Crazed: A Blood Money Novel by Edie Harris Read Free Book Online

sing...well.” Smooth, Casey. Real smooth.
    Laughing as though he’d said something amusing, when he knew full well he hadn’t, she shifted to stare up at him. Dark eyes twinkled, the edges crinkling, as she extended one slim, manicured hand. On her index finger was an intricate silver ring bearing some sort of opaque white stone. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
    For a split second, Casey’s mind raced to uncover any cracks in his cover. Was she someone he ought to have recognized? Part of Pipe’s inner circle? When he came up blank, he shrugged and took her hand. Warm, soft, small but with a firm grip. He liked her handshake. “I know you’re the most beautiful woman in this room. Is that enough?” His thumb stroked over the bumps of her knuckles as he gave her a sly grin.
    She grinned back. “Not from Medellín, then.”
    Again, he wondered if his cover identity had holes visible only to this particular woman. “Not from Colombia at all. My people are from Maracaibo.”
    “Venezuela?” Her gaze raked him from head to toe. “Yes, I suppose I can see that. Not to mention your accent.”
    He fought not to stiffen. “What accent?” He’d studied for months prior to taking this assignment to master the regional shaping of his Spanish vowels and consonants.
    “Don’t take it personally, big guy.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “I’ve got a good ear.” Finally, she appeared to take pity on him, squeezing his hand before releasing him. “Ilda Almeida.”
    Théa’s sister. And that meant she was one half of the pop-guitar duo Almángel that had won last year’s Best New Artist at the Latin Grammys. He’d known who Théa was before taking this assignment, of course, but he’d barely bothered glancing at her professional photographs—the ones she took with her sister, Ilda—before focusing more acutely on Théa’s relationship with her infamous fiancé. “Casímiro Cortez,” he offered, lying easily.
    “Oh, that is far too much of a mouthful for me.” And damn, he had to bite his tongue to keep from steamrolling straight into that deliberate bit of flirtation. “I think I’ll call you Casí.”
    The dream shifted...
    The club was drenched in darkness, red and gold lights flashing intermittently onto the writhing mass of drunken dancers. Casey felt like a lurker from his post at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes always coming back from their perimeter scan to latch onto the group of sequined women doing their best Spice Girls impression. Théa’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and central to all the festivities was Ilda, dancing like a goddess and drinking like a fish.
    He’d been watching her all night. God, the body on that woman. Her hair was piled high on her head, baring the slender column of her neck and leaving her shoulders temptingly naked in that tiny strapless black dress. Though it hardly qualified as a dress—more a swatch of fabric covering the pertinent curvy bits. Neon-pink stilettos made her legs look ten miles long, and she moved in them effortlessly.
    He hadn’t touched her since their handshake in the stadium box two weeks ago, but he still felt the imprint of her palm against his. After that brief exchange, she had settled in next to her sister and Pipe and never glanced his way again. Which was good. Smart. She shouldn’t be looking at him, and he definitely shouldn’t want her to, because he was CIA, damn it, and his cover necessitated him blending into the background as another of Pipe’s grunts. He shouldn’t want her eyes on him, or her hands on him, her mouth, her tongue—
    Feminine arms banded around his waist from behind. “Casí.”
    He tensed but didn’t turn. “Miss Almeida. You shouldn’t be here.”
    “Here? In the club? But I like the club.”
    Saucy. “With me, señorita.” Pipe’s future sister-in-law had no business fraternizing with a low-level brigadier, and the moment Pipe noticed her attention—or Casey’s, for that