CHAPTER 13

RIO awoke to darkness and a pounding inside her head that she recalled having only one other time in her life—the day after high school graduation.

She moaned and a distinct drumming echoed in her ears, adding fuel to the fire.

“You probably shouldn’t move too much.” Eddie’s suggestion came from somewhere within the darkness. “Or talk,” he added with a clever bite that stung Rio’s already wounded psyche.

She ignored him and rolled onto her stomach. “Oh, God...please make it stop.”

A clanging noise, sounding a lot like a spoon against the side of a glass, echoed through the night. Rio dragged a pillow over her head.

“Here,” he sounded closer. “Drink this.”

Images of her childish behavior—getting drunk because of some guy—stalked through her mind.

She peeked out from under the pillow.

Why was he still there after that horrid display? Probably trying to kill me, I’ll bet. She fancied knowing him better than he did.

“Take it,” he said, more forceful this time.

Her stomach turned at the thought of drinking anything—alcoholic or not. “What is it?”

“A taste of the hair of the dog that bit you.” A soft laugh accompanied his response.

Rio mustered every ounce of courage she’d ever thought of possessing and pushed herself to sit up. A tall order, considering that once in an upright position the spinning was bound to get worse. She leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

“Open your eyes,” he said, his tone softer now.

The bed moved, like he was sitting down. She did as instructed. His silhouetted figure sat in the shadows beside her, offering her a glass of something that looked an awful lot like what she’d been drinking earlier—white and cloudy.

The whole world was reeling right along with her stomach. Another moan escaped her lips. Feeling trapped inside a crazy mental bubble, her confidence waned and she clutched the edge of the bedcovers up toward her chin.

“Trust me.” He offered her the small glass filled halfway with his proposed cure—or poison.

“Nuh-uh...” she murmured, shaking her head at a snail’s pace.

“What do I gotta do?” he asked helplessly. “What’s it going to take for me to get you to trust me?”

A lot more than what you’re doing. I’ll tell you that. She grabbed the glass and raised it to her lips. Eyes closed, she swallowed knowing she had a fifty-fifty chance of keeping it down. Well, maybe forty-sixty...possibly thirty-seventy.

“It won’t take long now.” His tone suggested he had much more confidence in his concoction than Rio did.

Still harboring ill-feelings, she snapped at him. “For what? Dying?”

Oddly enough, the pounding subsided and the drumming in her ears dissipated.

“Feeling better already, I see.” The amusement in his tone complemented his dry sense of humor.

“For the record—” She gained a measure of confidence as the clouds cleared. “—you can’t play the trust card every time you want me to do something that I don’t want to do. It’s not going to work.”

“Why can’t you trust me, Laraquette?” he asked, standing. “I told you things I’ve never told anybody.” Eddie paced the length of the bed. “Not even my mother.” He stopped and she sensed his glare, even in the darkness. “I showed you the tears that reside in my soul for my sister.”

“Oh, I do trust you. I trust you with my life. Believe that.”

“I hope you mean that.” He sat back down in the chair by the bed.

“And I hope I don’t end up with my faith being misplaced.” She wasn’t forgetting that Eddie LaCall was up to something, and she still didn’t know what.

“You need to get some rest. You had a lot to drink tonight,” he said, turning the conversation in a different direction. She didn’t miss that.

“I only had three shots.”

“Three shots of Ouzo—are you nuts?”

“Apparently so.” Feeling lightheaded, she rested her forehead in her palm.

“Okay, I want you to get undressed and get into bed.”

“Huh?” Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. He wanted her to get undressed? Seriously?

Rio hadn’t seen that coming. The one and only time they’d had sex, she’d practically thrown herself at him. Sure, she’d thought about doing it again, but geez, not like this...come on.

* * *

Eddie flicked on the lamp at the bedside table. Rio looked like a scared, wounded animal that’d been backed into a corner—and she was ready to defend herself even if she wasn’t capable.

“You need to get some rest.” Eddie didn’t know if he was amused or offended by her unspoken allegation. “And taking advantage of an inebriated woman is not my style.” His tone was as jagged and painful as the implication.

Her stature relaxed instantly. A smile almost curled at the corners of her mouth just before she said, “Turn around, please.”

Eddie pushed himself up and turned his back to her, smug delight fueling his movements. She was trying to hide it but she was drawn to him—powerfully.

She may’ve had a hard time ignoring the heat, but he had to find a way to stop her from shutting him out. At least until he got what he’d come for.

“At the risk of offending you,” she said. “Do you think Naomi could be responsible for slashing my tires?” Her tone was much too calm for what she was suggesting.

“I’ve considered it,” he admitted. “But no, I don’t think she has it in her.”

“She knows we slept together,” Rio said. “And she’s devastated about that.”

How...? Before the inquiry fell off his lips he remembered how easily Bradley had seen it. Naomi had probably picked up on it just as easily.

“Maybe so.” Eddie shook it off, not really caring if Naomi knew what he and Rio had done. If she did, so be it. Maybe that’d give her just cause to move on. He had. But still, he didn’t think it was enough to send her over the edge. “Naomi’s never been one to put a lot of effort into anything. And it seems to me that it would take a lot of thought and effort to do something like that.” He may not consider his ex-girlfriend capable of stalking Rio, but the fact remained—somebody was. And Eddie had to fix that before he could even think about doing anything else.

* * *

The next morning the fog in Rio’s brain had cleared completely by the time she and Eddie sat down in the casino’s coffee shop.

They started a conversation over breakfast, about everything and nothing. Fearing that Eddie might say something about her weak performance last night, she opened Dickie’s cell phone and laid it on the table between them. The chances of this chat contributing to anything the department needed to overhear was unlikely.

“House or apartment?” she asked, going back to their expository exchange. She dabbed a bite of crepes into the blueberry compote first and then the whipped cream.

“House.” He cut into his southwestern omelet. “Although, your loft, as you like to refer to it, does have its charms,” he added with a dangerously sexy chuckle.

Rio swallowed hard. “I’ve always thought so,” she said, but not nearly as unmoved as she’d hoped.

“So, Laraquette...” Silence fell between them long enough for him to search out her gaze. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“I’m doing it.” She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Frustration crept up her neck like a heat wave.

“Do you see yourself doing anything other than...what you currently do?” He’d caught himself before fingering her as an undercover cop. For that, she was grateful.

“Well...” She hesitated, taking into account the obligations of her father’s company that she’d one day inherit. “Right now, I can’t imagine doing anything else.” She liked being a cop. She liked making a difference. She liked emanating her godfather, the only constant during her childhood. Rio let her gaze creep up to meet Eddie’s. “And you...?” she asked.“If you could do anything, anything in this world...what would it be?”

Chris Bradley stumbled into their table, knocked the salt and pepper shakers over and looked incredibly drunk as he tried to resituate them. Mumbling apologies, he staggered away after leaving something behind.

A folded note.

Eddie looked at Rio as if he needed confirmation, maybe even permission, to touch the paper Bradley had left on the table. She nodded her head and cut her eyes toward it. If he needed her consent, fine.

* * *

With one finger, Eddie slid the note across the table and inched closer to Rio. He opened it and tipped it so they could both see it.

It read, ‘Emergency meeting in 15’. Nothing more.

Where...and why?

“It could be any number of things. It could be the tournament, my shadow...who knows,” she said, as if she’d partially read the thoughts inside his mind.

“Where though?”

“The Federal Complex.”

Hmmm. When would he learn to pick up on the FVC Unit’s quirky hidden clues?

He thought about it in silence, along with all the things they’d talked about over breakfast.

She’d started him thinking about a purpose in life. His purpose in life. Did he not have a cause that he would willingly champion?

Olivia. He’d always wanted her to live on, somehow. But how was he, a regular nine-to-fiver Joe, supposed to find the means to immortalize his sister?