"Have a drink."

"I told you I quit."

"No one likes a quitter, amado."

They were sitting in a quiet back room of a comfortably modern bungalow, smoking. Rémy was trying to keep this professional, but Ikeno Sousa was making it harder by the second. It was the same room from eight years ago. The same curtains. The same three-bladed fan spun lazily overhead.

"Can we skip the pleasantries, Ikeno?"

Dark eyes in a smooth, unblemished face regarded him fondly. A slim hand with short, neat nails lifted a cigarette to smooth, soft lips. Curly hair the color of earth and blood hung perfectly styled over a dusky brow. Ikeno was stunning. A thirty-something figure well-known in the South American underworld, Sousa was a wealth of information and connections. Also, the go-to person when any form of fraudulent papers was needed.

Rémy still wasn't sure how it had happened. How they ended up back here that night. Drunk. Laughing. Then kissing. Then naked.

He'd woken up with a wicked buzz in his head and rumpled sheets next to him. Stunned, horrified, he'd left immediately and never looked back. Until now. He wasn't a prude. He wasn't a virgin... the issue was more... complicated.

"What makes you frown, amado?"

"Stop calling me that."

"You left without a word. Were you ashamed?" Rémy flushed as a low laugh sent prickles along his scalp. "Ah... A ânsia da juventude se arrepende da masculinidade."

"I wasn't a child eight years ago."

"I'm well aware of that," Ikeno blew a perfect ring in the air. "But you were much younger than you are now, Rémy."

The French gangster rubbed his temples, ignoring the tender voice Ikeno used.

"What do you want? I can't just sit here guessing."

"I want an explanation." White teeth flashed in a sweet smile. "Tell me why you ran away like a whipped dog. Tell me the truth."

"If I don't?" Rémy knew the answer, but his back was against the wall and he didn't want to appear to be submissive. Sousa laughed out loud.

"Then you go home. Without what you came for."

"That's all?"

"It's enough." Leaning forward, smooth hands reached out, fingertips brushed over Rémy's calloused knuckles before he could jerk back. "I cannot be cruel to you, amado. Not after that night."

"Why does it matter so much to you? We had...it's over. Okay?"

"You can't even say it." Sousa shifted position a little, eyes twinkling. "We had sex, amado. Why do the words bother you?"

"You know why." Rémy's voice had gone cold, his features stiffening dangerously as he met an amused look. "You should have told me... at least warned me."

"Warned you, as if I had something to be ashamed of?" Rémy could've bitten off his tongue as ageless features regarded him seriously. "Why does the truth scare you? Do you think it somehow changes who you are?" Reaching out, Sousa rubbed out the cigarette in a handcrafted, delicately painted ashtray, unblinking as dark eyes held Rémy's.

"Until you are brave enough to tell me why you ran away, I'm not going to help you." A dusky hand lifted, waving toward the door. "Should I drive you back to the airport? To let you run away again, your tail between your legs?"

"Don't push me." It was a snarl, but Ikeno smiled tolerantly.

"You don't have the authority to just leave, do you? This is for work, and what your boss wants always comes before what you want. What choice does that leave you?"

Rémy felt trapped, his palms going slick with sweat as his blood pressure spiked. Why had he ever come back here?

"If you want to sit here and think about it, I'll let you." Rising smoothly, Sousa went to the doorway adjoining the outer rooms, pausing to look back. "Sunset, amado...then you must decide if your pride is worth the information you seek."

Alone, Rémy swore viciously under his breath, digging a hand into his hair. He shouldn't have called! This whole thing was a huge mistake! It was bad enough to have kept up the lie for eight years, but now it was right back between his teeth again. Frustrated, worried, he slammed back the shot of tequila left on the table, his fist shaking.

He should leave. Now. Call the others, get them back on a plane and get out of the country before anything else happens. Did he dare, though? Gabriel would be furious if he returned without so much as an idea of where the whore had gone.

Pouring another shot, he swallowed it hard, feeling his head spin, quickly downing another. He hadn't lied. Rémy hadn't touched alcohol in eight years because of that night. He couldn't afford another impaired decision. The fourth shot was in his hand when gentle fingers folded around his, holding the glass to the table.

"Rémy, don't torture yourself," warm lips were on his neck, moist breath clinging to his skin. "Why can't you tell me? I hate to see you suffer like this,"

"I can't..." heart pounding, dark blue eyes lifted to rich coffee brown ones. "I won't,"

"Are you afraid?" The gentle inquiry, no judgement, no expectation, forced the air from his lungs. His hands trembled.

"Yes."

"Amado," there was so much tenderness in the purring voice that Rémy looked up into the beautifully sculpted features next to his, tears perfectly balanced on his lower lids. "Don't cry, please,"

"Ikeno...I can't be what you want. It won't work. Not now, not ever."

Gentle fingers ran through his hair, sending waves of heat along his scalp, prickling down his spine. Rémy's eyes closed out of reflex, feeling the warmth of Ikeno's arms folding around him. A tear slipped free as smooth lips touched his neck.

"What do you think I want?"

"Someone who can accept what you are,"

A husky laugh rippled through his veins.

"I don't need acceptance, Amado...what I want from you is far simpler than that. From you, my precious Rémy, all I desire is your warmth. How we laughed. How we held hands. How we kissed. How we fell asleep in each other's arms. What is acceptance to such happiness?"

"I can't," desperate, his head shook in denial. "I'm not, you're not... we can't just,"

"Only for tonight then," Sousa murmured longingly. "Just tonight. Stay with me. Let it be like it was then, and tomorrow, I'll find the information you came in search of. Afterwards, you can go home. Go back to your life. Forget about me if that's what you want. Just give me tonight. Give me you one last time."

Rémy wanted to argue, to say that would be a tragic mistake, but tequila was coursing through his system. Without proper food, his high had been almost instant. When a persuasive hand slid down his chest, he curled his arms around Ikeno's body. Tugging Sousa onto his lap, their gazes met. Then softly, slowly, their lips followed suit. 'Just tonight' he told himself, feeling his shirt unbuttoned, 'just tonight.'

Bogotá, Columbia

"I'm on the ground." Dallas was striding quickly toward a car he'd arranged at the airport rental desk. "I'll keep in touch."

"If you find him-!"

"Bad connection, sir," the agent interrupted dryly, tired, hungry, and in a dangerously foul mood. "I'll call you back."

He hung up hearing a string of curses from his boss. The flight had been a long one. He'd been in business class but the couple behind him had argued passive-aggressively the entire flight. Over popcorn and flip-flops! Marvin and Bertha Howster had been married for sixty-seven years, fifteen of which he'd spent doing multiple tours overseas in the armed forces. She'd raised their three children mostly alone, a fact she had no qualms about berating him over.

It had taken all his control for Dallas not to turn around and offer to end their remarkable half-century dispute for a very reasonable rate. Disembarking the plane, he'd been aghast to see them hand-in-hand, hurrying toward one of the airport restaurants that sold alcohol. Like they hadn't spent the last eleven hours taking digs at each other.

Sliding behind the wheel of the rental, he steered the car smoothly out into traffic without strapping in. The Casa Medina was an easy fifteen minutes at the speed he drove. With stone columns, slanted beam ceilings, and hand-carved doors rescued from convents, along with trendy Chesterfield sofas, patterned rugs, and mirrored trunks the hotel was on his short list of favorites. The few luxury rooms with fireplaces made him feel like a king, although the Agency's expenditure budget was somewhat less appealing.

Pulling into the parking lot, he did an automatic scan before parking. Nothing weird stood out, so he found a slot, cut the engine, and strode purposefully toward the lobby.

A lovely young girl with round brown eyes smiled at him. Her name tag read Celeste.

"Welcome to Casa Medina. Checking in?"

"Buenas tardes señorita. Tengo una reservación," he slid a false ID and passport toward her. She ran the ID, charged the credit card he provided, and handed him a room key.

"Please enjoy your stay, Mr Evans. If you need anything, simply ring the front desk."

"Thank you." A calculated pause, just long enough to alert her there might be a problem.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"During my last stay at this hotel, I dealt with a woman by the name of Ana. She doesn't still work here, by any chance?"

"Ana...?" hesitant, Celeste quickly looked around, as if she was seeking management. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Not at all. This trip is already off to a wonderful start." Dallas smiled charmingly at her. "I just hoped she wouldn't be here, after all the problems during my last stay."

"I'm afraid...well, she does work here, but she's not in today." Wide eyes pleaded with him to not make an issue of it, and he briefly toyed with the idea of letting her off the hook, but it wouldn't serve his needs, so Dallas shook his head with a sigh.

"Maybe I better cancel-"

"Oh please!" Stiffening, Celeste did her best to stay professional. "Allow me a chance to make it right! I'm certain we can straighten out any misunderstanding,"

"How can I say no to that?" Another smile made her blush. "When she comes in, why not have your manager send her to my room? I'm sure an apology will do the trick."

"I'll leave a message for him right now," she scribbled a note in remarkably good penmanship for her hurry. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Is there another key to my room?"

"Yes," shyly, she met his gaze. "Is there someone else joining you?"

"You, I hope." He pressed the key into her palm with a wink. "Why don't you come by when you get off work?"

"I...I work until six a.m. ..." her stammer was cute, flustered, and Dallas briefly wondered if she would reject him. Then her expression flashed bravery. "Is that too late?"

"Not for me. I'll be up." Deliberately trailing his fingers over her knuckles, he winked. "No pressure, okay?"

"Okay..."

Although Dallas didn't look back, he could feel Celeste's gaze on him until he turned the corner toward the wing his room was in. Who knows? Maybe she'd show. The possibility made him grin wolfishly.

Chicago, Illinois, USA

"What else, Tony?" Her fingernail skimmed up his navel, lightly tracing the soft curve of muscle to his collarbone.

"I don't have anything else, yet. My guy is still listening."

"Will you tell me if you hear anything else?"

"Of course." His gaze was soft. "You've got as much a right to know as the boss."

"You're delicious," the path made by her nail was followed by her lips, the mafia lieutenant sucking in a breath as she used her tongue, leaving a moist trail. "I could eat you up,"

"You already did," pushing his hand into her hair he grinned knowingly. "I'm still weak."

Her soft hum put goosebumps across his skin. Pressing a kiss against his shoulder, Amanda Scarpetti got out of bed, leisurely moving to where a silk robe hung from the bathroom door. She was well aware that Tony's attention was glued to her nakedness. In her mid-fifties, she was still gorgeous, with taut skin and firm muscles. Remaining childless had kept her figure in prime condition. Belting her robe, she settled on the chair in front of her vanity mirror.

"You better go, Tony. Orzo will be back soon."

"Why do you fool around behind his back?" Climbing out of bed, he searched for his boxers and pants, hopping on one foot to put them on without sitting down again. Her amused gaze followed his antics for a moment.

"He is allowed his...freedoms, so am I. As long as we are discreet about it. Appearances must be kept up."

"I didn't know you knew about his other-" Tony snapped his lips shut, feeling stupid, but Amanda shrugged nonchalantly. "Of course, you would know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he thought her smile was forced. "It was my idea. My husband was good enough to go along."

"So, you and he don't...joyride?" His brow wiggled suggestively.

"That's not any of your business."

"I just-"

"Listen, I'm going to tell you what I've told the others." She faced him, expression firm. "This is temporary. We're having a few laughs, and some good times, but that's it. I won't leave Orzo, I won't do you favors because we're sleeping together, and I won't go soft on you. All I ask is that you never tell anyone about us, even after we're done."

"I never expected you to." Posture stiffening, Tony frowned slightly. "The offer was no strings, which I agreed to."

"And discretion?"

"I know how to keep my mouth closed."

"Good. You should go now." Watching him leave, Amanda silently told herself to be careful with this one. He was different from most of the others. Self-assured. Confident. He'd met and held her gaze the entire time, not challenging, but not cowed. On her level.

Just like Benji.

Her nails curled into her palms at the memory of him. In his teens, the boy had been practically obsessed with her, doing anything she wanted so long as Orzo never found out. Sort of like a hyper puppy dog. Somewhere near twenty, he'd morphed into a tiger.

That had led to some very interesting nights in his room, grappling in the dark, panting heavily, trembling from excitement and exhaustion. Low laughter, flesh marred by teeth and nails, they had spent months enjoying the mattress tango. Benji proved himself to be an excellent partner, with the potential for greatness. Just as he was reaching his peak, and she'd begun to dream about their frequent rendezvous, he'd cut it off cold turkey. His explanation had been blunt.

"Ah got 'nuff problems, Mandy," flat turquoise eyes had held hers unapologetically. "Figured we gonna get caught sooner or lata, and Ah like ma parts where dey are."

"I won't let Orzo-"

"Forget it, Mandy. Was fun while it lasted, but Ah'm done," and he'd walked away without looking back. The shock and embarrassment of the situation led her to be the one to cut things off and stipulate the ground rules for the affair. She never wanted to feel thrown away again.

Getting up, she strolled lazily into the bathroom, twisting the water knobs for comfortable heat. When it was ready, she stripped, stepping in to embrace the hot water, feeling it wash the last hour from her skin. She and Orzo had dinner plans with her father at five sharp, and she still needed to get her pedicure.

Somewhere in South America

"Geneviève!" The name burst from his lips as he shouted for her. Torn from his grip in the rapids, she could be anywhere. "Geneviève!"

His echoed shout got no answer, so staggering toward shore, he frantically looked around, searching the still waters. Although shaking with cold, adrenaline shoved it into the background. Despite being soaked to the bone, his mouth was dry. Where was she?

"Ginny! Answer me!" It took him a moment to recognize the worry coursing through his body, and it surprised him. Why was he worried? What did she matter to him anyway? He could just as easily leave her behind as not- but as soon as the thought entered his mind Ji stiffened, disliking it. What was his problem? The timid little mouse wasn't his responsibility.

Only thing... she kind of was. 'I can protect you.' He'd looked her dead in the eye when he'd said that. So what did that mean now, when they were on the run for their lives, and she was somewhere only the Devil knew where, alone, defenseless, hunted down by ruthless water rats?

"I'll find you," he muttered aloud, limping unsteadily from the river. "I swear it, Mouse. I will find you."

Making his way downstream, Ji was watching both sides of the riverbank, looking for any glimpse of her. His knee was pulsing dully, making the joint stiff. Sliding more than climbing down a boulder-studded slope, Ji paused, staring at the pebbly shoreline. Scuff marks. Deep. Sharp edges. Fresh. .

Pushing to his feet, Ji felt in his waistband for the revolver but came up empty. He uttered a silent curse involving unicorns and marshmallows but followed the obvious path in the sand. He saw the boot track at the same instant a whisper of sound turned his head. He caught a glimpse of a solid black object just before pain exploded behind his eyes. Going stiff, he shook his head like a massive bull unsure of what just happened. A hot brand of pain laid across his skull just before everything went black.

Waking up was more like falling into a nightmare. A hauntingly familiar one. Pain throbbed through every part of his body, the thick, metallic scent of blood heavy in his nostrils. It was his blood. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he saw firelight crackling a short distance away. He'd been out long enough to lose daylight.

Outside the circle of heat, it was cold. Wiggling a little told him he wasn't tied up. A serious mistake on their part. Low voices muttered from beyond the fire, but he couldn't see who was speaking. It sounded like a one-way conversation, then he realized it was a phone call, and considering the location, a satellite phone. Which made it important.

"I told you we have her, and that it would cost you to get her back, didn't I? You're stalling, which makes me think you aren't interested in her, or you're planning to double-cross us." Silence, then, "We could kill her now. What good is a skinny whore? Unless you want to pay us, we kill her."

Ji stopped listening right about then, a choking fury building up in his blood so fast he snapped. They were talking about Geneviève like she was a piece of meat. Like she didn't matter to anyone unless a price tag was attached. Except she did matter. To him.

Adding to his fury was the fact he knew that voice. He'd heard it before. The night he was kidnapped outside that small café in Paris. Weird. He really didn't like weird.

Silently sitting up, Ji's features twisted into a grimace as one of the wavering shadows stood, moving toward him. With a startled exclamation and a rush of feet, voices swore in Portuguese. A woman screamed, jerking his attention to the other side of the fire. She was writhing on the ground, a hazy silhouette in the semi-darkness. The man on top of her was raising his fist.

Lunging to his feet, Ji felt the past rush in on him. Like he'd never gotten out. Like he'd never left that life behind, his hands still dripping with blood.

In pain, in the dark, smelling blood and facing threatening shadows, Ji's questionable self-control shattered. Vision draped in a hazy red veil, sounds were muffled like he was encased in thick glass. The only thought beating through his brain was 'fight', 'survive'. There was only one way to do that, to kill those standing in his way.