Page 2 of Dangerous Seduction

As I tuned him out, the pieces started clicking into place. The way he’d angle his phone away from me whenever a notification popped up, like he didn’t want me to see who was texting him. And then there was the bracelet in a fancy gift box I’d found in his apartment last week - a delicate silver chain with a charm that was definitely not my style. I had chalked it up to a gift to his sister or mom, but now I realized how naive I’d been.

My training as a DEA agent had taught me to trust my instincts and pick up on even the smallest details of a crime scene, but apparently, I was a lot less clever in my love life.

“You’ve been cheating on me,” I said flatly. It wasn’t a question. Jason finally looked up, his face a pathetic mix of guilt and resignation, telling me all I needed to know.

“Who is she?” I demanded. My mind raced through the possibilities. It had to be someone I knew for him to look this uncomfortable. Then it hit me. “Oh, my God. It’s Melissa, isn’t it?”

The flash of panic in his eyes confirmed my guess. “Natalia, I didn’t mean––“ he started, but I held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t,” I hissed. “Just don’t.” I felt like I’d been sucker-punched, the air rushing out of my lungs. Of course it was Melissa. That conniving, backstabbing bitch. I should’ve known something was going on between them, the way she’d been eyeing Jason whenever we ran into her in the hallway or by the pool.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. I refused to give Jason the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “How long?” I demanded, my voice hard and brittle.

He had the decency to look ashamed. “A few months.”

A few months. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. All the times Jason had claimed he was working late - he’d been with Melissa, betraying me, lying straight to my face.

“I can’t believe this,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I thought...I thought you were going to propose tonight.”

Jason at least had the good grace to wince. “I’m sorry, Nat. I never meant to hurt you, but...I just don’t think I can be the man you need me to be.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “The man I need you to be? How about just a faithful, honest partner? Is that too much to ask?”

Jason spewed some bullshit, but I no longer gave a rat’s ass what lame excuse he had up his sleeve.

“Shove it,” I spat, getting up from my chair. “Go fuck up your life with Melissa. See if I care.”

I marched my ass out of the restaurant, chin up, determined not to give that prick the satisfaction of seeing how badly he’d fucked me up inside. But the second I hit the sticky summer night, the floodgates opened, and tears of rage poured down my face. I swiped at them, pissed at myself for wasting precious tears on that two-timing, lying sack of shit.

I must’ve been blind not to see Jason’s true colors from day one. Seriously, what kind of asshole plans a breakup at the same place you had your six-month anniversary? The kind who’s got “DOUCHE” fucking tattooed on his forehead, that’s who.

I hailed a taxi and barked my address at the driver, a wiry man with a graying beard and eyes that had seen too many drunken tourists.

“Rough night, huh?” he asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I glared at him. “You could say that.”

“Look, sweetheart, it’s none of my business, but any man who makes a woman look like she’s ready to spit nails must’ve done something pretty stupid.”

Despite my mood, I snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

He chuckled. “Well, you’re a looker and have fire in your eyes. You’ll find someone who deserves you.”

I managed a half-smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to battery-operated companions for a while.”

The driver laughed hard as we pulled up to my apartment building, but just as he brought the cab to a stop, a muffled ping came from my purse. I pulled out my phone to see a text from Jason.

I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I hope we can still be friends.

I barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. Of course, Jason would try to pull that line—a lame attempt to assuage his guilt. I angrily flipped to my contacts list to block his number.

Just as I was about to drop my phone back into my purse, it lit up again with a call. I frowned as I saw my partner, Agent Matt Bennett’s, name flashing on the screen. He knew I was supposed to be having a romantic night with Jason, so it had to be important for him to interrupt.

I cleared my throat before picking up. “Ramirez,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Nat, you will not believe this,” Matt’s voice crackled with urgency through the phone. “We’ve got a nibble on the Reyes cartel. A snitch just crawled out of the woodwork, ready to spill his guts. He says something’s going down tonight. This might just be our golden ticket.”

His words sent a jolt through me, the sting of Jason’s bullshit evaporating in an instant. The Reyes cartel–our Moby Dick–had slipped through our fingers repeatedly, a ghost in the drug trade we’d been hell-bent on exorcizing. If this tip paid off, we could strike a crippling blow to the coke flooding Miami streets.

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