Mr. and Mrs. Rossi

by Carolyn Hector

  Harley looked back, “Put the fire out.”

  ****

  “Not a word,” Dante grumbled at the sight of Roman pulling up to the docks in his Monte Carlo. At least this time he didn’t have to wait three hours for him to show up.

  Roman’s shoulders shook with laughter. “So how many times are you going to have to be kicked to the curb to realize she doesn’t want you?”

  “She wants me,” Dante said getting into the passenger’s side. By the time Tai’s crew got their heads out of their asses and quit stalling, Dante landed on shore close to dusk.

  “Whatever. There’s a fire explosion at a beach house and an unnamed girl around the age of eighteen was brought into custody to the police station.”

  “Hannah?” Dante’s gut told him the kid was in trouble. Leonardo liked to toy with his victims. He’d taken away everything Javier loved to get close to him. What he needed to do was get Hannah isolated to draw out Javier. It wouldn’t surprise him if he or his goons were already on their way to the local jail. That’s where they needed to go.

  Like any small town jail in a vacation area, the waiting room was filled with various patrons dressed in flip-flops, cut off shorts, and arm-bands from last night’s party. Most people sat in a drink tank for twelve hours. A woman sat behind a glass counter directing people. Dante made his way to the counter and spotted a screen next to the woman’s beige phone. The monitor held six split screen black and white shots. By the time he figured out the top three were of the outside of the jail, the hall and the visiting area, the screen blipped and went fuzzy, perhaps an effect of the weather, if the weather weren’t perfect outside. The screen flipped back on and the bottom three screens angled the jailer’s side of the visiting room and the exit door and then the outside area.

  Dante wasn’t sure how the blue eye shadowed woman with the beehive hairdo would react to him. Before setting his hands on the counter, he reached into his pocket for the gold band he’d strangely been carrying around with him. The ring on his left hand clicked against the cold counter. When Dante cleared his throat, under the heavily painted lids, her dark eyes rolled in his direction and then lit up as she took in his physique, starting from his torso, to his chest, and then to his face. Her chest rose, bottom lip poked out in approval. In desperate situations, he wasn’t above lowering himself to crack open the ten thousand watt smile to get what he needed. Women did it all the time. And women seemed to go for Dante’s feathered black hair and half grown beard.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Good afternoon,” he said with an easy smile. “How you doin’ today?”

  Before smiling appreciatively, giving him another once-over, the woman licked her red lips and smiled. A piece of her broccoli wedged between her front teeth exposed what she had for lunch. Dante hesitated, trying to decide if he should make her aware. He licked his front teeth and darted his eyes toward her white Styrofoam dish. Without pointing or saying a word, Dante wagged his tongue on his tooth giving her the hint. Through the caked on makeup, she blushed a deeper shade of crimson over her roughed cheeks.

  “My God. Gracias. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon. Lord, how many folks have I spoken to today?” she scowled over the counter at the busy waiting room before turning her back on Dante while she fiddled with the a mirror of some sort from her brown purse by her feet. When she finished the dental check, the woman offered Dante a bright smile. “Baby, what can I help you with?”

  “My niece, I believe she was brought in here this morning.”

  “Name?”

  “Dante, Dante Rossi.”

  “Italian?” The lady mused with a raised brow of approval. “But I meant your niece’s name.”

  “Hannah,” Dante paused and tried to think of her last name, “Tomasello,”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Roman cocked his head and raised his brow. “Dude, you forgot her name?”

  “I didn’t forget I only learned her name yesterday.” Dante said under gritted teeth. He flashed at the woman whose badge read Gerti. “Gerti, wow, what a traditional name. Is it short for Gertrude?”

  “How did you know?”

  “My favorite Zia, my aunt, her name was Gertrude. She taught me everything I needed to know about women.”

  “Such as?” Roman snarled outwards.

  “A woman always loves to be asked how she’s doing. Don’t you?” Dante flashed Gerti a smile. He managed a smug look back at Roman while Gerti nodded. “You know how it is, right?”

  A red blush touched her cheeks. Dante put her at about fifty in age. She clicked her white tipped nails against the keyboard. “I do. And if you’re new to town, there’s a hotel you can go to rest or what not,” she gave him a wink.

  Dante held up his ring finger and waved his hands, “Thanks for the offer but ah.”

  Gerti was wise enough to apologize profusely and work faster to help him out. “Well, it appears she has a visitor right now and with visiting hours almost over, I’m not sure if you’ll have time.”

  “Who?” He asked quickly. Gerti raised an eyebrow at his rushed tone. “I’m sorry, it’s just well, I was supposed to keep an eye on her for my wife and I’d very much like to not be in the doghouse.”

  “Well, if your wife is Harley Tomasello, you’re too late. She already signed in and is with her. And with one seat per partition, there’s only supposed to be one person at a time. You know you’re more than welcome to sit with me until she’s free.”

  Dante reached into his pocket and flipped open his FBI badge. She peered close. “I need to get back there now.”

  “Yes, right away.”

  Gerti flagged for a uniformed officer who led Dante and Roman down the hall. Dante walked through the white sterile wall wondering which had more power, the ring or the FBI badge. Either way, he was a few steps closer to Harley and Hannah. Black skid marks from resistant prisoners stained the floor. Through the doors Dante noticed the similar glass partitions connecting the conversations by a black telephone mounted against the wall. Where he came from, the phones were fitted with a listening device, something every prisoner and visitors never seemed to be mindful of, despite the large black lettered plaque at the top of the glass. Women in orange jumpsuits sat on one side of the glass. Each partition held a loved one-or not-hanging on their every word via the phone between them.

  He found Harley’s backside first. She wore a black tank top of some sort and black pants stopping at her knees. Her hair hung in a ponytail down the center of her back. She could pass for an Undesirable. It surprised him he wasn’t as angry anymore with Harley for leaving him again. The anger subsided when he realized why she left so suddenly.

  Opposite of her booth was empty. Her friend Tai stood against the wall. So much for only letting one person back there. He and Roman stood back while Hannah came out of a side door with a group of other women in a line. Hannah’s hands and feet were chained and shackled. Approximately eight hours in the slammer and Dante blew out an inward curse, knowing she’d been through the hazing process. Her hair was a mess, her eyes wide and scared. The corner of her mouth bruised with purple and blue.

  The minute Harley laid eyes on her she jumped from her seat and slammed her hand against the glass partition. “What in the hell is going on here?” Harley demanded from a rifle-clad officer.

  “Inmate fell,” he shrugged and went back to his iPhone.

  Fell, my ass, Dante thought to himself. He made a mental note of the man’s face and build. Italian, maybe Puerto Rican—given their location, but more than likely on Leonardo’s payroll. It would be interesting to take a peek at the guard’s bank account. He was willing to bet his left nut the account recently received a boost. Hannah hadn’t been here that long. Of course, Leonardo had people on the inside, that’s how he got the drop on a lot of people. Dante balled his hands into fists and stepped forward. Roman laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him and nodded his head at the interaction of everyone in the visitor’s lounge. Older, har
dened women flanked either side of Hannah at their booths while she sat down. Dante spotted the predator eyeballing Hannah—mentally circling her for intimidation. It was standard procedure for new inmates to be apprehensive. Harley paused whatever she was going to say. Dante stood mesmerized by the sway of her hair as she studied the woman behind the wall in the next partition and then leaned back to get a view of the woman visiting the inmate.

  Harley reached over to the visitor at the bench beside her and grabbed the older woman’s throat. The guard on duty stepped forward but Tai pushed off the wall with a swift high kick that left him flailing backwards against the corner of the wall by the door.

  “Understand this,” Harley gritted through her teeth barely needing the phone from either partition as she held on to some inmate’s frail grandmother, “Anything else happens to my niece, I follow this woman home and do the exact same thing. Do I make myself clear?”

  The woman visiting the grandmother backed up and nodded her head toward Harley and then toward the other women inmates. Dante fought against the hard-on rising in his pants. Was it possible to be any more attracted to Harley right now?

  Harley and Hannah sat down and talked in hushed tones over the phone. But not for long. An alarm sounded off. Harley squared her shoulders and motioned for Hannah to do the same, encouraging the girl to stay strong. Hannah pressed her hand against the window. Tears welled in her eyes. Dante’s heart ached for the sight. Call it Catholic guilt, but this was somehow his fault. He should have caught Leonardo a long time ago. He should have put a bullet through his head when he had the chance. Fuck trying to get him to stand trial.

  “I’m going to get you out of this, just hang tight,” Harley said to Hannah.

  The doors to the inmates’ side opened and law enforcement ran inside and the prisoners knew the drill and lined up, raised their shackled arms as far as the chains allowed and knelt down with their noses pressed against the wall. The doors behind Dante tried to push open. He and Roman leaned back and used their weight to keep them off.

  “Yo,” Dante yelled toward the women. Harley’s eyes locked with his, stretched open as if to contemplate the how and why he was there. Dante nodded his head toward the red exit sign on the other side of the room where the security guard began to come to. “You guys need to get the hell out of here, now.”

  “I’ll hold them back,” Roman shouted over the alarm, “and meet up with you later.”

  The guard on the ground struggled to get up. In his haste to get to his feet or stop the uniformed man reaching for Harley, hands stretched and tried to grab her shoulders. Seeing red, Dante ran forward, arms stretched, and guided Harley and Tai up with him and ran out the exit, stepping over the older grandma gasping for air and the security guard coming to. Outside the doors, their footsteps squeaked against the floor until they made it outside where the bright light blinded them.

  “Are you kidding me?” Harley screamed at him, “What is up with you still following me?”

  Dante noticed Tai slip around the corner. He focused on the back parking lot by the dumpster. The smell of the gulf air and garbage hit him. “You’re welcome.”

  “Welcome?” Harley choked.

  “If I hadn’t intervened, you would have been sitting in a jail cell right next to Hannah.”

  “At least I could keep her safe!”

  “And Leonardo would be after the two of you. He’s not going to stop until he gets Javier. Can’t you see how fast he moves?”

  Harley looked away, nibbling on her bottom lip while she contemplated his words. “He blew up my family’s beach house and somehow managed to frame Hannah for it.”

  “Sounds like him. It also means he’s somewhere on this island. Do you want to help me bring him in?”

  “I do.”

  Dante stopped frowning and smiled, “You keep saying those two words to me.”

  Harley rolled her eyes, just as he expected, and turned when the sound of a jeep approached. When she turned, Dante noticed the crimson stripes on her shoulder. The black of her shirt masked the blood dripping down the backside of her shoulders. “You’re bleeding.”

  Effortlessly Harley cast a casual glance over her left shoulder. “Oh.”

  Stepping forward, Dante touched her skin for a better look. She flinched and moved away. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me.”

  Chapter 9

  “Trust me?”

  The two little words were scarier than the “I do” Dante teased Harley about earlier.

  Now they were alone, really alone. No kids to come barreling down the stairs or best friend to barge in the room. Tai dropped them off at the hotel and left to seek comfort on her ship. Dante made mention Roman would catch up with them.

  Harley fought against the frightening shiver at the thought of being with Dante without interruptions. She had the option to throw Dante over the edge of the balcony, if needed. His physical strength did not scare her, his mental strength did. His hovering made her nervous, causing her heart to pound against her ribcage. He held an unexplainable power. Now she was faced to deal with him.

  Since Harley refused to stay at the Torres Towers, the heart of Villa San Juan, they settled on a two bedroom suite—Harley’s insistence—on the eleventh floor at the Brutti Hotel overlooking the white beaches of the quiet Gulf of Mexico. Across the small area of water stood fancier hotels; Harley enjoyed the safety of the Brutti Hotel. The owner of the luxury chain, Gianni Brutti took double precautions by reinforcing their windows; a fear during hurricane season and even though this side of the island was peaceful, all it took was one good knock for the windows to come crashing in with water.

  The island wasn’t a big giant city, but definitely a lot bigger than the southern tip of Florida’s four-mile Key West. People lived here throughout the year but Harley and her family came for vacation, this was the closest to ‘back home’ for her mother. The buildings on either side of hers held the elite of those who could afford the beachfront view. A lot of visitors spent the night here but several traveled back to the mainland over the bridge connecting to Pensacola. Harley faced the balcony. Below, the scantily clad beach-combers enjoyed the warm evening breeze and pink sunset staining the white sands with its pink embers. Sunsets were always best here on the west side of the island.

  Behind her, the metal of the bottom of the door hissed as it slid open. His heavy footsteps neared and her heart raced. Dante’s fingers feathered her shoulder toward the wound.

  “You took a pretty serious scratch. I don’t think you even flinched,” he said.

  “I was kind of busy at the time,” Harley gave a sarcastic laugh.

  “The police station has a log of you being there, running was not the option.”

  A warm washcloth brushed against her shoulder, followed by a stinging sensation. The cotton of the terrycloth felt like a thousand bristles against her skin. She winced through the pain. Harley liked to live up to her name. She bit her bottom lip and forced a smile across her face. The ogre of a guard got one good grip on her and may have left his scumbag DNA in her skin. She’d welcome the pain to get any remnants of him out of her.

  “You told me to get out,” Harley winced at the touch, glad she faced the ocean.

  Dante’s right hand squeezed her left shoulder. “So you do everything I tell you, obedient wife?”

  She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, and when he chuckled, she smelled the strong rum on his breath. Of course, he’d find the rum. The Torres’s were a big staple in Villa San Juan. No surprise the hotel mogul, Gianni Brutti, struck up a deal with the local family’s business. The Torres’s were embedded with everyone. Dodging Torres Towers was not enough. You couldn’t walk down the street without bumping into a Torres, she thought with a frown. There were a lot of them she’d prefer not to run into around here.

  “I went with my first reaction. I didn’t want you to get thrown in with Hannah.”

  A frown struggled with the forced smile as she tried to remi
nd herself Hannah would be okay. If anything happened to her, she planned to make good on her promise with the old lady. “I would be able to protect her if I were inside with her. Besides, my reps from Tallahassee Police Department cover for me. That guard saw what happened to Hannah and said nothing.”

  “He’s an ass and he’ll pay. There are lots of people who work for Leonardo, someone will slip or talk.”

  “So you agree Leonardo set her up?”

  “I bet my left nut.”

  The corners of her mouth tugged upwards. “Just the left?” She teased and was about to face him to wiggle her eyebrows but Dante spun her around in his arms. His mouth came down on hers. His words comforted her but his kiss melted her insides. She liked the roughness and opened her mouth to receive until a searing hot pain touched her left shoulder, Harley screamed into his mouth. With a gentle force, Dante coaxed her rigid body into relaxing while the pain subsided. Either the pain settled down or she’d become numb; Harley continued to allow Dante to kiss her. Okay, she thought wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, she was kissing him, too.

  “Better?” Dante reluctantly pulled back and turned her back around.

  Rum permeated the air between them. “You know, they make Neosporin.”

  “Wasn’t any in the medicine cabinet,” Dante said, turning her back around. Never had she liked to be manhandled like this, but with Dante it was new and exciting.

  She cocked a left brow up at him. “Did you even go into the bathroom?”

  “I glanced in the hallway bathroom, not in yours,” he answered honestly. “I wanted to quickly burn the image of that dude’s hands on you.”

  The left side of her mouth tilted upwards for a crooked smile. “So you pour acid on me?”

  “Rum, not acid.”

  “Felt like acid,” she mumbled and glanced down at his large boots. The thought of retaliating by stomping his foot entered her mind but she crossed it out. The steel-toed shoes would do more damage to her.

  “Hence, why I kissed you,” Dante offered a smile when she looked up at him, “it’s a trick I learned when I was a medic.”