Free Under Fire by Rita Henuber Page B

a heap. Bending over, she held out shorts for him to step into. He grabbed her shoulder for balance and stepped into the shorts. Looking down, he saw her face inches from his dick. What the hell was wrong with him, thinking about sex right now?
    “Don’t get any ideas, secret agent man.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he snapped. Buttoning his shirt, he watched her cram a few more things into the duffel. “Ready?”
    “As I’ll ever be.” She snatched up the scrubs and bag and headed for the door with Rico close behind. Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned in time to take the collision head on.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Rico growled, holding on to her for balance.
    “There are some rules,” she said, making no attempt to back away. In fact, he thought she leaned into him.
    He raised an eyebrow. “Rules? What are they?” He circled an arm around her waist, not for balance, but to feel her against him.
    “Be up front with me. You need to tell me something, come out and say it. Don’t dance around like you did a few minutes ago. Don’t lie to me. If you can’t—or don’t—want to tell me something, say so .”
    “Okay. Can we go?”
    “No. There’s more. What happened between us is past. It won’t happen again. This is business only. Understand?”
    Her eyes blazed and his aching body quickened. “I understand. Business only,” he said solemnly.
    “One other thing. What’s your last name?”
    “Cortes.”
    She opened her mouth to speak. “No,” he said before she could ask, “it’s not my real name. Anything else?”
    “Yeah. You don’t drive my car.”
    He laughed. “That junker? Agreed. Now can we go?”
    She squirmed out of his grip and hustled out the door.
    “You think that old Jeep is going to make it to Miami?” He followed her to the garage.
    “We’ll see.” She opened the garage door exposing her beat up Jeep parked next to a black Corvette. Rico whistled.
    “I knew it. You are the sports car type.”
    “Nope. It’s my brother’s. I take care of it while he’s out on a cruise.”
    “Cruise?” Rico asked, as she forced the duffel into what passed as the cargo area of the Vette.
    “Sea duty. He’s a Navy jet jockey stationed aboard an aircraft carrier.”
    Olivia slammed the trunk shut and clicked the doors open. “Don’t worry about the LoJack.”
    Worry? He hadn’t even thought of it.
    “Sam shut it down. Doesn’t like the idea of anyone tracking him down.”
    “How’d he do that?” Rico said as she helped him jam his six-three frame into the car.
    “No idea. Knowing Sam it was probably with a hammer.” She closed the door, went to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.
    In a matter of minutes they were on I-95 heading south to Miami.

Chapter Six
    Olivia drove silently, wondering about the man sleeping next to her. Could she trust him? He hadn’t offered any proof he was DEA. She’d just have to wait and see. Wait until they reached Miami and he told her more. Not even the thought of losing her career could dampen the excitement of finally having a good lead.
    She was close, she could feel it. No thanks to those two asshole detectives working Danny’s case. The three of them were going to have a nice heart-to-heart about why they’d kept Silva’s name from her. She sure as hell couldn’t trust them enough to pass on any info she learned from Rico. For God’s sake, they could be the informants. Her shoulder twitched at that thought.
    Like Rico, she no longer knew who to trust.
    He stirred and shifted in the seat, attempted to stretch and found no space for his body.
    “I’ll stop soon.”
    He made a grumpy man sound, turning on his side to face her.
    “What makes you think you were discovered?” she asked to break the silence.
    “I told you, the boat was rigged with explosives.”
    A chill ran through her. Had she been hovering any closer that explosion would have taken down the helo.
    “Are you sure? We thought the boat trailing you fired