Samba (Sultry Nights 4)

By Melanie Munton

Samba (n): danced to a quick, fast-paced beat, with rapid steps and a rocking, sexy swaying motion; typically has a dramatic climax

Whether Sophie Fuentes wants to admit it or not, her life has irrevocably changed ever since undercover DEA agent Max Romano blew into it. And now that she knows the truth about who he really is, everything has changed all over again. Nothing is as she thought it was. There is no one left she can trust. All she knows for sure is that she wants nothing at all to do with Max and his lies.

Max knows he screwed up majorly with Sophie. But he’s not about to let her shut him out, not when her very life is in danger. She can yell at him, she can hate him, but she can’t deny the way her body responds to him. It might be wrong, but he’s going to use the passion that burns so brightly between them to his advantage. He’ll push her to the brink of her desire until she has no choice but to forgive him.

Their fire burns hotter than ever.
The stakes have never been higher.
The danger has never been deadlier.
But what scares Max the most is that he has no idea what’s coming for them next.

**This is a SHORT story series. Each volume is a short story serial and is an average of 30,000 words. This is NOT a full-length novel series.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Munton
• Release date: Oct 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463193204

Melanie Munton

Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it's boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!http://www.melaniemunton.com/You can also follow Melanie on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, and Goodreads.

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Samba

Sultry Nights

Volume Four

Melanie Munton

Copyright © 2019 Melanie Munton

Samba

Sultry Nights, Volume Four

Copyright © 2019 Melanie Munton

All rights reserved

Cover Design by L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations

www.mayhemcovercreations.com

eBook Edition

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This is a work of fiction and any similarities to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Bonus Scene

More Books by Melanie Munton

Acknowledgments

About the Author

More books by Melanie Munton:

Sultry Nights:

Salsa (Sultry Nights 1)

Tango (Sultry Nights 2)

Rumba (Sultry Nights 3)

Standalone romance:

King of the Court

The Unforgettable Kind

Slow Seductions series:

Casual Affair (Slow Seductions #1)

Sweet Attraction (Slow Seductions #2)

Cruz Brothers series:

Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers #1)

The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers #2)

Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers #3)

Timid Souls novellas:

Stubborn Hearts

Unexpected Love

Possession and Politics Trilogy:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Chapter 1

Max

I need to go buy some more Tums.

Ever since Sophie and I had our big blow-out at the DEA office earlier today, I’ve been popping them like M&Ms due to the ever-growing knots in my stomach.

She hates me now.

She wants nothing to do with me and hell, I don’t blame her. I deserve it for lying to her this entire time, regardless of the secrecy of my job. I could have told her the truth, especially since I pried her darkest confession from her.

I could have trusted her.

My partner Ian and I have been running surveillance on Diego Suarez’s fishery down at the Miami marina ever since Sophie stormed out of the interrogation room with the worst expression on her face. One of utter devastation, coated with ultimate betrayal. Our boss, Lieutenant Klausen, ordered us to watch the fishery to figure out just what the hell is going on down here that’s so cloak-and-dagger. Suarez has taken great pains to keep the place off all the authorities’ radar. The DEA only recently found out about it.

But all has been quiet down here for the past several hours. No fishing boat has docked. No refrigerator trucks have pulled up to the back for shipments. Though we’re not leaving this spot until we collect some sort of evidence that confirms the information we learned an hour ago.

So, another fisherman claims he’s seen several young women entering and exiting the fishery, almost as if they worked there, Ian summarizes from the passenger seat next to me.

We’re in his non-descript Toyota Camry because even in Miami, my red Ferrari would be too easily recognized, especially down here at the marina.

But according to him, I cut in, the fishery is too small and doesn’t catch large enough hauls to employ that many people.

Especially women who look like they’re barely legal. We both pause to consider that. You think we may have just found Suarez’s human trafficking funnel?

Excitement blooms inside my chest. Sounds like it’s a definite possibility.

God, I hope so. The sooner we have our evidence, the sooner we can wrap up this damn investigation, and the sooner I can focus on mending fences with Sophie.

If this building is what we think, then Suarez could be bringing in girls on fishing boats and channeling them through his fishery under the guise of working as his employees. From there, he’s probably transporting them to a secondary location where he sells them off to the highest bidder.

Sick fuck.

Now, we just have to find proof of it.

Ian’s phone rings. Thorpe. A few seconds pass. Then his body jerks forward. "What? Are you sure?"

My head whips around to my partner, my inner alarms blaring.

"When? he roars into the phone. What airline? He listens to the other person for a moment. Flight number?"

By the time he hangs up and shoots me a grave look, my stomach has sunk down to my feet.

"We have to get to the airport. Now."

I’m already backing up and speeding away, gravel spitting from my squealing tires. What the fuck is going on?

Sophie’s passport just got flagged by our system. She purchased three tickets to Bogotá, Colombia, leaving tonight.

My heart punches my ribs.

No. NO!

What in God’s name are you doing, Sophie?

Doesn’t she know this puts her in more danger? Doesn’t she realize she’s safer here with me?

Did TSA not detain her? I demand.

I’m only half-focusing on the road in front of me. The rest of my mind is consumed by the painful knowledge that Sophie is trying to leave me.

She can’t fucking leave.

She might hate me now, but I’m going to fix that. We were just starting to get to a really good place when the shit hit the fan. We’ve only just begun to taste how sweet it can be between us.

Right now, I don’t give a good goddamn about the case.

She can’t do this to me.

It wasn’t in their system yet, Ian answers as he taps around on his phone’s screen. They didn’t have any notice to detain her.

Which means she could already be at her gate.

What time does the flight leave?

I see the sign for the airport up ahead. I’m coming for you, Sophie.

I’m not letting her get away.

Ian! What time does the fucking flight leave?

"I’m checking! Hold on! I’m—holy shit. He glances up at me with wide eyes. It just took off."

Goddammit! This can’t be happening.

Sophie did not just run from me.

If she thinks she’ll be able to hide from me up there in those Colombian mountains on her family’s farm, she’s dead fucking wrong. She might think the isolation will protect her from someone like Diego Suarez, but it will do jack shit against a man like me. Sophie’s in my blood now. She’s engrained herself into my fucking soul. A little distance isn’t going to stop me or my determination to win her back. I’ll be on the very next flight to Bogotá.

I slam my foot on the accelerator.

Being the wise man that he is, Ian doesn’t say another word until I’m screeching to a stop right in front of the airport’s terminal doors. Some guy in a uniform is waving his arms at me and yelling, but I blow right past him, leaving Ian to deal with the subsequent ticket or tow. I’m not wasting anymore time by moving the damn vehicle.

I sprint all the way to the terminal, dodging travelers and luggage as I go. Just to verify that Ian’s information is accurate, I quickly glance at the departure board and locate Sophie’s flight number. My knees almost buckle with relief when I see the flashing word: DELAYED.

Oh, thank Christ.

But since I don’t know how long ago that board was updated, I still run at full speed to security. When the TSA personnel try to stop me, I simply flash my badge and order them to get out of my fucking way.

They do.

I know I’m drawing stares as I continue shoving my way through the terminal, but I simply don’t care. Nothing matters in this moment except getting to her before it’s too late. Finally, I reach Sophie’s gate and again use my badge to board. The female airline associate looks pissed as all hell, but she eventually lets me through when I threaten to arrest her for impeding the investigation of a federal officer.

The flight attendants give me quizzical looks when I stomp through the doorway of the plane. I hold up my badge again when they open their mouths, forcing them to close them. No one in the fucking universe is going to stop me right now. I’m not leaving this airport—not getting off this goddamn plane—without Sophie. And if that means I’ll be flying to Bogotá with her, then fine. South America it is.

My eyes fly over the cabin and every wide-eyed passenger staring in my direction. I can only imagine what my expression is reflecting right now—crazed and desperate? Panicked and furious?—and I’m no doubt freaking people out. It’ll be a miracle if this doesn’t end up on YouTube.

I make my way to the back of the cabin—

And there she is.

Sophie is in the very last row on the right side of the plane, sitting in the aisle seat. Her sister is in the middle, and who I can only assume is her mother sits by the window. Her mother is the only one who’s noticed me so far. She’s staring at me with inquisitive, intelligent eyes, though clearly weary ones. I can see a lot of her in Sophie. And even though I note the lines of exhaustion and dark circles around her eyes, there’s a sharpness to her features. Just like her daughter, I’m guessing she’s not the type of woman who misses much.

Then her sister Manny catches sight of me, her light brown eyes widening in recognition and maybe a little fear. She’s a smart thirteen-year-old because she knows exactly what my presence here means. Without taking her gaze off me, she nudges Sophie in the arm, her lips moving fast. Sophie’s head snaps up at her sister, her brow furrowing. Manny tips her head toward me and Sophie turns.

We lock eyes.

Her deep brown ones narrow instead of widen, as if she’s not at all surprised to see me here. When her lips purse, I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. She’s trying to figure out how to play this, and because she’s only foolish and not stupid, she knows she won’t be leaving this country today. And she certainly won’t be going anywhere in the near future without me permanently attached to her hip. She’s proved today that she can’t be left alone. Not if she’s going to get all impulsive and unpredictable.

I take measured steps down the aisle and notice when her hand grips the seat in front of her, her knuckles whitening. She looks to be steeling herself for a fight, preparing to come out swinging. And I sense she’s determined to win.

Well, I’ve got news for her.

There’s only going to be one winner here today.

And spoiler alert, it’s going to be me.

I stop right next to her seat, my knees grazing her arm rest. She hasn’t broken eye contact and now has to crane her neck to maintain that stony-eyed stare. Her hair is piled on top of her head in some sort of messy knot. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in jeans, and fuck, they hug her curves in just the right way. Her gray tank top is casual but still pulls across her ample chest. She can’t hide those tits and should never try. She’s even wearing white Converse sneakers, a complete contrast to the stiletto-wearing temptress I first met a mere three weeks ago.

It’s a bit of an eye opener, seeing her this way. Without much makeup or a revealing dress on. Without her hair curled and coiffed to perfection. Knowing her the way I’ve come to, I suspect all of that acts as a shield for her. Armor that serves as a barrier from exposing too much of herself and her secrets to the outside world. So that she’ll never get hurt? I guess that strategy didn’t work with me.