Salsa (Sultry Nights Book 1)

by Melanie Munton

  I don’t have an explanation for why he stopped, though. Why didn’t he just take the quick fuck? That part doesn’t make any sense.

  But I push all of it away. None of it matters.

  He just wants his drugs.

  With my back still facing him, I reach into my dress and pull out the little bag of white powder. I refuse to look him in the eye, so I only turn around enough to pick up his hand and slap the bag into his palm.

  Hiding my crushing disappointment, I deliver the same rote I do to all my customers.

  “Enjoy. And thanks for the dance.”

  I walk away with a bruised ego and an emptiness in my chest that is all too familiar. And not surprising.

  After all, I lost my hope a long time ago.

  Chapter 5

  Max

  What. The. Fuck.

  I stare after Sophie as she walks away from me. After handing me a bag of fucking cocaine.

  My head is spinning.

  I had my suspicions about her being involved with Suarez somehow, but I never thought she, of all people, would be an actual dealer. I guess this means she isn’t a prostitute? Despite how willing she was just now to let me fuck her. Take your cock out.

  I almost did. I was so, so close to giving in and fucking up an undercover operation in record time. Her voice when she whispered that, it was so husky, so needy. Desperate, but not for attention. The woman clearly needed a release in a bad way, and I’d been on the verge of offering up my left nut if it meant I got to be the one to give her that orgasm.

  But shit! She’s Miss X?

  I’m so goddamn mad right now my vision is getting blurry.

  Anything can happen to a woman who looks like her and carries God knows how much money worth of drugs on her. The asshole I pulled off her earlier is proof of that. How in the ever-loving hell did she get wrapped up in this shit storm?

  I stuff the bag in my pocket—as much as I want to flush it down the toilet and pretend she never gave it to me, this is my job and it’s evidence—along with her necklace. That’s what I was trying to return to her. I thought I’d scared her for a second since I said it in such a pissed-off tone. But I am pissed. I stepped over the line by touching her. I hadn’t been able to control myself. I’m angry because she was right there for the taking and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Now, I’m angry for a whole set of other reasons.

  And all on my first night.

  I finger the plastic bag in my pocket as I exit the club and step out into the sticky night air. I’m still not sure why she gave this to me. I didn’t pay for it in any way. Did she figure out who I am—at least, who I’m pretending to be— and passed it along as a gift from Suarez or something?

  Either way, this isn’t good for her.

  She just handed a DEA agent a bag of narcotics.

  My heart squeezes at the thought of anything bad happening to her. And the insane part? I already feel like I’ll do anything to prevent that from happening. I want to protect her.

  You dumbass. You don’t even know her.

  True. Looks like I have some research to do.

  I pull out my cell phone and dial my partner, Ian Thorpe. “You get all that?”

  “Loud and clear,” his voice comes over the line. “Except for the last few minutes at the very end. The line cut off.”

  Because as I’d been dragging Sophie toward that hallway, I twisted the top of my gold pinkie ring, turning off the microscopic recording device hidden inside. I’d known what I was about to do and didn’t want him perving on any of it.

  She’d practically demanded that I fuck her.

  That was for my ears only.

  “I was pissing,” I explain, fully aware that I’m already lying to my partner. “Didn’t think you’d want to hear that. I just left. Nothing exciting happened from then until now.”

  I hear some papers shuffling in the background. “Sounded like you made a good connection with Suarez. I think we’re in business.”

  I think back to our meeting upstairs. “Seems so.”

  “Klausen will be happy to hear this.” Lieutenant Klausen. Our boss and all-around hard-ass.

  “Making a deal with the target on the first night? He’s going to get a boner the size of the Empire State Building.”

  Ian chuckles.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow to debrief and go over the next steps.”

  “Copy that.” He yawns. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you bright and early.”

  I hang up and climb into my red Ferrari that’s not actually mine. The department would never shell out money for this. It’s a good thing that my brother-in-law is super rich and has an affinity for collecting exotic cars. It’s not the first time I’ve borrowed one of his expensive little toys for a job. After changing the license plates, of course.

  As I maneuver through the 3am traffic, I glance at the delicate gold chain dangling from my fingers. It isn’t tacky like my gold jewelry. It’s simple and understated, with a small diamond hanging in the center. The rock looks real. If she’s working for Suarez, she can probably afford to buy her own diamonds. My stomach twists as bitterness creeps in. I’d have to save up more than a few paychecks to buy her real diamonds.

  Or maybe he bought it for her.

  My hand clenches into a fist.

  I take a few extra turns just in case one of Suarez’s men is following me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to keep tabs on his new associate. When I don’t spot a tail, I pull into the lower level of the parking garage at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. As far as Suarez or anyone else at the club is concerned, this is where Max Ramirez will be staying while he’s in town. This case is too high-profile, and I’m not going to risk my cover being blown by going back to my apartment.

  For at least the next two weeks, Suite 1302 at the Hyatt Regency is home sweet home.

  The worst part is not having my dog with me. I rescued my boxer, Trip, from the pound almost three years ago. Apparently, his former owners had been real assholes, always leaving him caged up in a crate, twenty-four seven. He even wore down most of his teeth after trying to escape so many times. He instantly latched on to me after I brought him home, desperate for any bit of love and affection he could get. We’ve been inseparable since. He’s staying with my sister and brother-in-law while I’m undercover.

  By the time I reach my room, I’m too damn tired to play back tonight’s recording and take notes on the things I heard. I just want to shower and crash hard.

  I empty my pockets onto the dresser but pause when I pull out the cocaine and the necklace. I carefully place the feminine gold chain onto the nightstand next to the bed. I don’t want to think about what motivates me to put it there.

  The cocaine, however…

  I’m bound by law and the oath I took to turn it over as evidence in this case.

  But something stops me.

  I don’t know what it would mean for Sophie if she’s implicated in all of this. Nothing good. And I can’t bear the thought of seeing her behind bars. My cop’s intuition tells me she’s not a criminal mastermind—she’s an innocent, caught up in something nefarious for whatever reason.

  Something deep down tells me that she needs help.

  My mind made up, I swipe up the TV remote and remove the cover to the battery compartment. I toss out the batteries and replace them with the small bag of illegal powder. I return the cover and place the remote back onto the dresser, next the TV.

  That’s the second line I’ve crossed tonight.

  What the hell is happening? It’s my first night on this case and I’m already losing control. I have to get my shit together.

  I stomp to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes, and turn on the spray as hot as it will go. Stepping under the stream, I force objectivity to the forefront of my mind. We’ve been trying to nail Suarez for years, and the last thing I need to do is make the case personal.

  But fuck, did she feel good in my arms.

  Her soft lips
moving against mine. The taste of sin, the smell of jasmine. The touch of silk as I buried my hands in her hair before running them down her tight body. And holy shit, the sounds she made. The sighs, the whimpers, the fucking moans as I thrust my cock against her.

  She wanted it inside her.

  And I was practically mindless with my desire to give her anything she wanted.

  My hand falls to my cock before my brain comprehends my actions. I’m already hard as granite, replaying my encounter with her, pre-cum dripping off me.

  You can fuck me.

  I’ve never wanted a woman in my entire life more than I wanted Sophie in that moment. Every inch of her was begging for me, calling out to me. Jesus, she acted like she hadn’t been pleasured in ages. At that thought, I stroke my shaft harder, almost punishingly. I’ve had blue balls since I watched her walk away.

  I need relief.

  I picture the way she looked at me, with glazed eyes that were sparkling with lust. Her cheeks flushed with excitement. I increase my tempo, pumping faster, needing the pain to subside. I could have had her right then. Could have been inside her, feeling her tight pussy clenching around me as she came all over my cock. I could have slammed so hard and so deep into her that I stole her breath. I could have felt her milking me until I came inside her heat—

  Instead, I have to settle for pathetically coming all over the tiled shower wall of a chilly hotel room.

  My head is officially fucked.

  Sleep may not be coming too easily tonight after all.

  I need to find out everything I possibly can about little Miss Sophie.

  I don’t know how she fits in yet, but something tells me that she is the key to bringing down Diego Suarez.

  I crank the faucet all the way over to ball-shrinking cold.

  Looks like I won’t be having anymore hot showers for a while.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie

  After quietly easing open the door to the two-bedroom house I share with Mamá and Manny, I hang my purse on the coat rack and lock all three of our deadbolts, feeling way more strung out than I usually do after leaving the club.

  All thanks to my drug-buying, hot-as-hell dance partner slash make-out buddy.

  It’s really late and all the lights are off except for the one lamp in the living room that Mamá always leaves on for me. Sometimes she’s awake when I come home, sitting in her special recliner when she can’t sleep. I saved for ages to buy her that recliner because it’s supposed to have the best lumbar support on the market. Ever since she started working at the diner years ago, she’s had terrible back pains. Her doctor says she needs to have surgery to repair her herniated disc, but there’s no way we can afford that right now.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see her anywhere, hoping that means she’s having a restful night’s sleep.

  I pour myself a glass of water and head for Manny’s bedroom. Mamá and I did our best to make it look exactly like she wanted, despite our limited income. Dark purple walls. Silver stars stuck to the ceiling. Posters of Harry Styles taped up everywhere. I guess it could be worse. It could be Taylor Swift she had the obsession with. Thank Cristo she never became a fan girl of hers.

  I frown as I watch her still form lying on her bed. She may swoon over Harry like any other thirteen-year-old girl would, but sometimes she says or does things that are way beyond her age. It scares me a little.

  I bend over her bed and kiss her forehead. She stirs and blinks her eyes open, looking up at me with a quick smile. “You’re home,” she says groggily.

  “I am, querida. I just wanted to see you. Go back to sleep.”

  “Love you, Sophia.” She’s already fading back into unconsciousness.

  I brush her dark hair off her face, my heart squeezing at her innocence. “I love you, too.”

  I can’t imagine how Mamá feels about me working for Diego, even though she knows we have no choice. It’s either work for him or get sent to an early grave. But I can’t even bear the thought of Manuela ever going anywhere near the man, let alone being under his evil thumb like me.

  I’ll kill him myself before I’ll ever let that happen.

  Even if I have to die trying.

  I quietly close her bedroom door and am about to walk into the bathroom to take a shower—I have to every night after I leave that decrepit cesspool—when I hear movement from the kitchen. Mamá is standing at the counter when I come in, pouring herself a glass of milk. I’ve lectured her a thousand times about getting her proper daily dose of calcium.

  Her eyes run down my body briefly before darting away. I know she disapproves of what I do at Calor, although she doesn’t know everything because I don’t tell her. I’m doing all of this for family, which she understands.

  Nobody has to like it.

  Her smile is tight. “Rough day, mija?”

  “Just like every other day,” I reply wryly, falling onto our futon that folds out every night as my bed.

  There’s a small dresser in the corner of the living room I use, and the rest of my clothes are in Manny’s closet. I get in so late most nights, it makes no sense for me to share a bedroom with her and force her to witness one low point in my life after another.

  “How was the diner?”

  She sits down at our second-hand kitchen table with her milk and begins peeling a banana. “Worked a double.”

  I cringe. It’s good money for us, but bad for her back.

  “Wanda’s kid’s got the flu, so I covered for her. Tips were good today.”

  I rest my head on the back of the cushion and exhale. “Margie opened up my classes at the studio to more students, so I should have more money coming in from that.” Margie is the owner of the studio I teach Latin dance at during the day.

  When Mamá’s hand freezes in mid-air as she’s taking a bite of her banana, my senses go on alert. “What?”

  “The landlord came by yesterday.” My stomach sinks at her dejected tone. “He’s raising the rent another seventy-five dollars.”

  I spring forward on the seat cushion. “He can’t do that. Our lease states our monthly amount. It’s under contract.”

  She sighs wearily. “Apparently, the small print says he has the right to raise it whenever he wants.”

  I’ll be checking into that later, but I doubt it will do any good. Our landlord is a greedy monster and doesn’t have any sympathy for us whatsoever. And we’re barely scraping by with rent, utilities, and groceries as it is.

  “Maybe I can talk Diego into giving me a waitressing shift at the club.” The words are like acid on my tongue.

  She shoots me a sharp look. “You know he won’t like that.”

  I shrug, forcing nonchalance onto my features. There’s no point in upsetting her. “There’s no harm in talking to him about it. I’ve done my job well for years now, and we’ve made him a lot of money. It’s not like I’d be asking for a handout. I’m asking to work more for him.”

  “That means you’d be working there pretty much every night, mija. And teaching during the day.”

  I grin. “I get my work ethic from my mamá, what can I say?”

  She snorts and shakes her head. “Always so smooth with your words. You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

  I wink. “That I got from Papá.”

  The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to suck them back in. We usually only mention Papá around Manny because she never knew him and we want her to. But it comes at a cost for both of us. Thirteen years and it still hurts like it happened just yesterday.

  Her face immediately falls, but she offers a small smile. “Yes, you did, mija. Every time I look at you, I see him. You have his features.”

  “And Manny has yours.” I stand up and go to kiss her cheek, wanting to escape the monotony and pain. “I’m going to take a shower. Goodnight.”

  “’Night.”

  I’m usually desperate to wash all the day’s grime off me by the time I get hom
e from the club, particularly the touch of every man who’s laid his hands on me.

  But tonight, as insane as it sounds, I don’t want to wash off his touch.

  My dark stranger.

  I can still feel his breath on my neck, his tongue in my mouth. I wonder if I’ll see him at the club again. Part of me hopes I do.

  But the smart part of me hopes I don’t.

  He’s the type of man who can make me want things I can never have. Make me need things that will keep me up at night. He’s the type of man who could be very bad for me.

  And I certainly don’t need any more bad in my life.

  Chapter 7

  Sophie

  “Am I ever going to get a date out of you?” Mr. Robbins asks after my last class of the day is over.

  I laugh and close the cap of my water bottle. “Now, what would your wife have to say about that?”

  He smiles sheepishly. “She’d probably be happy I’ve still got it after all these years.”

  I smother my giggle with my hand. Mr. Robbins is seventy-three years old, and he’s taking dance classes to surprise his wife for their fiftieth anniversary party. She’s always loved to dance, but could never convince him in the past to take lessons with her.

  I swear, the first time he told me that story I was close to bawling like a baby in front of the entire class. He and his wife might come from a different era, but it’s nice to know that romance is still alive. Especially at their age.

  While I haven’t experienced any kind of romance at any age.

  But a love story like that isn’t for me.

  None of them are for me. I accepted that a long time ago. Love and romance and a happily ever after don’t exist in my world anymore. You can’t expect to find sunshine and light when you live your days in the darkness.

  I pat him on the back as we exit the studio. “Well, I bet that’s exactly what she’ll say after you get her on the dance floor next month.”