Mexican Heat: Crimes & Cocktails, Book 1 by Mexican Heat

Author:Mexican Heat [Heat, Mexican]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-07T07:24:34+00:00

Chapter Ten

The low whirr of the ceiling fan was the first thing to edge into Gabriel’s awareness. Drowsy with the vestiges of too little rest and too much alcohol, he drifted. Usually his waking was like a curtain yanked to one side, the need to be alert and on guard dragging him to instant attention. But tonight he lay quiet, enjoying the play of shadows and moonlight, the rare sense of warmth and safety.

Through his lashes he saw the gun on the nightstand outlined in moonglow. It lay next to an overturned shot glass and half a crushed lime. The shot glass and lime he could understand. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke to the remnants of a night spent blocking out the loneliness of his undercover life, but the gun…the gun wasn’t his.

Memory flooded him. Ortega. Ortega and his Aztec magic potion: the local brew they called Mexican heat. Not a misnomer; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such hot, raw, satisfying sex. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

He turned his head on the pillow. The silver light from the open balcony showed a pillow indented where a head had rested—and empty sheets.

He was alone.

The disappointment was overwhelming for a moment. Too powerful to analyze. Then reason asserted itself. Ortega wouldn’t leave his weapon. Gabriel smoothed his hand across the other side of the mattress, feeling the warmth of the sheets. A body had lain there recently; the coarse cotton still carried body heat.

He lifted his head, wincing at the reminder of how much he’d had to drink a few hours before, and sure enough there was Ortega’s tall form standing at the doorway leading onto the balcony. The slats of the wooden shutters threw tiger stripes across his shadowed form.

Gabriel studied him curiously. There seemed something melancholy in the other man’s still pose. Ortega seemed so…distant. So alone. It troubled Gabriel—and how stupid was that?

All the same, he’d like Ortega one last time. Despite his body’s aches and pains, he already wanted him again. Nothing to do with emotions. Just practicality: once they left this place, that would have to be the end of it.

Without turning, Ortega said softly, “Awake?” His voice sounded strangely intimate in the darkness of the room.

“Yeah.”

When Gabriel didn’t say more, Ortega glanced over his shoulder.

Gabriel slid to the edge of the bed and stood. Ignoring Ortega’s silent gaze, he walked to the bathroom, leaving its door open as he relieved himself. Absently he ran his hand over his abdomen, fingers grazing sticky patches of dried liquids.

Over the waterfall of sound, he heard Ortega say something. He ignored it. Finishing, he grabbed one of the towels used after their earlier shower. It hung neatly on the rod. Either the maids here cleaned rooms in the middle of the night, or Ortega had a neat streak in him. Gabriel soaked the towel and used it to wash off. The lukewarm water felt good on scratched and tender skin.

He tossed the towel

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