Torrez

by Bex Dane

  "This one is ten times larger than the last one. I'd like you to handle it personally."

  "My operation is slowing down. You'll need to look for another contractor."

  "I clearly want you, Lavonte."

  "I'm sorry I can't be your man."

  Greco placed his palms flat on the table and leaned in close to Torrez. "You trying to back out of our deal?"

  Torrez met his eyes, and they locked into a visual duel. "No. I'm saying I'm scaling back."

  "I'm saying you're expanding."

  "You don't dictate shit to me, Greco. Nothing."

  Their conversation became heated so fast, I could barely follow along, but it appeared they were business associates, and Greco wanted something from Torrez he wasn't willing to give.

  Greco straightened and flattened his tie. Torrez turned his gaze to me, his face a dispassionate stare.

  "It's a long climb to the top of the mountain," Greco said, cryptically. Torrez didn't reply. He remained stoic and calm, his eyes on me. "But only one wrong step to plummet to your death."

  Torrez smacked his napkin next to his plate and stood to face Greco, who took a small step back and grimaced for a second before he composed himself. "I'm not climbing your mountain." Torrez almost spit in his face.

  Greco took another step back and smirked at Torrez. "Oh really? Since when? For a good fifteen years you've been ghosting me on the trail."

  "I blaze my own trail. Made that clear from the beginning. Now if you'll excuse us." He sat back down and picked up his fork, holding it over his plate, a clear sign he expected Greco to leave.

  Greco turned his steely gaze to me, and I felt a chill pass through me. This guy was not playing around. "What's your name, babydoll?"

  Torrez gritted his teeth. For the first time, he let it show Greco was getting to him. I hated that nickname, but my instincts told me this was not the kind of man who would care if I told him so. "Soraya."

  "Soraya." Greco raised his nose like he was smelling my name before turning his attention back to Torrez. "Lovely. Exotic. Certainly you'd like to expand your business so you have plenty of money to accommodate a woman like the beautiful Soraya."

  "She's got nothing to do with it."

  "Ah, but the woman has everything to do with it. Doesn't she? Or have you forgotten?"

  "She's off-limits, Greco."

  "Of course. I wouldn't think of it. She's yours."

  "I am not his."

  He ignored me, but Torrez didn't back me up either.

  "Leave us now." The edge in Torrez' voice could cut through steel.

  "Fine. I'll be in touch. Goodnight, Soraya." Greco tilted his chin toward me.

  "Uh, night."

  As Greco sauntered out of the restaurant, Torrez snapped into motion. He stood and whipped out his wallet, tossed a wad of cash on the table, and stared down at me. "We're leaving."

  "I'm not done with my food yet."

  "Get the fuck up." He gripped my bicep and hauled me up. My napkin fell from my lap to the floor.

  "What's your problem?"

  "Walk to the exit. And keep your mouth shut."

  Yep, Torrez the ass had returned full force. He waited an impatient second while I grabbed my purse. He ushered us out fast, down the half a block to the apartment building, and into the lobby. He jabbed the button and tapped his foot in the elevator up to the thirty-fourth floor, looking up at the ceiling, not at me.

  When the door opened, he burst through and grabbed the bags he hadn't unpacked yet. "We're not staying here."

  "Why not?"

  He opened a storage closet and threw several small guns and a roll of cash as big as a roll of toilet paper in his bag. "There's a high likelihood there will be a fire in this apartment tonight."

  A trickle of fear dripped along my spine. "How could you know that?"

  "Because arson is Greco's preferred form of persuasion."

  I gasped and pointed to the door, as if Greco were standing there. "Arson? Who is that man?"

  "Let's go."

  "But…" He grasped my upper arm and my feet shuffled as he hauled me back out the door.

  My heart beat wildly as he made a phone call while the elevator took us back down to the lobby. A cab waited for us at the curb. I climbed in first and scooted across to the far window behind the driver.

  "Where to?" the cabbie asked him.

  Torrez sat next to me and stared out the side window.

  "Where are we going?" Panic had taken over as the trickle of fear turned into a steady flow of terror.

  He turned back to me. "Fuck. I don't know."

  Oh my word. "You don't?"

  "No. Goddamn fuck. I don't know." He pressed his palms to his forehead like he was fighting a migraine. "Just drive!"

  "Drive where, sir?"

  "South. Alright? Drive south." He shook his hands, palms up, extremely frustrated with the cab driver when all he did was ask a simple question.

  "Will do." The cabbie took off.

  "South? We're just going south? Like south of the city?" My hands were shaking now as the panic flooded me. If he didn't know where we were going, who did?

  "I don't know," he replied more softly, turning to stare out the window again.

  "I don't go south of Milton." The cabbie peered at him in the rearview with doubtful eyes.

  "Fine. Take us to Milton."

  "What the hell is going on?" I raised my voice. I needed answers, now!

  "Quiet. Not now." Torrez placed his arm on the seat of the taxi and turned to look out the back window.

  "Do you think he followed us?" Obviously, he was checking to see if Greco was behind us.

  Torrez scrunched his brow and motioned toward the cabbie. "I'll tell you when we're alone."

  Chapter 7

  Torrez stared out the window for the duration of the one-hour taxi ride.

  He kept his hands in fists and his shoulders high. He was deep in thought, and he appeared to have no plans to share them with me.

  I could have jumped out and run and he wouldn't have noticed.

  The taxi dropped us off at the Quincy Suites in Milton. As Torrez checked in, I walked past a vibrant flower arrangement and grand piano. The classy colonial decor reminded me I was back in Boston, and part of me was impressed he didn't pick a seedy motel.

  Torrez guided me to the second floor and held his arm out, palm flat, motioning for me to stay back. He pressed his body against the wall outside room 201B. He reached under his shirt and withdrew a gun from a holster near his armpit. With his eyes scanning up and down the corridor, he swiped the keycard and kicked the door open. He crouched down, turned the lights on, and pointed the gun to each corner of the room.

  And while he appeared ridiculous, protecting me from… air, he also looked sexy. His jeans bunched up around his rock hard ass and pulled tight around his thighs. With the muscles in his arms flexed and his jaw set, I could easily picture him as a badass Navy SEAL taking down a terrorist.

  He straightened and lowered his gun. "Clear. Enter."

  The room smelled of bleach and fresh linens. A quilted cranberry bedspread covered the double bed, and paintings of ships in a harbor adorned the walls. "Do you do that everywhere you go, or was that just to impress me?"

  He placed his gun on the table near the door, barrel pointed toward the window. "Were you impressed?"

  "Not really." I lied. I'd never tell him the way he handled a gun like a third arm turned me on. As soon as the door to the hotel room shut, I faced him down. "We're alone now. Tell me."

  "Tell you what?" He threw his bag on the luggage stand and turned to me with his hands on his hips.

  "What do you mean tell you what? Why the hell are we in a hotel room in Milton?"

  "Just sit down and shut up. We're safe here for the night."

  Excuse me? "Stop telling me to shut up. We weren't safe at your place?"

  "No. I need to make some calls. Please just have a seat. Or take a nap or something." His open h
and motioned to the end of the bed, brushing me off like a child.

  I propped my fists on my hips and stepped in, forcing him to look me in the eye. "Stop trying to get rid of me! You dragged me into this mess, and now you want to pretend I'm not here?"

  He sighed and looked to the ceiling. When he brought his gaze back to mine, his eyes burned with scary intensity. "I'm not pretending you're not here. Believe me. You bein' here is why I'm doing everything I'm doing. It's all for you."

  "It is?" Torrez eternally contradicted himself. Ignoring me, being rude to me, but supposedly all this was for me?

  "Yes. So the first thing I need to do for you is make some calls. You need to get back on Eastern time, so sleep or the jetlag will get ya."

  "I've made this trip many times and I'm perfectly aware how to handle the jetlag." Moan for a week until it goes away. "I don't have anything to sleep in." I'd been wearing this skirt and blouse for a full day now. My toes felt permanently molded into the front of my heels.

  He dug in his bag and offered me a solid black tee. "Here."

  It smelled good when I sniffed it, but I pretended it smelled bad.

  "There're probably toothbrushes in the bathroom. You can shower."

  "I don't have any clean underwear."

  "That is not my problem," he snapped back.

  It most definitely was. He created this mess. "It wouldn't be my problem either if I had some luggage." My voice pitched up at the end. I'd had enough of him and his rudeness.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked and he spoke with strained harshness. "We'll get you clothes tomorrow when the stores open."

  He expected me to sleep with no underwear in the one bed in the room with him? "Can we call the lobby and see if they have any women's clothing?"

  "Fine." He called the front desk and asked for clothes. He hung up. "They don't have any clothes, but they'll bring by some robes."

  "Good."

  Torrez paced the room, impatiently waiting for something.

  A knock on the door sounded, and he turned to face it with his elbows and knees bent.

  "Room service," a tiny female voice called from the other side of the door.

  He gripped his gun, peered through the peephole, then moved the curtains aside to peek out the window.

  "It's just the robes, Torrez. Open the door."

  He cracked the door and pulled the terrycloth through. He handed me a folded robe. "Here."

  "Oh thank you, kind sir."

  He pulled a second phone from his coat pocket and pressed the screen.

  I couldn't hear him well, but it seemed like he called someone named Dallas and then someone named Rogan. His third call, he spoke louder, but he rattled off rapid-fire Spanish to someone I inferred was named Falcon. I spoke four languages, but none of them were of Spanish origin. I understood a few words he said like truck, yes and no, Greco, Soraya, Milton. He kept looking at me and rubbing his hand over his face.

  The calls took so long I showered, put on the robe, and fell asleep to the sounds of him speaking to Falcon in Spanish.

  Hours later, he climbed into the bed beside me. I stiffened and scooted closer to my edge.

  "Don't worry, princess. I won't touch you." His voice sounded gravelly and tired.

  Even though his oversized body took up half the bed, he managed to keep a respectable distance between us. I tried to get as comfortable as I could with scratchy sheets and his energy bombarding me. His breathing was quiet, and he didn't say anything, but his presence screamed, I am Torrez, and I'm right next to you, and you know you fucking want me to touch you so don't even try to pretend. After a while, his body stopped yelling at me, and quiet blanketed the room.

  I turned over slowly to check him out. God, he looked gorgeous when he slept. I'd noticed it the first night, but tonight it was more obvious. The harsh edges of his smile softened when he slept. His mouth opened slightly. The broad, flat planes of his cheeks seemed more rounded. The aggression left him, and an uncharacteristic vulnerability overtook his features.

  His right eye popped open. Oops, caught me staring.

  "It'll be okay. I promise." His voice rasped low through the quiet room.

  "What will be okay?"

  "Everything. I'll make it okay."

  I nodded. He kept talking. "I gotta make a decision about the way I want my life to go from now on. A choice that's been pullin' at me for a long time."

  His big hand swooped up and cupped my neck. I tightened up, but his grip grew more firm. The glint in his eyes begged me to give in. He needed comfort. And as much as I hated him, I wanted to give that to him. I let his hand pull my head to his chest. The unyielding wall of his pecs warmed my forehead.

  "What kinda choice?" I asked his chest.

  He took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "I've been drifting with the current. Letting the wind pressure me to do things against my values to keep the waters calm." His thumb rubbed my chin, slightly putting pressure there until I lifted my head and looked in his eyes. "But security is a false perception. By not fighting back, I've drifted deeper into the storm."

  "I'm not sure exactly what you mean, but I think I get you."

  "Do you?"

  "About not fighting back. Letting your fears win doesn't solve the problem."

  "No. It doesn't. And what are you afraid of, Soraya? Right now, what's scaring you?"

  He'd shared something private with me, so I felt obligated to be honest with him. "I'm afraid to dream." I kept it vague, hoping he'd drop it.

  He kissed my forehead. "Tell me."

  I shook my head. No. I couldn't trust him with my deepest insecurities.

  He moved down till we were eye to eye. His fingers worked into my hair and scratched my scalp. "Knowing the truth from you would help guide my decisions tonight, but you're closing down."

  We weren't talking about Yegor anymore. He was asking me how I felt about him. "I'm afraid you're not real."

  His fingers squeezed in my hair. "I know."

  "You do?"

  "Yes. You don't trust me. But you want to, right?"

  "There's a part of me. Deep inside that has hope, you know? This optimistic thread that's buried under all the crap in my life. Despite my circumstances, it's like, for the first time, I have a chance. I'm out of Yegor's grasp. He doesn't even know where I am."

  "Right. Is that the first time?"

  "Yes. First time ever. And the possibilities are blowing my mind. I could do so much without his tyranny over my head. But then all that depends on you. And the thread inside me really wants to believe in you. But a bigger part of me is telling me I'm in deeper trouble than I ever was."

  He gently pressed his lips to mine. First just the middle of our lips touched, but he moved in slowly and gave me a full kiss. I didn't pull away because it felt good. His lips conveyed affection and kindness, both of which I needed as much as he did.

  "Thanks for telling me how you feel. I wish I could say you could trust me, but the truth is I don't know what's gonna happen. I know what I want to happen, but it requires me to turn my ship around and wade through some thick waters to get back on course."

  I nodded because I appreciated him telling me the truth. We were deep in trouble, and he might never be the man I needed. His hand left my hair, he rolled away, and closed his eyes.

  The thread of hope in my heart disintegrated. Life doesn't work out easy for me. Men never came through for me. Men disappointed and hurt me all the time. All I had was myself.

  ***

  I woke with his big heater of a body behind me, my robe partially open, the warmth of his strong palm resting on my abdomen. I should've pulled away. But his embrace comforted me like a flannel blanket in a blizzard. The day hadn't broken. Darkness still coated the room, but a hint of light gray highlighted the edges of the curtains. The only noise was the air unit running near the window and the delicious hum of his breath tickling my ear in a steady, relaxed rhythm.

  His chest rose and fell against my back. His
hand skimmed up to just under my breasts, then back down in a gentle caress. I held my breath and my mouth went dry. His lips moved to my ear and his fingers pressed flat. I stayed still, pretending to be sleeping.

  I was angry with him. I couldn't trust him. He'd hurt me before. And yet there was no way I could say no to his pleading touch.

  When he tugged on the collar of my robe, I wiggled my shoulder and pulled my arm out. His hand traced from my elbow to my fingers, and trailed down my thigh. He wrapped his fingers around my knee and lifted, placing my shin on his leg and opening me up to him. Suddenly, I couldn't remember why I should fight it. I forgot the horrible things he'd said and the confusing danger we were in. All I could feel was fire burning through me. My core ached for him to touch me. There. Just put your hand there, please.

  And he did. Slow and quiet. Like he was afraid to spook me, but still confident, like he had permission. Which he did not.

  I was about to stop his hand moving south when his lips pressed a sensuous kiss behind my ear. With that, I was lost. I couldn't say no anymore. Torrez could have whatever he wanted.

  "Need you," he rasped near my ear. His hips pressed a hard erection to my lower back. "God, need to fuck you so bad." His hand cupped my sex and I felt it. He wasn't lying. He needed me desperately.

  I raised an arm and wrapped it around his head behind me. My fingers scratched through the short hair on his perfectly round scalp. The raw power of his strength surprised me again. This man could probably smash a pumpkin between two fingers. Yet, he caressed my skin like I was made of eggshells.

  I was totally open for his hands to explore. The hand at my crotch massaged up and down. His other hand came around and pulled my robe fully open. He gripped my left breast. "Want you. Say I can have you."

  I grunted.

  "Say I can have you. Say I can bury myself inside you and forget everything. Need that right now more than I've ever needed anything in my life." He rose up on one elbow and kissed from my neck to my chin. He spoke at my lips. "Say I can kiss you."

  "Yes," I whispered.

  His lips brushed mine. It was an odd angle, but incredibly hot. "Tell me."

  "You can kiss me."

  He moved on top of me, pressing me fully to my back. He was wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. His immense frame swamped my conscience. No hotel room. No Yegor or Veranistaad. Only a man and a woman in a bed who needed each other fiercely. Maybe for different reasons, but I needed this too. After all the uncertainty of leaving and last night, he grounded me.