Page 41 of Wicked Intention

Zo reached for a plate to keep from leaning into him. The pionono was filled with whipped cream, and chocolate sauce was dribbled over it and the ice cream. Finn handed her a spoon and took his own plate. This, she realized belatedly, felt like a date.

“Are you ready to talk?” she asked, trying to dispel the sensation.

“Five minutes won’t make a difference. Let me enjoy the cake first.”

She nodded, but in five minutes, she might be snuggled against his side. When it came to this man, she was weak. Repeatedly reminding herself he was a mercenary and a wannabe gunrunner wasn’t working anymore. Zo took a bite of the pastry, and her eyes closed in bliss. Who’d believe that something this delicious was hiding in a coffee shop in this part of town?

“This might be the best pionono I’ve ever had”—she took a sip of coffee—“and if you tell Tia Izel I said that, I’ll call you a liar.”

His lips quirked up. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

Warmth flushed through Zo’s body, and she focused on her pastry until it passed. Oh, yeah, she had it bad, and if she didn’t find a way to snap herself out of it, she’d be in big trouble. His arm brushed hers as he reached for a napkin, and the heat escalated.

Who was she kidding? She was already in big trouble.

Another group of people entered, talking gaily as they added their outerwear to the hooks in the entry, burying her jacket, before moving into the main part of the coffee house. The chatter around them offered a nice cover for a private conversation.

Putting her empty plate on the tray, Zo retrieved her mug. “Can we talk now?”

She felt his sigh more than heard it. “Yeah, start at the beginning, and take me through what happened, step by step.”

“San Isidro always puts up the town’s nativity scene two weeks before Christmas Eve. It’s a major celebration, and people come in from miles around. Al is a regular attendee, so I didn’t think much of it when I saw him there.”

“You must know him pretty well to call him Al,” Finn said lazily.

Despite the lack of question in his tone, Zo knew what he was asking. “His grandfather was my parents’ foreman at the Huarona ruins, and Al babysat me for a few summers, but I’m not sure anyone knows him well. Didn’t your snooping around town net you that information?”

Finn made a non-committal sound that didn’t tell her anything.

Zo let it go and returned to her timeline of events. “After the ceremony, as the feast got underway, Al came over. This is only semi-unusual. Most of the time, he ignores me, but sometimes he doesn’t.” She shrugged. “Today, he didn’t.”

“What did he say, exactly? Give me everything as close to word for word as you can.”

Her cheeks warmed again, but this time it was vague embarrassment rather than arousal. She remembered everything. “He said, ‘Zofia, you’re looking lovely today. Your engagement must agree with you, although I’m surprised you lowered your standards. A gunrunner? Your parents must be so proud.’”

“How the hell did he hear the engagement story?” Finn demanded.

With a brief shake of her head, Zo said, “All of San Isidro knows. Tia Izel cornered me in the kitchen on Thursday to demand an explanation. She said she heard it from Señor Garcia.” She looked square at Finn for the first time since the topic had started. There was no indication he’d recognized the name. “Señor Garcia is in his early eighties, and while he’s a sweetheart, he’s a huge gossip. I haven’t been able to discover how he heard the story.”

Finn scowled. “You didn’t mention it?”

Zo stiffened and leveled a glare on him. “I did not.” His arm went around her shoulders, and he gave her upper arm a rub. It derailed her anger. “If you didn’t say anything, that leaves Sil—”

“I know who it leaves,” Finn cut her off. “Let’s put that aside for now. What else did Al say?”

Okay, she got it. Don’t say Silva’s name aloud. She dropped her pitch to imitate Ramos. “‘If you want your fiancé to live until your wedding day, I suggest you tell him not to broker any deals with or for Señor Bianchi. Anyone who helps my enemy is also my enemy.’ Then he wished meFeliz Navidadand disappeared into the crowd.”

Removing his arm from around her shoulders, Finn raised his mug and drank some coffee. There was no indication he was taking this seriously. It scared her. She couldn’t protect him against a drug lord, especially not Ramos. He’d done things that concerned her when he’d been fifteen, and he had only become more dangerous as he’d grown up. There was no question Al ordered people killed, and he had the muscle to get the job done.

She dropped her hand on Finn’s leg, right above his knee, and squeezed as hard as she could. “Don’t blow this off. Al is not someone to take lightly. Ever.”

“I’m not blowing it off, Zo.” His gaze met hers, and she saw the intensity there. It allowed her to relax a fraction.

“Good.” She tried to pull her hand back but couldn’t make herself do it. The hard muscles of his thigh were warm against her palm, and she liked the tingly sensation growing the longer she touched him. Zo forced herself to return her hand to her mug. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he said.

With a shrug, she finished her coffee. It was obvious he wouldn’t tell her anything, even if he already had a plan forming. The lack of trust hurt, although it shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if she trusted him, right?Right?She put her mug back on the tray. “I need to get going. I don’t want to drive in the dark.”

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