Swept Away Read Online Free

Francisco—spread her arms wide. “There’s always room for you, baby.”
    Carlos flashed a lecherous grin and pushed black, slightly curly hair out of his face as he walked toward the bubbling tub.
    But when Francisco appeared behind him—a bigger, broader, badder version of his younger brother—his grim expression drew Brock’s attention immediately. Something wasn’t right here, he knew it that fast—a sixth sense that had nothing to do with seeing dead people.
    “What’s up, Francisco?” he asked easily. “You don’t look happy.” He could only hope something was amiss with the pickup—that it had been changed, or the mission had been scrapped for some reason—and that nothing more serious was going on.
    “Come on into the water and let me make it all better,” the blonde offered with pouting lips and inviting eyes. He still didn’t know which guy was hers. Then it dawned on him that maybe they were interchangeable.
    “Nothing like a little hot-tub party,” the brunette said, shimmying her breasts suggestively within her red bikini top.
    “Nice, honey,” Carlos offered, dipping a foot into the water to join them.
    “You ever know a man named Reyes?” Francisco asked, and Brock’s eyes flew to his. Talk about a killjoy. How the hell had he found out Brock had known Reyes?
    “Reyes?” Brock repeated, then pretended to be searching his memory for the name of the Miami drug runner he’d brought down three years ago. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why? Who is he?”
    Francisco’s eyes narrowed. “Friend of a friend,” he said, his words a little too slow and his tone a little too threatening for Brock’s liking. “He’s dead now. But I happened to see a photo of him with some other guys taken not long before the FBI nailed him. And there was a guy in that photo who looked an awful lot like you, Jimmy.”
    Brock worked hard to keep a blank face and narrow eyes.
    “So I said to my friend,” Francisco went on, “‘that guy—he looks like a guy I know,’ and so my friend put me in touch with another guy from the picture. And I just got an e-mail from that guy, and do you know what he said? He said the guy in the picture who looks like you was an undercover FBI agent. So—what do you think about that, Jimmy?”
    I think I’m screwed.
    But if Brock was well practiced at anything, it was getting out of a jam. And this operation had gone far too smoothly up to now. So this was just a snag—every job had at least one or two— and he could get out of it if he played it right.
    “I think I’m pretty fucking upset—that’s what I think!” he boomed, pushing to his feet with a bolt of adrenaline disguised as anger. Water sluiced off his body back into the tub. “Who the hell do you think you are, Morales? Accusing me of being a goddamn fed. I ought to rip your fucking head off, right here and now.”
    The two men squared off against each other, even though Brock remained in the hot tub with two suddenly cowering girls behind him.
    Carlos, who had pulled his foot back out of the water when Francisco had started his diatribe, stepped up to intervene. “Look, guys, calm down. Francisco, I told you, Jimmy couldn’t be the same guy you saw. Faces look alike. Jimmy is our friend, I’d stake my life on it.” Then he shifted his gaze to Brock. “You know my brother’s a hothead, always believes the worst. But I told him that you, an FBI agent—impossible, yes?”
    Brock looked to Carlos, then locked a menacing gaze on Francisco. “Yes!” he bit off fiercely, a little dumbstruck by Carlos’s blind trust in him. Of course, he’d given Carlos an extensive— even if false—history of his experience in burglary and smuggling. Claimed he’d gotten out of drug-running because it was too dangerous these days, saying he was willing to make a little less money for work that held a little less risk. But Carlos’s loyalty, as well as the fact that he considered “Jimmy” a friend, came as a