Chapter Ten
“What’s the signal?” Alex quizzed as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, layering on eye makeup. In the harsh bathroom light the dark eyeshadow made her look hard, but maybe that was only the determined look in her eyes.
She flicked her gaze to his in the mirror. “Seriously, Alex, I’m not an idiot.”
“No, but you’ve never done this before. You could get nervous. That’s not out of the realm of possibility, right?”
She gave her attention back to her mascara. “No, it’s not.”
“So the signal?”
“I pull on my bra.”
“Not the straps, but the band.” He inspected the peach-colored lacy garment critically. It cupped her full breasts, but allowed anyone looking to see her dark nipples beneath. “Are you going to take it off?”
“Not if I can get away with not,” she said. “I’ll have to see what the other girls are doing.”
“Because it will be hard to tug on it if some lecherous old guy has it wrapped around his head.”
“I know.”
“So if Jorge says he’s taking you to Santiago or Hector, you tug at the band.”
“I know,” she said through her teeth, tossing her eyeliner back in her makeup case. “I’ve got it.”
She pushed out the bathroom past him to go to the closet. She pulled out a cream-colored slinky knit dress, inspected it and slipped it on, tying it at her waist like a robe. As far as he could see, that was the only fastening.
“Nervous?”
She scooped her loose hair back from her face. “I haven’t danced in four years.”
“I’m sure it’ll come back to you, easy as riding a pole.”
Her body went rigid and she whipped her head around. “Can we call a halt to that? Just for tonight, can’t you be on my side?”
Her voice was choked, making him wonder when the last time anyone had been on her side. He nodded once, burying his concern. How come he could trust the men in his company but couldn’t bring himself to trust her?
“I don’t like this plan. It’s needlessly risky.”
“Noted.” She slipped her bare feet into incredibly high strappy sandals.
“Bella—”
“You can get back to me on this when someone you love is missing,” she said sharply. “Now, this is hard enough without me having to worry about you. Are you going to take me or not?”
Something in her voice had him reaching for her, curling his fingers into a fist and withdrawing before he said, “What you’re doing—it’s very brave.”
“I’ll do anything to get my son back,” was all she said.
He stepped back, toward the door. “Let’s go.”
She was silent on the ride over, but gave him a small smile before climbing out of the truck to go into the bar. Alex hung back, waited about fifteen minutes before he followed. They were the longest fifteen minutes, unable to track her and what trouble she could be getting into.
He paid his cover and passed through the metal detector. When he walked into the club, dark except for the lights around the bar and the spotlights on the stage, he scanned quickly for danger, aware that he was being scanned as well. He noted Julian in one corner, looking disreputable with a scruffy beard and Dave in a seat by the right stage, across the room from Julian. Dave had let his hair grow, so he didn’t look as military as Alex. Sergeant Major Danes was at the bar.
Jorge was nowhere in sight. Alex hoped he wasn’t in the back harassing Isabella. He hoped he wasn’t in the back doing anything else to her, either.
No, Isabella wouldn’t sleep with Jorge without knowing he had information. At least, Alex hoped she wasn’t that desperate.
He scanned the stages. Three women danced, but none could hold a candle to Isabella.
What the hell was wrong with him that he was comparing strippers to her?
Alex walked to the bar, every nerve alert. He ordered a beer from the overweight shaggy bartender who passed him the bottle and didn’t even look up. Alex paid and turned back toward the stage, tilting the bottle so the liquid cooled his throat. The beer did nothing to ease the knot in his stomach. Damn, he hadn’t been this nervous about an operation in years, but he’d never had a civilian involved before.
He didn’t want to choose a table till he knew which stage Isabella would be dancing on.
A stick girl wandered off stage and the pulsing of a Black Eyed Peas song began. Alex took a seat at the edge of the middle stage when Isabella strode from behind the curtains. With a flip of her hair and a flick of her wrist, her dress dropped away, no preamble. She wrapped both hands around the pole and did a twirl, rolling her hips clad in those lace panties. To his left, he heard a wolf whistle and felt heat rise in a surge of protectiveness. She dropped till her ass touched her heels, her body still circling the metal pole. With a display of unsuspected athleticism, she lifted herself and faced the audience, her body undulating, her breasts, so damn high in that bra, nearly touching the pole. On his right, a man groaned and Alex clenched a fist.
As if she knew how crazy the action would make him, she started making her rounds of the stage, shaking her tits at that one, her ass at another, holding still only long enough for them to tuck ratty dollar bills into her thong with their grubby fingers.
He hated this. He hated the overwhelming urge to snatch her off the stage and wrap her back in that dress. Haul her out of here. He ground his teeth together so hard he couldn’t even hear the music anymore.
Then she was in front of him, legs straight, palms on her thighs, and bent forward. Her cleavage was deep, sexy as hell, but his gaze was drawn to her knowing eyes. Keeping his gaze on hers, he tucked a bill between her breasts, careful not to touch her smooth skin.
A flick of her eyes and then she rose, twirling, undulating, turning her back to the pole and sliding down it, her knees falling apart, opening herself up to him, sliding her hands down her thighs and back up again, drawing attention to what was his.
The thought was strong, surprising him, tensing every muscle in his body in fight mode. Only the person he wanted to fight was himself.
God, she was stunning, and arousing, and she was dancing for him now, turning her back, bending over almost to the floor, her ass in the air. He wanted to glide his hands over the curves there, over her thighs, wanted to bend over her and nip her throat as he plunged into her. He indulged himself in the fantasy, was aided when she turned her head to look back at him, hair tumbling over one shoulder, eyes telling him she knew what he was thinking.
With a snap of her back and her neck, she ended the song with a flourish, to raucous applause. She smiled and spun on the ball of her foot, dipped to snatch up her dress before she disappeared behind the curtain.
Christ. He struggled to keep his expression neutral, preferring to focus on that than on the conflict of arousal and protectiveness.
She emerged from behind the curtain with a swagger. She didn’t look at him, avoided the touch of her admirers with skill, and walked over behind a curtained area at the opposite end of the room from the door.
Crap, why hadn’t he gone to look over there? Of course Jorge would be all Wizard of Oz, segregated from the general clientele but with a clear view of the stage. No telling who was with him.
Alex started to rise, but met Julian’s eyes. The younger man shook his head and leaned back in his chair, showing Alex he had a better vantage point without drawing as much attention.
Didn’t matter. Tension ran through Alex’s nerves like live wires. She was only behind the curtain, but she may as well have been behind a brick wall. And he had nothing to protect her.
Minutes passed, then more minutes. Alex’s gut tightened painfully. Making his decision, he pushed to his feet and went over, ignoring Julian’s glare. He stumbled on purpose, playing the drunk, and ducked behind the curtain.
Sitting at a semicircular table, Isabella was snuggled up against Jorge. She looked up sharply when Alex staggered back, and he saw the panic in her eyes, followed by an expression that assured him she had everything under control.
What it looked like she had was her hand on Jorge’s lap.
“Sorry, man. Trying to find the bathroom,” he muttered.
Jorge pointed through the sheer curtain to a giant neon sign behind the right stage.
“Dude, sorry.” He gave Isabella a long look, then headed off. Walking away was hard, so he turned back. “Great dance,” he said, and turned away.
He continued his drunk act into the bathroom, where Danes joined him.
“Smooth,” the older man said.
Alex shook off the criticism. “I had to see who was back there.”
“What she was doing?”
“Nah, that—she’s doing what she has to do.” He tightened his jaw, because he had expected to see her bartering for information with her body. He still wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had been.
Danes rested a hip against the sink. “Don’t try to kid me, man. You didn’t blink when she was on that stage.”
“Did you?” Alex challenged.
The older man snorted and turned to wash his hands. “She’s gorgeous, sure, but that wasn’t why you were watching her. Why you were determined to see who she was with.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re attached.” Danes dried his hands and folded massive arms over his barrel chest. “Happens sometimes when you’re in each other’s pockets. Can’t let it get to you.”
“It’s not.”
Danes gave him a look that told Alex he’d been there, lied the same lies. “Right. Just watch yourself. This assignment will be over, and then what? Will you really know who she is?”
Would he? Did he want to?
He walked out of the restroom in time to see Isabella emerge from behind the curtain, Jorge touching her arm. He leaned over to brush a kiss across her cheek. Isabella gave him a charming smile and turned away.
Alex strode toward the door, anxious to be out of here, but not wanting to appear to leave with her. He reached the door just as she did. She gave him the same smile she’d given Jorge and dipped her head, walking past him as he held the door for her. Once outside, they headed in opposite directions, she to the corner, he to the truck. He drove around the block to meet her so they wouldn’t be followed. She climbed silently into the car.
“What did you find out?”
She shook her head, not looking at him.
“He didn’t know anything?” Alex demanded, angry at the humiliation she’d had to endure for nothing.
“He said Santiago has gone to Texas. He didn’t know anything about Hector.” Her voice was distant, tired. Dejected.
Shock jolted him. “You asked him about Hector?” That had not been part of the plan. She was a woman seeking a protector. Revealing she was a mother could hurt her chances.
“Not directly. But he didn’t know anything about Santiago traveling with anyone.”
“Do you think Jorge knows what he’s talking about?” Alex hated the impatience coloring his voice, but damn, she’d risked everything for very little return. The way she was acting, this ghost of the Isabella he knew, was scaring the crap out of him.
“What did you think he’d tell me? I am just a stripper, you know.” She shifted in her seat toward him. “Speaking of, you appeared to enjoy my dance.”
He choked. “Yeah, well, you weren’t as rusty as you thought.”
“I guess not.” She gave him one of those twisty little smiles that hit him right in the gut.
He slammed down the door on the image that smile brought to mind. “What did Jorge think?”
“He thought I fulfilled his expectations.”
“Is that what you were doing with your hand under the table when I came back there?”
She stiffened. “No.”
“Look, I know you’d do anything to get information about Hector—”
“I didn’t, Alex.” Her voice was tight, almost on the verge of tears.
“You don’t have to answer to me. Like you said, I don’t know what you’re going through, what you’d do to change what’s happened. I’m in no position to judge.”
“Yet that doesn’t stop you.”
He didn’t say anything as he checked the rearview mirror. He was tired of being followed night after night, and he couldn’t let his frustration with Isabella get them in trouble because he wasn’t paying attention.
“I made him think I was going to,” she said when they turned onto the highway. “But I didn’t want to seem too desperate. I figured it was better to leave him wanting.”
“So you’re going to see him again?”
“No. But I made him think I was.”
“He doesn’t know where you’re staying.”
“Of course not.”
“But he knows who you are to Santiago?”
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the night had been a trap. For Jorge to part with the information, for him to let her go.
“No. I mean, he doesn’t know Santiago was holding me down in Honduras. He doesn’t know I’m the mother of his child. He just thinks Santiago is my sugar daddy.”
Alex frowned. “I don’t trust him.”
She saw him glance in the rearview mirror and twisted to look behind them. “Are they after us?”
“No. Not that I can tell.”
She turned back and leaned her head against the seat with a sigh. “Thanks. For being there.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t as scared as I thought I would be. I knew you were there if I needed you. Thank you.”
“This isn’t the first time.”
“Well, it’s the first time I’m saying thank you. So take it.”
“All right, got it. Jesus.”
“Alex.”
He slid her a look and she reached across the cab to lay a light hand on his lap, determined he would understand her meaning.
He did, because he went all stiff, and not just in the good way. “Don’t,” he said through his teeth.
“I know you were aroused back there. You forget I know you. I can see in your eyes when you want me. I wanted you to want me.”
“So you can fuck with my head?”
“Not really what I want to fuck with.”
“Why? You need your release?”
“Maybe.”
She turned in her seat then, shifted her touch to cover his erection. He growled her name and swerved, just a little, when she squeezed. Then she released him long enough to unzip him.
“Not here,” Alex said, pushing her away, his resistance melting as he zipped himself up. He wasn’t made of steel. Steel-like at the moment, though.
He made the drive more quickly, tense, silent. He passed his keys to the valet and followed Isabella into the lobby. She didn’t look back, but he could tell by the swing of her hips, the tension in the cab of the truck, what was on her mind.
The elevator opened as they approached, like the answer to a prayer, and he swept her inside. The doors slid closed with no one else getting on. Winding her arms around his neck, she gave a soft purr against his mouth. Sliding his touch down to her bare thigh, he eased her weight back against the wall as he sought her taste with his tongue, her soft skin with his rough hands. She lifted one leg along his thigh, rubbing lightly. Needing to be closer, he pressed into her, angling his mouth for a deeper taste. He scooped her hair back from her face and rested his palm against her smooth cheek. Longing swamped him and he let her kiss carry him deeper.
The ringing of the elevator echoed in his head a moment before he realized what it was, and he moved back from Isabella. She opened her eyes slowly, lips parted as if she was savoring the last of the kiss.
He didn’t want to see realization snap back into her eyes, not yet. He took her hand and stepped into the hall. When the elevator doors thumped shut, he dragged her close to kiss her again.
And ignored the flash of hope he saw in her eyes.
“Alex,” she whispered.
“Hush.”
She gasped when he nipped her lower lip between his teeth, then slid his tongue over it. His name was a plea against his mouth, and he dipped his tongue between her lips. His fingers tangled in her hair for a minute, released, and he moved back, trying to remember which way the room was.
“Here,” she said, apparently seeing his confusion and tugging his hand.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her key card, turned toward a door—God, he hoped it was the right one—and he crowded her against it, nuzzling her throat through her hair, pressing his erection against her ass.
She laughed his name and shoved open the door. They stumbled in together. He pushed her hair out of the way to get to the skin of her throat, salty and musky.
So fucking sexy.
She stepped out of her heels as he turned her, and was suddenly tiny. Clasping her rib cage under her breasts, he raised her on her toes to bring her closer and bent to deepen the kiss. She wound around him, arms, legs, as he held the heat of her over his erection. Her breath came hot and heavy as she worked the buttons of his shirt. Shaking with the desire to feel her beneath him, he dropped her to the bed, following her down, nestling between her thighs.
Willpower kicked in. He had to slow down, had to ease back. This wouldn’t be like last time. He would make her see he was different than the other men. He would make her understand it was about more than release.
If he could hold out, he would make her as crazy as he was. He rose on his knees and loosened her dress, parting it to bare the sexy underwear.
Mine.
The thought was so loud in his head that he jolted, but Bella rolled her hips, drawing his attention back.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, sliding his fingertips from the base of her throat, between her breasts, over her belly and the triangle of lace, to rest on her thigh.
“Alex.” She sat up and took his face between her palms, brushing her thumbs over his stubble, and then kissed him, her mouth hot and mobile, her legs parting around him on the bed.
Her eagerness played havoc with his vow to take his time. He tilted her back on the bed and lowered his head.