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  Jorge seemed to momentarily forget them, more interested in browbeating the unlucky servant for being slow and stupid. He followed him across the huge room and through a wide doorway, still hammering him verbally.

  “Real nice son-of-a-bitch.” Gun looked in the glass and then grinned at her. “Just a habit I picked up in college. Never drink anything at a whorehouse. You never knew what would be in your drink when you got back from the head.”

  She nodded. “Best thing is, just don’t drink it.” She inclined her head toward a group of young people seated around a coffee table, taking turns snorting lines of coke. “Party favors,” she murmured.

  He smiled sardonically and touched her nose. “Some party favors, huh?”

  Ali looked around, mentally mapping out escape routes in the place, staying by his side as they moved around, mingling without getting too involved with the other guests. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to slow up. Her gaze burned into a wall-sized movie screen across the room. He gripped her hand, putting pressure on her fingers.

  “Chill, Donavon.” His voice was rough and commanding. “That’s old film.”

  “Old or not,” she hissed. “He’s strangling that girl.”

  He clenched his jaws and shook her a little for emphasis. “Pipe down. We can’t help the girl now.” He pulled her close, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Focus, Donavon.”

  She gripped his arm until the raging anger subsided. “I’m focusing, all right. This bastard needs to be put out of his misery.” She pushed around him and took a cigarette from her handbag. Lighting the slender cylinder took her mind off the film for a few seconds. She lit another one for him.

  “Let’s check out what’s going on over there.” He took a deep drag off his cigarette and hugged her waist. She wanted to choke the dumb bitches that sprawled on couches and let theses guys do whatever they wanted to them, all for another hit of coke.

  Gun had been right. What a whorehouse. The garish decor of the house repulsed her. Walls hung with black and red velvet topped off with silver stars and other celestial images. In complete and disgusting contrast were beautiful ocelot and leopard skins draped over the backs of couches and in glass display cases.

  She smiled at Gun, tapping her left cheek to direct his attention to the open door leading to the patio. The crowd parted enough for him to see the main attraction.

  Shaking his head a little, he laughed. “Christ. I thought I’d been to some wild parties.”

  Ali leaned against him to whisper in his ear. “I’m sure if you think real hard, this won’t be anything new for you.” She met his amused gaze with a hint of a smile.

  The entertainment was a slender girl stripped naked, bending over for the buck-naked guy taking her from the rear.

  Gun set his wineglass down on the first table he could see, taking her glass from her hand. “Let’s move around. See what the rest of the crowd is doing for fun.”

  She nodded. “I’m right behind you.” She was looking forward to getting back to the hotel and a few hours sleep, but her warm and fuzzy plans went out the window the moment Jorge located them in the crowd.

  Chapter 11

  “My friends.” He touched Ali’s cheek. “I have what you want over here.” Jorge walked over to a round table set with everything a gal would need for a fix. Coke was the main item on the menu. “For Bambi.”

  Gun moved her back a step and shook his head. “I need it more than she does.”

  Ali looked around Gun’s shoulder and smiled at Jorge. “I want the stuff, but Sweeney is funny about me doing it in front of a lot of people.”

  His gaze picked her apart, and Ali tensed for trouble. He had to be the most suspicious character she’d ever met, and one of the most frightening. “Very well. Salina will go with you.”

  Gun caught her wrist and glared at Ali. She smiled and patted his cheek. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, honey.”

  “I’ll be your hound dog, baby.” He grabbed her and whispered urgently in her ear. “Don’t. Let’s go.”

  “I can handle it, lover.” She placed her mouth to his ear, speaking rapidly. “Focus, sweetie. We can’t act like virgins now. Sit tight.”

  It was a small sitting area with blue satin couches and glass-topped tables on gold legs. Ali flicked a careful glance around the room, sliding her hand inside her purse when Salina closed the door.

  “Lovely room,” she commented, trying to spark a sort of camaraderie with the zombie doll staring at her. It didn’t work. Salina placed the tray on the table and went back to watching her.

  Ali looked at the nice snow-white line of dope on the crystal tray. No way she was snorting the shit. With her penchant for picking up bad habits, she couldn’t mess this up. Being an addict was not in her plans.

  “Okay, Salina. That is exactly what I need.” Ali sat down and leaned over the tray, looking up to smile sheepishly at her companion. “I need to use the powder room before I do this. Weak bladder, you know.”

  Salina’s expression altered slightly, a bit of suspicion narrowing her onyx eyes. Ali wondered if the girl was mute when she didn’t speak, merely turned and pointed to a door across the room.

  Ali got to her feet and walked to the door, turning her head to find her watchdog eyeing her every move. “In here?”

  The girl didn’t answer, just stared. Ali closed the door and listened to see if Salina was pasted to the door. The lock was flimsy, but Ali turned the small handle anyway. It might stop a woman Salina’s size trying to barge in if she decided to see what Ali was doing. The gold-leafed vanity became her workstation. She dumped the contents of her handbag and searched through them. Damn, where is it?

  Her pulse skipped several beats before going on a rampage of desperation. Her eyes dismissed everything she picked up. Nope, not the lipstick, not the brush, not even the damned pistol. Oh, saints be praised. There it was, the lip balm container filled with Vaseline.

  With a quick check of the door lock, she took the lid off the tube and jammed her pinkie into the cool, slick contents. This would be tough, having never been a mouth breather. She had to leave enough air passage to suck the dope into her nostril. Damn. She wished now she had practiced this trick.

  Her nose felt like a watermelon on her face with the thick Vaseline in it. After carefully wiping any telltale shine off her upper lip and flushing the toilet, Ali pasted on a smile and went out to join Salina.

  The girl hadn’t moved. Ali tried again. “Hey. Want to share a line?” She used the tiny silver knife on the tray to make two sections of the powder, making sure Salina got the lion’s share. “And I usually always have a big scotch with my hit.”

  Salina hesitated, then, like someone dying of hunger, sat down and picked up one of the short straws and inhaled the line nearest her. Ali smiled at Salina when she leaned back and pinched her nostrils.

  “My scotch?” Ali could almost smell escape, but couldn’t get too confident yet. The girl was no fool, just a slave to a bad habit and a worse man. She wasn’t budging.

  Ali’s hair fell forward and shielded her inexperience as she leaned over and took a straw, nearly shivering when it went into her nostril. She drew some of the powder up into the left side of her nose, fighting the shudder that ran over her body. In one try, she sucked up the last of the stuff in her other nostril. She felt nothing, thank God.

  Okay, Ali, move out of here. Now. She pinched her nose to paste the Vaseline to the inside of her nostrils, scared as hell it would fall out if she forgot to breathe through her mouth. She didn’t have the excuse of the bathroom left now to blow her nose.

  “Hey, Salina.” Ali waved her hand and grinned at her hostess. “I feel great and need my man real bad. Let’s go have that scotch.”

  Damn, all Ali wanted was to find Gun and get the hell out of this pit. She opened the door and was immediately hit by the heat and crowd noise. Gun. Where the hell was he?

  Salina pushed her out of the way and disappeared into the melee wi
thout saying a word. Being on her own had never been a problem for Ali, but at that moment, she would have given a month’s pay to see her partner.

  She eased her way around the crowd, staying close to the wall, forced to stop when the crowd went into a frenzy of yelling and clapping. There was new entertainment on the floor. Two guys this time, dressed in tiger-print jock straps and enormous dildos. She almost felt sorry for the little guy getting it in the ass, but she couldn’t waste her sympathy on them. She needed it for herself.

  Someone grabbed her wrist, and she ground her teeth in pain and anger. Her hand came up in a fist as her attacker spun her around to face them.

  “Sweeney?”

  Oh, God, it wasn’t Gun. The glittering gaze of Jorge licked its way over her mouth and fastened on her breasts. He smelled of sex — not fresh, male sex, but acrid, old, murderous sex — and he wanted her.

  He was in his own territory and could damned well fuck her if he wanted to, pump her full of morphine or anything he so desired. That is, unless she broke his nose with the heel of her hand first. But that would be stupid until she found Gun. She relaxed her fist. Where was that bastard?

  Jorge gripped her wrist, infuriating her. “Now, Jorge. You really should ask first.”

  He pinned her with his gaze, the glitter in his eyes seeming to reach clear to hell. “I’ve been waiting for you, Bambi.” He hooked his finger in the fragile neckline of her dress. “Are you ready for me?”

  “This is so sudden.” In Ali’s eyes, he was an insult to men, and it wouldn’t take much to put him on the ground. Shrugging off his seeking hand, she smiled and laughed softly. “Let’s watch the floor show.”

  He pressed closer, enveloping her in his scent, and she closed her throat against a gag. His voice was a hissing whisper. “You enjoyed my drugs, and now, you will enjoy me.”

  “I have to get Sweeney’s okay. He doesn’t like it if I don’t get his approval first.” She smiled seductively in spite of the nausea churning in her stomach. “He likes to watch.” She couldn’t imagine what he found so attractive about a woman with a nasal problem.

  “Don’t concern yourself.” Jorge wasn’t discouraged. “He’s content.” With the touch of a spider, he slipped his arms around her waist. “Come. My private quarters are comfortable.”

  She pulled away and hugged her purse close to her side. “Maybe later. I don’t feel like partying right now.”

  His mood darkened. “Your feelings don’t matter.”

  Ali held her hands up and pushed against his bony chest. “Okay. I have syphilis.”

  She almost laughed at his stunned expression. Her mirth evaporated quickly as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I have protection.” He pushed her forward.

  Ali barely controlled her anger. Here was a pipsqueak pushing her around, and she couldn’t do anything. Yet. She shot a hurried glance around and picked her partner out of the mob.

  Her elation whipped into mental preparation for a battle when she recognized his slim-faced companion in a dark silk suit. Armondez.

  “Sweeney.” She pushed her way through couples in various clinches and reached out to him. “Sweeney, are we ready to go to the hotel?”

  Armondez was looking at her with his endless gaze. Damn Gun’s evil hide. He’d made friends with the guy.

  “This is my sweet thing, Bambi.” He slurred his words. “Honey, Armondez is my pal. He runs things around here.” Gun laughed drunkenly. “I mean, he runs the whole damn country.”

  She smiled and put her fingers over his mouth. “Shush, you little nut. I’m sure he doesn’t care what you think.” She pinched his earlobe. “We’ve overstayed our welcome. Time to go to bed.”

  Armondez stepped closer to her, smiling a nice smile. Not like a murderer, just friendly. She didn’t like making nice with a guy she was going to kill in a few hours. It was ghoulish.

  “Sweeney exaggerates about me, Bambi.” Dressed in a dark silk suit and looking totally mild, Armondez would have been the last person she would consider arresting in the group. The feeling slipped away after a look at the slashing set of his lips that screamed, “I have tasted blood.” She steeled herself against a shiver tingling around her backbone.

  “He tends to do that when he likes someone.” She draped Gun’s arm over her shoulder. “We really have to go. Lovely party, and thank Jorge for us.”

  “Wait.” Armondez touched her shoulder, smiling with his killer lips. “I have invited Sweeney to my small villa a few miles from here. Very relaxing and private.” His all-seeing gaze slithered over her. “The invitation includes you, of course, Bambi.”

  He must like saying her name. It slipped out of his mouth in his softly accented way like hot satin. Gun looked at her with pure demon dare in his eyes.

  “We’ll be there, Armondez. Old pal.” He pushed her away when she tried to yank his arm, “Damn it, Bambi. Okay, we’re leaving if you’re gonna be a big old bitch.”

  He was pretending, but that only gave him a pass for so much bullshit. “Sweeney. I’m going to the hotel. I’m taking the car. Get back anyway you can.”

  She didn’t slow up when she heard Gun setting up a meet time with Armondez while he staggered after her. A tray piled high with napkins caught her eye, and she scooped up a handful as she passed by it.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there. She’ll be over being pissed off by then. I’ll get her some Midol. See ya, buddy.”

  Gun caught up with her outside. He looked back at the house without speaking to her.

  The air was wet, but at least the ear-splitting noise had stopped. Ali hurried to keep up with him as he walked to the Jeep. Her heart lightened some as he touched her wrist, looking for her hand. She slipped it into his, grateful for the extra bit of companionship he offered.

  The crowd had spilled outside, and couples made out in their cars or leaning against them. They didn’t stop what they were doing except to change positions.

  Gun maintained his hold on her hand until they reached the Jeep. For the first time, he helped her into the damned thing.

  “Nice, Bambi.”

  “Nice is not my job.” She scowled at him and blew her nose until she was sure the drug was gone. “What the hell did you two talk about?”

  “Maybe we were talking about you.” He sent one of his arrogant smiles in her direction.

  He got in beside her and drove away from the house without saying anything. She was bursting with curiosity to know what he and Armondez had talked about, and couldn’t keep quiet.

  “So tell me.” She tapped his arm to get his attention. “Was it a kick in the ass to cozy up to your next hit?”

  “What are you ... a cop?” He took a cigarette from the pack on the dashboard. “You can do better than that. What do you really want to know?”

  Ali fought to control her anger, but he had pissed her off. Too much blunt speech for her liking. “Go to hell, Gunnison. I know all I want to know about you.”

  He nodded and pointed to the traffic light at the end of the street. “You’ll change your mind by the time that light turns green.”

  “Yeah, I have changed my mind. Instead of the dedicated hardliner agent I thought you might be, I find myself paired with a freak who likes to play with people’s minds and take insane risks.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But you still want to fuck me.”

  There was no advantage in getting bent out of shape over what he’d said. He was right. Ali leaned back and let the rushing night wind clear her head. She didn’t want to miss a second of the next round with Gun.

  He looked down as she laid her hand in his lap. But he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He was hard. No use giving him too much of a thrill. She pulled her hand back and yawned.

  She grinned when he gassed the Jeep, taking corners on two wheels and gripping the steering wheel in what looked like desperation. Several evening strollers stared after the flying Jeep as they sped through the steamy Colombian night.

  Openly studyin
g him as he drove like a crazy man, she gave consideration to the length of his hair, the dark stuff as wild as he was. And there it was, the scruffy five o’clock shadow, accenting the contours of his chiseled lips and lean jaw. Thinking about that beard scraping her inner thighs struck a sizzle of heat between her legs, and her tongue tingled. Hot.

  She stopped ogling him as the Jeep whipped into the driveway of the hotel, where he parked near the entry steps. The damned thing was still rocking a little when he jerked the keys from the ignition and pointed toward the hotel.

  She entertained the idea of playing hard to get, but her sex drive wouldn’t quiet down. Get out of the damned Jeep, get upstairs, and toss him into that Texas-sized bed.

  Knowing if he touched her, she would make a fool of herself, Ali jumped out of the Jeep and hurried up the steps to the entry door. Her senses were set on high voltage as she walked in front of him, making sure he got the full message sent by her swaying hips.

  She laughed as he caught up with her in the quiet lobby and grabbed her hand, practically running for the elevator. He lifted her off her feet to carry her into the empty car and leaned on the button panel until the door slid shut.

  How long does it take to move up seven floors when you’re hot enough to rape the man with you? Ali pressed her naked back to the cool walnut paneling and breathed in shallow huffs, catching his erotic scent and male heat. Cedar, violet, and the western sagebrush were all there.

  Her gaze slid up his long legs and played around his crotch before slipping on up to lock with his warm, penetrating stare. She shook with excitement, noting the slight flaring of his nostrils as he leaned toward her, trailing her like some hungry wolf.

  The elevator bumped once, then stopped. The door opened smoothly, and they stepped out into the hall. Ali forced herself to walk, not gallop, to the door. Gun was a step behind her, hopefully getting a charge out of the extra bump and grind she put in her hips for him.