by Linda Verji
Cece set her purse on the dining room table and followed Melanie to her bedroom. “Who is it with?”
“A client,” Melanie hedged as she put on a pair of socks. “Sly’s already asleep but he’ll probably wake up and try to watch TV. Don’t let him - and don’t fall for any excuses he comes up with.”
She hated leaving Sly alone with anyone else, especially with Vance running around wreaking havoc. But tonight’s foray was a critical part of keeping him safe. Besides, Cece was one of the few people she trusted implicitly.
Cece watched her loop a belt around the waist of her black khaki pants before arching her eyebrows. “You’re going to meet a client like like that?”
“Yes, I am.” Melanie’s words were muffled as she drew a black hoodie over her head. She emerged to find her friend giving her a narrow-eyed look. “What?”
“I’m just saying.” Cece lowered her head to study her. “Usually you only do dresses for work.”
“I wear pants sometimes.” Melanie avoided her eyes as she straightened the hoodie over her black t-shirt.
“Mm hmm.”
“Pass me my scrunchie.” Melanie pointed to the black band on the vanity. When a still suspicious Cece handed it to her, she looped her hair through it and tied it in a pony tail. She grabbed a pair of sneakers from her closet and put them on.
“What’s in there?” Cece’s voice dripped with misgiving as she eyed the already packed knapsack that Melanie picked from the bed.
“Fabric samples,” lied Melanie.
Cece’s eyes narrowed into thin slits and when Melanie moved towards the door in an attempt to leave, she grabbed her wrist and held her back. “What’s up with you? You’ve been… off since last week. Did something happen?”
Melanie was shocked at her friend’s perceptiveness. Her first instinct was to tell Cece everything, but she restrained herself. It was bad enough that her family was already involved. There was no way in hell Melanie was bringing Cece into this mess and within Vance’s sights.
Forcing her expression into a smile, Melanie said, “You’re seeing things. Now, you’re sure you don’t mind sleeping over? I know you were worried about Aunt Honey’s cough starting up again.”
“Aunt Flora’s with her.” Cece propped her fists on her waist as she cut her eyes at her friend. “And I can tell when you’re trying to change the topic.”
“I promise I’ll be back as fast as I can.” Melanie leaned forward and gave her stiff-postured friend a quick hug. “I owe you, C.”
“We’re not done with this conversation,” Cece called out as Melanie exited the house.
Just as Melanie closed the front door behind her, another door on the other end of the hallway opened. Her neighbor, Brett, walked out of his apartment with a trash bag in hand. Heavily built and tall, he was the epitome of intimidating even with the salty high fade haircut and goatee. But after seven years of living in the same building with the veteran soldier, Melanie knew he was just a large teddy bear with a heart of gold.
As soon as he saw Melanie, the dark-skinned man’s eyes lit up in a smile. “Hey, kiddo. You going out?”
“Yup. Got a meeting!” To keep from being questioned further and out of concern, she asked, “Have you had dinner yet? You weren’t back when Sly and I were eating but there’s still some casserole left.”
“Nah, I grabbed a burger at the restaurant.”
“What have I told you about eating all that junk food?” Melanie quarreled as they took the flight of stairs down together. “You know I don’t mind cooking for you.”
“If only you were ten years older, kiddo” Brett shook his head as they stepped out of the building. “I would’ve married you in a snap.”
“You are not that old.” Melanie laughed. Peering at him with interest, she asked, “How old are you anyway?”
He gave her a horrified look. “A gentleman does not tell.”
Still chatting, he walked her to her SUV. Melanie waved at him as she pulled away from the curb and drove off. Though the lighthearted conversation with Brett had eased a bit of her tension, Melanie was still nervous as she steered her car through nighttime traffic.
A few minutes later, she parked a block away from the building that housed Darlene’s. The last thing she needed was for one of Vance’s minions to recognize her car. She searched through her knapsack to make sure she had everything she needed; the spare keys to both the front and office doors, a camera, a flashlight, a voice recorder, and her gun. Everything was in there.
She took one last deep calming breath, hiked the bag over one shoulder and exited her car.
Despite the late hour, there were still a few last minute stragglers on the street. But with her innocuous clothing, Melanie melted easily into them. She avoided meeting anyone’s eye as she hastened towards her store. This was going to be a quick get in, plant the recorder somewhere in Iona’s corner of the shop, snap some pictures, and get out.
She turned the corner but as she did, she spotted one of Iona’s bodyguards stationed in front of the store.
Damn it!
She scrambled back behind the wall so fast she almost tripped on her own feet. Her fingers tightened around her keys, the metal biting into her palm, as she pressed her back against the cold concrete. What was he doing there? Stupid question.
How the hell was she supposed to get an insurance policy with someone guarding the store?
Anger and frustration battled within Melanie as she stood propped against the wall. Couldn’t she catch a break? It all felt like as soon as she took one step forward, something dragged her back.
Damn it all to hell! Now she had nothing to use for leverage. No more options.
Wait! She straightened from the wall as an idea struck her. Wait, wait, wait! She wasn’t out of options.
Who’s to say recorders couldn’t be planted during the day? There were still some racks of clothes next to the jewelry corner. A little sneakiness and she could get the recorder into a pocket. If she was lucky, she might even catch Iona saying something incriminating.
And photos? So she didn’t have pictures of whatever they were pushing. But surely the cops would be interested in a few clear shots of the jewelry corner’s ‘esteemed’ clientele. No way would they turn down a visual database of felons with links to Vance in exchange for her freedom.
Melanie smiled.
This could actually work out.
Enthused by her new plan, Melanie extracted her camera from her knapsack. Peering around the wall, she took a few shots of the man standing akimbo in front of her store before hurrying back to her car. She got in, thrust her backpack into the front passenger seat then settled in the car. She was buckling her seatbelt when a deep voice penetrated the eerie silence.
“You’re slipping, Lanie.”
A strangled scream escaped her parted lips as she whirled to face the backseat. The car was shrouded in darkness but she could still see the silhouette of the man sitting there. He was sprawled out in the back seat, arms folded over his chest and watching her. Shock crackled through her as the reality of what - who - she was seeing sank into her psyche.
No! It couldn’t be him.
No! He was gone from her life forever.
Yet there was no doubt that it was him. The awareness she thought had been extinguished when he’d disappeared flared back to life as her body recognized his voice.
Nicolás Gavilan.
He was back.
And just like that, nine years went down the drain.
CHAPTER 4
No. No. No.
He wasn’t here.
This was all in her imagination.
There was no way Nic was here.
Not the Nic who she’d assumed Vance had gotten to after the encounter in the alley. Not the Nic she’d assumed was dead because she refused to believe that the man who claimed to love her more than anything in the world could just walk out on her without a word. Not the Nic she’d grieved and whose memories she’d trapped i
n a special mental box that she unlocked every time she ached for another glimpse of what true love felt like.
No. No. No.
He was not in her car.
“How are you, Mel?” he said, proving that indeed he was in her car and this was not a dream.
Melanie’s lips parted but when she tried to say something, the words stuck to her throat as she stared into his eyes. She needed to see him better; to confirm that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She reached to switch on the interior lights.
“Don’t!” His order cracked through the silence so abruptly she halted in her actions.
She turned her head towards him again, watching him. He said nothing, letting his presence sink in, and watching her as she watched him. And in the silence her shock morphed into anger. The fury rushed in like a syringe injecting venom into her blood stream.
Nine years.
Nine damn years!
Nine damn years without so much as a text message to let her know he was okay. Nine damn years of letting her think he was dead. Nine damn years of guilt eating her up because she thought she was the one who’d sent him to his grave.
Nine damn years!
And he thought he could break into her car and what? Order her around? He had to be kidding her. She had half a mind to reach into her bag, pull out her gun and put a bullet in his kneecap. Instead she flipped the light on plunging them into brightness Quick as lightning, Nic’s fist flew upwards and smashed into the dome light lens closest to him. The sound of plastic crashing echoed in the tiny space, and the back of the car abruptly darkened.
But Melanie’s light was enough for her to get her first glimpse of him in nine years. The deep voice seemed the only part that remained of the man she’d grown up with and loved. Everything else had changed. He was tanner than she remembered. His crew cut was now a mane of soft brown hair that licked at his forehead and fell to the nape of his neck. A low five o’clock shadow covered his chin and the sides of his face.
Gone were the coltishly long limbs that seemed at odds with his slender frame. He’d filled out into a fully developed man; tall, muscular and supremely male. A dark suit and black shirt cloaked his athletic frame.
But it was his dark eyes that held her attention.
They’d lost the twinkle of pleasure they’d always had when he saw her. Instead they stared back at her, now blank emotionless slates, cataloging her features as intently as she was taking in his.
“Switch off your light,” he ordered.
She snapped back, “Get out of my car.”
He leaned forward, and she instinctively reared away from him, pressing her back to the door. The air ruffled as he reached between the front seats and flicked the lights off himself. Her senses preened at his unfamiliar yet oddly intoxicating scent. They tightened and hummed, then sighed in disappointment when he sat back in his seat.
“How have you been?” he asked once they were once more ensconced in darkness.
His question stoked her anger. “Get out of my car.”
“Mel, I-”
“Get out.” Barely restrained fury throbbed in her voice as she gritted through her teeth. “Or I’m calling the police.”
He was unmoved by her wintery threat. “We need to talk.”
He thought she was bluffing, didn’t he? She reached for the side pocket of her backpack and extracted her phone. But before she could press it to her ear, he snatched it away. She opened her mouth to scream, but he moved so fast, she didn’t even have time to move her head. Quick as snap, he slapped his palm over her lips, trapping the sound. It came out as an inaudible squeal.
“Fine, if you don’t want to talk, then I will.” His breath fluttered over the side of her face. “Remember that plan to leave California? You need to do it now. Vance isn’t someone whose business you want to get tangled in.”
She jerked in her seat to dislodge the hand but he moved his other arm over her upper chest trapping her in place. The sudden intimate position startled her, and Melanie stilled.
“Go to the bank tomorrow. You’ll find enough cash in your account to start over anywhere you want,” Nic said. “Get on a plane and go. Don’t worry about him following you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t. Okay?”
His voice drifted into silence and she assumed he was waiting for her nod of agreement. Well, he’d have to wait heaven and hell for that to happen. Fresh anger spurted within her. This man had to be boiling his crack these days if he thought he could just sashay his way into her life and start tinkering with it. He’d given up his say in what she did when he’d up and left.
How did he even know about Vance? Ugh! She didn’t care and certainly didn’t need his help. She was doing fine without him in her life. Her plan was all she needed to protect her family from Vance.
“Your plan won’t work,” he said. “Whatever evidence you get on t what they’re doing there won’t help because Vance has the cops around here in his pocket. You’ll only get yourself and Sly killed.”
How did the man know what she’d been up to? Was he following her? The thought was enough to rile up Melanie even further.
Nic’s voice was a sensual rasp as he murmured, “It’s time to leave, Lanie.”
She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but she felt his mouth brush over her hair before the palm on her mouth fell away, as did the arm banded around her chest. There was a sudden blast of air in the car as the back door opened. Then he was gone and she was alone.
Again.
The gray Lamborghini zoomed past the estate’s imposing gates. It cruised the flowerbed-lined concrete motor court to stop in front of the palatial two-story, white Mediterranean style mansion. The moment Nic parked the vehicle, a man in navy coveralls emerged by the driver’s side door and opened it for him.
“Sir,” the attendant greeted.
“Is Rafaél back?” Nic asked as he dropped the car keys in the hands of the attendant.
“Yes, sir.”
Nic made his way to the double front doors. They slid open even before he got there and his housekeeper ushered him into the expansive foyer. “Good evening, sir.”
“Evening, Rosa.” He nodded in acknowledgment as he shrugged out of his suit jacket. “Where’s Rafaél?”
“In your study, sir,” the pudgy fifty-something year-old woman said as she took his jacket. “Would you like me to bring you your dinner there?”
“Only if Rafaél hasn’t eaten yet.”
“He had dinner an hour ago.”
“Then wait until I’m done with him.”
Rosa inclined her head in deference. “Of course, Sir.”
Folding the arms of his black shirt to his elbows, Nic eschewed the floating staircase and instead took a right corner towards the study. The moment he strode into the spacious room, he headed straight for the cabinet where several bottles of liquor sat. He poured himself a scotch, tilted his neck and tossed it back in one gulp. The bitter fluid scorched a fiery path down his throat, rubbing his nerves raw and giving him a well-needed shot of adrenalin.
“That bad?” Rafaél’s voice came from behind him.
That bad. Seeing Melanie had shaken him up. He’d seen her pictures several times in the last couple of years. But staring at a glossy photo didn’t even compare to being close to the real thing.
Seeing her beautiful brown eyes and those lips again, inhaling her fresh jasmine scent, touching her soft skin; it’d all jolted him back into a time when all that was his. Despite her obvious hostility, it’d taken everything in him not to turn her face and take her lips in his; to stoke her own memories of those times.
When she was his, and he was hers!
From afar it was easy to detach himself from his feelings. But being so close to her, to the anger he could see swimming in the depths of her eyes had awoken his bitter feelings. They’d roared in their cage at the stark unfairness of their situation, reminding him of what he’d lost when he’d given her up.
Melanie.
; He wanted her back so badly he was surprised he’d been able to slip out of the car without taking her with him.
“Are we clean?” Nic asked as he poured himself another scotch. This time he didn’t gulp it but instead turned with the glass in his hand.
“Swept the room myself.” Rafaél was seated on the beige long-couch nearest to the window with his legs propped on the coffee table.
“Good,” said Nic. Except for Rafaél and Diego, most of the people who manned this estate were relics of Nic’s grandfather’s empire and thus untrustworthy.
“And you were right,” Rafaél added. He reached inside his jacket pocket, extracted a clear polythene bag filled with a white powder and set it on the circular, wooden coffee-table. “Your girl needs better friends. They’ve got two briefcases of this stuff in there and I assume that there’s more coming in tomorrow.”
Anger curled with Nic. They’d suspected that Vance had Melanie up to her neck in drug peddling but seeing the evidence made him want to punch something, preferably Vance.
He’d soon have his chance. Right after Melanie got herself out of town, Vance would find himself out in a deserted warehouse somewhere. Nic hadn’t flexed his fists in a while, and some boxing practice on Vance would serve double duty; remind everyone why they feared him and exact the revenge he wanted.
Nic strode to his desk, set his drink on its surface before settling in the leather swivel recliner. He punched a few numbers into the phone and pressed dial. When he heard the dial tone, he put it on loud speaker.
The man answered on the first ring. “Diego.”
“Hold for a minute.” Nic dialed another number.
Another male voice answered, “Brett.”
“How’s Melanie?” Nic asked once he had everyone on the call.
“She’s home safe and sound. No signs of Runners anywhere,” Brett informed him. He paused for a second then added, “And it doesn’t look like she’s packing her shit.”
The news didn’t surprise Nic. Melanie could be quite stubborn when she wanted. But Nic knew that once she slept on it, she’d realize that his way was the best way to handle this situation. He told Brett, “Diego is outside the building, watching in case you need back up.”