Red Shoes and A Diary. Mia Zachary

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      “I consider myself a man who’s outstanding in that regard.”

      Meghan rested her chin on clasped hands, looking him over slowly. “That’s a very healthy ego you’ve got, Nick.”

      “I also have very healthy…appetites.”

      The sensual hunger his voice conveyed sent a rush of need straight between her thighs. All of her senses were aroused, making her hyperaware of the gorgeous male sitting across from her. Ask him. Just come right out and ask him.

      A dark form caught her attention and she turned to see the maitre d’. He apologized for the intrusion before leaning down to murmur in Nick’s ear.

      “Now?” His brows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned down. He cursed under his breath in annoyance. “Thank you.”

      “What’s the matter?” She stared in amazement and her sexual anticipation evaporated like mist. The charming man she’d been talking to had vanished before her eyes. A stranger with tight features and a hard voice sat in his place.

      “Nick?”

      He looked up as if she’d startled him. He glanced over her shoulder, still frowning, then his expression cleared. “I’m sorry, Meghan. There’s some business I’ve got to take care of.”

      “You’re supposed to be on vacation, too.”

      “A working vacation, remember? I’m here at the request of an important client. Since he’s footing the bill, I can’t ignore him—as much as I’d like to.”

      “Do you have to leave right now? You haven’t eaten yet.” It was a lame attempt to keep him there and they both knew it.

      He pasted on a smile but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. This can’t wait. I’ll see you later, I promise.”

      Hugging her arms about her waist, Meghan watched him walk away. Her fantasy deserted her with every step he took. This was hardly the way she’d imagined the night would end. She glanced around the restaurant. Everyone was probably snickering at the pitiful woman who’d been dumped by her date.

      So much for being a Sex Goddess in Training.

      ALEX SLAMMED THE DOOR of his suite behind FBI Special Agent Emelio Sanchez, his partner since being assigned to the Special Operations Division and his best friend since college.

      Emelio tossed a handful of cashews into his mouth as he walked into the living room. “You’re pissed because I interrupted some dinner date? Meantime, I had to raid the minibar for a meal.” He rolled his eyes as he sank into an armchair and planted his heels on the coffee table.

      Yeah, he was pissed. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so completely fascinated by a woman. “This had better be good.”

      “It is good, man. I just got word that Frankie Ramos’s yacht, the Cielo Blanco, is docked over on Key West.”

      Alex stopped pacing and bared his teeth in a feral grin. “So, Braga’s boss finally surfaced. Excellent.”

      “Well, the boat’s here. He’s not on it.”

      “What? Where is he?”

      Emelio scowled and ducked his head. “We’re not sure yet.”

      The image of Meghan’s face filled his mind, followed by an image of that body in that dress. “Great, partner. My dinner’s cold and my date is probably colder. You dragged me up here for—”

      “I dragged you up here because Easton wants you to call him. Pronto, if not sooner, and I’m quoting.” Brent Easton was their direct supervisor at the SOD. He was also a demanding son of a bitch.

      “Shit. That can’t possibly be good.” Alex dropped onto the couch and massaged the still tender scar on his temple. “We better find out where Ramos has gone to ground.”

      “It’s only a matter of time. We’ll get him.”

      “That’s what you said six weeks ago,” Alex grumbled.

      His partner’s voice was deceptively calm when he made an anatomically impossible suggestion.

      “Sorry, Em. That was a lousy thing to say.” Alex dragged both hands through his hair, sighing heavily.

      “Forget it.” Emelio crumpled the empty nut bag in his fist and arced it into the trashcan.

      “This case should have been one for the books. Instead we’re scrambling to recover ground.” Alex had taken the lead after his friend got too close to a witness, an informant he’d felt sorry for. Gina had been a young woman caught in an impossible situation. She’d had no real choice but to betray him. Now, Braga, and who knew how many others could make Emelio for a cop.

      “Let’s not rehash old business, partner.”

      Emelio was right, but that incident had been a turning point in Alex’s career. Problem was, he didn’t know which way it had pushed him. Concentrate on the here and now, he told himself. “Okay. What have you heard?”

      “Word on the street says Ramos is really losing it.” Emelio grabbed two beers out of the minibar and passed one over. “Spends more time supporting his habit than taking care of business. Some of the laundered money might even be in his private accounts instead of the cartel’s.”

      Alex whistled in mock admiration. “Frankie must have balls of cold-rolled steel. Drug czars aren’t exactly known for their benevolence.”

      “That or the shit he’s putting up his nose has fried his brain cells. Let’s focus on him. If we can break Ramos, he’ll flip on the rest in exchange for a light sentence.”

      Alex rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “Rogelio Braga needs to be watched. I don’t think it’s a coincidence he invited me here this particular week.”

      Em shook his head. “Forget Braga for now. If we get Ramos, we break the Miami cartel. Cocaine addiction makes a man paranoid and unpredictable, but it also makes him vulnerable.”

      “Something big is going down. Braga had dinner with some heavy hitters tonight.” Alex stared at the ceiling, speaking slowly, running scenarios in his head. “He’s gathering his strength for a change of leadership. That’s going to fall out on participants, bystanders and innocents alike.”

      “You’ve never been innocent, man.” Emelio scoffed, trying to make a joke of his concern.

      But Alex hoped that Meghan was. He pulled the slim blue journal from his jacket. “Listen. I need you to run a check on somebody. Name’s Meghan Elise Foster. Her luggage is from Baltimore. Find out for me if she’s legit.”

      “I take it she was your date.” Emelio studied his face, seeing more than Alex wanted him to, as usual. “You think the lady is a player?”

      “Could be. She was cozy with Braga earlier tonight. Then she came on to me. There’s another factor that points to her innocence, but I need to be sure.”

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