“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” Harley’s upper lip went up, disgusted. “The sooner you talk to Javier, the sooner you can get lost.”
He feigned hurt, hand to his heart. “Does this mean you’re canceling our dinner plans?”
“Let me think for a second,” she pressed her index finger to her chin as her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Um, hell yeah.”
“So we’ll skip to dessert,” he toyed with her. Her delicate jaw line tensed. “Aw, c’mon Harley, I know we got off to a rocky start.”
Finally she smiled at him, albeit, a tight cold spine chilling. “You know what you can …”
Thankfully Hannah and her friend came, Hannah bouncing, while the male was sluggish, dragging forward. Harley stopped from saying what was really on her mind but he had a pretty good idea. He was a piece of shit in her mind.
“Harley, this is Javier.”
The boy Javier stood about five-eight with jet black hair cropped close to his scalp. His skin was the same reddish brown of the victim this morning. Dante had his answer.
“I hate having to meet you under such circumstances,” Harley welcomed Javier with a motherly hug. Her arms embraced his thin shoulders and for a moment Dante swore the boy sobbed.
Dante overheard Harley last night about her niece being engaged to someone she’d never met. She’d been drowning her sorrows in booze and he’d come along to help ease the pain. A part of him felt uncomfortable at this first meeting, but he had business to handle.
Javier nodded his head. His blood eyes with dark shadows underneath greeted him. He’d been crying. He’d been through hell. “Nice to meet you.”
“Son,” Dante started. The best way to gain someone’s trust was to relate to him or her or make him or her relatable. Dante knew firsthand how it felt to lose someone, especially a sibling. “I am Special Agent Dante Rossi, and I know these last few hours have been hell on you.”
Javier only nodded and kept his gaze to the ground. Hannah placed a hand on his back for support. Young love. Whatever, Dante thought to himself.
“My brother is missing.”
“I think he lost his phone,” Hannah offered.
“No,” Javier shook his head. “After we dropped you off this morning we went back to the club because Gaston couldn’t find his wallet. He wanted to check the lost and found. I was in the car waiting for him when I saw these two men grab him before he could go inside. One guy took some handcuffs to him and hooked him on to the car.”
The coffee he had earlier wanted made its way to the back of Dante’s throat. He had his confirmation. Leonardo was here. He just needed visual confirmation. “Do you think you can make a positive ID on the driver?”
Javier shrugged his hunched-over shoulders.
Dante laid the line-up sheet in front of the boy. He watched Javier scan the sheet intently. When his eyes lingered over the fourth picture, the boy’s dark eyes stared for the longest time before he looked up without even looking at the rest of the eight pictures.
“I don’t see him.”
“You barely looked,” Dante said, “try one more time.”
Javier shrugged his shoulders. “The guy isn’t in this line up, I swear on my Abuela’s grave.”
To Dante, that typically meant he was lying. He cut his eyes at Harley. Her brows were raised like she didn’t believe him either.
“Maybe he’s tired,” Hannah suggested, “you did take those pills,” she said to Javier.
Harley raised her left eyebrow at her niece. “All?”
“Yeah,” Hannah nervously chewed her bottom lip, “he’s upset about his brother. He may need some time. You guys understand, right?”
Before Dante could say anything, Harley spoke up, patting the two kids across their backs. “Listen, why don’t you guys go upstairs and let Javier get some rest.”
“What did you do that for?” asked Dante when the kids were out of earshot.
“Do you know anything about kids?”
“Enough.”
“Then you’d realize Javier lost his brother this morning and he’s taken some anxiety pills to calm his nerves. No way was he going to ID anyone off your paper.”
Dante snatched up the document and rolled the paper between his hands, “So, you’re mother of the year?” He smarted right back. She helped blow his chance of nailing Leonardo. Harley stared at him, lip snarled and eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop. “How many line-ups have you conducted?” he continued without letting her answer, “None. He was just about to give up what he knew.”
“And you know this how?”
“I just do.”
Dramatically Harley rolled her eyes and folded her arms, framing her breasts. The frustration left his body as his eyes drew to her mouth. He gave her a lazy smile. Her upper lip increased with more curl. “Let me guess, your FBI senses?”
The fact of her flirting insult against his ability to conduct business because she thought he was FBI, made her irresistible. STB agents kept their identities to themselves. Only under certain circumstances did they tell their spouses. Since he and his twenty-four hour bride hadn’t reached any anniversary, he thought he’d have some fun. The sparring she did with him only turned him on more. He couldn’t wait until he got her in the sack. He gave her a half-cocked smile while he tried to regain control over his body. “I’m sure I’ve done this plenty of times more.”
“I’m not going to get into a dick measuring contest with you.”
“Good, I’d win since you and I both know you don’t have one.” Dante watched her ass twist as she walked by to get to her stool. He couldn’t resist. He reached for her elbows and twisted her body toward his.
Her dark eyes flashed excitement that she quickly masked with a frown. “Don’t touch me.”
He touched her. His hands slid from her arms to her waist and effortlessly lifted her onto the counter. When he touched her, the silky skin of her inner thigh jumped. Otherwise, she made no move to stop him. As a matter of fact, she leaned back on her arms. Her left brow rose in suspicion or was that the go-ahead.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice touched with surprise and desire, but no protest.
“Since you sent the kiddies upstairs to take a nap,” his thumb brushed close to the inner sanctuary, “we can finish our honeymoon.”
Harley’s sharp intake of air echoed into his ear as his forefingers broke the barrier of her cotton panties. He wouldn’t have pegged her as the panty wearing type of girl, especially after last night, but his mind couldn’t get the words to form in his mouth. The silky wet flesh covered his fingers as he sank in deeper. A raging boner pressed against his boxers.
“No,” her mouth said while her hips lifted upward and onto the two curved fingers of his right hand.
“No,” Dante whispered against her throat, “as in you want me to stop?” He pressed his knuckles against her clit. She ground her pelvis against him.
She gave a ragged sigh, “No, as in this is not a honeymoon. We’re getting an annulment.”
An annulment was fine by him, later. Right now he wanted to hear that soprano pitch when he made her cum. With her head back and neck exposed, Dante pressed his lips against the curve of her neck. The vibration of her moan riveted against his tongue. Three fingers in down to his knuckles he pulled back, then sank deeper. Her panties, pressing against the left side of his thumb prevented him from straight out finger fucking her but judging from the wetness oozing, he was doing a pretty good job.
Harley’s eyelashes fluttered against her high cheek-bones. Dante wanted to watch her climax. Watching her breasts rise and fall each time she tried to catch her breath only egged him on. Harley pulled her heels up on the counter, opening her apex for him. He positioned himself between her legs, wanting more than anything to replace his fingers with his cock but she was close. He dipped his head forward and with his left hand tugged at the collar of whoever the hell’s shirt it was, ripping it to expose her b
reast. His mouth captured the right breast while thumb and forefinger tweaked her left nipple. Goosebumps appeared down her left arm as he sucked and flicked his tongue. Her spine straightened, shoulders squared. Standing, she looked more like she was doing a crab crawl with each thrust against her hand. The first wave of orgasm was felt over his fingers, a sharp tightening around the ring of his middle finger. Skillfully he extracted his middle and forefinger, leaving his ring in and worked his magic on the pulsating nub controlling her orgasm. Her mouth opened, neck strained. Those long lashes of hers flew open and he watched with excitement as she came all over his hand.
Dante extracted his wet hand from inside her panties, his eyes focused on her luscious lips. He ran his tongue over his teeth at a loss for words. When did that ever happen to him? Maybe if he cleared his throat.
“You don’t have to say a word,” Harley pressed her hand against his chest and pulled herself up. On autopilot he moved out of her way so she could slide off the counter. “I am going to take yet another shower.” She tried to brush past him but Dante was a good foot taller than her and clearly had at least one hundred and fifty pounds on her.
With the island bar at her back, he blocked her in with both hands on either side of her and leaned close, his mouth close to hers. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
“I wasn’t inviting you,” Harley said with a raised brow.
“That’s not fair,” he tasted her sweet breath and grinned. “What about me?”
Harley brought her lips closer to his. The dewy moisture from her mouth moistened his bottom lip. He willed her to kiss him. When did he ever will that?
“How about,” she said, her drawl slow and southern with her hands sliding through the hairs down his chest. Besides the undershirt from possibly some other guys, he never hated material more. “You,” her right hand dove down between his legs, coming up with a hand full of swollen balls, “take care of yourself the same way you got in here. By your own damn self.”
With that, she dropped his erection and ducked under his arms back toward the hallway from which she exited.
****
Harley emerged from her shocking-cold shower expecting to see Dante’s naked ass preparing to come inside. She hated the little nag of disappointment when she opened the shower doors and found herself alone in the room.
How was Javier going to handle the death of Gaston? How deep in danger were the kids? And who in the hell did she marry? Dante said FBI but she’d met her share of G-men. They were boring and tried to make their lives sound more exciting than what they really were. A quiet day working with STB was more exciting than pencil pushers. What excited and angered her at the same time was the fact Dante lied to her from the moment they met and she fell for it—that did not happen to her. She hated a liar. She was a liar and in order for a relationship to work, they couldn’t both be liars. Snorting, she pushed the thought out of her mind. What relationship? The sooner she got dressed, the sooner she could get back out there to him, and the sooner they could talk about an annulment.
The towel she used earlier did not have a chance to dry. She hated using damp ones, and her basket of dry towels still sat on the edge of her bed. Drip drying from the bathroom to her bedroom, she shivered under the air-conditioning vent. The big figure standing next to her bed startled her. Men did not come to her bedroom—not to her sanctuary.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I need a shower,” Dante shrugged out of his button down shirt.
“I believe Chet has a bathroom at his place.”
“But I’m here now with you.”
Harley inhaled deeply at the sight of his massive exposed chest. He bore the scars of a soldier - a bullet wound here, a knife scar there. She liked what she saw and as irritating as she found his cockiness, she admired it as well. Dante Rossi had everything of which to be proud. To further prove his perfection, Dante leaned over to push his slacks down to his ankles. A raging hard-on wagged in front of her.
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
A lazy smile spread across his tan face. Too good for his own good, she thought. “You’re welcome to use the shower, there’s not much hot water.”
“Unless you want to return the favor.”
Harley rolled her eyes.
He chuckled and walked toward her, “Well then it looks like I’ll be needin’ a cold shower.”
Harley didn’t feel herself exhale until the water turned back on in the bathroom. Her hands clasped around her throat and she realized she hadn’t made matters better, still standing in the room drip-drying naked. Who in the hell did she marry?
She didn’t have time to answer her own question. A thump came from outside in her side yard. Typically her neighbors weren’t even home this time of day. They were a quiet bunch anyways, so when she heard a thump followed by an oomph, Harley went to the window beside her bed and glanced to the street outside. She heard a car start. She wasn’t sure what made her pull back the heavy cream curtain but when she did, she caught a glimpse of the back of Hannah’s dark head sliding into the driver’s side of a long green Impala. Propped against the window—Javier’s half drowsy face.
“What the—” she started to curse, hearing the sounds of Dante’s horrible singing voice shouting out Warrant’s Cherry Pie song. “Seriously?” she rolled her eyes, noting no steam leaving the shower.
While Dante sang off tune, Harley slid into a pair of denim jeans and tugged a V-neck T-shirt with the police department’s logo over her head. She took off out her bedroom door through the kitchen. Hannah’s keys were missing off the counter. She tore out of her house almost without a second thought of Dante—a second and third thought came to mind. Dante’s black SUV blocked her car from backing out of the driveway. The last thing she wanted to do was go back in and ask him to move or even wait for him. The taillights of Javier’s car already made it to the red stop sign at the end of the street.
Harley dug into her purse for her silencer so she could screw it on to the end of her pistol. The other last thing she wanted was for Dante to follow her. The back tire went down after a high pitch pierce. For good measure she shot the front tire as well. Smiling to herself, she slid in behind the wheel of her mustang and made a sharp u-turn through her yard. The door to her house remained shut. Satisfied, Harley cheered to herself and clapped on the steering wheel. She was so busy celebrating, she almost didn’t see the muscular figure standing in a pair of boxer briefs, bare foot and bare-chested. Dante stood in the middle of the street, sweat or shower water dripping down his skin, glistening in the sunlight.
He cocked an eyebrow along with his black 49 Glock.
Harley raised her brow and revved the engine, trying to make a decision.
Chapter 4
“I believe somewhere in those vows we took,” Dante guffawed, yanking the gray seatbelt over his large muscular half naked frame over his chest, “we said something about in ‘flat tires and not’.”
“Did we?”
“Where are our suspects going?”
Harley gripped the steering wheel and inhaled the mango scent of her shampoo in his hair. Did he seriously use her hair care products? Harley cut eyes over at him. Wet locks curled around his ear and nape of his neck.
“Suspect,” she corrected. “My niece is innocent in this.”
“She is aiding and abetting my suspect,” said Dante, trying to balance himself using the console and the door handle when she took a sharp turn. Muscles flexed. “Slow down.”
“I wouldn’t need to slow down if you didn’t hold me up back there.”
“I needed a ride.”
“You carjacked me,” she countered.
“You shot my car,” he re-countered.
A dimple appeared in her left cheek when she bit the side of her mouth to keep from laughing. “Relax, I did not shoot your car,” she clarified, “I shot your tire.”
“Plural, you shot my tires with a gun. And what’s up with the muscle c
ar? Did I marry G.I. Jane?”
“This old thing?” Every time Harley took her car someone offered to buy it. The ’67 Mustang GT Fastback caught the attention of all types of people: roadsters, businessmen, and even drug lords. Driving her car emphasized her badass-ness in the eyes of men.
“Whatever,” Dante rested his elbow on the window. The wind blew one half of his hair dry. “Where are we headed?”
“I’m guessing Little Mexico, where Javier is from,” she purposely left out Three Points because before she arrived there, she planned on ditching Dante.
“Guessing?”
“I’m sorry my brain isn’t as advanced as your facial recognition scan,” Harley’s sarcasm dripped snarkiness.
Dante sighed, “Oh boy, here we go.”
“I’m sorry,” she continued with a dramatic hand touch to her heart, “am I hurting your little, um, what unit are you from, FBI? What does that stand for? Female body inspector?” Harley cackled out loud at her own joke.
“I was about twenty minutes ago,” Dante wagged two fingers in the air.
The laughter ceased. “Jerk.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Harley and Dante settled in for silence for about a block until he reached for the knob of her radio. Not only did he turn on the radio, one of the devices she rarely used since she valued her CD collection, he changed the channels. The red bar channel indicator stopped on a rock station and an eighties hair band assaulted them.
“What is wrong with you?” Harley jerked the car sharp to the right, rocking him from touching the channel, but he was too fast. Guitar blasted through the car.
“You don’t like the eighties hair bands?”
She waited patiently for the song to register in her mind. The melody took her back to her youth, to the summer hanging under the pier, hoping to catch the attention of the most popular boys on the beach. She clicked the radio off and the CD player on with a flip to her finger. The Pitbull duet with some hot singer filtered through. Dante’s head bounced up and down in approval.
Harley’s mind wandered, worried about the trouble her niece could be in. Who was this guy on Dante’s list and where in the hell did Hannah think she was going? The fact Christopher Alfaro was photographed already meant trouble.
Mr. and Mrs. Rossi Page 5