was out. With the toe of her boot she moved his chin, making sure he had a clear airway. Didn’t want him smothering on her kitchen floor. Rummaging around in kitchen drawers for something to restrain him all she could find was a roll of duct tape. Before she was able to use it he stirred.
Rico opened his eyes. “How did you find me?” she demanded, pointing the gun at his head.
“Internet.” He sucked in a couple of loud breaths.
“Where did you get on the net?”
“Hospital. Got into an office.”
“So, smuggling and two B&Es. You are going to jail.”
“Give me a break.” Rico wrapped his arms around his torso, moaning, his breathing labored.
“Broken ribs?”
“No. Couple were bruised. More are now.” He rolled onto his side, attempting to sit up.
“Stay down.”
“Hurts less if I sit.”
“Don’t care. Stay down or I’ll kick you again.”
Ignoring her, Rico levered himself up. For his efforts he received her size nine boot in the center of his chest. He grabbed her leg and Olivia thumbed the H&K’s safety off. The snick it made paralyzed Rico. His gaze met hers. “I’m not playing here. I said, stay down.” She shoved her boot harder into his chest, bringing the barrel of the weapon inches from his temple.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he grunted.
“Yeah? You aren’t the guy we picked up in the water after his go-fast exploded? A go-fast crammed full of cocaine, I might add.”
“Yes. I mean, no. Damn it.” He braced a palm on the floor inching himself up. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“No,” she shot back, removing her foot. “Roll over.”
“What?”
“Roll onto your stomach. Hands on your head, and lace your fingers together.”
“No.”
She landed a hard kick to his side.
“Ahh. Don’t do that again,” he howled. “For Christ sakes, I’m DEA UC.”
“You want to play the alphabet game? A, B, C.” He was really pissing her off. She raised her foot to thump him again and stopped. “What did you say?”
“Damn it. I said I’m an undercover agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration. Now, let me get up. ”
Grabbing his arm she forced him onto his stomach. Rico yelped in protest.
“Prove it, asshole,” she ordered, planting her boot in the small of his back.
“I’m UC, I don’t carry ID or a badge.” He groaned again.
“You got some way to prove that?” she said, grinding that size nine, twisting the hospital scrubs. Danny had assured her if it became necessary there were ways to prove he was undercover.
“Like what?” Rico spit out between gritted teeth. “You think I have a badge tattooed on my ass?”
“I would have noticed that.” She pulled her cell from a pocket. “You have sixty seconds to convince me before I call for the cavalry.” He moved. She pressed her foot harder.
“Damn it. Quit being a bitch. Let me talk.”
“Now I’m a bitch? Fifty seconds.” She removed her foot and he rolled to his side.
“What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“I could give you a number to call my handler—but I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“Twenty seconds.” She punched in 911 on the cell. “Why don’t you trust him?”
“I was set up. I don’t know how or by who. Someone gave me up.”
“You know this because?”
“The boat was rigged with explosives.”
Olivia assessed him, trying to get a read. What he said could be true. It would explain why the boat exploded. The agents had suggested a possible set up. She wanted to trust him. Wanted to have her judgment vindicated.
“Not good enough.”
“Trust me,” he said.
“Why? Because we had fantastic sex one night?” She winced, instantly wishing she could recall the words.
“Fantastic, huh?” He grinned.
“You arrogant bastard.” She raised her foot to stomp him again.
“Sorry,” he shouted, holding up a hand in defense.
By now he’d positioned himself against the wall in a half-sitting position, maneuvering
Rico opened his eyes. “How did you find me?” she demanded, pointing the gun at his head.
“Internet.” He sucked in a couple of loud breaths.
“Where did you get on the net?”
“Hospital. Got into an office.”
“So, smuggling and two B&Es. You are going to jail.”
“Give me a break.” Rico wrapped his arms around his torso, moaning, his breathing labored.
“Broken ribs?”
“No. Couple were bruised. More are now.” He rolled onto his side, attempting to sit up.
“Stay down.”
“Hurts less if I sit.”
“Don’t care. Stay down or I’ll kick you again.”
Ignoring her, Rico levered himself up. For his efforts he received her size nine boot in the center of his chest. He grabbed her leg and Olivia thumbed the H&K’s safety off. The snick it made paralyzed Rico. His gaze met hers. “I’m not playing here. I said, stay down.” She shoved her boot harder into his chest, bringing the barrel of the weapon inches from his temple.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he grunted.
“Yeah? You aren’t the guy we picked up in the water after his go-fast exploded? A go-fast crammed full of cocaine, I might add.”
“Yes. I mean, no. Damn it.” He braced a palm on the floor inching himself up. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“No,” she shot back, removing her foot. “Roll over.”
“What?”
“Roll onto your stomach. Hands on your head, and lace your fingers together.”
“No.”
She landed a hard kick to his side.
“Ahh. Don’t do that again,” he howled. “For Christ sakes, I’m DEA UC.”
“You want to play the alphabet game? A, B, C.” He was really pissing her off. She raised her foot to thump him again and stopped. “What did you say?”
“Damn it. I said I’m an undercover agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration. Now, let me get up. ”
Grabbing his arm she forced him onto his stomach. Rico yelped in protest.
“Prove it, asshole,” she ordered, planting her boot in the small of his back.
“I’m UC, I don’t carry ID or a badge.” He groaned again.
“You got some way to prove that?” she said, grinding that size nine, twisting the hospital scrubs. Danny had assured her if it became necessary there were ways to prove he was undercover.
“Like what?” Rico spit out between gritted teeth. “You think I have a badge tattooed on my ass?”
“I would have noticed that.” She pulled her cell from a pocket. “You have sixty seconds to convince me before I call for the cavalry.” He moved. She pressed her foot harder.
“Damn it. Quit being a bitch. Let me talk.”
“Now I’m a bitch? Fifty seconds.” She removed her foot and he rolled to his side.
“What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“I could give you a number to call my handler—but I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“Twenty seconds.” She punched in 911 on the cell. “Why don’t you trust him?”
“I was set up. I don’t know how or by who. Someone gave me up.”
“You know this because?”
“The boat was rigged with explosives.”
Olivia assessed him, trying to get a read. What he said could be true. It would explain why the boat exploded. The agents had suggested a possible set up. She wanted to trust him. Wanted to have her judgment vindicated.
“Not good enough.”
“Trust me,” he said.
“Why? Because we had fantastic sex one night?” She winced, instantly wishing she could recall the words.
“Fantastic, huh?” He grinned.
“You arrogant bastard.” She raised her foot to stomp him again.
“Sorry,” he shouted, holding up a hand in defense.
By now he’d positioned himself against the wall in a half-sitting position, maneuvering
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