Mr. and Mrs. Rossi

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Mr. and Mrs. Rossi Page 15

by Carolyn Hector


  At least Julio scratched the back of his head, pretending to be embarrassed. “I haven’t seen you since, well, I figured you forgot about me.”

  “No,” Harley fought against a shiver. “So how’ve you been?”

  “Pretty busy, got myself elected as mayor.”

  Of course. From the moment they met, Julio made his plans clear: student body president, fraternity president, and then his twenty-year plan to become governor. Either way, she was not included. How could anyone begrudge him for always being truthful?

  “Congratulations,” she said managing a weak smile. The confidence she felt leaving Dante’s side began to diminish. Why did he have to have this kind of hold over her? She loathed weak women and around him, she was one of them.

  An awkward silence fell between them while the music inside the club pounded. The fountain’s spray of water sprinkled against her calves. She shifted her weight in her heels, clasping one hand against her forearm.

  “We haven’t talked in what? Twenty years or so?”

  “Give or take,” the exact date rattled in her head but instead of saying something slick, she nodded her head like a bobble doll.

  “Are you staying at Torres Towers?” Julio snapped his fingers together and pointed. “Wait, you guys have the beach house now. Is that where you’ve been hiding when you come here?”

  Was he freaking serious? Did he forget the generous gift his parents gave hers? “Had, we had a fire today,” Harley looked around and mentally begged for an interruption.

  “That was your place?” Julio’s dark eyes opened wide, “Geez, I’m sorry. I can put you guys up at the Towers. Where are your folks?”

  “Retired and living in San Juan. And I’m fine, thanks. I won’t be here long.”

  “Why not?” Julio added quickly before she had a chance to decline his offer. “Your old place at the Towers can be made available for you,” he reached his large hands into the pocket of his slacks for his phone.

  Harley shook her head, “No, I assure you, I’m out of here in the next thirty minutes.”

  “It’s almost the middle of the night,” Julio’s brows drew together in concern. “What are you doing out here?”

  She anticipated his next question. Would she like to get a drink? She needed one—just not with him. Harley looked away not wanting to allude to anything personal in her life. “I’m waiting for a friend of mine.”

  Subconsciously she nodded at Vuelo because Julio turned back to look at the club and then back at her with a curiously raised brow. “Oh?”

  “Don’t go there, Torres,” Harley half chuckled.

  Julio held his arms in the air, through his custom made suit she saw the power in his biceps. “Hey, I’m not one to judge. But if you need to get in there I can get you in. Being mayor has its perks.”

  Perks or not, being anywhere with Julio Torres was never a good idea. “Yeah, I’m going to decline,” Harley said hesitantly.

  “It’s been years, we need to catch up over a drink.”

  One drink would not cover the amount of catching up they needed to do. Harley realized Julio’s charm no longer had an effect on her. He didn’t follow it up with a cocky smile like Dante would. Crazy, but as mad as she was with Dante, she kind of missed him right about now.

  “There you are,” another voice laced with a thick accent said, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  The two of them turned to see Christopher Alfaro, sans bodyguards, walking around toward them. Julio moved in front of Harley.

  “Harley, my driver is at the other end of the plaza. He can take you whereever you need to go right now,” Julio said to her but never took his eyes off Alfaro.

  “I don’t need to go anywhere,” Harley said without wavering or taking her eyes off Alfaro. A thousand questions ran through her mind. Were they friends? Was he aware of Alfaro’s intentions for the girls at Vuelo?

  This evening was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. First her encounter with Alfaro’s men, Dante, running into her ghost from the past, and just when she thought all was lost with gaining a connection to Christopher Alfaro, he walks right up to her.

  “Julio,” Harley finally turned with a smile. For a brief moment she took in the beautiful sight of the six-foot man, and then shook her head, “I’m glad we had a chance to talk but I need to speak with Mr. Alfaro.”

  “Wait,” Julio clamped his hand on Harley’s shoulder to hold her back. “You two friends?” He asked incredulously.

  “We’re old friends,” Alfaro answered, “me, her, and her husband.”

  “Husband?” Julio repeated as if he hadn’t heard correctly. He cocked his head to the side and his hand slid down the length of her arm holding her left hand in the nighttime air to get a glimpse of her bejeweled ring finger.

  “I almost threw it at him,” Harley wiggled her empty fingers and said with a weak smile, “We had a bit of a tiff.”

  “Let me guess, you walked out on him, too,” Julio laughed in his aristocratic baritone laugh.

  “Yes, well, say goodnight, Mayor Torres,” Christopher Alfaro said to her old friend.

  Harley’s eyes darted toward Julio’s. She didn’t have a chance to ask any questions as Alfaro’s cold fingers wrapped around her upper arm. The only thing she was able to tell with a casual look over her shoulder was Julio dialing a number on his cell phone.

  “Forgive my cold hands,” said Christopher, a little too close to her earlobe. “It’s so freaking hot on this island.”

  “I agree,” Harley said, trying to throw out the casual conversation as they approached a waiting limousine. “You’d think there would be a breeze with this place being surrounded by water.”

  “Yes, yes,” his hand slipped from her arm to her lower back, “Please, sit. I want to chat with you.”

  The sea air filled her lungs when she inhaled deeply. This was her big chance. No back up, no one knew where she was going but there was no time. Harley needed to be in this spot regardless of how dangerous the setting. The inside of the limousine welcomed her with darkness and the scent of alcohol, tequila if she knew her liquors, and cigar smoke. The acrid scent pierced her nostrils. “Sure,” she managed to say cheerfully, “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “You’ve been worried about me?” Christopher said with a surprised laugh. He slid into the seat beside her; the leather absorbed his weight, causing Harley to lean closer to him. Automatically his arm snaked around her bare shoulders. “I’m flattered, but why did you not stick around to find out how I was doing?”

  The side of his rough thumb traced circles around her collarbone. The heat of his fingers reminded her less than a few hours ago, Dante’s fingers lingered over her body the same way. No one touched her like he did. No one should ever touch her like that again, funny considering she just conquered one of her biggest fears—seeing Julio again.

  “Christopher,” Harley patted his knee and turned, pulling from his embrace and positioning herself to face him. Judging from the background moving beyond the dark tinted windows, they were moving. She fought against the wave of panic. The club would let out any minute and she needed to be there for Javier. Clearing her throat she tried to focus. “There was an explosion and I ran. I had my niece to think about.”

  “The one who just graduated?”

  As if there was another one in the café with them. “Yes,” Harley nodded. “I have to think about her safety.”

  “Of course,” Alfaro nodded with her. “She has her whole life ahead of her. And we wouldn’t want anything to happen to a new graduate and lose her spot at Miami.”

  Okay, so he knew more about her family than she liked. “How did you know?” Harley played the dumb blonde cover.

  “Babygirl, I have my finger on the pulse of everything.”

  So he did not know everything, which was a relief.

  “A pretty girl like yourself shouldn’t be out on the streets alone.”

  “Well, I had Dante but, we, uh,”
Harley tore her gaze to her side of the window.

  Alfaro’s arms snaked around her shoulders again, “But you realize now you made a mistake?”

  “How well do you really know someone you just met three days ago?” Harley turned and offered a shy smile.

  “Was he mean to you?”

  “Mean?” Flashbacks of Dante’s large hands over her body bolted through her mind. The whiplash pang in her neck came from shaking her head so quickly or for the way her body responded with just the thought of Dante’s skills. “No, he wasn’t mean to me at all, we’re just, different.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  The car stopped by the pier, near the shipping yard. Harley could hear the boats in the distance. They weren’t far from the Cofresí. She planned out her escape route, if needed. But she got the feeling Alfaro was fishing for information on Dante. “He’s a mechanic.”

  “Oh babygirl, he is much more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your husband works for the FBI.”

  Harley made sure to open her eyes extra wide so Christopher could see the surprised look, “What?” then she waved him off with a flick of her wrist. “Be serious.”

  “Very,” Christopher clasped his hand over hers bringing them both to his lips. “I am afraid your husband is using you to get to me.”

  “I just met you!” Harley leaned back and away from his body. She told herself to keep playing dumb and he’ll let it all out. Men were so stupid.

  “I believe your niece is part of this.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere, she thought to herself. “What?”

  “Your niece was at the same restaurant as me the other night. I am afraid she may have overheard me and a business partner.”

  “Well, even if what you’re saying is true—”

  “It’s true,” Christopher snapped, interrupting her. “There was no fate meeting between you and Dante Rossi. He’s been obsessed with my business partner for quite some time and has no business being here.”

  Keep talking, she thought. “Are you in some sort of business the FBI wants? I mean, should I be afraid?”

  “I am a legitimate business,” Christopher slid closer toward her. “And you have nothing to be afraid of when you’re with me.”

  The car stopped moving. Several men leaned against the car, their backs turned toward them, “Is that why you’re so heavily guarded?”

  Christopher’s chuckle echoed in the space between them. “The man I’m getting into business with may not be on the legal or sane side,” he slipped his finger down the slope of her nose, “and one can never be too careful. But I promise, you will be safe as long as you’re with me.”

  “Is that why you took me from my friend?”

  “Julio Torres?”

  “How do you know the mayor?”

  “I’ve approached him about bringing more business to this town, give it a nice Mexican touch, tu sabes?”

  “I understand,” Harley smiled. “And would your Mexican touch have anything to do with my parent’s beach house getting blown up?”

  Christopher held his hands up in surrender, “Again, this partner of mine isn’t playing with a full deck of cards. I wouldn’t hurt your niece or you.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I saw something in you when you came with your pistol loaded.”

  Harley forced herself to blush, or at least pretend to. She covered her face with both hands and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You must have thought I was crazy.”

  “Only crazy when your husband stepped forward.”

  “Oh, him.”

  “How would you like to proceed with him?”

  “What do you mean?” Harley dropped her hands and blinked all doe-eyed.

  “I can help you divorce him or I can make you a widow.”

  Chapter 12

  The clock tower over City Hall rang at exactly midnight, just one ding but enough to set Dante’s feet in motion like a runner at a race. Go time. His fingers twitched by his side as the club doors opened. His eyes darted left and right for a familiar glance of the boy he met once.

  “You seem agitated,” Tito glanced down at Dante’s fingers.

  Dante realized his fingers hovered over the button on the holster strapped to his thigh. “I’m good.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Tito.

  The two men waited in the dark on the hood of Harley’s car. She’d left it in a prime parking space on the street giving them the perfect line of view for the doors to open at Vuelo. Had Dante gotten a head start, he would have chosen this spot as well. Once again their minds were on the same level. They both came here tonight to find Javier and they both kept their professions a secret. The difference is he did not think she was a douche for doing so. “You’re unfocused,” Tito went on. “Man, this is why I stay broad free.”

  “She’s not just any broad,” Dante growled.

  The Intel Dante received from Cole, albeit a day too late, Harley Tomasello was classified. Cole worked his people and learned she earned her stripes through the military straight out of high school and picked up by the government as soon as basic training ended. She’d never seen war overseas and worked as a homeland security agent for the terrorist unit. Their paths never crossed because she stayed stateside. All her missions had been in Florida and floated from coast to coast and from the tip of Key West all the way to the Florida/Alabama border. No surprise she had a one hundred percent arrest rate. She never let one slide—unlike he had with Leonardo.

  “Oh yeah, she’s Mrs. Rossi,” laughed Tito.

  “Whatever,” Dante ground his back teeth together. His team, more like brothers, loved to rip on one another. Sometimes their comments weren’t necessary, such as now. Dante inhaled the sea air deeply while he stretched his back, “Where is Roman with my food?”

  “I don’t know. I hope he didn’t get arrested like he almost did last time we stayed.”

  Glad for the change of subject, Dante grinned, “No, as far as he knows, Sofia doesn’t even come back here anymore.”

  “That’s a crying shame.”

  No, Dante thought, the shame was in Roman and Sofia’s tumultuous end to their marriage. By the time they realized the inevitable, the team’s location had been compromised. Watching the problems the two of them experienced turned the crew off marriage. Dante didn’t blame Roman’s wife for her irate behavior. In this job, the less your family knew, the better. Not everyone found a balance like Cole and Rosalind, and the secrets could drive a woman crazy. Dante preferred a woman in different area codes and set women straight from the beginning; don’t get attached. Everyone felt the same way. Because of their distaste for marriage, Dante understood the ribbing his team had given him.

  “I hope when you end things with Tomasello…” Tito trailed off, his attention focused on someone across from the fountain. Dante followed his gaze to a pretty young brunette with gold highlights in her hair. Tito didn’t get distracted. Since meeting him in boot camp in Parris Island, Tito remained focus. He was the only one in the barracks who’d wanted to be a soldier since birth. Dante didn’t think Tito would ever settle down. He spent his weekends training. For him to be distracted, well, it was odd.

  “Mysterious woman from your past?”

  Tito shook his head and stood up and stretched, “Nah, she looked familiar. Anyway, when you’re through with this case, I hope you come to your senses with her.”

  “Let me ask you something. You don’t think things could work out between us?”

  “Between you and Tomasello,” Tito shook his head. “I doubt it. It’s cool and all that she’s an agent but your feelings are going to get in the way.”

  “Whoa, who said anything about feelings?” Dante tried to joke but considering the word feelings made him uncomfortable. Infatuation was definitely there. “Did you see the way she held the gun on both of us?”

  “I don’t find it a turn on when a woman has her weapon
pointed at me,” which to Dante’s knowledge has never happened to Tito before. He scratched his beard and gave Tito a suspicious glare as if to ask what he was hiding? “Dude, you may need to look into your own kinky ways,” Tito chuckled.

  Dante smiled to himself. Harley holding everyone at bay tonight nearly brought him to his knees. She had the perfect stance and control of each weapon. Something about her in that dress with those heels on… Maybe he did have a problem. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Tito shake his head once more.

  “Damn you’re screwed.”

  “What?”

  “You’re getting a hard-on about the woman who just lied to you about her profession.”

  “It’s not like I was being honest,” Dante defended. “Damn, that’s why she kept saying FBI so funny.”

  “Your ass got played.”

  Didn’t he deserve getting played, since he married her under false pretense? He was the one who held all the information from her. What would have happened if he had just stolen her phone like he’d planned? He sure as hell would have had a quiet weekend. “Played or not, I can’t change anything now.”

  “So you forgive her for lying?”

  “We’re agents. We lie.” Wasn’t that something along the lines Harley said when she realized in her kitchen he’d lied? He didn’t like the tables turned on him but at least he understood them.

  Before he had a chance to hear what Tito’s thoughts were, Roman’s figure appeared from the crowd, accompanied by another man slightly shorter than him. The odd couple, biker Roman and a well-dressed man neared. Dante noticed the similarities between the men. He had to be one of his cousins.

  “Guys,” Roman held his mouth straight as he came toward them. “This is my cousin, Julio, the mayor.”

  “We never knew you had politics in your blood,” Tito joked.

  “Funny,” Roman said handing them a box of what smelled like bacalaitos.

  Dante took the box and peered inside. Typically the fried cod dish was served much larger but the dozen or so fritters were each individually wrapped in white paper. Probably a good late night snack food for those leaving the clubs.

 

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