by Linda Bond
She exhaled, thankful Dallas was with her. His big physical size and his over-the-top personality would deflect some of the attention away from her, and maybe he’d even make her laugh tonight.
The foursome had stopped in front of a decorative white background. The names of about a half dozen party sponsors were imprinted in bold colors on the sign behind them. Zack, Sam’s gorgeous man, pulled her in tight, and the four posed for the cameras. Rebecca managed to pull off a fake smile and a hair flip right as the flashes went off.
“Look at those lights.” Dallas struck a manly stance, one hand grabbing his tux jacket, the other casually placed in his pocket. “They’re soaking all this up, this big, beautiful, chocolate thunder.”
That forced the corners of Rebecca’s lips up. “Oh God, Dawg, lower your voice.” Dallas had become quite the star as well, earning accolades for the gripping video he’d managed to shoot while undercover in Cuba.
He lifted an eyebrow and posed for the photographers. “Get some of this. Get some of this.” Dallas shifted his weight left and right. Then, unexpectedly, he pulled her into him. “Don’t leave my little Cuban pepper out.”
Rebecca laughed. “You are enjoying this way too much. Let’s get inside.” She twisted her ankle as Dallas pulled her away from the cameras.
She righted herself as they entered the foyer and were greeted by the host, the governor, and his wife.
“Hello, Your Governorship.” Dallas pulled off a light bow. “Quite a spread you have here.”
The governor, a tall, elegant man with attractive silver hair and a perfectly fitted tux, grabbed Dallas’s hand and shook it, but he was looking at Rebecca, a curious light in his wise old Republican eyes. “Glad you could make it, my dear. I must say I want to talk to you, Rebecca, about that documentary you aired the other day. You expertly pointed out that much of this talk going on between our countries is just bull…hockey. Neither Castro nor his brother wants the embargo lifted. They lose their ability to isolate their people with every additional American dollar that comes in. And the president knows we won’t vote with him to lift it, so this is all for…”
Rebecca’s throat tightened. Here we go.
Dallas rolled his eyes in a way only Rebecca could pick up. “Excuse me, Your Governorship.” Then to Rebecca, Dallas said, “I’m going to go find Sam and Zack.” And Dallas was off, leaving her to face the music. Alone. He hated all the political talk.
“Terrence.” The governor’s demure wife, who always smiled but rarely spoke, placed a delicate hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “We must let Ms. Menendez join her friends in the great room.” The woman turned slightly and winked at her. “We’re so honored you could join us. Especially after the trying time you’ve had. We’ll let you go enjoy the party and discuss your masterful report later.”
The understanding anchored in the first lady’s eyes made Rebecca’s heart swell with gratitude.
Rebecca had really tried to keep both her personal experiences and the politics out of her documentary, focusing instead on the emotion of two families desperate to escape Cuba, why it was still difficult today despite a fast-changing political climate, and what was stopping them still. She’d highlighted Domingo and his sad fate, and Antonio’s family, clearly illustrating in the process that despite an opening of travel restrictions, and even some lifting of economic sanctions, the Cuban people remained trapped by their poverty and by a government that seemed to ask for much more than it was willing to concede.
She took the first lady’s hands in both of hers, hoping the fine woman wouldn’t be offended by the iciness of her fingers. Rebecca was still a bit nervous about making her first public appearance since returning. “We support the charities you’re raising money for tonight and”—Rebecca threw in a genuine smile—“you have a reputation for throwing the finest party in town.”
The first lady beamed, her eyes sparkling at the compliment.
Rebecca gave both a quick nod and turned, searching for Dallas and Sam.
“Nicely done.” Zack Hunter was right beside her, tall as hell and commanding in his presence. “Sam sent me over to rescue you. But once again, looks like you can get out of an uncomfortable situation without much help.” He grinned down at her.
Zack’s confidence reminded Rebecca a lot of Antonio’s strength and power. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Antonio. But Zack was a more flirty kind of guy, winking and grinning, very unlike Antonio, who was always so intense and serious. “Thanks.”
“We’re over here.” Zack gestured toward the door to another room.
“Did you have a chance to check on the case for me?” Her cheeks heated. She knew she shouldn’t be putting Sam’s fiancé on the spot. He was an agent for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement and could get in trouble for talking to a reporter about information in an active case.
Instead of looking pissed, Zack just smiled. “Yes.”
Yes, and? “I know I shouldn’t ask you, but…”
“You’re going to anyway.” Zack winked at her. “Sam warned me you would. Here’s what I can tell you. Off the record, of course.”
“Of course.”
“The FBI’s kidnapping case is still open.” Zack casually led her through the crowd, nodding as they passed people, looking cool and in control. No wonder Sam lived for this guy. “Since we can only assume the other kidnapper, the one caught on tape throwing you in the van here in Tampa, is dead in the waters of Cuba, and Antonio Vega is still in Cuba, the FBI’s case will remain open for a while, but I wouldn’t worry about it.” Zack’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You were clearly the victim in all of this.”
Was I? She exhaled. “Well, right, I’m not in trouble. I just don’t want Antonio to be either.”
Zack stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Really?”
Now her checks were flaming. One thing she’d left out of her documentary was her growing attraction to and relationship with Antonio. “Well, he has a family here now to support and…” In fact, she hadn’t shared all the details with Sam, either.
Zack threw up a hand. “Then your friend should stay in Cuba where our federal law officers have no jurisdiction.” Shaking his head, Zack motioned for her to move through the door first. “The man still masterminded a kidnapping that resulted in a murder.”
“He didn’t kidnap me, Zack.” Rebecca wished she had proof of what happened to both Ignado and Antonio, but even Esmeralda hadn’t been able to get info from inside Cuba. Rebecca furrowed her brow, a slight headache coming on.
“You okay?” Sam walked up, handing Rebecca a much-needed glass of white wine. “You look stunning in your Alexander McQueen.”
“Oh, right.” Rebecca glanced down at her black rented gown. “Thanks.” She’d forgotten how excited she’d been to wear it here tonight. That was before her trip to Cuba and before Antonio. “I’m fine. Thanks for the wine.” She raised the glass in salute to Sam, Dallas, and Zack, her friends all gathering around her in support. “Salud. To a great night.” She must concentrate on what was good right now. Friends, fame, and food. Unlike in Cuba, there would always be plenty of food here.
Dallas rolled his eyes. “You get any happier, and that face is gonna fall off.”
She sighed. Dallas nailed her with the truth. Once again. “I’m just feeling a little guilty.” Why not tell Sam the truth, too? “Antonio is probably being roughed up in some Cuban jail cell, skinny and sick.” She turned to look at the man who would definitely understand. “And Dallas, we’re here, drinking and being celebrated for exposing his poor family on national TV.” There. She’d said it. “And if Antonio ever comes back to America, I’m the reason he’ll probably be arrested.”
Zack Hunter cleared his throat. “You did nothing to seal that man’s fate. He’s a grown man who made his own decisions. You are a victim.”
Maybe in the beginning, but I became a willing participant. And now I miss Antonio. Damn it. She missed every damn thing about him. She especially
missed the way Antonio made her question her every decision. He’d forced her to think. He’d been the force behind her growth. And she was a better person now for it. She felt enlightened.
Zack’s features registered a real disgust, but Rebecca knew if the two men ever met under different circumstances, they would surely respect each other’s strengths and intelligence.
“Protecting this guy in the future would make you an accomplice.”
“Zack.” Sam stepped in between them.
“An accomplice to what?” Rebecca asked, fearing Zack’s answer.
“To whatever illegal activity he’s involved with.”
What did Antonio do when he wasn’t rescuing family members or running from police? She sighed. Vega was a wanted man.
Wanted by the law here, despite her efforts to crown him a hero. The public was on his side, but the FBI still wanted to question him about the international kidnapping. She’d never testify that he made her go to Cuba. She’d told FBI investigators that.
The law in Cuba also wanted Antonio.
She also wanted him.
Despite it all.
Sam moved Rebecca’s glass up to her mouth. “Take another drink and stop thinking about him.” But the look on Sam’s face told Rebecca her friend understood how you could have feelings for the most unexpected person. Sam had confided in her about the rough start for her and Zack.
Dallas halfheartedly nudged her in the arm. “I think if Antonio, the ole boy, was here, he’d be thanking your ass. First of all, you went out of your way to get his family to Miami, and you signed paperwork as their sponsors. Then you got Maria and Tonito into a domestic violence shelter here in Tampa, and you helped Esmeralda land a good job. You did what he wanted to do, but couldn’t do himself, so I think you’re off the guilt hook here. Let’s have ourselves some fun, okay?”
America’s “wet foot, dry foot” policy had allowed Maria, Tonito, and Esmeralda to stay legally because they were Cubans. The U.S. government hadn’t changed that policy yet, and the Catholic Church was still offering direction and help so the Cuban immigrants could start to file the proper paperwork to achieve citizenship. If the two women followed the law, they could become legal citizens one day; Tonito, too. That had been Antonio’s grand plan, and his promise to his grandmother.
Rebecca had hooked the group up, not only with the shelter, but also a local Catholic church in Tampa. The threesome seemed to be settling in. After her documentary aired, donations had come pouring in to the TV station. Rebecca and Dallas had hand-delivered food, clothes, and even money to the three yesterday.
An unexpected wave of longing washed over her, making her feel a little dizzy. Off center. Would Antonio ever know what she’d done for his family?
What she’d done for him?
“Isn’t that the mayor?” Zack asked.
The Cuban American politician approached them, his lovely wife on his arm.
Zack and the mayor shook hands, but before they could launch into a conversation, the mayor’s wife, Carmelita, grabbed Rebecca by both shoulders. “Rebecca, I must ask a huge favor.”
“Well, of course.” Rebecca had always liked Carmelita because she’d been a “commoner” when she married a wealthy, prominent man. On many occasions the two women had bonded over the difficulties of earning acceptance into the very exclusive South Tampa society of old money. “Whatever you need.”
“Good, because Samantha is now off the market.” Carmelita smiled, but nervousness flashed in her eyes. “Linda Joyce, you know the neurosurgeon’s ex-wife, she has a sick child and couldn’t come tonight. I’m helping Marilyn with the fund-raising, and my responsibility is the live “first dance” auction. Linda had agreed to be part of the auction.” Carmelita put both hands on her shoulders. “I need you to fill her spot.”
“A dance auction?” Dallas’s eyes widened, and he broke out into a full-out grin. “You all want me to bust a move to some Ace of Base. Old school. ‘It takes two to make a thing go right.’” Dallas broke out a few break-dance moves.
The thought made Rebecca’s stomach so uneasy she didn’t even laugh at Dallas’s antics. “Thanks for asking me, but…”
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Just what you need to get your mind off Mr. Cuba.” Dallas did his best Michael Jackson spin. “Go be a thriller.”
Carmelita cocked her head, giving Rebecca her best I need you look. “It’s a dance to raise money for local charities. You’ll get to pick the charity. Think about that.”
Her breath caught. Dallas was right. This is just what she needed to do tonight—throw the spotlight on herself for a positive reason, prove her intentions were good, only to help those in need. Rebecca knew exactly which charity she wanted to raise money for. “I’ll do it.” What could possibly go wrong with this plan?
Chapter Sixteen
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next volunteer is one of my good friends and a friend to our community.” Carmelita stood stage right in the large ballroom of the governor’s mansion, holding the microphone and acting as emcee. She waved for Rebecca to move toward center stage and away from the half dozen other Tampa socialites still waiting to be auctioned off.
Hesitating, Rebecca stepped forward into the spotlight. A relay of sweat droplets slithered down her back. Stomach churning, she attempted a smile, the corners of her mouth shaking as they tipped up. She wouldn’t be up here long, right? She usually didn’t get this nervous in front of a crowd.
“Rebecca Menendez is a reporter for Eyewitness News in Tampa, but we’ve all seen her on the national news lately.”
A polite flurry of applause erupted. Rebecca licked her lips, suddenly unnerved by being the center of attention, again, this time by choice.
“She covers the courthouse and the political beat, and just returned from a fascinating undercover adventure in Cuba.”
Adventure? Really?
“In case you didn’t see her outstanding documentary, you can find it on the station’s website. Who will start the bidding for the charity of Rebecca’s choosing, La Casa de la Libertad?”
A few audible gasps preceded the polite applause.
Rebecca bit her bottom lip. Must be in response to her choice of charity, a foundation run by Catholic nuns that aided Cuban immigrants when they first arrived in the United States. Probably not the brightest choice, because there were some in the audience who didn’t really support all the extras Cubans got if they touched American soil, extras other illegal immigrants did not receive, but she hadn’t known Carmelita planned to announce it in front of everybody. Why in the world had Rebecca chosen to subject herself to this public scrutiny tonight, with her legs still shaky underneath her?
“Two hundred dollars.”
Zack’s voice. She blushed. He was just being nice. Rebecca looked over at Sam, sitting at a table with Zack in the second row, and flashed her a smile of thanks for allowing her fiancé to get the ball rolling and put her out of her misery up here. She hadn’t realized how embarrassing waiting for the first bid would be.
Sam winked at her.
Rebecca smiled, glad her friends were here.
Most of the bids had started in the hundreds, despite the mostly affluent crowd. The highest bid so far had been five thousand for the beautiful twenty-something daughter of a local banking magnate.
A couple of bids came in from men Rebecca couldn’t see in the crowd. Didn’t really matter. She was just doing this to raise money for a group that was already actively helping Maria and Tonito.
Rebecca cocked her head at Carmelita, waiting for her to close the bidding at five hundred, where it was now, and get her the hell off the stage. Sweating like a cool glass of iced tea on a hot Florida afternoon, Rebecca suddenly appreciated the strapless gown she had rented.
“One thousand dollars.”
The smile slid off Rebecca’s face at the bid from a voice in the back of the room. Tiny drops of sweat beaded on her forehead, but she resisted the urge to wipe th
em away. She recognized that authoritative tone. But it couldn’t be him. She was hallucinating.
Heart fluttering, Rebecca scanned the crowd for the bidder. She rolled her lips inward. It took every ounce of willpower not to fidget or take a step farther downstage, out of the light and closer to the crowd, so she could see.
Someone else made a bid. Rebecca didn’t even register the amount.
“Six thousand dollars.” As the man upped the bid by six times the amount, he slowly walked out of the crowd, but not yet into the light.
Rebecca tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry.
Carmelita’s cheeks appeared flushed, and her eyes danced as her gaze landed on Rebecca. “Six thousand dollars. Going once.”
Rebecca held her breath.
“Going twice.”
What if it was Antonio? Would he dare show up here looking like Che, in fatigues and a beret?
“Going three times.” More applause erupted, but a few cynical snickers could be heard above the clapping. A rippling of heads turned in the opposite direction searching for the extravagant bidder, too.
God, Zack was here. He’d know. Antonio would stand out in this crowd. Would Zack arrest Antonio? Zack was FDLE, not FBI, but didn’t all those agencies work together? Annoying stars started spinning in front of her. She should have eaten dinner.
“I would like to thank you, sir.” Carmelita crossed the stage to stand next to Rebecca, Carmelita’s excitement at the strange turn of events palpable. “Please pay at the table in the foyer. The dances start at nine o’clock.”
But Rebecca knew she couldn’t wait one second longer to find out if the man who spent six grand on a dance was the same one who had, without spending a dime, engraved an unbelievably deep mark on her heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Quickly slipping off the stage in the ballroom, Rebecca intended to find the mystery bidder right away. Before any of her friends did.
Avoiding Sam and Zack’s table, she slipped through the buzzing crowd now breaking up after dinner.