Page 9 of SEAL's Fake Girlfriend

Eric lost—on purpose—to even more hooting and hollering from the crowd, who was happy to root for the local competitor against theAmericano. “Aw, hell!” he groaned. “Seems I gotta eat my words. I’ll need something to wash ’em down with, so lemme buy y’all a beer?” He made a circle with his forefinger, indicating the ring of spectators, then mimed drinking and pointed to himself. He got out his wallet to make his pantomime stronger. “Cervezafor myamigos?”

Shouts of approval greeted this.

“Momento.” Eric made a walking gesture with two fingers in the direction of the bar. He took a bow, then he and Rhianne headed over.

“Your biggest pitcher of the best draftcervezaand lots of glasses,hombre.” Eric ordered from the young bartender, who greeted them and introduced himself as Zé Carlos. “Oh, it ain’t all for me.” He pointed over his shoulder at the group near the back wall, catching the eye roll Rhianne gave to the young guy, and the smile he gave her in return. That would be hard to miss with how predatory it was.

“Coming up.” The bartender ordered an underling to fill the order. Maybe because he felt it was beneath him? Ah, no. Apparently, it was because he wanted to leer at Rhianne a little more. Eric’s hackles rose.

“And what can I get for theseñora?” The creep slung a white towel over one shoulder and flashed too-white teeth at Rhianne, who giggled and twirled a tendril of blonde hair around a finger, making the gold bangles around her wrist clink.

“I’ll try a margarita,” she said in Spanish. Eric was able to follow that much, at least. “Can’t be in TJ and not have one, right?”

“Cierto,” Zé Carlos agreed, busying himself with lime and salt. He leaned over the bar as he presented the glass, then switched to English. “And what brought you to Tijuana?”

Eric bristled at the way the guy took a good look down Rhianne’s top. It took concerted effort to keep his feelings from showing. He slid close to Rhianne. “Why’s anyone come to Tijuana—for a good time!” he replied. “And yeah, we also came to see if we could find some live-in help around the house for the little lady here.” With that, he slipped an arm around her waist.

And hell, Rhianne jumped again, caught out by him embracing her. Damn, they should have practiced that, or worked out some signal so she wouldn’t get startled by it. The bartender’s smile changed to a smirk, and he rattled off something in Spanish. All Eric could catch was a reference to “her man,” but Rhianne obviously understood, because she stiffened a little, despite the flirtatious smile she kept plastered on her face.

She shook her head as she answered, obviously denying whatever it was the creep had asserted, or maybe turning down his suggestion. More like his offer, Eric thought, his blood heating. Before he could intervene, Rhianne added a few more words and Zé Carlos laughed and wagged a finger at her.

“Muy bueno,” he said, straightening up. “So, about what you’re looking for? Give me your details and I’ll contact my boss, Arturo Rodriguez, and let him know you’re interested.”

“Sure thing!” Eric handed over a fake business card Ian had printed up that afternoon.

Zé Carlos took it with a wink, then turned to another customer.

Eric could feel Rhianne about to speak. “Here, help a guy out,” he said, pushing a stack of plastic glasses toward her while he tossed some bills onto the counter and lifted the tray containing the pitcher of beer. She followed him back to the small crowd to deliver the promised drinks. While he was busy holding everyone’s attention by making a show of pouring and passing out the beers, he watched from the corner of his eye as Rhianne discreetly got rid of her untouched margarita.

“Sorry, we gotta go.” Eric pulled a face. “The little lady wants to go to that restaurant with the shirtless mariachi band, and she’s the boss.”

He blew out a breath when they were out on the sidewalk again, but he felt far from relieved. In fact, he was riled up. “What did that jerk say?” he demanded. “The bartender.”

“What? Oh, nothing.” Rhianne shook her head.

“I doubt that, not the way he looked at you,” Eric argued. The creep had been ready to devour her.

She gave a half-shrug. “Never mind. We got the information we needed, so that’s all that matters. You don’t need to bother about me.”

“Bother? We’re supposed to be a couple,” Eric reminded her. “If you were my girl, I’d damn well protect you from slime like that.”

“But I’m not your girl, am I?” Rhianne retorted. “So you don’t need to pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

I’m not your pretend anythingleapt to Eric’s lips, but he bit it back. He didn’t want to fight with Rhianne. He didn’t want to worry about her, and he definitely did not want to be attracted to her. The problemsthatcould lead to for him were many and varied.

The night was alive with music and laughter around them, but there was no merriment between them. Any camaraderie gone, they walked back to the hotel in silence.

“At least something positive happened—we have a name,” Rhianne said at last as they entered their room.

“Yeah,” Eric agreed, already calling Charlie to relay this. With any luck, the tech whiz would be able to help link the name to a location and they’d be one step further.

One step further into danger…

5

“Rhianne…”

Eric’s voice was soft, tentative even, but it had Rhianne awake with a jerk. “Raquel.Remember the cover story,” she mumbled, taking a second to assess her whereabouts.

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