Rafael Santiago

Nina

My phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time since I’d hung up on Katy. I snatched it up and turned it off without a second thought—my eyes never leaving the black Mercedes ahead.

We’d been tailing the car for over half an hour when it finally slowed and pulled into the lot of a warehouse on the industrial edge of town.

“Shit.” I ducked low as Rafael Santiago stepped out of the car. “Drive past a little.”

The cab driver grumbled but obeyed. When he finally parked, I shoved a handful of hundred-dollar bills into his hand, wincing as I did. That money had been meant for groceries—but this was more important.

Steeling myself, I climbed out and followed Rafael into the warehouse, crouching low to stay out of sight. I slipped behind a stack of crates and peered through a narrow gap.

Rafael leaned lazily against a concrete pillar, his face half-turned away. Two men stood before him, fidgeting nervously.

“Let me get this straight,” he drawled. “You blacked out, and when you came to, the packages were gone?”

The men exchanged panicked glances. “Boss, we—”

“Yes or no?” His voice sharpened, deceptively calm.

“Yes, boss,” the first man stammered. “But we can find them. They couldn’t have left the city yet—”

“They’ve had six hours to disappear, Tommaso.” Rafael straightened, towering over them.

From my hiding place, I caught only his back—broad shoulders filling out a tailored suit that probably cost more than my rent for the year. What were they talking about? Drugs? Ammunition? Trafficked girls?

“I’m a businessman,” Rafael said smoothly, “and I hate losing money. But what I hate even more is someone thinking they can screw me over. I’ll choose to believe you—for now. But if I find out you lied…”

He didn’t need to finish. The threat hung in the air like smoke.

A door creaked open behind me. I gasped and ducked lower, heart hammering as a new man entered from the side.

“Mr. Santiago, we found the package,” he announced. “It’s in a warehouse on the south side. They repainted the vehicles to throw us off.”

“Good,” Rafael murmured.

The group began to move deeper into the building. I waited, breath shallow, until their voices faded. My pulse was pounding with adrenaline. This was it—proof of something illegal, maybe even the break I’d been chasing for years.

If I could follow them and find this package, I might finally have something solid on Santiago.

Excitement surged through me as I crawled out from behind the crates—only to slam headfirst into something solid.

A startled shriek escaped me as I stumbled backward—but a strong arm shot out, looping around my waist and pulling me upright. My body collided with a wall of heat that smelled faintly of leather, spice, and sin.

“Looking for something, ma’am?”

That voice. Smooth. Mocking. Familiar.

I froze, eyes widening as I met Rafael Santiago’s gaze—grey eyes glinting like cold steel.

“I—uh—was just—uh—” My mind scrambled for words that didn’t exist.

I tore myself from his grip and cleared my throat. “I’m lost, actually.”

“Lost?” His mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

I’d always scoffed when people said he was dangerously handsome, but up close, I understood. His beauty wasn’t soft—it was sharp. Magnetic. The kind that warned you it would hurt to touch him and made you want to anyway.

“Yes, lost,” I repeated, glaring to hide my fluster.

“Is that why you followed me all the way from the city, Agent Torres?” He lifted something, and my heart dropped—it was my badge.

“Give me that!” I snapped, snatching it back.

He chuckled. “Doesn’t the Chicago FBI have better things to do than tail an honest businessman?”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “There’s nothing honest about you.”

“Now why would you say that?” His smirk deepened, amused.

“How did you even know I was following you?” I demanded. “And why let me?”

He tilted his head, watching me with predatory amusement. “I have to admit, Miss Torres, you’re much more entertaining than the two bulldogs who usually trail me.”

Richard and Matthew. Of course.

“Are you their replacement?” he asked, genuinely curious. “If so, the Bureau must be getting desperate.”

Heat flared up my neck. I stepped closer. “I’m a damn good agent—better than those two asswipes. And no, I’m not their replacement.”

“Ah.” His eyes gleamed. “So this is a little off-the-books investigation, then? I wonder what your boss would say.”

I froze. “Are you threatening me?”

“Why would an honest man do that?” he said silkily.

The smug bastard was taunting me. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face—preferably with my fist.

“I know you’re a criminal,” I hissed. “And one day, I’ll find the evidence to prove it. Until then, enjoy your empire of lies.”

“How cute,” he murmured. “Have dinner with me. You can tell me all about how you plan to destroy me.”

My eyes widened. “You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?”

“Fall for what? Dinner?” His eyebrow arched, wickedly amused.

God, he was infuriating. And worse—he was enjoying this.

“I’m not one of your groupies, Santiago,” I snapped. “If it were up to me, the only meal you’d get would be prison food.”

He smiled. “How about lunch, then?”

“Go to hell.”

“Are you always this charming? No wonder you’re single.”

I staggered back, spluttering. “Who—who says I’m—none of your business!” I snapped. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. I have a date to get ready for.”

I turned and stormed off, cheeks burning.

Why the hell had I said that?

Ugh.