Splash

by Kristen Kelly

  “Argh!” Diego, jolted, letting go of Val’s other arm. He sat up and grabbed onto his head. Blood trickled down his face. Val stared up in horror. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him but there was nothing she could do. He appeared dazed but more out of surprise than being seriously injured she hoped. For a moment, they just looked at each other and Val started to shake. Now you've done it. He'll kill you for sure. Her skin quivered, blood rushing in her ears.

  Diego took his hand from his head; he looked at it in awe. Fresh blood trickled down the side of his left temple seeming to fascinate him. It was just long enough for Valentina to wriggle out from under him.

  She gasped as he fell forward and tumbled off the bed. Heart racing, she grabbed her purse from a nearby chair, lunging toward the door. Pumped with adrenaline, she pulled on the doorknob. It jiggled in her hands but didn’t open.

  "Get back here," commanded Diego. "You are mine, Valentina. Until death do us part, you are mine!"

  “We’re divorced, you jerk,” she screeched.

  He was on his knees now, one hand braced against the table as he pulled himself up. His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. "Valentina!" He stumbled forward. Forgetting his pants were around his ankles, he fell on his knees once more.

  Val fumbled with the purse. She was shaking so much she couldn’t get the clasp undone nor did she know which compartment she’d hid the gun in.

  There was no time.

  She threw the strap across her shoulder, telling herself she would wrestle out the tiny gun the minute she had some space between them. Fumbling with the door handle she managed to unlock it at last. She threw it open and hurried into the hall. She ran half limping half running because she'd lost one of her shoes. She made a beeline for the one room she knew as always deserted. The room few could afford to rent. The room she used to sneak naps in and take showers. Unfortunately, it was at the other end of the hall and around the corner. She wanted to yell for help but that would alert the authorities and also Immigration. She was on her own.

  It took a few minutes before Diego came after her. In the nick of time, she slipped inside a stair well, heard him right outside the door but the idiot never looked inside. He didn’t even pause. She ducked down below the window, trying not to breath and took out her gun. Diego kept running and shouting Val’s name. She heard his footsteps, his growly voice muttering under his breath. Finally it petered off. She opened the door and peered out. The coast was clear. She ran to the end of the hallway and turned the corner.

  And there it was. The one room she had yet to clean. The room no one wanted. She always cleaned it last because it usually remained empty. She fumbled for the keycard in her purse and inserted it through the slot. Keeping her eyes glued on the hallway, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  Chapter 3

  The room was not disserted.

  Pulse racing and gasping for breath, Val leaned on the doorjamb, peering out into the hallway. Her hands were shaking so bad, she had to steady the gun against the side of the door casing to keep from dropping it.

  "What the hell…?"

  Val swung around fast and then leaned into the door until it closed with a loud thump, gun raised like an FBI agent at the handsome man clothed only in a white towel.

  “Who are you and put that gun down,” the man demanded.

  She looked at the gun as if it had just grown out of her hand. She'd only had the German semi-automatic pistol for three days and this was the first time she’d aimed it at a man. What if it had gone off? What if she shot Diego? Or this total stranger. She was more than happy to lowered the thing slowly.

  His sharp eyes were a mask of pure emotion, the dark hairs on his chest gleaming under a hard sculpted chest. Her breath stopped as the muscles in his left arm flexed while he adjusted the towel at his waist. She swallowed, wanting to rip the towel off.

  "I asked you a question," he said in a sweet and salty voice, this voice the only thing registering besides that white towel.

  "I…uh…uh..." For some unknown reason, she raised the gun. It wavered in her hand. Why hadn't she pulled it on Diego in the hotel room? Why was she pointing it at this guy?

  Safety, she told herself. A little late.

  With long brawny legs, the man advanced on her, patting at the air with his palms. "Put the gun down," he repeated and then added, "sweetheart."

  "You…you aren't supposed to be in here," Valentina blurted.

  "I'm not supposed to be here," the man said incredulous. “I think you have that backwards. I paid for this room." He advanced toward her, one hand tucked inside the towel at his waist.

  Val didn’t know what to say. What to do. She just kept backing up and backing up until she fell bottom first into a large tufted chair with a surprised "Oomph!" Amazingly, the gun never went off, the warm steel in her sweaty palms, comforted her or should have. She still didn’t like the finality of it.

  Those legs. They looked so strong, so powerful. She lowered the gun, pointing it as his…”

  Shaking herself free of her wicket imagination, she aimed the gun higher.

  Anything to keep her mind focused on his face.

  The man watched from where he stood, arms folded, an amused look on those gorgeous lips. Were they soft? They defiantly looked soft.

  "You aren't supposed to be in here," Val squeaked. The door. It wasn’t locked." She realized her words were ridiculous. As if they gave her permission to pull a gun on him. She giggled, nervously.

  Her eyes popped as his towel slipped open showing the crest of one thick muscular thigh, hardened by what must have been oodles of glorious muscle flexing exercises. She imagined the vise-like grip he would have around her torso as he pushed himself inside her. Was everything that…firm? Her hand shook.

  "I assure you young woman. This is my room." He took another step, eyes focused on the bug. He kept a reasonable distance.

  Val gritted her teeth. Should she let her guard down? What if she regretted it? It would be too late if she did. All her life men were telling her what to do. Even this guy! For the first time, she felt in control and it felt good. Damn good.

  He patted the air once again. "Just Relax, okay? I'm not going to harm you."

  "Damn straight you're not." Without realizing it, she licked her lips.

  The side of his mouth curved up, his eyes heated.

  That little action of licking her lips betrayed her every time. She didn't even know she did it anymore.

  The man chuckled. A full throaty laugh that was nothing, if not sexy. A sudden heat crept up the side of her neck. Damn, even this guy can get me turned on, I’m hopeless.

  He inched closer. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his tongue, make out the tattoo along his neck. LLB in sharp scripted letters. What the hell is LLB? His initials? The initials of his girlfriend?

  "Listen," he began, adjusting the tuck inside the towel around his waist. Man, he was hot! What else you have to show me, big boy? What am I saying?.

  As if reading her lustful thoughts, he snapped his gaze up and down her body, his eyes slightly bleary. "I need to get some clothes on." He cocked his head, smiling. "That is, unless you want to shoot me in the buff."

  He dropped the towel.

  And her jaw fell open as too. Woe baby!

  There it was, the answer to her wildest imagination. All six and a half inches of glorious strength. She could not help staring at the hard length of him in awe. Forcing herself to look up, he shot her a devilish grin, obviously tickled by her reaction.

  Val swallowed the last bit of air sucked out of the room. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak, and if she were not already seated; she would have swayed on her feet. She lowered the gun slowly. This time for good.

  "Give it here," he commanded. The deep sound of his voice startled her. Like butter over bread, it sliced into her core melting her insides. With a body like that, she'd do anything he told her to do. He didn’t sound dangerous though. "Now," he finished, his smile turning into a
wry grin.

  His beauty, his velvety voice mesmerized her. Entranced, Val nodded her ascent. She turned the gun around pistol grip first and handed it over.

  "Good girl." Hating herself, she almost blushed at his compliment.

  He gave her a wink and then bent to grab the towel. Then he turned on his heel, not bothering to wrap the towel around his waist. He disappeared behind a closed door.

  Who was that!

  Valentina sighed, trying to revive herself by fanning herself with a magazine.

  ***

  After an hour, the hottest man Val had ever seen still had not returned to grill her about her intentions or to ask her why she had a gun. Confusion mixed with apprehension settled in her brain. She didn’t know if she should spend the night or try to escape while she had the chance. Nervous jitters filled her stomach keeping her awake. Where was he? At first, she feared he had called the cops but after several hours she knew that was unlikely. Twice, someone rattled the door handle but then she heard laughing and followed by footsteps down the hall. Two hours went by. Then, three. She stared at the closed door. The place where Towel man disappeared. She guessed it was his bedroom. The very act of keeping her eyes open made her eyes sting. The gun! I need my gun back?

  She would have to sweet talk the guy. If that didn't work maybe another lamp attack. It worked once. Maybe it would work twice. Exhausted, Val's eyes grew heavy. She resolved to stay awake at all costs, even if it meant not using the bathroom, which she needed to do desperately.

  She should never have relinquished her weapon. What the hell was she thinking? Men couldn’t be trusted. Not Diego and certainly not this man who somehow managed to wrangle a gun out of her possession without lifting a finger. He appeared inebriated as well, which was probably why he hadn’t come back. He was simply sleeping it off but what would happen when he did? She envisioned the pistol in her possession, the barrel hard against her palm, pointed at his head. Yeah, right. For safety’s sake she hadn’t even loaded the thing. There were no bullets in the gun! Great job, Yolanda Montez. Where are your superpowers now?

  ***

  Finally, toward morning, Val fell asleep but not for long.

  Curled against the back of the grey leather couch, she bolted awake by the clamoring of a door buzzer. He eyes blinked once and then twice as she tried to clear her vision.

  Examining her surroundings, she tried to get her bearings.

  Crystal chandeliers, check.

  Skylight and oak beams, check.

  Granite and silver range hood, check.

  Yep, she was in the executive suite, the most expensive room in the hotel. It was the only room with a full size kitchen and loft style bedrooms. Not that she'd ever had the pleasure of staying in such a room. Legally that is.

  That incessant buzzing began again, overshadowed by the sound of brisk footsteps rushing down the stairs. Towel Man paused at the bottom. He glanced from Val to the front door and then back again. He gave her a wide grin. Val smiled back, taking in his messed up hair , the look of sleepiness in his eyes and bare feet which completed the ensemble of adorable cuteness. He certainly was a hottie.

  "You're up. Good, good," he said, now striding toward the door. "Sounds like breakfast is here." In his stocking feet, he was dressed in cool blue woolen slacks, a white silk shirt half buttoned, and a striped tie slung haphazardly along his neck. He opened the door and a man in a white uniform rolled a silver food trolley into the room. Towel Man stopped him halfway. He lifted the lid off the first entre, taking a terrific sniff. "Momma Mia," he crooned. "Never thought I'd be so damn hungry after a long night of drinking." He looked in Valentina’s direction. "I'm Turner by the way and you are…?"

  Val swallowed. He was even more devastatingly handsome in the morning. "Val. Valentina Rodriquez." She sat upright on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. Smells of poached eggs, sausage and piping hot coffee wafted into the room. Her stomach rumbled.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Turner said. He gave the man a tip and then rolled the cart himself across the carpet into the dining room. Then he set out napkins, tableware, coffee cups with saucers, and two plates. After placing the entrée dishes on the table, he placed a bud vase with a single red rose in the center. He beckoned Val over. “Bone appétit,” said Turner. Val had never seen so fine a spread. When he lifted the silver domes covering eggs and sausage, cheese and fruit, hot muffins, smoked salmon and caviar, she almost fainted. Who eats caviar for breakfast?

  "Come on, Val. Dig in while it's still hot."

  Val forced herself off the couch. Out of habit; she made to put on one black leather work shoe, but then remembered she'd left the other with Diego and threw it aside.

  Damn it. I don't even have shoes to wear.

  "Come. Sit, sit. I can't eat this all by myself." He was pulling out a chair for her. A fucking chair! When was the last time a man did that? She refused to let such a gesture impress her. She'd seen it all before. First manners and then do as I say or else. Hesitating, she sat down.

  “Good thing I have the gun," Turner remarked pouring coffee in her cup before asking if she actually wanted one. "Because you look as if you want to clock me right about now." He held up a hand. "I swear on my parents grave, I am not trying to poison you."

  A thread of guilt twisted inside her. She had to admit, the man had been a gentleman so far. He could have taken advantage of her or at least try but he hadn’t. Maybe he was too drunk to make a pass. Paranoia ran thick as pudding in her blood.

  "Cream or sugar?"

  She placed a hand over her cup."Black. I take it black."

  "Black it is," said Turner pouring cream into his own cup. He stirred the coffee with a spoon. “May I?”

  Val nodded. Then he served them both frittata, sausage links, toast and two small bowls of fresh tropical fruit. "So …" He looked up and Val nearly melted from his warm genuine smile. “Do what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I…”

  “Don’t worry, whoever you’re hiding from, I assure you I’ve no intention of getting in the middle of it.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I take it you don’t pull guns on every man you meet.”

  Val shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “But don’t get any ideas, buddy. Okay? No funny business, understand? I know karate.” Karate? Where did that come from? She didn’t even know how to fend off a boy scout.

  A look of amusement crossed Turner’s face. “All right then. No funny business as you say.” He chuckled over that one. Wiping his lips with a napkin, he opened his mouth to ask her another question but was stopped short when the door buzzer howled. Val's eyes almost burst out of her head. What were the odds of it being room service again? She almost choked on a piece of pineapple.

  Seeing her distress, Turner motioned toward the bedroom and Val followed his lead. Legs shaking, she moved fast as she could. If she had any doubts about whether he wanted to have her arrested, they’d leapt out the window. Relieved he was a man of his word, she left him to it, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter 4

  Turner watched the backside of Valentina in her tight black skirt. All through breakfast, he’d watched her eat. The way she tasted everything with the tip of her tongue was absolutely sinful and when she got up to clean her plate he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. That sway was killing him. The way she moved. It was like a sledge hammer. The blood pounding through his groin. He didn't know how much longer he could take looking into those deep sultry eyes, not touch the dark tendrils brushing her slender neck, not pull her into an insatiable kiss. His stomach grumbled because he’d hardly been able to eat. He wasn't actually hungry. Not for food anyway. His thirst ran along the lines of wanting to stroke her from the backs of her slim legs to the top of her sinfully satin thighs. She’d been so close. So close he could smell her hot breath, see the pulse inside her throat, taste the heat all through his body. He wanted to make her come beneath the table.

  Last night had been a blur. A mirage, he
’d thought when he awoke. Had he really revealed himself to this gorgeous senorita? Or had he imagined that part of it? Geese, he really needed to stay off the booze. And yet… He saw something feral in her eyes when she looked at him, a tiny gleam of hot sweat. Had she actually salivated in stunned silence, those dark sultry eyes twinkling? He thought she might have and that made him even hotter. He would have done anything to drop that towel and beg her to her go down on him. He licked his lips, trying to ignore his throbbing cock. The fantasy was arousing as fucking hell.

  Watching Valentina sashay herself out of sight, Turner took in a much-needed breath. Her long legs electrified something inside him. At three am, he'd woken to find her sleeping on the couch downstairs. He had a perfect view from the loft. He saw legs like a gazelle, her hand wedged between perfectly formed kneecaps. A ceiling fan overhead blew wisps of hair around her face. A strand of saliva fell from pouty full lips, her lipstick smeared. He watched her for some time. Even when her hand slipped inside her panties. She looked softer than his usual dates and small. Small yet feisty. In short, she looked amazing.

  A sharp knock echoed in the hall. He glanced in the direction of the master bedroom and then back toward the door. Either it was someone here to give him more bad news about his brother or whatever evil Valentina was afraid would find her. Neither of which gave him much comfort. He opened the door anyway finding two men, one dressed in a business suit, the other jeans and a t-shirt. "Mr. Howe?" the suit said.

  "I am."

  "I'm Mr. Goldstein with Immigration and this is Mr. Rodriquez."

  "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

  The one dressed casually tried to stick his head inside the room but Turner leaned to the left, blocking him from the back bedroom. Not that he could see through a closed door. He’d never liked snoopy people and he really didn’t like this one.