Ignition: Agents of Ensenada Prequel Read online

  Ignition

  Agents of ensenada prequel

  Tess Summers

  Seasons Press LLC

  Copyright 2020 Tess Summers

  Published: 2020

  Published by Seasons Press LLC.

  Copyright © 2020, Tess Summers.

  Edited by Simone Elise

  Cover by OliviaProDesign.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations within critical reviews and otherwise as permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language that may be considered offensive by some.

  All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older.

  Ignition

  Agents of Ensenada, Prequel

  Betrayal had always been part of the plan; falling in love complicated everything.

  Dante Guzman

  He knew within hours that Ruby Rhodes, the sexy little auburn-haired beauty, who just happened to sit next to him at his favorite bar and flirt with him all night long, was not who she appeared to be. Redheads were his kryptonite—everyone knew it, including his enemies who wanted to see the Guzman cartel destroyed. Just exactly who sent her and why was something he was going to have to figure out. At least playing along with her was enjoyable since part of her ruse seemed to entail sleeping with him and indulging his… let’s say, darker desires.

  Or maybe that wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan, and she broke the rules.

  Falling in love with Ruby was definitely not part of his plan, and Dante was going to have to punish her for making him do just that. Especially after he learns who she really is and why she was sent to seduce him.

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  Table of Contents

  Ignition

  Join My Newsletter for a FREE Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Other works by Tess Summers:

  Inferno

  Combustion

  Reignited

  San Diego Social Scene series:

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Contact Me!

  Ignition

  Tess Summers

  Chapter One

  Dante

  It’d been a good day. He’d signed the papers on the winery—another legitimate business added to the Guzman cartel, a huge illegal shipment had made it through US customs undetected, and he’d had time to stop off for a drink at his favorite bar in downtown Ensenada before meeting Carmen for dinner. His sporadic dinners with Carmen always meant his dick was getting wet with no strings or expectations attached—and, bonus, she was usually gone from the hotel room before he even fell asleep.

  Like he said, a good day.

  The heavy, wooden bar door opened, allowing a summer breeze in, and he had to do a double take when the most beautiful, petite redhead he’d ever seen stepped inside wearing a simple white, sleeveless dress that highlighted her tiny waist and ample tits and hips—exactly his type. Her pale skin had just a touch of pink, like she’d gotten a little too much sun earlier, and her green eyes surveyed the bar like she owned it. The numerous shopping bags in her hands from all the local souvenir shops seemed to indicate she was a tourist—which made sense because had she been a local, he’d have known who the hell she was and would have probably tried to fuck her by now. Redheads were his kryptonite.

  She made her way to the bar—the only available seats were the ones on either side of him. Most people from the community knew better than to sit next to a member of the Guzman family when they were out having a drink. The Guzmans didn’t like being disturbed. But the redhead plunked her bags on the empty chair to his left and turned to him with a pleasant smile.

  “Hi. Do you speak English?”

  For a second, Dante considered playing dumb but found himself wanting to engage her in a conversation, so he nodded his head yes.

  “Oh, good. Would you, um, mind moving one seat over, so I can sit there?” she pointed to his chair.

  This was new. Nobody would ever dare ask him to move. Especially not in this town. People moved to accommodate him, not the other way around. But it wasn’t like he could ask the American, “Do you know who I am?”

  He watched her with a mixture of amusement at her brazenness and fascination with her beauty as she put her hands at the small of her back and pressed her chest forward, like she was stretching. The black lacy bra peeking through the opening of her blouse as the buttons stretched and the way her lips parted when she let out a small groan of relief with her eyes closed had him unable to look away. Visions of what she’d look like orgasming under him popped in his head, and his dick stirred in his pants.

  “I’ll buy you a drink for your trouble.”

  He blinked at her. Did she just suggest buying him a drink? Then he realized he hadn’t moved his seat yet, and she was sweetening the deal.

  “You don’t have to buy me a drink,” he murmured as he slid off the stool. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Her smile was genuine when she hopped onto the seat he’d just occupied and turned to face him. “I insist.” She was fucking adorable when she twisted back and forth on the spinning stool like a little kid. “And no, no one is joining me. I just have an aversion to leaving my bags on the floor.”

  Antonio, Dante’s favorite bartender appeared, and she also asked him with a sweet smile, “Do you speak English?” Dante was betting that smile had bought her a lot of leniency over the years.

  The man on the other side of the bar returned her smile and opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, but Dante subtly shook his head no at the man. It was a goddamn tourist town—most people in the hospitality industry spoke at least a little English, enough to get by with vacationers, but for some reason, Dante wanted her to rely on him to translate.

  “Lo siento, señorita.” Antonio replied with an apologetic smile.

  “Oh, um,” she bit her bottom lip nervously. “Tee-en-ace Macallan whiskey?” She gestured like she was doing a shot and repeated slowly, “Whiskey. Macallan.”

  Antonio glanced at Dante for guidance. Dante winked at him before starting his role of her translating knight in shining armor and asked the bartender her question—the one he already understood but in Spanish. The man replied—even though he knew Dante already knew the answer, and Dante looked down at her. “He says yes, but they only have Macallan Cask. It’s seventy-five American dollars a shot. But they have lots of other whiskey choices, just not top shelf.”

  Macallan Cask was so expensive because that’s what Dante drank, a
nd the bar wanted to make sure it wasn’t sold out when he came in. Plus, it was just expensive to begin with.

  “Oh, wow. Is that all? I usually have to pay two hundred a shot for Macallan Cask in Houston. Can you ask him to make it a double and put it on ice?” She turned and started fishing through her purse but nodded over her shoulder toward his glass on the bar. “And put whatever you’re drinking on my tab, too.”

  “I’m having the same thing you are.”

  She twisted around and looked up at him in disbelief with those emerald eyes of hers. “What? No you’re not,” then grabbed his drink and took a sip, her eyes widening as the liquid hit her taste buds. “You are!”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her. Her gumption was goddamn endearing.

  “I am. And you’re not buying it for me, sweetheart, but I will be paying for yours.”

  “Well, sugar pie,” she mocked—he assumed at his use of the term sweetheart—“that’s very gallant of you. Thank you.”

  Two doubles later, she was chattering up a storm about everything under the sun—from plastic straws to Major League Baseball to sea lions caught in fishing line discarded by fishermen. Dante just sat back, watching with amusement at how animated she got when she felt passionately about something. He could listen to her all night.

  In the middle of one of her stories, she flung her hand for emphasis, sending Dante’s drink into his lap.

  Springing up from her seat with a horrified look on her face, she began dabbing at his lap with a napkin. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” When that didn’t seem to help, she rubbed his crotch frantically, muttering, “So, so sorry,” as she did. His cock flexed at the motion, and he put his hand on her wrist to still her. Ruby glanced up at him with a confused look. Dante smirked and glanced down at his dick where her hand still was. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers when she realized what she’d been doing.

  “Oh my god. I’m—” Her hand moved from his crotch to his forearm. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to touch...” She stopped short and closed her eyes for a long minute before opening them again with a contrite smile. “I’m only making it worse, aren’t I?”

  Dante replied with a smirk, “Oh, I don’t know. An argument could be made that you were making it much better before I stopped you.”

  His words had the intended effect because the blush started at her chest and crept up her neck all the way to her cheeks. Still, she sassily replied, “My technique is much better when there are no pants involved at all,” then hopped back on her chair.

  This girl was too much. He was having a good time just being in her presence.

  “I really am sorry, though,” she said with a sheepish smile then buried her face in her hands. “Let me know how I can make it up to you.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  His phone started dinging with an incoming text, followed quickly by another, and he realized that he was late for dinner with Carmen. But staring at the beautiful girl sitting next to him, it was hard to get his feet to move.

  “I just realized, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Dante Guzman.”

  “Ruby. Ruby Rhodes.”

  His phone dinged again, and she smiled wistfully. “Someone’s trying to get a hold of you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, suppressing a sigh. Reluctantly, he stood up and pulled his wallet from his pocket. Carmen’s mouth on his cock would have to be his consolation prize.

  He counted out enough money to cover their tab and leave a generous tip then threw it on the bar before turning back to her. “Well, Ruby Rhodes, I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you, but I’m late for dinner.”

  “It was nice meeting you, too, Dante Guzman. Thank you for the drinks. Again, I’m sorry about your pants and the way I…” She blushed again.

  He was about to turn and walk away—the last thing he wanted to do since it would most certainly mean he’d never see her again. He couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. He wanted to spend more time with her. At least kiss her. Although he doubted he’d be satisfied with just kissing her.

  “I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

  She cocked her head. “How?”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow? Um…” she glanced around as if the bar walls could offer advice then looked back at him. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Where are you staying? I’ll send a car for you at six.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at him like she was debating about something. Finally, she said, “How about if I meet you at the restaurant?”

  He didn’t like that idea one bit. It meant she could possibly stand him up.

  “Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to send a car.”

  “Dante, I’m a Texas girl. My daddy raised me to be adventurous not foolish. I’m a twenty-eight year old woman in a foreign country and just met you in a bar. I don’t know anything about you other than you have excellent taste in whiskey and watches. It would be foolish to let you whisk me off in a car when I barely know you.”

  “I wish I could stay longer, so we could get to know each other better.”

  She stared into his eyes and softly murmured, “Me too.”

  “I look forward to tomorrow,” he replied wistfully.

  Goddammit, he didn’t want to leave yet. But he’d have to take comfort knowing he’d secured a date with her tomorrow. It was time to go. After deciding on a place she could meet him for dinner, he turned and walked out. Carmen’s mouth awaited.

  Chapter Two

  Ruby/a.k.a. Special Agent Kennedy Jones

  Well, it was a start. She’d gotten a date for tomorrow—that was good. When he’d turned to leave without showing any interest, she’d been worried.

  The profiler who’d studied Dante had told her she needed to play a little hard to get—that he liked the chase. But not too hard because he also liked being in control. If she came off too easy, she’d be lumped in with the masses—fucked and discarded. She needed to stand out from the women he usually dated. But if she was too prudish, she’d be written off. She had to come up with the balance that made him find her interesting enough to want to spend more time with her but also maintain some semblance of being demure, so he didn’t see her as a threat.

  She must have found a good blend. Although he hadn’t quite responded the way she thought he would with the whole naively rubbing his dick over his pants bit. She’d opened the door for so much innuendo and flirting, and he barely peeked his head around the corner. Even after she lobbed in a few more softballs, he didn’t take the bait.

  She’d genuinely thought he wasn’t interested and was wondering what she’d done wrong, then he at least asked her to dinner, so all was not lost.

  Intel had suggested she was exactly his type—part of the reason she’d initially been considered for this assignment. She’d hired a second trainer, worked out twice a day, and dieted even more than usual for the last six months. She’d even gotten a little Botox just to make sure she passed for twenty-eight. None of the women he’d dated in the past two years were older than thirty, and Kennedy was actually closer to forty than thirty.

  The pictures in Dante’s file did not do the man justice. He was panty-meltingly handsome with his strong, square jaw and perfect amount of grey in his jet-black hair—Ruby had known that. But up close, she could see his chocolate brown eyes had flecks of gold that twinkled like he had a secret. She’d even caught sight of a dimple. In all the photos in his file, he always looked so serious. He was tall, and his impeccably tailored suit fit his muscular body just right, but she wasn’t prepared for what a commanding presence he emanated in real life.

  This mission wasn’t going to be a hardship, that was for sure. At least not until the end. Although she was nervous about when he took her to bed. The report read he “had dominant tendencies and liked his sexual partners to be submissive.” She’d never had a dominant lover before.

  Fortunately, her moral co
mpass wasn’t going to deter her from completing the assignment, something the agency already knew from when they originally profiled her and probably why she’d already gotten some of the missions she’d had. Having to fuck a mark wasn’t a deal breaker. That, along with the many skills she’d acquired in the Marine Corps and continued to hone, had helped her become one of the most sought after undercover agents in the CIA.

  Ruby Rhodes, rich girl oil-heiress, sent to Mexico by her father to learn Spanish was her cover. She was fluent in the language, but pretending not to understand gave her an advantage. People tended to talk more freely in front of you if they thought you didn’t know what they were saying.

  She took her time finishing her drink as she rehashed what had gone right and if there was anything she should have done differently. When she’d finished the expensive whiskey, she slid off the stool and retrieved the bags from the chair next to her. She’d had fun spending the CIA’s money this afternoon on presents for her sister and mom, but she’d gone overboard in her attempt to seem like a rich girl. No matter, she’d donate the rest of her purchases.

  Pulling her cell out of her oversized bag, she dialed the hotel’s number for a ride as she walked across the dusty oak floor toward the old bar’s pockmarked wooden door. She’d first thought it was a mistake when she’d walked in the dive bar. How could this be Dante Guzman’s favorite place to stop for a drink? But there he’d been, sitting at the bar—just like surveillance had said he would be.

  The luxury accommodations awaiting her back at her hotel was another perk to this assignment, and she was going to take full advantage of the oversized tub in her enormous bathroom after ordering room service.

  Hey, I need to play the part if I’m going to be believable, she justified.

  Drinking a seventy-five dollar shot had gone against everything her little trailer park existence had taught her. She knew it was going to be expensive if that was Dante’s drink of choice, she just hadn’t realized it would be that much in an old bar in Ensenada. To quell the inner trailer park little girl, she’d ordered a double.