I nod, mostly to show a little concession for Leira’s sake.
“How exactly did she die?”
Leira still glares at me as she finishes her sip, as though trying to read that for some kind of accusation.
“We are trying to find out why your family has been targeted,” I remind her.
She sets the glass down and inhales. “It was a car crash. She and my oldest sister were shopping for school clothes. Apparently, she liked to do that individually with each of my sisters, the ones old enough to go to school.”
“So you were a baby and your sister, she was?”
“Lorraine? Almost thirteen, twelve years older than me. We’re all almost exactly two years apart in age.”
“Tell me about your other sisters. All of them, starting with the next oldest.”
She inhales again, as though wondering what the point is but continues.
“Lucetta? She…well she’s always acted out. She took Lorraine’s death hard. She was only ten at the time, so that’s understandable. She was closer to Mom than Dad, so of course, she’s always blamed him for what happened.”
“Did she say why?” I ask, sensing something there.
Leira shrugs. “That’s just Lucetta. Do you know she tried to set the house on fire once? When she was old enough, it was boys and drugs, whatever she could do to defy him.”
It’s becoming quite obvious that, despite her qualms with the way he’s raised her, Leira is a daddy’s girl. Maybe because she never knew her mother.
“Anyway, she’s once again in rehab. Hopefully, this time, it sticks. It’s not even about Dad anymore at this point, she’s just so used to…falling off the wagon.”
“And the next youngest?”
“Lana? She got into dance after Mom and Lorraine were killed. It started as some kind of therapy. She was…obsessed. Everything was about ballet, ballet, ballet, to the exclusion of everything else. Of course, Dad indulged her.” Leira twists her lips sardonically. “It’s not like she could get into trouble with it. She’s now with the American Ballet Theater.”
I nod, urging her on.
“Luisa is working with my grandparents back in the DRC. That’s where they adopted my mother as a baby. Luisa was always the quietest and sweetest. The rest of us may have had our petty spats, or outright fights, but she was always the peacemaker.” Leira smiles fondly. “She’s suited for charity work, I suppose.”
“After her came Layla.” Leira pauses, her face taking on a somber expression. “She wasn’t even five when Mom and Lorraine died so I don’t think it affected her as much. She was probably the smartest, but not in a know-it-all way. I’m pretty sure Dad expected to leave the company to her. He let her go to Harvard business school.” Leira twists her lips with resentment. “I mean, yes, I was probably more of a troublemaker growing up than she was.”
“Probably?” I tease, unable to help myself.
Rather than get upset as I expect, Leira bites back a smile. “Okay, fine. I may have had a penchant for hiding from our nannies so I could go exploring, and evading the guards to climb that one tree that rises over the wall; before Dad had it cut down, anyway. I attribute that to curiosity, which is not a bad thing in a child!”
“Of course not,” I say with mock seriousness.
She picks up a fry from her plate and throws it at me with a laugh. I easily catch it and pop it into my mouth.
“Anyway,” she says, smiling and rolling her eyes. She sighs and gets serious again. “Layla had already started working for Dad. I guess that’s why she was targeted.”
This certainly brings it all together. So the men after Leira are after her because of something to do with her father’s work.
Which only proves my theory about it being drug-related. How does she not see this?
“You said your other sister was taken as well?”
Leira nods as she picks up a French fry to nibble on.
“Would she have taken Layla’s place in your father’s business?”
She puts the fry down and picks up the glass of wine. I’m obviously approaching dangerous territory for her now.
“It makes sense,” she says before taking a sip and swallowing. “Lucinda is not as smart as Layla, not book smart, anyway. She’s definitely…well, she’s like me. We’re both good at finagling our way out of situations.” Leira laughs. “She was the one to show me when I was little how to pretend I was still in bed at night so I could sneak out to wander around. In fact, she was probably much better than I was at getting into trouble. Except she almost never got caught. And when she did, she was always so much more clever at coming up with excuses. With her as my predecessor, it’s no wonder Dad brought the hammer down on me.”
Her smile fades, and she looks off to the side with something approaching sadness. “Dad tried to keep most of it from me, but I know that when they found Layla, it was obvious that she had been tortured before they killed her. Cigar burns. Cuts. Bruises. I don’t even want to know what else. I can only imagine what they’re doing to Lucinda right now—if she’s even still alive.”
Watching Leira shudder sends a wave of anger through me. Suddenly I find myself entertaining a new crusade once I’m done with my father this summer.
“So, with Lucinda most likely…”
“Dead. You can say it.”
“Dead. You are the next in line to take over your father’s company?”
Her mouth hitches into a halfhearted smile, and she shrugs. “He seems to think so.”
I lean back in my chair to assess her. “But you don’t want to?”
“What else am I going to do?”
“What do you want to do?”
She exhales a short laugh. “I’d have to see something of the outside world to know. Everything about my life has been that damn house in Hollywood, the Church, or Catholic school.”
“You could join me. My team could use someone like you,” I say with a smirk.
“You and your merry band of thieves,” she says, laughing.
“Don’t knock it. It’s quite lucrative, and we certainly see something of the world.”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes that tells me, even though we’re both joking, it’s something she could very easily entertain. There’s a small flicker as something suddenly occurs to her.
“These people who are after us. What about them? What are we going to do about it?”
It’s something I’ve been mulling over, and I’ve come to a conclusion. But I’d rather not worry her with it. We both need our rest once again.
“I need time to think about it. Speaking of which, we should go to bed. We’ll need our wits and energy come morning.”
“Are we taking turns again?”
I shake my head, no. “They won’t try anything tonight. Nighttime is when this island is most alive.”
She’s halfway to believing that, so I add, “I’m a light sleeper. It will be fine.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leira
“That’s all you’re wearing to bed?” I ask.
We’re out of the hotel robes we wore to dinner, and all Enrique has put on are his black underwear. I at least have the decency to wear his button-up shirt over my panties, even if I did leave the bra hanging in the bathroom.
He raises one eyebrow and scans me as I kneel on the bed. “If you think you’re any less distracting, you’re sorely mistaken.
I inadvertently bring my hand up to fidget with my cross, my mind racing back to what he did to me earlier on the couch. That was one line crossed, a line that I have no business going anywhere near again.
Especially this late at night.
Under the covers.
When all he’s wearing is…that?
“I wasn’t thinking about distraction.” Though, now that he puts his hands on his hips to stare down at me, I’m pretty fucking distracted. “I was talking about…I wanted to make sure that we are just sleeping.”
He l
aughs. His perfectly flab-free muscles just roll in waves underneath his tanned skin. He catches me and tilts his head to smirk. “Is it me or you that you are worried about?”
“Whatever,” I spit, tugging the bedspread away to slip underneath. Neither of us disturbed it during our earlier naps, and I have to tug even harder to pull the sheets out of whatever impossible vice grip the cleaning staff tucked them into before our arrival.
Enrique laughs again and tugs at his side of the spread.
“You’re getting under the covers with me?”
He gives me a look that’s slightly exasperated. “That is how people usually sleep.”
“I think it would be more prudent for you to sleep on top of the covers. That way…”
“That way what?” he asks with a grin.
“That way...” I exhale in frustration. “Don’t you think that would be the nice thing for you to do?”
“Were you under the mistaken impression I’m a gentleman?”
I feel my mouth tighten in irritation. “Fine. I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”
I flip the covers so hard they hit him in the face, but all he does is laugh.
“Are you worried my penis might accidentally slip into your vagina in the middle of the night? Because that’s not how it works.”
I grab the covers back to smooth down before getting on top of them. “Thank you for the sex-ed. I had no clue how male and female anatomy worked.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem awfully convinced something might happen?” He pushes the covers down so that he’s exposed down to the waistband of his underwear, and then he leans on one crooked arm, flashing me a fuck-me grin like one of those dancers from Magic Mike.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“Ah,” he says, allowing his eyes to scan my legs as I unfold them from beneath me to lie down. “You know what? I think I’ve changed my mind. I prefer on top of the covers too.”
I sit back up in a flash. “Are you just trying to be an asshole?”
He throws off the covers, hitting me in the face with them as I did him. Except I don’t laugh. I snatch it away from my face to seethe at him.
Enrique pays absolutely no attention as he likewise smoothes the covers down to lie on top of them, his hands calmly folded over those six-pack abs.
Definitely distracting.
“Fine.” I jump off the bed and grab hold of the covers. Before I can once again throw them in his face, he also jumps off the bed to grab his side.
“We can go all night, Leira.”
“If I wasn’t worried before, then I certainly am now. Why are you so insistent on this?”
“Because you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to try anything, trust me. Like I said, when I take you, you’ll not only be willing, but begging for it.”
I sneer at that renewed suggestion.
Enrique laughs. “As for tonight, rest assured, if you somehow end up pregnant after tonight, either you’re lying about your status as a…Catholic, or it’s God who owes you child support, not me.”
“That’s blasphemous,” I say, even though I found it witty enough to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
He considers me for a moment. “You’re right. I seriously doubt the Blessed Virgin Mary enjoyed the occasional naked swim.”
I grab a pillow and throw it at him. “Sometimes, I think you enjoy violating every sin in the book, just for the fun of it.”
“Muchas gracias.” He laughs and catches it, plumping it up before laying it on top of the pillows on his side.
I twist my lips, realizing I now only have one pillow on my side. Hell, if I’m going to ask for it back now, even though Enrique’s eyes practically dare me to.
“If you’re worried about my eternal soul, Leira, don’t be. I look forward to my place in hell with the rest of the sinners. They seem to have all the fun.” He flicks back the covers, obviously intending to sleep underneath them. “Besides, I doubt there’s too much skinny dipping in heaven.”
“Enjoy your eternal sulfur and brimstone showers,” I say, just to get the last word in as he slips underneath his side of the covers. How the hell did we even get down this path?
I smooth the bedspread back down again to lie on top, eyeing him with a warning look as I do. He just grins, but thankfully he remains in place.
I lie on my back, my head resting on my one pillow, and try to fall asleep. I’m annoyed to find that I’d rather be under the covers, preferably with two pillows.
Being chaste has its drawbacks.
Then again, considering how exposed I am from the hips down in this shirt, maybe I should have stayed under the covers.
“Que sueñes con los angelitos,” Enrique says before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed. I can practically hear the taunt in his voice.
I don’t bother replying before turning off mine.
I’m not sure if what he’s said should be interpreted literally or if it’s some quippy Spanish phrase for “sweet dreams.” However you translate it, I know that with him in the bed next to me, it certainly isn’t going to be angels who are occupying my dreams tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Enrique
I’m drowning in a tangle of seaweed.
My eyes snap open, waking from the dream. For some reason, my face still feels like it’s entangled in seaweed. I spit out the strand that has fallen into my mouth and blink away the twists that obscure my sight.
Leira. Dammit.
My hand comes up to rake the rest of her heavy tangle of curls from my face. I squint in the dim light of the morning and turn to face her, only to be met with the full force of that hair.
Somehow she’s managed to wriggle her way across the entirety of the bed and curl her backside into my body hidden underneath the covers. In fact, I’m teetering so close to the edge of the bed, one wrong move and I’ll be on the floor.
How the hell did she manage that?
I nudge her from beneath the covers, and her only reaction is to moan slightly in her sleep and curl up into an even tighter ball. That causes the shirt to rise enough to fully expose her white underwear.
That snaps me out of my irritation. There’s something to be said for “forcing” her to sleep on top of the covers.
I pull one arm free of the bedspread and sheets and reach one finger out to trace the skin along the edge of one leg hole. It’s still as smooth as that first touch of it yesterday.
Leira doesn’t so much as stir. If anything, the light snoring only becomes more even and steady.
I smirk and continue running my finger along her skin until I reach the spot where her thighs are clamped together. I don’t bother stopping there, instead, working my way up to the fabric of her underwear, following the indentation where her ass cheeks come together. My finger trips right over the waistband, back to that sea of smooth skin along her back. I continue along her spine, even when I’m finally met with the edge of the shirt, simply pushing it up as far as it will go.
At some point, it obviously begins to tickle her because she moans again and kicks her feet for some reason. Her legs come to rest at a bent position with her bare feet against her butt.
I bite back a laugh as I bring my finger along the sole of one foot, knowing what’s coming.
She snaps out of her sleep with a yelp and a fierce kick, probably leaving a good bruise against my thigh even through the bedspread. My hand inadvertently lands right back on her ass again, this time with my palm open.
“What the hell?” she yells, twisting her head around to confront me, which gives me a nice whiplash of hair to the face.
Obviously feeling my hand cupping her ass, she scoots up into a sitting position.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I grin and bring both arms up to cross underneath my head.
“Don’t worry. Aún eres una virgen,” I say with a grin, assuring her of the fact that she is still very much a virgin.
&n
bsp; “Not if I hadn’t woken up when I did!” she snaps, pushing me.
That’s enough to tip me over the edge of the bed, and I roar in surprise and anger as my head hits the nightstand with a loud “thonk!” on the way down.
“Oh my God!” she yelps, leaning over the side to stare down at me as I recover on the floor. “Are you okay?”
The throbbing in the back of my skull is enough to evaporate my earlier amusement. Leira is firmly back to being La Diabla.
Then again, I have only myself to blame.
“I’m fine,” I growl, touching the back of my head as I sit up. It’s definitely tender, but it seems the worst of it will probably be a small bump. “Let’s get breakfast; then we need a change of clothes.”
“We’re going back to your apartment?” She asks in surprise.
“No, we’ll get something in one of the shops downstairs,” I say as I head to the bathroom to get my jeans and t-shirt to put on until then.
“Then what?” she asks, sliding to the edge of the bed.
I stare at her, wondering how much to tell her about my plan. I knew exactly what I was going to do today last night, but this morning only makes me more sure of it.
“Let’s just worry about breakfast for now.”
* * *
“Okay, so what exactly is the plan?” Leira finally asks, setting her slice of toast down.
We’ve ordered room service once again. They cleared away last night’s dinner and replaced it with this morning’s meal.
I finish my sip of black coffee and lean back in my chair.
“I’m going to my apartment.”
“We are?” she asks, sitting up straighter as panic overcomes her.
“I am. You are going to stay here.”
Spanish Pirate: A BWWM International Legacies Romance Page 13