by Reina Torres
Her fingers curled at the tips and brushed through her folds, eliciting a soft sigh from her lips. Yeah, nothing but physical right here. Nothing but a little tension and a bit of stress, and, “ah.”
It was just enough of a building release to make her toes curl up as her nerves tingled in places she’d forgotten existed.
It was just enough to remind her of what she’d been missing.
And just enough-
“Miss King?”
His voice was much too clear to be in the next room. It sounded more like he was-
“Are you okay?”
Thank goodness she was facing away from the door. Not that he would have been able to see her in the dark, but still, she had her back to him and that was enough to help her lie.
“Fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“Okay, I just thought I heard something.”
She bit down on her lower lip, using the pain to focus her thoughts. “I had a cramp.”
It was close enough to the truth.
“Okay,” he hesitated. “If your arm is hurting you, I can take a look at it.”
So helpful. But what she’d been moaning about had nothing to do with her arm. Just her hand. A few fingers. And a libido that had been asleep too long for her own good.
She had to get herself together.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Her voice was tight, just a little bit of a gasp in the tone, but that was better than the whimper she was holding back.
The silence in their conversation grew.
“Okay, I’m going to go back to the couch. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
She swallowed down a few choice suggestions, all of them involved him giving her a hand… or two.
There was probably some kind of law about that. Tempting an FBI Agent into dereliction of duty.
But, all Sloane offered up was a simple. “Thanks, I will.”
When she finally emerged from her room, she found her couch empty. The blankets had been folded away and stacked at the end.
“Agent Bravo?” Even as she called for him, she knew he was gone. The room felt empty and cold.
Even the warm pot of coffee that he’d brewed didn’t do much to pick up her spirits.
A movement outside the door caught her attention and she took a few steps to the side to look out through her curtains.
There was a San Antonio Policeman on her door.
There was more than a hint of relief that coursed through her veins at the sight, but also a bit of disappointment.
She moved to the door, keyed in her code to unarm the system, and opened it carefully. The officer on the other side watched her with open curiosity.
“Good Morning, Ma’am.”
“Morning, Officer.” She watched him reach up a hand and tug on the front brim of his hat.
“Agent Bravo told me to let you know he was called into the FBI Field Office. They think they have a line on one of the men involved in the shooting.”
“Oh, good,” she grabbed on to the door in relief and told herself there wasn’t any need to be sad about the news at all. “Sorry you had to draw the short straw and get watch duty.”
He shook his head and gestured in her direction. “Proud to help, Miss King. I had a family on my beat, domestic disturbance calls almost every few days. During one of our calls, my partner gave the wife one of your cards and encouraged her to call.”
Sloane placed a hand over her heart and waited for the rest of the story. So many of them didn’t end well.
“The woman’s husband came home drunk one night and tried to shove her through a window. The bastard- umm sorry, the husband tripped over his own feet and went through the window himself. Helping Hearts helped the woman get back on her feet, gave her job training and helped her find a nearby foodbank that helped her until she could manage for herself.”
Sloane felt her eyes well up with tears. “I hope she’s doing well now.”
Grinning, the officer set his hands on his hips and nodded. “The whole family is doing well, and they owe it all to you.”
She shook her head, waving off the compliment. “So many people volunteer and help, it’s not fair to put it on my shoulders.” She thought for a moment. “I would like to know the name of your partner, so I can thank them and get them as many referral cards as they need.”
The elevator door opened, and Sloane tensed, pulling herself slightly behind the heavy door for protection.
The officer beside her barely touched his hand to his weapon when he dropped it again. “Don’t worry, Miss King,” he gestured toward the oncoming figure, “that’s my partner, Pilar.”
The woman walking toward them was petite, but Sloane bet that had no bearing on her ability to do her job. Just like the no nonsense set of her features didn’t change how beautiful she was. She didn’t wear a uniform, but the jeans and blouse she wore graced her figure well.
Pilar handed her partner a coffee and gave him a wink. “You’ve got the door, Manfredi. I’m still on vacation.”
Sloane stepped back and opened the door without being asked and Pilar’s smile set her at ease.
“I brought something for breakfast,” she tilted her head and gave Sloane a once-over. “You and I are going to have a little talk.”
Sloane waited until Pilar had set down the box in her hand to close the door. “Should I be worried?”
The smug smile on Pilar’s face made Sloane smile, it was that infectious. “No reason to worry,” she used her fingernail to sever the tape holding the box closer, “I come bearing pastries and I have a teeny tiny favor to ask.”
“Okay, what do you need, Officer-”
“Bravo,” she grinned, “Officer Pilar Bravo. Vicente is my brother.”
When he got back to Sloane’s apartment building he chose to take the stairs. Hoofing it up the three flights was unnecessary, but it felt good. The stretch of muscles in his thighs help to counteract the metaphorical spanking he’d just received from the Mayor.
He’d gone in to speak with his boss about developments in the case, but Director Travis wasn’t alone. The Mayor had decided to attend the meeting. It was strange enough having him in the room, but as soon as the Director delivered his news with his jaw nearly locked in frustration, the Mayor had lit into them both.
“You were waiting?”
Director Travis had tried to step in, but Vicente was more than willing to take the hits. “Sir-”
“What did you think you would accomplish by waiting? Give the… give the criminals another chance to kill her?”
Vicente shook his head. “We took every precaution, sir. Miss King has had a guard around the clock. Top of the line security. She has continued her valuable work-”
“And just how,” the Mayor spat the words at him, “would she be able to continue her ‘valuable work’ if someone killed her?”
“No one is going to-”
“She’s the last of her family, Agent! The very last of the Kings in her line. If you let something happen to her, I can assure you that you’ll lose your job.”
Detective Travis had tried to step in and put the Mayor on notice, but Vicente didn’t let him.
Vicente had a few words of his own to say.
“If something happens to Sloane, be assured that you won’t have to take my job. I’ll lay down my own life before I allow something to happen to her.” Into the silence, he’d ended their meeting. “If you’ll excuse me, Sir. I need to get back to my charge.”
All the way back to Sloane’s apartment his mind was working on overtime. He was going to have to move her to a different location. He was going to have to do a lot of things he knew she’d fight.
But he’d been completely honest with the Mayor. He was going to do what he had to. He just had to figure out a way to soften the blow.
If there was one thing he knew about Sloane King, it was that she didn’t just see her work as work. She saw her work as her life. Her mission.
And if anyone could understand that, it was him.
He just had to get her to put it on hold long enough to make sure she could continue to do her work for another sixty or seventy years.
He just didn’t know how.
The officer at the door gave him a nod and a report. “All’s quiet on the home front, sir. Hardly a peep .”
That drained the smile right off his face. “What the hell does that mean?”
Clearing his throat, the officer couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “Another officer stopped by to see Miss King.”
The man on the door swallowed so hard that Vicente was worried he might choke on his own tongue.
“And who was this officer?”
No one was scheduled to come by beside Officer Manfredi who was standing in front of him.
“Your sister. Pilar.”
Taking the key ring from his pocket, Vicente opened the apartment door and shut it behind him a moment later before keying in the code to deactivate the alarm.
He continued to face the door when he spoke. “Miss King-”
“Oh,” she sighed, “don’t you think we’re a little past that formal greeting?”
Turning around to face her, he sighed. “Sloane-”
“Vicente,” she replied with a pleasant smile on her face, “what do you do when you’re not protecting the endangered socialites of San Antonio?”
He stopped tugging at his tie. She had an arm on the back of the couch and she was watching him with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that this is a trick question?”
“What do you like to do in your spare time?”
She gave him a pointed look and he wondered what he’d done now.
“This is a trick question.” He widened his stance and stared back at her. “Go ahead, do your worst. Just get it over with.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward and gave him a secretive smile. “Were you going to tell me that you have a family engagement that you’re supposed to go to tonight?”
“I told my Tia that I was working.” He shook his head. “How the hell did you find out?”
She shrugged at first and then gave him a pointed look. “Your sister ratted you out.”
He stared at her with a wicked grin. “That’s why she came to see you.”
“Of course she came by. And before you get all upset about it, we exchanged numbers,” she clarified. “She wanted me to have someone to call when I wanted to strangle you. Apparently, she’s more concerned with me going to jail for attempted murder than keeping your secret about the party.”
His lips pressed tightly together and folded his arms across his chest. “Pilar sold me down the river.”
Sloane’s laugh was soft and warm. “In a heartbeat.”
“I’m not sure I like the two of you being friends,” his voice was almost a growl and he swore it made her smile more.
“We’re not friends so much as in a mutual ‘make your life hell’ society.”
His head dropped down until his chin touched his chest. “Well congratulations, you two certainly know your stuff.”
“Child’s play.” She gave him a dismissive wave of her hand. “Go get changed.”
Startled, he narrowed his gaze at her. “What did you say?”
She tilted her head to the side as she looked at him. “I said to ‘go get changed.’ If you don’t want to change, I guess you can go like that.”
“Go like what?”
Sighing, she narrowed her gaze at him. “To the party, Special Agent.” Shaking her head, she gave him a half-hooded look. “You’re sure pretty to look at, but I’m worried that your mind is going.”
When he didn’t move, she did.
He watched her slide off the couch and gracefully get to her feet. The black wrap dress she wore had no sleeves, but it was held up by two tiny straps over each shoulder. Her wound had been dressed with a new bandage that almost matched the tone of her flesh, but he doubted anyone would be looking at the wrap.
As she rounded the side of the couch the overlapped edge of her skirt waved and twisted with her stride and he saw a flash of red.
Sloane wore her long sable hair in a knot at the nape of her neck and there wasn’t any sign of jewelry on her ears, neck, or arms.
With just a hint of make-up on her skin, she glowed with her lips curved into a taunting smile as she sauntered up to him. “I’m told you’re a good dancer, Vicente.” She stopped and gave him a look from head to toe. “Afraid you’ll disappoint?”
He felt her eyes on him and mentally swore at his sister. Sloane may joke about putting him through hell, but this was a lifelong game with his sister.
And Pilar loved to get the upper hand.
“When I get you on the dance floor, Sloane,” he licked his bottom lip as his eyes made their own head to toe survey of his charge. Sure, he’d seen the hair, make-up, and dress already, but it wasn’t until he got down to her feet that he saw how much trouble he was in, “you won’t have any questions about how good I am.”
He wasn’t a man that liked really high heels. Too many women favored them for the look, but there was a certain height of heel for each woman where it made walking safely an impossibility and he was a man that liked to dance.
Sloane’s heels weren’t higher than three inches. The strappy shoes glittered in the lamp light, crossing over the arch of her foot to hold the shoe securely, but it was the shiny red paint on her nails that hit him below the belt.
For one brief agonizing moment, he had an image in his head of the black heels of her shoes digging into the backs of his thighs.
He was hard in a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to reach out a hand and tug on the bow she’d tied near her waist and see exactly what she had on under that clingy little dress.
He didn’t even meet her eyes before he moved. He couldn’t, knowing what she’d see in them if he did. Instead, he reached up a hand and whipped off his tie, tossing it onto the back of the sofa.
Wrapping his hand around hers, he tugged her toward the door and they were off.
She could hear the party before they could see it. Leaning forward in her seat, she looked over the dashboard and saw that the street was clogged with cars and people milling about.
Falling back against her seat, Sloane sighed.
Beside her in the driver’s seat, Vicente laughed, earning himself a hard look from his passenger.
“Let me guess,” his voice was soft, and smooth, “you’re worried we’re going to miss the fun?”
“We did get a late start.” Leaning her head back against the seat wasn’t easy with the chignon that she’d styled at the nape of her neck, so she turned her head to look at him. “And I did kind of strong arm you to come.”
Looking at his profile with the soft streetlights gilding his strong silhouette in a golden hue, she was stunned. She was used to the hard, angular lines of his face and the bronzed perfection of his skin but seeing the indulgent smile on his strong lips warmed her skin even with the car’s AC on.
“I wanted to go to the party,” his admission was hushed as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to voice it, “but I didn’t think you’d want to go.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at a community center in the society pages.”
She bit back the response that was on her tongue. They were getting along and as much as the assumption had stung, she could see where his perception came from. It just didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Hey.”
She blinked her eyes a few times to clear the hint of tears that were threatening to ruin her mood.
“Sloane?”
Before she could turn her head to look back through the windshield, she felt the crook of his finger under her chin, and the pad of his thumb brush the underside of her lip.
“What happened just now?”
It would be so easy to paste a smile on her face and blow it off, but she’d hope
d that they were beyond her image by now.
“It happens, you know?”
She sat silently for a minute, struggling to put her thoughts to words.
“What you see in the paper is what they want to show. They want to show the big names in the paper and that means that I’m in there from time to time.
“But the name doesn’t mean the same thing to me. The name means that I’m the last of an era. It means that I’ve lost every single blood member of my family.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it from the papers and the media coverage, but most of my time I’m at those community centers, the clinics, the shelters.
“I hope you see more to me than those pictures. If not,” she sighed and felt the ache in her chest deepen, “then I don’t know why you would bother to watch my back.”
She turned, pulling away from his hand and looking out the passenger side window.
The playful mood in the car was gone and she blamed herself for the loss. She should have let it roll right off her back and made a stupid joke like she did whenever anyone made comments about her larger than life existence, but Vicente’s words had cut deep.
She heard his soft exhale and hoped that he wasn’t getting ready to turn the car around and go back to her apartment. She really wanted him to be able to celebrate with his family. Taking care of her didn’t have to mean that he put his life on hold.
“Sloane, I-”
“Tio V!” The excited shout was followed up by a hailstorm of knocks against the driver’s side window.
Sloane turned to look and saw three faces peering in through the glass. One of them was still tapping at the glass.
“Hola, Tio!”
Toggling the switch, Vicente’s window opened and the three jostled each other.
“Do your parents know where you are?”
She heard the cautionary tone of his voice and heard the answering laughter of the kids outside.
“Tia P told us to watch out for you and your friend.” The answer was followed by a chorus of giggles and the shortest ‘head’ of the trio came with an arm that waved at her. “Hola, Tio’s friend.”
The infectious humor eased the tension from Sloane’s shoulders.