to physically deflate, his eyes dulled and his shoulders slumped. “I will do whatever will protect me.”
 
Filmont turned to the window watcher. “Tell them to take the goons, we’re finished here.”
 
One agent left the room. As orders were called over a walkie-talkie, there was another shift in the energy and Zack went on high alert. Even though Filmont appeared to trust Espanoza, Zack, at the perfect angle, around the bend and unnoticed, released his safety and held his pistol with both hands, aimed for a kill.
 
Filmont stood with a groan and turned his back to Espanoza who drew his own weapon silently.
 
“Wing him, Grant!” Shouted Filmont as he dropped quickly to the ground.
 
The bullet took a clean slice through Espanoza’s shoulder, knocking him into a spin. The man’s weapon went off, shattering the window and Lillianna screamed from the closet.
 
***
 
After all the hubbub, after the ambulance and the pats on the back, Lillianna’s arms wrapped tight around Zack, Filmont stood at the door and grinned.
 
“What the fuck just went down here?”
 
“No idea, Mr. Grant. But I will tell you this much. This pretty lady is safe and she’s heading home to her family in Cuba . . . tomorrow. She’s in your custody till then. I’ll station a few guards, just incase you get . . . distracted.” And he laughed, shook Zack’s hand and walked out.
 
Slamming the bolt across the door, Zack shook his head in disgust. Fuck, it was one thing to make love to a woman, but completely another thing when the whole fucking Bureau knew you were doing it! And then there was the question. Would he be doing it? Would she?
 
Zack went to the shattered window. Two new watchers, but these guys actually waved. He recognized them, his co-conspirators in the biggest sting in a long time. A sting that was still going on. He ran a hand through his hair. He’d had a little piece of that, and did the operation proud too. His mind replayed the entire maneuver that took less than ten minutes. All the places where things could have gone seriously wrong, and how much sharper he really was after a week’s vacation. And Zack realized that just maybe he should be taking those annual holidays like everyone else. Maybe it would help him to be better at is job. Then, Zack thought about something else completely.
 
Lillianna’s small hands snaked around his waist and he turned to her. “You okay?”
 
She nodded. “We are . . . alone?”
 
He glanced over his shoulder. “Pretty much.”

Her head tilted and her eyes searched his. “I wish to thank you . . . and . . . I wish to love you, Zack Grant.”
 
Without turning, he grasped the drapes and tugged them shut.
 
Even as his lips lowered to hers, he was telling her that it wasn’t necessary, that she didn’t have to do this, but her fingers coiled in his hair, pulling his face tighter and kissing deeper.
 
“Am I . . . good enough?” She whispered into his mouth.
 
“You are perfect, sweetheart. Abso-fucking-lutely perfect.”
 
She took his hand and led him to the bed and Zack did his best to forget that there was a Fed stationed outside his door and two staring at his window from the pool. Almost immediately, those images disappeared and his mind was drunk with desire. Lillianna’s beauty was intoxicating. He watched her remove the maid’s loaner clothes and his mouth watered. But he also remembered her fear and terror, her tears. And Zack Grant realized something else. Cuban politics and cartels aside, she was someone he truly wanted to love, completely and without reserve.
 
Perfect. Abso-fucking-lutely perfect. His hands trailed from her arms to her waist, along the smooth curve of her hips, fingers slid across her belly and her head dropped back with a gentle sigh. It hurt to know he had only one night with her and his mind reeled with what his life would be like, loving someone who could trust him as she had. What he knew of women in her station was basic and brutal. These were whores groomed to give complete sexual satisfaction to whoever they were assigned to please, to be unquestioning and compliant.
 
His hands pressed the small of her back, bringing her tight against his aching hard on and he watched her slowly lower to her knees. Now came the big question.
 
Was he curious to see how well trained she was? Or was he more interested in how he could please her? Zack blinked just before her lips touched the tip of his cock.
 
“No, you’re not a . . .  puta!” He said clearly. “No, Lillianna. No.” With a swift move he took her arms and raised her to her feet, then watched her face and shook his head slowly. “You’re not a whore tonight. I’m gonna make love to you Lillianna, not the other way around. Do you understand?”
 
Of course she didn’t, but he’d show her. Leaning in to suck her soft lips, Zack lifted her and laid her onto the mattress. Everything inside of him wanted to please her, wanted to find her most secret desires and fulfill them. Stretching long against her, he finally left her delicious lips to explore the lovely curve of her neck. He nestled at a breast and fed there, starving and sucking, licking and tasting . . . and marveling at her responses. Hoping they were real. As a finger slid down her body, Lillianna gasped. The confusion on her face confirmed his worst fears. Having been taken so young and instructed to do what she did, she’d probably never received such attention. Ego aside, he very much wanted to be the first to take her to the heavens.
 
Zack smiled encouragingly and watched her mouth open wide as he snuggled his face along the perfectly groomed hair of her mound. She actually began to scurry away when his tongue slithered into her folds, but Zack gripped her hips, raised his face and smiled.
 
“Shh, baby. Shh.”

She tentatively relaxed and he gave another swipe of his tongue, this time deeper, easier but seeking the bud. Tipping it repeatedly, his finger slid inside her amazingly wet path.
 
A stream of soft Spanish burst from her mouth and he continued, working for every trigger he knew, doing it with care, with precision and with complete adoration. Loving this girl was his whole reason for existence at that moment. A hand caresses one of her breasts and she settled soft fingers over it.


A glowing rush of a blush climbed from her neck to her cheeks and Lillianna moaned. “I am afraid,” she whispered and he took the moment to collect her into his arms.
 
“Nothing to be afraid of, let me do this, sweetheart. Shh.” And he returned to his task wondering at the sheer simplicity of bringing her to her true self, of showing her that she had value. That she was special and precious to him. His tongue dove deep and his hands worked her clit tenderly. His eyes watched her every physiological response and his cock was throbbing, begging for its own. The first level was not difficult to reach, but Zack wanted more, wanted her to feel it all and feel it fully. To know how much she should feel. His fingers moved faster, pressed harder and his face rose to watch something remarkable. Lillianna’s eyes drifted closed and she was panting. Her fingers coiled and tugged at the sheets around her. She was so close, so damn close. His mouth dove again and he sucked a rhythm, taking her clit between his lips and pulling evenly. When her hips rolled, he held them firm, when her back arched, he slid fingers deep, curling them and pressing. And when she cried out, he continued only as long as he felt she could tolerate before climbing over her to hold her to his heart.
 
There was no deliberation, no plan. As she drifted to the earth, opened her eyes and smiled her surprised smile, he was entering her. He knew that their thoughts and heartbeats were in complete unison. His hips were smooth and her legs locked over him, her arms wrapped a loving embrace and her lips reached for his.
 
Lillianna Riviera had sped into his life in terror and he now held her safe in his grasp. Pumping into the trembling tightness of her path Zack wanted to cry at the perfection of it all. He wanted to hold on; to make it last forever, but his own urges were sapping his brain, stealing his logic and ignoring his intention of satisfying her and only her.
 
Then, his face pressed deep into the pillow beside her, his hips pounding hard and out of control, he heard her whisper. So quiet, as those small hands caressed his back.
 
“Te quiero, te quiero. I love you, Zack Grant. I will always love you.”
 
“God help me,” he gasped and grunted as his climax filled her, seeping out even as his hips continued to jerk uncontrollably. “God, help me . . . Lillianna, I’ll always love you too.”

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