He glanced down at his tropical shorts and grimaced. She’d gotten quite the laugh when he’d appeared wearing them, so much so, he’d had the feeling something was up. When he’d said as much, she’d admitted buying them to spite him. Her amusement had been, well, amusing. He didn’t get amused. But then there was nothing normal about what he felt for Nicole.
He had to have her again.
Nicole had somehow managed to eat her strawberry waffle in between calls to her father, her sister and now her boss. Constantine finished off a biscuit loaded with butter and honey right about the time she ended the conversation.
“That sounded encouraging,” he commented before licking a drop of honey off his thumb, erotic images of licking honey off Nicole’s body sending his pulse racing.
She tossed the cell phone on the bed, oblivious to how hot she made him without any effort, which somehow only made him hotter. “It was,” she agreed. “Dean not only said I should remain on the case, he promised to fight to make it happen. He’s calling the judge personally with a promise that he will take over if I can’t make the trial—which is, of course, almost unheard-of. It will speak volumes to the court about how important Dean feels I am to this case. But it also means a delay of two weeks because of his wife’s cancer treatments.”
Constantine brushed crumbs from his hands, pleased with the announcement. “And my testimony?” he asked.
“He was sold before I brought it up. A guy named Nelson called Dean this morning. Told him if you were alive, you were needed.”
Constantine paused, a glass of orange juice halfway to his mouth. He set the glass back down. “Why would Nelson be calling instead of Flores? If this Nelson is who I think he is, he has been working a drug task force in the Houston area, only helping with aiding the Alvarez takedown. No direct involvement.”
Nicole continued to recount her conversation. “Dean mentioned something about how that came about. Flores took a bullet in his shoulder and spent the night in the hospital. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. So Nelson transferred into the Austin office and assumed his duties.”
The food in his stomach downright rolled. “Wait one damn minute. Filling in for Flores or replacing him?”
She hesitated. “Dean used the word replace. I admit that seems a bit odd.”
“You can say that again.” Constantine rubbed the back of his neck, a weight exploding onto his shoulders. He’d met Nelson once when he’d been arrested along with a bunch of the Alvarez gang. He’d known Constantine’s identity and he’d maintained the necessary secrecy throughout the process. But he couldn’t trust him. Not when someone on the inside was dirty.
Nicole pushed the breakfast cart out of the way to face him, one knee on the bed, one foot on the ground. “I know you trust Flores, but is this an indication someone else doesn’t? That they think he’s the leak?”
He wanted to say no, but that would be a lie. “Either that or they want a fall guy in case things turn sour. You know how the story plays. This is high profile with lots of press. Someone has to go down if the operation fails.”
She didn’t immediately respond, the scrutinizing look she leveled his way a little too probing for his comfort. He scooted back against the headboard and kicked his legs onto the mattress. He let his head drift backward, lowering his lashes, withdrawing into a shell so he could deal with what he’d learned. His mind raced wildly with the implications of her news.
Suddenly, Nicole was there, refusing to be dismissed. She straddled him, sitting across his lap. His head shot up as her hands settled on his chest. Despite his state of mind, instantly he was hard, the thin shorts they each wore offering no barrier between their bodies. He could almost feel the damp heat of her body. Was she wearing panties?
Nicole hugged herself, covering her breasts and successfully drawing his attention to her face. “Are we okay?” she demanded. “Should we leave? What did she say?”
Hands by his sides, he resisted touching her, resisted reaching for her on all levels. Life had taught him to remain guarded. Caring meant pain. Loss. But she’d offered him insight into her life that a file folder couldn’t give him and he wanted to know more. And right now, he didn’t care that he’d have to share his own feelings to get to hers.
“Who betrayed you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked.
Yes. “It matters.”
Shadows floated in her eyes, seconds passing, and he began to think she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “My ex. It was my ex. Only not in the way you might think. It wasn’t about other women. I let him pull me into his world and convince me it was mine. In the end, it was his, and what I wanted didn’t matter. I was a tool to get to my father. Ironically, he never needed me for that. He’s still my father’s protégé.” Pain flashed in her expression before she refocused on him, her hand brushing his jaw. “So you see. I hope Flores didn’t betray you. It’s clear you don’t offer trust easily.”