Page 40 of Wicked Intention

The girl looked up with so much attitude, Zo nearly grinned. No one displayed annoyance the way a teenager could. “Do you need a room?” the girl asked in Spanish, sounding beleaguered.

“No, I’m looking for Tom Finley. Is he in?” Zo had learned at the first place she’d stopped not to ask if he was staying there.

The girl’s demeanor changed like flipping a switch, and a smile wiped the annoyance from her face. “Señor Tom?” Suddenly, she clammed up, her expression becoming suspicious. “What do you want with him?”

“He’s my fiancé.” It was a good lie, and Zo had no compunction about using it again.

The petulance returned with a vengeance. “I don’t believe you. He’s never said anything about a fiancée.”

“I don’t share everything,” Finn said from beyond her leftshoulder. The girl at the desk jumped in surprise, and Zo nearly did as well. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. “I wasn’t expecting you, loquita.Did we have plans I’ve forgotten?”

“No, I wanted to surprise you.” His jacket had water beading across it from the rain, and his blond hair was plastered to his head. “Do you have time?”

“For you? Always,mi alma.”

My soul. She found herself becoming beguiled again. As he lowered his head toward her, she lifted her lips to meet his. Another of his brushed kisses—she was getting too used to them—and damn it, it wasn’t enough. Zo wanted more. But before she could do something stupid, the girl at the counter interrupted.

“No women in your room, Señor Tom.” The sullenness was there full force. “You know the rules.”

“Sí, Ava, I know. Want to get a coffee?” he asked Zo.

“That sounds good.” She’d barely finished speaking when Finn took her hand and moved for the exit. Zo pulled her hood up just in time to step out of the door he held open for her.

“How’d you know I was staying here?” he asked as they walked. He didn’t sound happy.

“I didn’t.”

Finn glanced down at her sharply, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

“I’ve been in every boarding house and motel between here and where I parked my car. I had another dozen or so on my list before I’d drive to the next section of town and start checking those out.” Zo changed the subject. “Ava has a crush on you.”

Finn was quiet for a long moment, and then he sighed. “I know. There’s not much I can do about it. Why were you searching for me? Are you in trouble?”

“No, but you are.”

“How so?” He sounded only vaguely interested and not remotely worried. For some strange reason, it made Zo feel more protective.

“Alfonso Ramos thinks you’re brokering arms for his rival.”

“Why the hell would Ramos think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you came to San Isidro to sell to him, and he turned you down. What I do know is that Al approached me and said he wanted to chat. He suggested I tell you—my fiancé—that he will put an end to you if you try to arm Bianchi.”

“How—Never mind for the moment.” Finn shook his head. “Let’s find somewhere out of the rain where we can talk.”

They passed one coffee shop, but he didn’t slow. A glance inside told Zo why. The place was tiny with the tables in close proximity, and more than half of them were filled. They’d have no privacy.

The café Finn chose was much better. While the tables were bunched together, there was a separate section with two sofas and some distance between them. At the moment, there was no one there. “Grab the couch in the corner,” he ordered. It was the most secluded of the options. “Any strong preferences for coffee?”

Zo shook her head. “Not really, but I prefer light roasts.”

While Finn went to the counter to get their coffees, Zo took off her jacket, hung it on a hook near the entrance, and claimed the sofa as ordered. She’d barely sat down when a group of six came in, hung up their jackets next to hers, glanced around, and took the couch and chairs nearby. They were up by the café windows, still some distance away, and loud. Maybe loud enough to cover any conversation she and Finn had.

He took longer than she’d expected before returning with a tray filled with not only beverages but two large slices ofpionono,a scoop of ice cream next to each. “I hope you’re not gluten-free or doing low carb,” Finn said as he set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“I’m not. What kind of ice cream is that?”

“Handmade vanilla.” He shrugged off his jacket, wrapped it inside out, and tossed it across one of the ottoman-chairs on the other side of the coffee table. She wasn’t surprised when he sat beside her, near enough for Zo to feel the warmth of his body. “I stayed simple since I didn’t know what you liked.”

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