Free Intimate Enemies by Joan Swan Page A

her I don’ know, I can’t say, I don’ keep records of who goes on the boat. I tell her I jus’ manage the docks; the boats are the owners’ concern. I tell her nothin’, señor, I swear.”
    “Come on, Mario. She’s a beautiful woman. I saw you two flirting.”
    “She a beautiful woman to you, Rio. She a charming girl to me.” His voice, the glare he shot down his nose at Rio said, Don’t be disgusting . “And we were not flirting. We were talking. You young men, always jealous of everything. So insecure.”
    Insecure? Mario made him sound like a five-year-old. Which, okay, was about how old he felt when he thought about Cassie taking him for nothing but a joyride. That wasn’t what he wanted from her. Wait. Reframe. That wasn’t all he wanted from her. He’d known that much from day one in the cemetery.
    “Besides, are you loco?” Mario looked at Rio like he’d lost a nut. “You think I want trouble? Here? Now?” His eyes darted toward the spot where a van had been found abandoned less than two weeks ago, stuffed with mutilated, dead bodies. The van and the bodies were long gone, but the gang’s message lived on. “I don’ want her to get hurt. If she keeps askin’ questions like that around here, she’s gonna get hurt. She a nice lady. She love her mamà very much. Santos was a true brother to her. They a nice family.”
    Yes, they were. Rio knew that from spending time with Alejandra and Santos. In a lot of ways, he felt like he already knew Cassie. Had grown fond of her through their stories and their love for her long before he’d ever met her at the funerals. Sweat gleamed on Mario’s dark face. “This is such a problem. I no good at lying, señor. I just a simple man, want a simple job. If los Muertos hear she’s asking questions, if they think I told her somethin’…”
    Rio looked out over the blue sea, boats lined up in their slips, seagulls gliding overhead. Difficult to believe this serene setting provided a killing ground for the area’s most lethal gang— Muerte , or Death. Their claws sank so deep into this territory, every time they made another move, the community bled. Los Muertos was associated with a larger and far more powerful cartel based in Agua Prieta, and that gang wanted this harbor. But so did los Muertos ’ rivals, los Diablos , or the devils. Of course, los Diablos also had powerful backing from a larger gang, their headquarters in Mexico City.
    The complex weave of gangs and gang associations in this country created an exquisitely brutal tapestry. If Rio gave it too much thought, he’d throw his hands up in defeat, move to an island in the Bahamas, and weave baskets for food—where he’d be just about as useful as he felt now.
    “You did good.” Rio took a long breath of the salted air and squinted into the distance. “If she comes back, just do what you did today and call me. I’ll come get her. And you make sure Enrique is as quiet as you are. She’ll stay safe, and you’ll stay out of trouble.”
    The curses Rio muttered on his way back into town almost drowned out the ping of his BlackBerry—an alert from the wiretap software.
    Rio attached headphones and tapped into Cassie’s call. One to San Diego, by the looks of the phone number.
    “So, is he all you remember?” an unfamiliar woman asked.
    “Not even close.” Cassie’s slow speech and sensual voice sent a rivulet of heat down the center of Rio’s chest. Shit, that was uncomfortable. “He’s soooo much hotter.”
    Rio tripped on an uneven ridge in the sidewalk and stopped walking.
    “Details, girl,” the other woman said. “I want details.”
    God, so did Rio—if she was talking about him. If not, he wanted to put a knife to his own throat.
    “Mmmm,” she hummed low and sexy. A rush of lust hit him solidly between the legs. “So handsome. I didn’t remember what he looked like at all, you know, but he’s got this thick black hair and light eyes, kind of green. And his body,