Salsa (Sultry Nights Book 1)

by Melanie Munton

  SALSA

  Sultry Nights

  Volume One

  by

  Melanie Munton

  Salsa

  Sultry Nights, Volume One

  Copyright © 2019 Melanie Munton

  All rights reserved

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

  www.mayhemcovercreations.com

  eBook Edition

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people except when loaned out per Amazon’s lending program. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then it was pirated illegally, and you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  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

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Bonus Scene

  More books by Melanie Munton

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  More books by Melanie Munton:

  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

  Prologue

  Sophie

  I can’t believe it.

  It’s snowing.

  In Miami.

  I’ve never even seen snow before and now I’m watching it blanket one of the most southern cities in the continental United States, following a summer that saw some of the highest temperatures on record.

  It’s a Christmas miracle.

  I can’t help but glance behind me at the footsteps I leave on the pristine white canvas along the sidewalk of my familiar street. It’s dark out but the streetlamps guide my way as I skip along my usual path toward my home. I told my mamá I was leaving our neighbor’s Christmas party because I was tired and bored. But really, I just wanted to walk in the snow and catch snowflakes on my tongue like the kids at school talk about.

  Who knows when the next time this will come around again?

  Mamá doesn’t like me walking alone, but my family knows everyone in this neighborhood. We’re all friends with each other. This area isn’t like the dangerous boroughs of Bogotá, Colombia, my family’s homeland. This is a safe neighborhood, and nothing bad ever happens here.

  Plus, my papá stayed home because he wasn’t feeling well and I want to see him. Maybe I can make him some of Mamá’s ajiaco santafeñoto—a chicken and vegetable soup—to help him feel better.

  I so badly want to make snow angels in our meager front yard or build a quick snowman, but I tell myself to be patient and check on Papá first. I skip down our walkway and push through our front door after I find it already unlocked.

  “Papá?” I say to our empty living room.

  Assuming he must be asleep in his and Mamá’s bedroom, I quietly tip-toe to the back of the house. Instead of silence, I hear a flurry of activity just as I reach their closed door. Confused, I ease open the door to see him frantically throwing clothes and toiletries into Mamá’s big green suitcase with no thought of organization.

  “Papá, what are you doing?”

  His head whips around to me, his eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Sophia? Mi princesa, what are you doing home? You’re supposed to be at the Christmas party with your mamá and Manuela.”

  Manuela—or Manny, as I’ve come to call her—is my sixth-month-old baby sister who already looks exactly like our mamá. She’s our little angel.

  “There weren’t very many other kids there, so I told Mamá I’d come home to check on you.” I dash to the window and pull back the curtain, bursting with excitement. “Did you see, Papá? It’s snowing! Isn’t it pretty?”

  “Sophia, no!”

  Papá lunges for me and yanks my arm back, moving me toward the door.

  “Stay away from the windows,” he says gravely, his voice sounding strange.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, taking in the sight of the disheveled bedroom. “Are we going on a trip?”

  He leans down and takes me by the shoulders. That’s when I notice how badly he’s sweating and…shaking. The hands he’s holding me with are trembling.

  “Yes, princesa. We are going on a trip. We’re going to leave as soon as Manuela and your mamá get back from the party. So, I’m going to need your help to make sure we’re ready, okay? Can you do that?”

  I nod eagerly, always ready to help out Papá. “Where are we going?”

  “To the farm in Colombia,” he says as he goes back to throwing things into the suitcase.

  A huge smile spreads across my face. “We’re going to visit Tía Christina and Tío Miguel?”

  My aunt and uncle still live in Guasimal, Colombia on my family’s farm, along with my many cousins that I’ve missed so much since we moved to Miami years ago. Guasimal is more of a territory than a town and in such a rural area that it’s essentially secluded away from most of the surrounding towns. Moving to a larger metropolitan area like Miami was a big adjustment for us. But Papá thought there would be more opportunities for him here, so we packed up our entire lives and left the only place familiar to us.

  “Yes,” he says, shooing me. “Hurry now.”

  I sprint across the hall to the room I share with Manny and grab my Bratz backpack out of my closet. Mamá will probably help me pack when she gets back, but I can at least pick out my favorite shirts and books I want to take.

  All of a sudden, Papá bursts through my doorway and wraps his arms around me, dragging me out into the hallway.

  “Papá! What’s going on?” I screech.

  His behavior is so odd, I’m no longer excited. I’m scared.

  “Sophia, you have to hide.” He opens the hall closet doors and shoves me inside. “Crawl into your favorite hiding place back there and don’t come out until I tell you to.”

  He means the crawl space in the back of the closet—my favorite place to go when he plays escondidas with me. It’s similar to the American game of hide-and-seek.

  “But why, Papá? You’re scaring me.”

 
He cups my face, tipping my head to look at him. “Everything’s going to be all right, mi princesa. I just want you to do as I say. Stay hidden and don’t make a sound. Do you understand?”

  Tears gathering in my eyes, I nod. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that look on his face tells me it’s bad. He pulls me close and hugs me so hard I can barely breathe. I hug him back just as fiercely.

  “You’re a big girl now, Sophia,” he whispers. “My big eleven-year-old. I want you to take care of your mamá and sister, okay? No matter what happens, you be strong for them.”

  “What do you mean?” I say, my voice breaking. This feels like a goodbye and I hate goodbyes. And I definitely never want to tell my beloved papá goodbye. “I thought you said everything’s going to be fine.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Everything will be. But you have to promise me that you’ll be a big strong girl and take care of them for me. Will you do that?”

  I nod again, tears now running down my cheeks. “Yes, Papá. I promise.”

  He grins. “Good girl. Now, get into your hiding place.”

  On shaky legs, I push aside all of the clothes that won’t fit into our closets and crouch down near the crawl space. Just before he closes the doors, I meet his eyes one last time. I can’t be sure but it looks like he’s about to cry.

  I’ve never seen my papá cry before.

  “I love you, Sophia.”

  I swallow, my throat burning. “I love you, too, Papá.”

  “Remember, stay quiet.”

  With those final words, he shuts the doors and I move aside the panel to my hiding place and crawl in. My heart pounds as the silence in the house is broken by our front door slamming open. More than one set of feet walk across the old hardwood floors, heading into the living room, from the sounds of it.

  “Diego,” Papá says in a low voice.

  Diego? He’s Papá’s business partner, his friend. He’s been to our house before, so why is Papá making me hide now?

  “Andre,” Diego responds. “We need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  My heavy breathing is loud in the small space, and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to stay quiet. Papá told me I had to, and I don’t want to disappoint him.

  “You sure the other three aren’t here?” Diego asks.

  “Si, jefe,” someone else in the room answers. I don’t recognize that voice at all. “They’re all at the neighbor’s Christmas party down the street. Won’t be home for at least an hour.”

  How do they know that? Have they been watching us?

  They probably do think I’m still at the party because I left the house through the backyard. With no streetlamps back there, they wouldn’t have seen me climb over the fence and come out one street over. It’s just something I always do. I’ve been climbing trees and fences since my days of growing up on the family farm in Colombia.

  “You stole from me, Andre,” Diego says in a calm, yet angry voice.

  Papá steal? No. He would never.

  Papá murmurs something, but his voice is too muffled for me to hear. Then I hear the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh and my stomach turns. I know that sound because I’ve seen older boys in the neighborhood fist fight each other sometimes. It makes me sick to think that Papá was on the receiving end of that hit.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Diego growls. “Your life is going to end right here, right now, so you might as well tell the truth before I send your betraying ass straight to hell.”

  My entire world comes to a halt.

  His life is going to end? That means…

  No. It can’t be.

  I scramble for the closed doors, but a voice stops me just before my fingers peel them open. It’s Papá’s voice, telling me to remain in here and stay quiet. I told him I would do as he said, and I never disobey Papá. He’s my best friend.

  So, I will do as he said.

  There’s some shuffling sounds and more things said, but I can’t hear most of it. And what I can hear doesn’t make a bit of sense to me. I don’t care what they’re talking about, though. I just want them to leave my papá alone.

  “I trusted you, Andre,” Diego hisses.

  “You didn’t trust me at all,” Papá says. He sounds weird, like he’s having trouble breathing. Maybe he’s hurt. Oh, please don’t let him be hurt. “If you did, you would have paid me my fair share. I’m not the crook here, Diego. You are.”

  “No one calls me a crook. I’ve killed many men for a lot less.”

  I place both hands over my mouth to suppress my cries. Diego just admitted that he’s killed people. What kind of man is he? Certainly not the man who’s acted like Papá’s best friend for so long.

  “Maybe it’s time that you admit the truth to yourself, Diego,” Papá continues. “You think you’re God because you peddle poison to the masses and get rich off of it. But God doesn’t disguise himself in a fancy suit and hide his sins behind a wall of lies and deceit. The devil does.”

  Unable to stop myself, I carefully push open the doors, just a crack.

  What I see almost makes me vomit.

  Diego is standing in front of Papá, who’s on his knees and bleeding from his nose and mouth, while his business partner presses a big black gun to his forehead.

  Dios mio.

  Papá has a gun, but he always taught me to never, ever touch it. Because they’re dangerous and they hurt people, even kill them.

  Diego leans in close to Papá, spittle flying out of his mouth as he says, “I’m not the devil, cabrón. But I am going to send you to meet him.”

  It looks like Papá smiles, but my eyes are so blurry with tears that it’s hard to tell. “I’ll save a seat for you in hell, then. Because men like you, their lives only end one way.”

  Diego’s jaw hardens as he straightens his spine, keeping his arm outstretched and the gun centered on Papá’s forehead.

  Part of me knows it’s coming. Knows I should look away.

  I watch, anyway.

  Watch in horror as Diego pulls the silent trigger, sending my papá’s body careening backward, landing with a loud thud on the floor. I scream into my hands, though no sound comes out. I shake my head violently back and forth, convinced that I must be dreaming. I’m imagining the whole thing. I have to be.

  I hadn’t even noticed the black tarp spread out across the floor. But as I watch the two bulky men I don’t recognize roll my papá’s prone body up in it and lift him off the floor, I realize its purpose.

  “Make sure there’s no trace left,” Diego commands.

  I can’t believe I haven’t passed out yet with as hard as I’m breathing. The collar of my shirt is soaked through from my dripping tears. I give no thought to them coming back to find me here in this closet as I witness my papá’s murderers carry him out the front door of our home. It’s not until I hear their car drive away and at least twenty minutes tick by that I come out of my hiding place.

  I half walk, half crawl down the hall toward the front door, my legs too weak to support me. I peek out the windows in the living room, but I know the bad men are gone. With Papá.

  Desperation fueling my actions, I rip open the front door and run down the snow-covered walkway. I don’t know what I expect to find. But this is the last place I know my papá was before they took him away.

  That’s when I see it.

  A small puddle of blood, standing stark against the pure white of the untouched snow.

  It’s about the size of a softball, but it sickens me all the same. Because I know who that blood belongs to. I collapse onto the ground, overwrought with emotions. Devastation consumes me as I finally let my restrained sobs fill the crisp night air. I kneel beside that puddle of blood, never once taking my eyes off of it.

  My heart completely shatters. To the point that I doubt I’ll ever be able to repair it.

  I never want to see snow again for the rest of my life.

  Chapter 1

  Sophie

  T
hirteen years later

  Welcome to the belly of the beast.

  The entrance to Hell.

  The devil’s lair.

  “Hey, mamí.”

  “Want to come home with me, baby?”

  “Damn, suga, you fine.”

  I ignore every lude comment crooned my way as I walk across the scratched hardwood floors of Calor, an underground nightclub owned by my father’s murderer, with a practiced sway to my hips. In my skintight black halter dress and sky-high heels, I grab the attention of every male I pass. But that’s the goal when I’m on shift.

  Because technically, I’m at work.

  That’s right. I work for Diego Suarez now. El diablo.

  Confused yet? Wondering why I still have anything at all to do with that monster?

  Well, I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I’m working at his sketchy nightclub as his drug mule in order to repay the debt my father owed him—allegedly owed him—when he was killed. By Diego. A fact that Diego, nor anyone else on the planet, knows that I know. I never saw Papá at the house that night thirteen years ago. When I returned home the house was empty. At least, that’s what I told Mamá and everyone else. As far as they all know, the last time I saw him was before we left for the Christmas party.

  Here’s the irony: I can have Diego locked up with the key thrown away in a matter of hours if I peep a word of what I saw that night to the cops.

  But I won’t.

  Because Diego is the most powerful man in Miami with unlimited resources. He probably has half of the Miami PD in his pocket. He’s reminded me on numerous occasions that if I ever double cross him like my father supposedly did, he would torture and kill not only me, but my mamá and Manny as well. And I will never allow that to happen. I promised Papá I would take care of them, and that’s what I’m doing.

  “How about a drink, honey?”

  I walk on. Because the floppy-haired drunk who just asked my boobs that question is not following proper protocol.