“You didn’t come,” she blurted, struck by the abrupt realization.
He began walking her backward toward the open glass door, lifting her off her feet when her lowered pants threatened to trip her. “Just one time, remember?” he said, his gaze glittering with both heat and fierce intent. “Until I come, all of this counts as just once.”
2
IN A BUILDING ANGLED ACROSS FROM RAFAEL’S APARTMENT, a federal agent blinked at his monitor, then announced in a tone of astonishment: “Hey, the girlfriend has a boyfriend.”
“What?” The senior agent walked over to the monitor and stared at it, at the couple on the balcony. He whistled. “Talk about cutting it close; Salinas just left the building.” He frowned, studying the images. “I don’t remember seeing that guy before. Can we ID him?”
“I don’t think so; not yet, anyway. He hasn’t given us a good angle.” Despite that, the first agent, Xavier Jackson, danced his fingers across the keyboard, trying to clean up the resolution. Salinas had chosen his penthouse well; the angle, the height, the distance, all worked to make visual surveillance, at best, somewhat difficult-and as bad as visual was, what they had there was still a damn sight better than any audio they’d managed to get. Not only was the apartment soundproofed, but Salinas had also installed sophisticated equipment that thwarted all their attempts to eavesdrop. Nor had they been cleared to tap any of his lines, which to Jackson ’s way of thinking meant that some high-level judges were in Salinas ’s well-tailored pocket. That royally pissed Jackson off, because it ran contrary to his sense of justice, of right and wrong. Judges were human; they could be stupid, biased, just plain bad, but, damn it, they weren’t supposed to be dirty.