Of course, the only other stakeout I’d ever been on had ended with the two of us totally lip-locked.

I had a hard time forgetting about that stakeout. I had a hard time forgetting about that kiss.

I started to get hungry, so I decided to wake Chris. I knelt down by the side of the pool, scooped up a handful of water, and flung it at him. His head jerked over toward me half a second before I released the water. He jumped, nearly toppling over his lounge chair with the movement.

“What the hell?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Time to wake up,” I said.

“I wasn’t asleep.” He was brushing at the water on his chest, like he could dust it off. I could see goose bumps on his arms.

“Okay, sure. You were just resting your eyes.”

He tipped his glasses down and peered at me over the top of them. “My eyes were wide open, for your information. I was relaxed.”

“So relaxed you were snoring.” I tied my towel around my waist and finger-combed my hair.

“I wasn’t snoring.” He got up, making a huge deal out of the fact that his towel was wet. He leaned over and said through his teeth, “I was trying to blend in.”

I snorted and cocked my head to one side. “You blended in, all right. Blended in so well, if Heriberto noticed you, the only thing he’d be worried about is you boring him to death.”

“Har-har,” he said under his breath.

We were silent as we made our way out to our cars, which were parked near each other. “You want to get a burger or something? We can make a game plan for trying to figure out why you were searching for Her—”

“Shh,” he said, grabbing my wrist.

“What are you—”

I didn’t get to finish. He pulled me in, spun me so that my back was pressed against the sun-warmed door of his car, and leaned in so close our noses were touching. He caressed my cheek with one hand, the other planted on the door next to my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of him, and that, combined with the warmth of the car door, made me instantly start sweating.

“He’s right behind us,” Chris whispered, his breath puffing against my lips. I flicked a look over his shoulder. Heriberto was standing at the far corner of the building where there were no windows, smoking a cigarette. From this angle, I could see he had a tattoo snaking up his throat, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

“He’s just standing there,” I said.

But he wasn’t just standing there. He was staring in our direction, his hand absently raising and lowering the cigarette.

“He’s watching us,” I said.