CHAPTER 2

A CREEPY air oozed through the back corridors of the Federal Building. Rio quickened her pace, hurrying through the empty halls toward the FVC offices, a division of the Treasury Department whose sole purpose was to investigate financial and violent crimes. The unit was often referred to as the FBI’s obstinate cousin and Rio Laraquette was the best operative in the unruly pack.

Sometimes she wished the unit was unofficial, off the record. That way she could elude the monotonous tasks of reports and paperwork—the part of the job she hated most.

Damn reports. If her new partner hadn’t gotten himself shot, she could’ve pawned them off on him. Damn Eddie LaCall. And damn her boss, Gabriel Dalton, for forcing her into this partnership farce.

She paused in the doorway. Making it to her desk meant facing mounds of paperwork. Hoping to postpone the inevitable, she scanned the office and considered several scenarios involving discussions with Chris Bradley or Paul Rivera. None of them stuck.

Attempting delay was useless, not to mention pointless. She was running out of excuses and should probably stop looking, substantiated by lunch at Red’s Grill. The food hadn’t set well, and left her with a heavy, weighted feeling. She forced the unpleasant experience out of her mind and plotted a mental course through the maze of desks. The quicker she got to hers, the sooner she could wrap up those reports.

The sight of Blake Switzer obstructing her path made her regroup and choose another route. Ever since she’d rejected his invitation to dinner a few weeks back, she’d felt uncomfortable in his presence. She’d told him she didn’t date anyone from work. A brilliant excuse, until Eddie LaCall entered the picture.

Damn. She was going to have to make a new rule. Or find a way to squelch the attraction to her new partner. The fact that she looked so much like her ancestor Maggie and Eddie looked so much like Maggie’s husband Tajan had to mean something—she just didn’t know what.

Rio’s longtime friend, Chris Bradley, approached with one of those looks he reserved for torturous teasing. She’d witnessed his banter before, but it had never been aimed in her direction. Until now. Did Chris know of her secret attraction to Eddie?

“Laraquette, it’s nice of you to join us.” That snarky smile suggested he did.

Rio felt a mortifying heat burning her cheeks.

The lump in her throat didn’t go down easily. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin, determined not to let Chris make her the butt of his joke.

She looked around for Switzer, hoping he hadn’t followed her. He hadn’t. Good.

Her elected path to her desk seemed farther away than ever. In her peripheral vision, Chris disappeared through the double doors. A fleeting interest in where he was going flittered through her mind. Dismissing it, she maneuvered toward her desk in the back left corner.

Rio gave Chris a brief inconsequential thought as she settled into her chair. Player that he was, he was probably off to seduce his next unsuspecting conquest. She’d been his target once, but had never seriously entertained the notion of them. He was cute and all, but she wasn’t going to be a notch on anybody’s belt.

Picking up the file labeled Bellmore Case, her brain veered off on a winding path toward her new partner. She snuck a casual peek at his empty desk.

His talent for organization annoyed her. When he’d waltzed into the department a couple of weeks ago, it must have taken him all of ten minutes to transfer the contents from a single box to the desk he’d been assigned, directly across from hers.

Rio laid down the Bellmore folder, scooped up a pencil and began tapping it on the desk. She wondered where Eddie was from originally, and why he looked so much like her ancestor. She doubted he was Washoe. The tribe was mainly contained to Northern Nevada. Then again, her mother had ventured away from the area. Someone in his lineage could’ve, too. She pushed aside the mystery of his heritage. It wasn’t really the issue.

The issue was her strong attraction to Eddie, and the fact that he looked way too much like her third-great-grandfather.

Eddie LaCall wasn’t exactly GQ material—then again, neither was Tajan. Even so, there was a fascinating quality about both of them. Eddie, like Tajan, was handsome in a rough, rugged, off-limits sort of way. The difference was, Eddie was alive and kicking. That in itself was a huge plus. Eddie’s long dark hair, which Rio had yet to see outside a ponytail, added to his allure. All he needed was a leather jacket and she’d proclaim him a bonafide ‘bad boy’. The epitome of a man a girl like her should never become involved with because it would only lead to heartbreak.

For a wild moment she envisioned what it might be like to take a guy like Eddie LaCall home to meet her father. Disaster. No other way to put it, total disaster.

Don’t lose your cool, girl. Warning signals, soft as a whisper, breezed off her thoughts and cautioned her to keep a safe distance. “Lose your cool—” She coached herself out loud. “—and you’ll lose your head.” Or your heart. She’d do well to find a diversion to channel her attention.

Rio grabbed the stack of mail in her in-bin and began sifting through it. She paused, studying a standard white envelope. The lack of a return address aroused her curiosity. Although nothing out of the ordinary, something about it raised a red flag in her suspicious and authoritative mind.

Various scenarios fueled her imagination. She finally pushed them aside and opened the envelope, but nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside.

The anonymous letter looked like it had come straight out of some scandalous mystery novel, painstakingly cut and pasted from the pages of newspapers and magazines. It stated clearly and to the point: I’ve seen the crap you’re trying to pull. You need to be aware that you’re fighting a losing battle. Do yourself a favor and back off.

Panic rioted against her insides—for about half a millisecond. This had to be someone’s idea of a bad joke. Chris and Paul were always pranking somebody, but targeting Rio was gutsy. Everybody knew what a hothead she was, everybody except maybe Eddie LaCall.

She crumpled the paper, whipped the bottom desk drawer open and tossed it inside.

Diligence and newfound determination compelled her to open the Bellmore file and begin perusing the documents. Reeling in the gun runner had been easy. She hoped it would eventually lead to another solid connection to Turner Atkins.

But he was one slippery mobster, and the FVC Unit wasn’t taking any chances. Their objective was to assemble as much evidence as possible before Atkins’s trial, tentatively set for the end of summer.

“Rio.” Gabriel Dalton’s voice carried across the bullpen.

She looked up. Her boss—a compact, hard-bitten man—was leaning against the opened doorway to his office. He dipped his head, summoning her.

A quick confirming nod and she moved around the desk, tugging at her blouse. She closed the gap on the twenty or so feet between them.

He probably wanted a status update on the Bellmore reports. Or maybe he was her jokester.

Was he capable of sending her a prank letter?

No way. Not Gabe. The man wasn’t just her boss, he was her godfather for Christ’s sake.

Passing her coworkers, she studied them. She didn’t have many fans in the department. That was no secret. But she didn’t think she had any enemies either.

That’s why it had to be a joke. Unless she’d underestimated her capacity as an enemy-magnet.

“I’m almost done.” She stopped, leaving about three feet of empty space separating them.

“With what?”

“Bellmore reports.”

“Those can wait,” he said. “LaCall needs a ride.”

Her breath swept away. “They’re releasing him?”

“Yes. You go get him.”

“Why me?” Her hand flew to her chest.

“He’s your partner.” Gabe slid his hands inside his trouser pockets and backed a couple of steps into his office. “You go get him.”

If he needed a ride, did that mean he had no one here in Vegas? The hypothesis swelled into curiosity. It was an appealing idea, but how did a guy like Eddie LaCall come with no baggage?

Simple. He didn’t.

* * *

Rio breezed into Eddie’s hospital room. Her cop instincts on alert, she gazed around the space in a quick scan before settling on the bed. Or maybe she was just stalling before looking at him, knowing what she’d find.

He was lounging on the bed, fully dressed, legs crossed. She surveyed the span of his body, from his booted feet up the length of his Levi’s. Her heartbeat hastened, giving the organ a workout it hadn’t seen in while. Well, at least until Eddie LaCall came to town.

His sheer presence splintered her reserve and shattered her poise. A strange sense of yearning crept up her throat. Just lust, that’s all it was. She swallowed hard, shoving it back down inside.

His black T-shirt didn’t help. It looked like a second layer of skin stretched across his chest. Muscular arms, bronzed with the color of his heritage, encouraged her fantasies. She fancied him sweeping her effortlessly into his arms.

Stop it.

Nobody had a right to look that good. And she shouldn’t be noticing. She was unable to halt the sigh accompanying her thoughts.

“Somebody call a cab?” she said, scarcely above a whisper.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away.” His teasing, and mostly accurate assumption, battered her already fragile nerves. He knew what he was doing, and that irritated Rio. “You missed your chance, Laraquette. You and me. Mouth to mouth. It could’ve been hot.”

Laughter snorted out her nose. “Give me a freaking break.” She moved away, toward the chair on the opposite side of the room, thankful for the space she was able to amass between them. “I’m here to give you a ride. Don’t make me regret it.”

“The doctor hasn’t signed my release papers yet. Do you mind waiting?” His dejected I-give-up look suggested there was some civility inside the man somewhere.

“No problem.” She dropped into the chair, slung one leg over the other and glanced out the window. “I’m on the Fed’s clock.” She dragged her fingers through her hair and pushed it out of her face. Her gaze lingered at the window, and remained fixed on the concrete jungle outside with its lone palm tree swaying in the desert breeze.

A slight sound, as if someone was moaning, drew her back to LaCall. His eyes were closed and his brow was drawn into a wrinkled show of pain. He must not be as fit as he wanted everyone to think.

She sat up quickly. “You okay?”

A sly grin spread beneath his closed eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, looking at her. His gaze fastened on her face, then moved slowly over her body.

“Well, good.” She felt the muscles tighten around her jaw. She hated what this partnership thing was doing to her, turning her into a wimpy marshmallow.

If only she could dispel the invisible web of attraction budding and expanding around the pair, connecting them. Letting the attraction grow wasn’t a good idea. Nothing good could come from a personal involvement with a coworker, much less her new partner—even if she and Eddie did bear a strong resemblance to a pair of lovers from another generation. That had to be it. She was caught up in the fascination of a story she’d heard. She countered the growing beast with sarcasm. “You owe me.”

“Yes, I do,” he agreed. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for impeding Bellmore’s aim.”

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Thank you for reminding me. Good. Now she was back to her old self. “You owe me double.”

“What else am I indebted to you for?” His eyebrows rose with curiosity.

“Bellmore reports.”

The door opened and a nurse entered. A disappointing frown, upon seeing Rio, destroyed the woman’s smile. Her glare traveled away from Rio and turned to instant mush the moment her sights landed on LaCall. “Good news, Eddie.”

“Tell me, Jennifer—” He matched her flirtatious tone. “Am I sprung?”

“Yes, you are.” The declaration lingered on her voice. “Dr. Evans just signed your release. Take the weekend to rest up and you can report back to work on Monday.” She offered him a handful of papers along with a smile that said, here I am for the taking.

“Thank you, Jennifer.” Eddie paused, reeling her in with his dazzling smile. “I’m anxious for freedom. Rio here has promised to cook me dinner.”

Good response. Although presumptuous. Had he meant it the way it sounded? That’s the way the nurse took it. And it better be the reason he said it, for Nurse Jennifer’s benefit. No matter how much Rio might want to, she wasn’t going there.

“Give me a couple of minutes,” Jennifer’s tone turned sharp and professional. “I’ll get a wheelchair so you two can be on your merry way.”

“Ouch.” Eddie chuckled after Jennifer had disappeared into the hallway. Clearly, Nurse Jennifer wasn’t happy thinking Rio had access to something she didn’t.

“I’ll bring the car around.” Rio pushed herself out of the chair and headed for the door.

“Hurry up,” he said. “If Jennifer gets me alone in a wheelchair, I might miss our dinner date.”

She stopped, held the door open and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and in which one of your fantasies did I say I was going to make you dinner?”

He looked like he was about to counter with some facetious remark, but she disappeared into the hallway depriving him of that glory.

She giggled and sashayed down the empty corridor, proud of herself for one-upping him. Not even the drab walls, the color of mushroom stalks, could dampen her mood. Sumptuous thoughts of Eddie LaCall splattered her mind. Still laughing, mostly inside, she pushed the down button on the elevator.

Realizing the corner she was fencing herself into, she forced herself to settle down. There was no room for romance in her life, especially with a partner—who looked amazingly like her long-dead ancestor. Fighting the invading and unwanted fantasies, she shook her head and tried to deny them entry.

The elevator doors parted and a young woman about Rio’s height stepped out. They sized each other up, as women often do. She had the same slender oval face, but her hair was lighter, blonder than Rio’s, and her eyes were brown. Their bodies were the same though—tall, lean, and long-legged.

A sense of rivalry cut through Rio, although she couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it had something to do with this woman looking so much like her, enough that they could be sisters.

Rio stepped toward the elevator. Something inside her shivered when the stranger passed her by. Rio tried shaking it off. She punched the first-floor button and forgot about her look-alike as soon as the doors closed.

The elevator began its descent with a thud and Rio reached inside her leather bag, fishing for her keys. Finding nothing, she dug deeper and rooted around. No keys. Had she left them in LaCall’s room?

What? She questioned her bad luck. He would no doubt dish out some precocious comeback. Irritation stained her disposition as she rode the elevator back up to the fifth floor.

Wisecracks, she could handle. She was ready for those. But she wasn’t so sure about the implications. His suggestive innuendos had her thinking all sorts of tempting ideas that should remain off-limits.

Rio didn’t want to think about his mouth on hers. The heat of his bare skin against hers. His fingers trailing a path down—

Trudging down the corridor, she tried to shake the thought out of her head. She hesitated outside Eddie’s room before pushing against the door. Remnants of the mental indiscretion burned hot against her cheeks, and she struggled to deny them re-entry into her thoughts.

She entered the room and all she had worked for, every bit of good judgment she’d managed to acquire during the drawn-out walk down the corridor—it felt a lot longer this time—shot out in fifty different directions at the sight of her look-alike from the elevator standing over Eddie.

The ability to speak was one of those precious commodities that’d jumped ship and she didn’t stand a prayer’s chance of regaining it for at least another five minutes.

There was something going on with Eddie and elevator girl. What, Rio couldn’t be sure. But the tension was there, and all of it rushed toward her as if she were a magnet.

Her chest constricted and she fumbled for words. “Oh, sorry.” The only ones Rio could come up with were tinged with a bite. “I forgot my keys,” she added, trying to rationalize her reason for returning.

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie flashed that devastating grin of his and revealed her keys in his hand.

“Well, I’ll just take my keys and get out of your hair.” In a desperate gesture, she grabbed at them. Eddie yanked them out of her reach.

Exasperation, disappointment, even a twinge of jealousy flushed hot against her face. Feeling wholly out of place, and the butt of a thousand jokes between the two of them, she wanted to run before she embarrassed herself further.

But then the girl question him. “Eddie, who’s this?”

Uncertainty breathed out in a long, deep sigh. She knew the answer to that. His partner. Rio knew they were an impossibility, but she wasn’t ready to have it thrown in her face and in front of his girlfriend, or worse yet—his wife.

Eddie grabbed Rio’s wrist, as if he knew the thoughts speeding through her brain. “This is my partner, Rio Laraquette.” His tone, calm and cool, blanketed her in a sense of security. But she recognized the bogus act. She was beginning to feel like a third wheel who harbored a secret crush, helplessly in love and hopelessly out of her league.

“Well, isn’t that original. You have a river named after you.” The girl’s words, heavy with sarcasm, mocked Rio.

Eddie ignored her snide comments. Why wouldn’t he? He surely wouldn’t get into a fight over his brand-new partner. And he wasn’t letting go of Rio’s arm either.

She fancied that somewhere in the remote corners of his mind he knew Rio could kick the girl’s ass. Not that she would. But she could, and that was enough.

“Rio, this is Naomi Thomas. I knew her in Phoenix.”

“Knew me?” Naomi cackled, and Rio thought the girl’s head might explode. “That’s one way to put it.”

Rio, still trapped in Eddie’s grasp, attempted to free herself. He tightened his grip.

“Could you give us a minute?” he said to Naomi.

“What?” Naomi’s eyes widened and her head sprang forward. “You’re asking me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Rio recoiled. Maybe Naomi’s head wasn’t going to explode, but her bulging eyes were on the verge of popping out. If that happened, they’d become projectile missiles headed straight for Eddie.

The girl scared Rio, and she wasn’t afraid of much.

She waited until Naomi was in the hallway. “Hey, look.” She paused, hoping to salvage at least some of her diminishing dignity. “I don’t want to get in the way of you and your girl.”

“Jealous, Laraquette?”

“In your dreams.”

“That’s one of my favorites.”

Bite me. She managed to contain the snappy comeback to just a thought, knowing what he’d do with that response.

He stood, his mouth twisting with a devilish grin. “Did you bring the car around?”

A scream charged up Rio’s throat. He knew she hadn’t brought the damned car around. A lacerating growl choked the shrieking urge to pieces.

“Perhaps you should get a ride from your girlfriend,” she said, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded.

He laid the keys in her hand, holding his palm against hers a bit longer than she liked. “Go get the car and bring it around front. I’ll be down shortly.” He scooped his cell phone off the nightstand. “I’m going to get rid of Naomi.”

“Yeah, right.” Rio snorted and moved toward the door.

“Can I drive?”

“No,” she said without looking back.

In the hallway, Naomi’s stare, long and cold and hard, felt like she was cursing Rio with some evil-eye voodoo crap.

Rio shuddered, walked on past and gave her a quick, uneasy smile. Even without turning around she could feel Naomi’s glare burrowing a heated hole deep in her back.

She prayed the girl would go back into Eddie’s room, as opposed to following her into the elevator.