Unseen, Joe snaked around Aaron’s back. Fury blinded the muscled guy. That worked for Joe. Anchoring his weight between his long legs, he clamped Aaron’s free wrist. In one move, he twisted Aaron’s arm behind his back and pushed up, locking the shoulder joint.
“Argh,” Aaron exclaimed in pain. His right knee buckled. His hand opened involuntarily, freeing Hunter.
“Calm down,” Joe whispered next to Aaron’s ear, “or I pop your shoulder out.”
Aaron nodded quickly. “Okay. I’m cool. I’m cool.”
“Good.” Joe gripped Aaron’s shoulder. “I still have you. Kneel.” He pressed down, and Aaron dropped. He whimpered as his arm angled further.
“Thank you,” Pete murmured, turning to face Joe.
Joe frowned at the silent, wide-eyed faces around him. Except for a hushed moan from Aaron, no one spoke. Slowly, the other customers backed away.
“All right, folks. Go back to your drinks. Show’s over.” Pete clapped his hands, and the circle dispersed.
Hunter hadn’t moved. She stood a short distance away as she rubbed her forearm. Angry red welts were visible—Aaron’s fingers. Dark bruises would likely show tomorrow. She was magnificent in her distress. Her sensual lower lip trembled, and in her immense green eyes, suspect moisture threatened to spill down her face. A few tendrils had escaped her long ponytail. They now clung to her high cheekbones forming a seductive auburn frame. Her chest heaved in agitation.
As much as he tried, Joe couldn’t help focusing on the missing button of her blouse—she must have lost it in the struggle. Peeking out of the opening, her lacy bra barely covered the tempting swell of a full breast. He licked his parched lips.
Changing his attention, he sneered at Aaron’s kneeling form.
“I’m here.” A man’s voice called out. Joe was grateful for the interruption. “I’ll take care of him. I’ve got ’im.”
“Mark. What the heck? Where were you?” Pete frowned at a thin, black-haired man.
The guy cringed, offering an embarrassed smile. “I had to go relieve myself. Who knew this idiot would act up the moment I left?”
Stopping in front of Joe, Mark examined him head to toe. “I don’t know you. I’m Mark. Thanks. I guess.”
Kelly’s arrival interrupted Joe’s response. Holding a bucket and mop in each hand, she presented both to Mark. “Being that Joe did all the dirty work, you’re gonna help me with the cleanup, Mister Levine.”
“But…” Mark began to protest.
“No buts,” she insisted. “Throw Aaron in your car to sleep it off, then come right back. He’s your buddy. He made the mess. You let ’im get drunk, now you clean it up.”
Kelly pivoted. Beaming at Joe, she jerked her head in the direction of the bar. “Thanks, Joe. I just poured a fresh IPA for you.”
“I can pitch in.”
“Nope.” She pointed to his empty stool and the frosty mug waiting for him on the counter. “Go. Scram.”
“All right.” Joe bent his head in acceptance. As he walked away, he glanced at Hunter once more. She studied him. Now dry, her bright green eyes narrowed a tad. Whatever was on her mind, he couldn’t read at all. A master of her reactions, she was locked tight.
Fascinating woman.
He knew then she wouldn’t be an easy target after all. And maybe, for all his bluster and anger, Dan had a point.
However, the dominant in him was up to the task and raring to go.
Hunter drove her light-blue Mini Cooper along Florida Avenue, reached the corner of Tenth Street, and turned left. She parked in the first open spot across from her friend’s boutique and clambered out. Outside her car’s tinted windows, the sunlight was brutal. She squinted as she thrust her hand inside her purse, fumbling for her aviator sunglasses.
The winter season had been way short, spring almost nonexistent, and summer was in a greedy rush to reclaim its ten-month hold on the Florida peninsula. The exposed skin of her arms prickled in the afternoon sun, and the singeing pavement threatened to burn through the thin soles of her sandals. Weaving past traffic and ignoring two angry horns, she jogged toward the sundrenched sidewalk, opened the door, and sped into the air-conditioned shelter of Costa del Sol.
Removing her glasses, she blinked, waiting for her eyesight to adjust. Her nostrils filled with the spicy scents of exotic herbs, teas, and sweet fragrances she couldn’t quite discern. Except for Chambao’s gypsy fusion CD playing softly through hidden speakers, the store seemed unattended.
“Anyone here? Soledad?”
“Eh, chica.” A dark-haired woman, popped up from behind a wide display case, her thick braid swinging with the movement. She smiled and a dazzling row of white teeth gleamed. “What a nice surprise. Long time no see.” Soledad Cuevas walked around the glass case. In a few steps, she held Hunter by the shoulders as she planted a sonorous European-style kiss on each cheek.
“Yeah, too long,” Hunter murmured.
Soledad crinkled her upturned freckled nose with disapproval. “Don’t like the long face. Come. Sit with me.” Wrapping her arm around Hunter’s, she led her toward an arrangement of plush, chocolate leather Cogswell armchairs and a rosewood accent table in the corner. “Can I get you some wine? I have a bottle of Albariño in the fridge. Nice and light. Perfect beverage for a warm afternoon.”
Hunter nodded. “Heck, yes. I’m not working tonight.”
“You’re not? But it’s Saturday and St. Paddy’s day. Pete’s will be hopping,” Soledad said as she disappeared into a back room.
“Stuff happened at the bar last night. Regardless of the holiday crowds, Kelly insisted I take the night off.” Hunter scanned the shop with admiration. Wrought iron baker’s racks decorated with multicolored Spanish and Moroccan majolica plates and loaded with fancy boxes of bath products and environmental oils were lined up along the walls. “I love the changes, Sole. New items too. Are you doing well?”
“I am.” Soledad reappeared with an open bottle and two wine glasses. Her long black-and-white peasant skirt swished with her every step. She settled the goblets on the round table between the chairs, filled them halfway, and sat. “Things started turning for me when one of St. Cloud’s influential residents discovered the shop. Since then, she’s become a sponsor, my patron of the arts, so to speak.” She laughed, offering Hunter a glass.
“I suppose this patron is rich.”
“Unknown element.” Soledad shrugged. “I know she’s well-off and well traveled. It’s obvious in our conversations and her taste, her choices. The day she discovered the shop, she walked in here and wouldn’t stop chatting. I had to show her my entire stock and what I planned to order in the future.” Soledad took a dainty sip, then dabbed the corner of her mouth. “After that, she went out and told all her friends. I’ve had a steady clientele since. Some of the ladies have several items on automatic reordering. Because of her, I’ve branched out to specialty teas and rare cooking herbs.”
“It smells wonderful in here.”
“That’s the Greek oregano.” Soledad grinned as she settled into her chair. “The boxes arrived last night. I finished arranging the packages before you came in. What happened at the bar?”
“Yikes. One topic at a time.” Hunter sat back as well. She crossed her legs, gathering her thoughts: what she could reveal and the sins she hoped to hide from Soledad’s razor-sharp mind. Not an easy task.
“Aaron Miller was a jerk. You know him, right?”
Soledad nodded.
“He got drunk, made a nasty scene, broke a few glasses. Nobody got hurt, and—”
“Is that his handiwork?” Soledad pointed at the long bluish marks on her forearm. “When did you break up with him?” Soledad didn’t mince words.
Hunter took a deep breath. “Actually, I didn’t…like…officially end our relationship. I sort of hinted at it.”
“What else did you do?”
“Um, Thursday night, I drove him to his place…” She couldn’t continue. The words refused to come out as the dist
urbing images of her voluntary punishment rolled in her mind.
Placing her wineglass on the table, Soledad leaned forward. She touched Hunter’s knee. “Sweetheart, you have to stop this craziness, this self-imposed sentence. It’s demeaning and destructive. It’s a soul killer. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“The rational side of me agrees with you. And I do want to stop. Honest.” Hunter covered her face with her palms. “But somehow, I can’t. The voice won’t leave me alone. It speaks at the worst of times, when I least expect it. ‘It’s your fault. You provoked trouble. You’re brazen. You must pay the price. You…you…you…’”
“Whose voice? Hunter? Look at me. Whose voice?”
“Not sure. A voice—”
“Don’t lie to me.” Soledad pulled her hand back. Sitting straight up, she crossed her arms. “Tell yourself a million fairy tales, all the cuentos de hada you want. But don’t bullshit me. We both know whose voice it is. You’re going to have to put a sock in that nasty woman’s mouth and get your head straightened out if you’re ever going to bring him down.”
“Soledad, please.”
“Por favor, Hunter.”
Silently, they challenged each other. Hunter blinked first.
“You little Spanish devil, you win.”
“Because I’m right.”
Hunter exhaled. “You are. And I’m seriously considering therapy. At least that’s a positive step.”
“Excellent.” Soledad clapped her hands. “If you need help finding one, I can ask around. Discreetly, of course. No one has to know.”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Niña, of course I don’t. That’s what besties are for. So, you’ve made up your mind.”
Hunter nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m flying up to New York in August. Mamá ain’t gonna be happy, but she’ll get over it. Kev belongs with me. It’s time I brought him down.”
“Vale. Vale. I am so happy for you.” Soledad emptied her glass in one gulp and stood. “This calls for a toast. Drink up. I have a wonderful Cava in the fridge.”
Hunter laughed. “You’re gonna get me drunk.”
“So what if I do?” Snatching the empty goblet out of Hunter’s hand, she picked up the wine bottle and moved around the display case. “I live almost next door. You can stay with me.” She disappeared into the back room again.
“What else are you hiding in that magical room of yours?”
“All sorts of goodies.” Clinks of glasses, flatware, and plates followed the answer.
“Do you need help?”
“Nope.” Soledad reappeared holding a small tray loaded with several items. “I’ve got munchies, girl. Cheese, olives, crackers, and chorizo.”
“Yum. A feast.”
Soledad placed the tray on the table and held up her forefinger. “Hold on. I’ll be right back with the flutes and the bubbly.”
She returned in minutes and continued speaking as she filled both glasses with the fizzy golden liquid. “A toast, to a wonderful and long-overdue mother-and-son reunion. I’m so happy for you both.” She clinked the rim of her flute with Hunter’s. “Salud.”
“Delicious.” Hunter licked her lips. She studied the white label as she murmured, “Gramona Imperial. Never heard of it.”
“Aunt Delfina turned me on to it. Good, huh? One of my customers hooked me up with a Spanish wine supplier. Since my orders of Rioja, Ribera del Duero, and Albariño are fairly steady, he doesn’t mind adding a few bottles of Cava for me.” Soledad winked. “I told you I’ve branched out.”
“Fabulous. I hope your success will never end.”
“Thanks, chica.” Raising her goblet to her lips, Soledad made a face when the bubbles tickled her nose. “Now.” Her gaze pinned Hunter to her chair. “This is more than a social visit. What do you need? How can I help you?”
“Good Lord, Sole.” Heat singed Hunter’s cheeks. “Do you read minds too? It has to be that gypsy blood.”
“Ha. I wish. It’s you, babe. You’ve been telegraphing distress since you came in. We’re friends. You can trust me.”
Hunter blew out a breath. Why hesitate? From the day they met, Soledad had been supportive and nonjudgmental, same as Kelly—two lifelines a merciful deity had thrown into the chaos of her existence.
Twisting her hands together, Hunter pressed them against her chest and let the words go. “I could use another job, maybe part-time?”
“A job? Is that all? What a relief.” Soledad straightened. “You were so serious, I was beginning to worry. Actually, I’ve thought about hiring an assistant. Business picks up right before Easter, and that’s around the corner.”
Placing her empty glass on the table, she held up the Cava bottle in a questioning gesture. When Hunter nodded, she poured as she continued.
“Can you work three days a week? Won’t that be too much? Are you getting enough money at Pete’s? What’s happening with your translator license?”
“My, my, all those questions.” Steadying her flute by the stem, Hunter glanced up at her friend as gratitude swelled within her. “Three days a week is more than perfect. I can do three weekdays in a row, or two weekdays and one weekend. Whatever you need.” She sipped, hoping to loosen the tightening ache in her throat. “Tips at the bar aren’t bad, but I could use the extra cash. I need to move before Kevin comes. Must be a decent place. And I have to buy furniture. Get him new clothes. He’s been wearing his cousin’s hand-me-downs. I want him to be comfortable…happy. I want… God, I want so much…”
She couldn’t continue. If she did, the flood of tears would never end.
“I know, sweetie,” Soledad murmured. “He’s gonna love living with his momma again. You’ll see.”
“Sorry. I’m a mess.” She sniffed, then wiped her tears with her palm. “I wanna be ready. Before you know it, August will be here. Later on, if all goes well with the translator test, I may be able to kiss the bar good-bye.”
“And then what?”
Holding out one arm in an expansive gesture, Hunter grinned. “Who knows? The possibilities are endless. I may have to move to Orlando. Be closer to the courts.”
“Sure, forget the little people.” Soledad pressed a dramatic hand on her forehead.
“Little people, you?” Hunter pouted. “That’s nuts. You and Kelly are the sisters I never had. I wouldn’t be sane without you. Don’t say that again. Not even in jest.”
“Oookay,” Soledad said absently.
Hunter followed her gaze. An unfamiliar shiny black pickup had stopped on the curb. The huge vehicle occupied a large chunk of the sidewalk.
“Ay, chica, I waited too long to flip the Open sign to Closed. Bummer.”
“Why? Who is it?” Hunter narrowed her eyes, trying to make out anyone inside. The truck’s tinted window obscured her vision.
“Remember the lady I told you about, my sponsor?”
“Yeah.” Hunter leaned forward. “She likes big trucks.”
“Brenda’s not driving.” Soledad tittered. “That’s Joe’s vehicle, her son.”
A layer of ice encased Hunter’s body. Her stomach clenched to the size of a baseball.
“J-Joe?”
Oh please, not that Joe, not now.
Her silent prayers went unanswered.
“Mmm-hmmm.” Soledad nodded as a delighted expression appeared on her face. “Joe Reid and his mom, Brenda. Sometimes he drops her off, runs his errands, then picks her up when he’s done. Today, you’re going to meet them both. It looks like he’s coming in.”
The passenger door opened. A handsome woman examined the ground below her feet, then looked up and smiled as Joe passed around the front of the truck. Steadying the door, he helped her step down.
Transfixed, Hunter followed his every move. It was crucial that she knew even the smallest aspect of this unsettling man. Study him in every situation. And this one—away from the bar and in broad daylight—was particularly revealing. Tenderness softened his battle-hardened lines. Joe adored his
mother. Love showed in his every gesture.
The tiny woman pointed to her seat in the truck. Joe nodded, reached inside and pulled out a large, heavy-looking bag. When she tried to take it, he shook his head. He then touched her cheek as he slung the strap over his shoulder. The revealing scene lasted but a moment, and yet it showed without words the loving relationship between mother and son.
A stab of jealousy hit Hunter in the chest. She’d never experienced anything remotely similar.
Not once.
Whatever… What’s lost is lost, spilled milk and all that nonsense. You have a blank slate. Life restarts in August. Kev would have all the love and devotion she’d never known.
Joe threw an affectionate arm around his mother’s shoulders, guiding her toward the store. Hunter jolted out of her reverie. They were almost at the door. As her heart broke into a wild gallop, she sent a panicked glance around Soledad’s storage room. Didn’t most stores have back doors? She could escape that way. But what excuse could she possibly use that would sound half plausible to sharp-witted Soledad?
CHAPTER SIX
“I’LL GO MEET the Reids.” Soledad stood, smoothing her skirt and blouse. As she turned to the mother and son entering the store, she crinkled her nose at Hunter. “Wait till you see Joe up close. He’s a real pretty boy,” she whispered. “And you know I don’t swing that way.”
First Kelly and now Soledad—an avowed lesbian—thought Joe was “real pretty.”
Hunter repressed a groan of frustration.
Out of nowhere, the man had bleeped dead center on her radar screen. In the past forty-eight hours, his signal had grown stronger, closer, and heading straight for her. He hadn’t pulled alongside her vessel yet; nevertheless, his shrewd light-blue gaze had evaluated all her access points. Well, good luck throwing a ladder up, mister. Any boarding attempts, she would actively repel.
Who are you, Joe Reid? The question from two days ago formed in her mind. Now she added one more: What do you want with me?
He was the son of a prominent St. Cloud resident. By rights, someone should have mentioned his name before. And yet, after living in this town close to five years, she’d not seen or heard a peep. Kelly hadn’t either. Where the hell had he been hiding all this time? Why didn’t he go back there and leave her in peace?
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