Rafael (The Santiago Brothers Book One)

by K. Victoria Chase

GENIE groaned at the sound of the doorbell. Despite her protests, Rafa insisted on being her personal bodyguard. “And he called me bullheaded,” she muttered. She grabbed her keys off the kitchen table and jogged toward the front door. She was about to reach for the handle when she noticed her reflection in the mirror on the hallway wall.

  She had nothing to complain about. After a season of pimples during her teenage years, the scars had faded to a smooth caramel complexion. Earlier, she brushed out her curls and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. The image of Flores Cera entered her mind: her provocative stance, the flirtatious eye-batting, the toss of her thick, wavy hair. Genie let out a humph and yanked her ponytail down. Staring at the straight locks, she suddenly wished for curls.

  The doorbell rang again. “Genie?” She heard the tension in his voice as he called out.

  “Yeah, coming!” She furiously ran her fingers through her hair and then bent over, shaking her head to add a bit of volume. When she stood upright, she paused at the woman who stared back. Dark tresses fell around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed from excitement. She’d even begun wearing perfume to work, and that never happened. “Who are you? This is Rafael Santiago!” She put her hands on her hips when her reflection didn’t answer. “He may still look totally kissable but he’s still Rafael Santiago!”

  “What?”

  Genie slapped her hand over her mouth. She forgot he stood just behind the door. Genie swallowed and opened the door. “Sorry about that,” she croaked.

  “Were you on the phone?”

  Genie scooted by him, locked the door and started for his car. “What?” she called over her shoulder, pretending not to hear him.

  “I heard you mumbling in there.”

  Mumbling, good. He didn’t hear the conversation she’d had with herself. Of course, he probably already figured women thought him kissable. “It was nothing. We’re going to be late.”

  Rafa didn’t unlock the car. Instead, he leaned against the hood on the opposite side of her and appraised her. Genie forced an even stare and her cheeks cooled. “Well, it’s your fault. You look like you took some extra time today in front of the mirror.”

  Internal heat seared her cheeks. At least he noticed. Embarrassed, she ran a hand through her hair. “Are you done?”

  Rafa laughed. He unlocked the doors and watched her as she practically dove in. Unhurried, he sat down and closed the door. The clean, spicy scent of his aftershave overwhelmed her. She wished he’d turn the car on so she could roll down the windows. Instead, two eyes burned holes in the side of her already inflamed cheeks.

  Genie slowly met his gaze. “What?”

  “You look beautiful.”

  The words were spoken not in jest, nor with any hint of sarcasm. Warmth in his dark eyes complemented the slight trace of huskiness in his voice. Genie swallowed, her throat dry as toast. Was this another act? Was he still the same cavalier guy he was in high school? Jeff was the last man she let get close. The only man, actually. But he had turned out to be someone like the boy Rafael Santiago was in high school, only behaving like an eager teenage boy in a grown man’s body, and his actions crushed her heart.

  Genie stared out the window. She desired nothing more than to bask in Rafa’s attention and ponder the possibility he just might be a changed man. Yet, with the Snakes on the loose… Stay focused on the case, Genie. “Let’s just get to work, okay?”

  In the window’s reflection, she saw the edges of his lips turn up into a superficial smile. His eyes cooled and the car revved to life. “Sure. Anything you say.”

  If their silent drive was any indication of their workday, then a long one awaited them. At the office, they received an update — or rather no update — from the FBI. The Bureau was still running down leads. The partial from her patio door returned zero matches from their database. Genie would welcome even a call from Flores Cera with news on her brother. Genie took a break from her computer screen and sat back in her chair. She watched Rafa field another call from San Diego about some case he worked just before he arrived in Springfield.

  She fingered a few strands of her loose hair. According to Rafa, she didn’t need curls. What had possessed her to wear it down? She firmly believed a woman’s hair should remain up and away from the face in a work environment. A man didn’t take a woman seriously if her hair flounced and bounced around her shoulders.

  Rafa had called her beautiful. She flipped her hair around her face to hide the blush warming her cheeks. Her sudden change in behavior baffled her. His attention had befuddled her, making her respond in an ultra-feminine way, too unlike her. She reached for her purse and removed a compact. She unlatched the compact and saw her reflection in the mirror. She liked what she saw.

  “You look great.”

  Rafa’s smooth baritone reverberated in her ears and sent tingles down her spine. She watched in the mirror as her cheeks reddened. She snapped the case shut.

  “Listen, Genie, about last night.”

  Genie met his gaze, her blood pressure rising.

  “I know you’re keeping something from me. About the possible leak? Did you tell anyone else about the case?”

  He sounded calm but serious, his eyes guarded. What did she do to tip him off? “I might have mentioned it to my source.”

  She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, holding up hands. Then dark eyes assessed her. “Wait a minute. So you did tell someone else?”

  “My source.” The surprised look in his eyes dimmed to one of… disappointment? “He doesn’t know every detail,” she mumbled.

  “Eugenia!”

  Genie bristled at his exasperated tone. “You tapped your sources, and I used mine.” Sure, it sounded justifiable in her head, but the fierce expression on her partner’s face made her rethink her reasons. Rafa sprung from the chair. Genie whirled to see him storm toward the conference room. “Rafa!” She sprinted after him.

  She entered the conference room and closed the door. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. Rafa stood rigid with his head bowed and hands on his slim hips. Why was he so angry? She only did what he'd do in any investigation where leads were scarce.

  “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

  “What?”

  He rotated to face her, his charcoal eyes burning with anger. “I asked you if you told anyone else.”

  “Rafael, it was a source!”

  “A drug source?”

  She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. For a brief moment, she considered lying again, if it meant thwarting his ire. Why did his opinion of her matter? If he were any other detective in the department, except maybe the lieutenant, she wouldn’t care. But she did. This man, Rafael Santiago, the man who epitomized all she hated in men, she cared what he thought and that forced the truth from her lips. “Yes. But I don’t see how—”

  His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “You don’t see how that could’ve put you in danger.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, wondering. The attempted break-in the night before. Her source didn’t exactly answer her question about being at her house. “Look, my source isn’t brilliant. There’s no way he was at my place last night.”

  “You know the Snakes are deep in narco-trafficking. You don't think that maybe, just maybe, they’d have an idea who the local dealers are?” he asked, exasperated.

  She hadn't thought about that. She’d only been concerned about Ricky contacting his own network for information and getting her answers. “It… it didn’t exactly occur to me—”

  “No, it didn’t,” he snapped. “Genie…” He let out an exasperated laugh and then raked his hair with one hand. He turned away from her, and all of a sudden she understood.

  “Rafael…”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “Genie, you make it so hard.”

  He cared for her. His concern while at her house last night, the suggestion to “stick to her like glue,” pushing for more open communication. None of his actions had put her at a disadvantage. Only h
er actions did.

  And her feelings? She'd been so consumed with her career, she didn’t know. But she could trust him. Genie’s stomach knotted and a sick feeling consumed her. Besting whoever she assumed stood in her way had been her focus for so long, she’d overlooked something so basic, and that mistake could have potentially endangered her life. It still could.

  He marched to her. His gaze held her to her spot. She could see her reflection in those deep, dark pools. The anger in them dissipated and in its place whirled intense concern. Concern for her. Hot liquid burned in the back of her eyes.

  He reached a hand up and fingered a few long wisps of hair framing her face. He gently brushed them behind her ear. His hand settled on her shoulder. “You need to understand, these men… I know them. I knew them. They have no regard for life. They are like machines that do what they’re told, no questions asked, no conscience stopping them.” He averted his gaze, his eyes clouding as if he remembered some dread from his past. “They’ll eliminate anyone who gets in their way.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It was an amateur move. It won’t happen again.” He still refused to look at her. “I promise,” she prompted.

  He fastened his gaze to hers. She hoped he read sincerity in her eyes. When he grimaced, her heart sunk. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded before breaking their connection and leaving her standing in the conference room. The door closed behind him.

  Alone.

  She hated this feeling. True, she’d thrived on her solitude but for the first time in a long time, she wanted more. Wanted someone else to stand with her. Needed someone to point out when she was wrong. Longed for someone who sincerely had her interests at heart. She followed him out the door and back to her desk. She positioned herself in her seat across from him. He kept his gaze focused on some papers.

  “My skills as a detective are unmatched.”

  Genie tensed at the sound of Franco’s voice. Rotating in her seat, she watched his confident approach, a slick smile on his face. Her nerves already frayed, whatever he had to say, Genie was sure she didn’t want to hear it.

  Rafa also noticed Franco. “What’s that?” Rafa asked.

  She’d have to brief Rafa on what not to ask Detective Franco.

  Franco casually waved a piece of paper in the air, as if baiting them. “Seems that kid, Mario Desanto, was an employee of La Cocina Dolce after all.”

  “What?” Genie snatched the paper from Franco’s hand and began skimming the contents of the page.

  “He was a part-time busboy.”

  “That leaves Canales and Cruz without connections to the restaurant,” Rafa added.

  “I'm not so sure,” Genie said, perplexed she could have missed something so basic. “Mario’s parents swore up and down their kid didn’t work. Even the neighbors flat-out denied the boy had a job.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t on the books.” Franco patted his over-moussed hair as if it wasn’t already in place. “I talked to some of his friends and they confirmed he worked at the restaurant for a few hours a week. Apparently, he was saving money for a car his parents couldn’t afford to buy him. What you have in your hand, Genie, is my draft write-up on the interviews of his buddies.”

  She could see that for herself. What she couldn’t begin to see was the look of self-satisfaction she knew was on Franco’s face, so she kept her eyes glued to the page. She mumbled a “thank-you” and impatiently waited for him to remove himself from her workspace.

  But he kept talking. “You gotta know who to talk to and what to ask.”

  Genie calmly placed the paper on her desk and slowly rose from her seat.

  Rafa cleared his throat. “Thanks for the tutorial, Franco. I think we can handle—”

  “I gotta know what?” Genie pinned Franco with her stare. She took a step toward him, but Franco didn’t back down. Instead, he closed the distance between them until they stood nose to nose.

  The slick grin remained, bolstering the challenge in his eyes. “I think you heard me, Green,” he said, his voice low and smug.

  A loud squeak from a chair signaled Rafa was on his feet. He wrapped a warm hand around her elbow, gently pulling her back. She didn’t want to relent, but cool heads always prevail and right now, she was anything but cool.

  “Why don’t you put some of your know-how into finding out how Cruz is connected in all of this?” Rafa stood between her and Franco. Franco smirked at the order, as if the task were beneath him. “We’re working another angle and what you may find could blow this thing wide open.”

  Genie’s jaw dropped to the floor. Why was Rafa giving Franco ammunition? The last thing she needed was to be upstaged by another arrogant jerk. The reason was soon clear. Franco nodded, a confident grin replacing the earlier smirk. He was putty in Rafa’s hands.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

  Rafa spoke with strained patience. “No, it shouldn’t.”

  “I’m on it.” Franco strode away.

  Genie snorted. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Rafa gave her a small grin, but his eyes told her he was glad the exchange was over. “Franco’s a tool. You can’t let him get to you.”

  “But does he have to lord it over me?”

  Okay, so perhaps she should have risen above the situation, but sometimes the climb was just too steep. Sometimes, no matter how much one tried to act as if they’re not injured, the pain just increased. And she was tired of the pain, tired of justifying her right to decent treatment.

  Rafa gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look into his intense gaze as it bore into hers. “There are always going to be those type of guys. Don’t let them win. Make them work for you.” A humorous smile brightened his face. He kneaded her shoulders. “Right now, we have Franco chasing down leads, leaving us to focus on the threat.”

  Genie’s muscles relaxed under Rafa’s skilled hands. She returned his smile. She had to give Franco credit for tying a victim to the restaurant. Whatever it meant, it was a significant break in the case. She wasn’t the only cop who could do the job.

  And she had to give credit to the handsome delinquent-turned-surprisingly mature detective in front of her. Whose gaze remained latched to hers. Whose hands still massaged her muscles, moving in slow, circular patterns.

  “Detective Green.”

  The spell was broken. Genie moved out from under the heat of Rafa’s hands and faced the officer who had called her name. A phone rang nearby and Rafa moved to answer it. An officer handed her a sealed envelope, addressed to her, from the forensics lab. With a letter opener, she sliced through the top of the package and pulled out the pages.

  She heard Rafa replace the handset back on the receiver. “Anything interesting?”

  “No. Just the final report on some evidence I sent off for another case.” And just like that, he picked up the phone again. Genie sighed. She never sought his attention, but ever since their ride into the office this morning, Genie wished for it. And ever since their exchange in the conference room, she craved it. She thought she had it a moment ago, but clearly she was wrong. She didn’t want things to be weird between them. Did he believe her apology? Did he trust her? She kneaded the back of her tight neck.

  His call didn’t last long. Rafa leaned forward. “I just got off the phone with a source. Seems like our two missing friends from the Snakes were sent out here on a specific mission tied to La Cocina Dulce.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “All my source could say was loose ends were being tied up.”

  “Loose ends?”

  He shook his head. “He wouldn’t elaborate on the meaning.”

  “So a middle-aged waiter, a teenage boy, a mother, and a respectable college student are loose ends? Well, my source said someone he knows saw two unfamiliar guys waiting in a black four-door at Maribol’s apartment, but he couldn’t describe them.”

  Rafa leaned back in his chair, locked his hands behind his dark head, and s
tared at the ceiling. For a moment, Genie saw her fingers lost in the curls of his loose locks. She snapped her eyes back to safe territory: her desk. “Yup. Unfortunately, I think the only one who may know what all of this means is Cera.”

  “Wherever he’s at,” Genie muttered.

  “If he’s smart, he’s left town. Disappeared.”

  “That’s not so good for us.”

  Rafa groaned audibly.

  Genie’s phone rang. She snatched up the receiver. “Are you absolutely positive?” she asked the man on the line. She reached for a pad and pen and began to write. “Thanks, I owe you.”

  “What was that all about?” he asked when she replaced the handset.

  “A fax should be coming in shortly to explain all the details, but we have a lead on Diego Cera.”

  She saw Rafa visibly tense. If anyone knew anything about loose ends and La Cocina Dulce’s involvement in money laundering, it had to be Cera. “Don’t keep me in suspense, woman. Spit it out.”

  Genie gave him a dirty look but angled toward him. “We have a trace on his credit cards. Seems like he used one last night.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “Right here in Springfield.”

  “I don’t know whether to be elated he’s still in town or pity him for being too stupid to run. Especially if he’s somehow connected to the Snakes.”

  Genie’s eyes shifted to the beeping fax machine. “That should be it coming in now.” She rose to retrieve the information. Her eyes glanced quickly over the page. “The card was swiped at a convenience store around 11:30 p.m.,” she stated as she stood near his desk.

  “If he’s still in the area, then I bet someone close to him knows what he’s up to.”

  “And why he stuck around.”

  An officer approached their desks and handed a sheet of paper to Rafa. His brows rose as he read the information.

  “What is it?” Genie asked, her voice anxious.

  “It says our boy Diego Cera is on staff at the La Cocina Dulce restaurant.” He raised his eyes up to his partner. “You requested a list of all the employees. Good work.”

  Genie felt her cheeks go warm at the compliment. She snatched the documents out of his hand and held them up to eye-level, not just to read the information herself, but to hide her blush. “Basic investigative step, Santiago.” When she believed sufficient time had passed for her cheeks to return to their normal color, she lowered the document. “Looks like we need to have another conversation with Ms. Flores Cera.” And this time, she’d better tell the truth.

  Chapter Nine