Bullet Proof (Love Undercover Book 4)

by LK Shaw

  "Sure thing."

  I left him sitting there. A quick glance at my watch told me it was late. Too late to call Michele. I didn't want to wake either her or Maisie. Instead, I headed home. To my surprise, Brody and Ines were there.

  "Hey," I greeted them. "What are you guys doing here?"

  Ines pecked my cheek. "We had dinner with Papá. Where have you been all night?"

  I settled on the love seat. "Just got done meeting with Oliver and the Captain. Looks like we might have a situation with Salazar."

  This had everyone's attention.

  "Salazar?" Brody repeated.

  "Yes, but I don't have confirmation of anything yet. I actually need to talk to Landon tomorrow. There's a rumor he's dead and that Maria Luis Valesquez is behind it."

  "Holy shit," Ines breathed out. "Are you serious? What does that mean if it's true?"

  "No idea," I said. "No one seems to know what her intentions are. I was hoping Landon could shed some light. You have any thoughts, Brody? I know you were out of the game by the time Valesquez showed up. But did you hear any rumors about her while you worked for Álvarez?"

  "Not really. I only ever dealt with Raúl Escobar. He mentioned something a time or two about how he couldn't believe she was trying to become a part of their world, but that's about it."

  Ines snorted. “I guess that's what he gets for underestimating a woman. Especially since she was the one who apparently killed him. Bet that came as a shock."

  We all stared at her and she sent back an innocent expression. "What?"

  Leave it to my sister to admire a murderous businesswoman moving up the corporate ladder of drug smuggling.

  "Anyway, so basically all we know about her is that she hated Salazar and wanted to destroy everything he worked for. We know she has gained a lot of powerful allies. And she's not afraid to murder people who stand in her way. We just don't know in the way of what."

  Chapter 20

  It had been two days since Pablo had rushed out of my apartment. Two days since that amazing night. Two days since I'd felt his lips on mine. I was anxious for it to happen again. And again. My belly was flip flopping with anticipation at the thought of spending another evening with him. I pulled in front of his lovely two-story home. It was sweet that he lived with his father. It showed how close of a family they were. It also made me yearn for that sense of closeness.

  "Come on, baby, let's go see what Mister Pablo is fixing us for dinner," I said, getting Maisie out of her car seat.

  "Yay. My tummy is so hungry. And I misseded him. Do you think he misseded me too?"

  It made me so happy to see how much my daughter liked Pablo, but it also worried me. “I'm sure he did."

  "Can I climb again, Mama?"

  "We'll see, but not before we eat." We reached the front door, and I rang the bell, jitters still hitting me.

  The door opened, and there he was, looking devastatingly gorgeous like always.

  "Hi," he greeted us warmly and stepped back to let us in. "Come on in."

  We stepped inside and he closed us in. Then he turned and dropped to a knee in front of Maisie who practically leapt into his arms and gave him a huge hug.

  "Well that was some hello. Thank you," he said, hugging her in return.

  “I misseded you," she pouted.

  “I missed you too, munchkin." He rose to his feet and then I was in his arms next. “I missed you as well."

  "Me too," I whispered back.

  Pablo dropped a brief kiss on my lips which made Maisie giggle. Despite his warm greeting, he seemed a bit more tense than usual. We hadn't discussed why he'd had to rush out the other night, but after the things he'd said on our coffee date, I guessed he was struggling with something. I didn't want to push for him to tell me, because he probably couldn't tell me.

  “I hope you two brought your appetite, because I might have made far too much food." He led us out of the den and into the kitchen. "Why don't you have a seat? I'm just finishing up and then everything should be ready. I hope you don't mind, but my father might pop in to say hello."

  "Of course I don't mind. I like Ernesto very much. It's always nice to see him."

  "That's so lovely to hear. It's always a pleasure to see you lovely ladies," a voice came from the doorway.

  I pivoted to see the man in question standing there with a broad smile on his tanned and weathered face. There was such a strong resemblance between father and son, no one would doubt them being related.

  "Thank you, Ernesto."

  He moved into the room and stopped next to Maisie. "How are you today, pequeño mono?"

  Maisie giggled. "You sound funny."

  Ernesto drew back in mock offense. "What? You don't like being called a little monkey? Maybe I can teach you Spanish the next time you come for a visit."

  "What is Spanish?"

  "It is the language of my ancestors. You speak English, and I speak English and Spanish," he explained.

  She turned to me, her eyes wide with excitement. "Mama, Mister 'nesto teached me ‘panish."

  "Wow, that's very exciting. You're going to be the smartest girl I know."

  "Well, I won't bother you anymore. I merely wanted to come in and say hello. Pablo has been working hard on this meal to impress you."

  "Jesus, Dad." A flush dusted his cheeks, and I couldn't stop my snicker. The good-natured ribbing this family did to each other always made me laugh.

  Ernesto kissed me on the cheek, winked, and then disappeared back through the doorway and down the hall. I finally took a seat after helping Maisie up in her chair, where someone had kindly placed a booster seat. One I'm guessing had belonged to Pablo's niece or nephew at some point.

  "Thirty-four years and I don't think my father will ever get tired of embarrassing his children," he said from his position in front of the stove. I would have offered to set the table, but it was already done.

  “I think it's sweet." I glanced around. "Is there anything I can do to help? I feel bad just sitting here while you work."

  "You're good. In fact," he paused before pivoting with the pot held between two hands. "The food is ready.”

  For the next forty minutes we ate and laughed while Maisie and Pablo chatted about everything under the sun. She regaled him with stories of what she'd done at preschool today and sang him a song she'd learned in music class. She spelled her name for him several times and per her request, he taught her how to spell his name. It was everything I imagined a normal family would do any night of the week.

  "What about you?" he addressed me. "Do you have any special talents? Maisie showed off her beautiful singing voice. I'm sure she got that from you."

  I nearly bowled over from laughter. “I promise you, she did not get her singing voice from me. I could curdle milk. I'm afraid I wasn't gifted with any special talents."

  "That's not true. You have a talent for making people smile."

  “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me."

  "It's the absolute truth.” He leaned across the table for another brief kiss.

  "You keep kissing me like that and I'm going to get used to it."

  "Good, I hope so."

  We rose from the table, clearing it off, and began to clean up. Maisie pitched in, and I let her help me load the dishwasher. The minute we finished, she was bouncing excitedly. "Can I go climb now, Mama? Pretty please?"

  "If Mister Pablo doesn't mind."

  He gestured toward the door. "Lead the way."

  It was a beautiful evening, and we made our way across the backyard toward the jungle gym. I parked myself in one of the swings while Maisie began her trek up the rock climbing wall. Just like the last time, Pablo stood at the bottom waiting for her to jump in his arms once she reached the top.

  "Catch me, papa," she hollered out before going airborne. Pablo froze for a moment but managed to wrap his arms around her before she tumbled to the ground. His eyes flashed to mine, and I hustled over, closing the distance be
tween us.

  He set Maisie on her feet and then lowered himself to her level. "Hey, munchkin, you know I like you bunches, right?"

  Her eyes darted between the two of us before landing back on Pablo with uncertainty. She nodded slowly. His throat bobbed and he seemed to be measuring what he said. I wanted to jump in, but I didn't even know what to say about our current situation. I should have expected this to happen, but somehow I didn't.

  “I like your mama too. But you know I'm not your papá, right?”

  “I want you to be my papa." Her voice was soft. "Zoey has a papa. 'tina and Nich'las has a papa. Why can't you be my papa?"

  Finally, I managed to find some words. I squatted down next to the two of them. "It doesn't work that way, baby. Mister Pablo and I like to spend time together and we like to spend time with you, but a mama and papa usually get married first. Not all the time, but lots of times."

  "Why don't you be married then?" She said it as though it was the most logical thing in the world.

  "When people get married," Pablo said. "It's because they love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together. But they have to spend lots of time together first so they can fall in love. It doesn't always happen, although they hope it does."

  Again her eyes tracked between us. "We spended lots of time together."

  He nodded. "We have. And if your mama and I are lucky, we'll keep spending time together. With you too. But for now, how about we stick with Pablo, okay?"

  Maisie had that mulish expression she always got when she wasn't getting her way. I held my breath, waiting for the tantrum to strike. She didn't often have them, but everyone once in a while, she'd get really upset about something, usually random, and have a meltdown. Until this moment. A miracle happened and she took in a shuddering breath. "Okay," she said.

  Pablo hugged her tight. "That's my girl."

  Disaster averted, but a new tension rose between him and I. A giant blob of awkwardness hung heavy between us. I hated it and wanted it to go away. Maisie and he went back to playing their game of climb and catch, but it didn't have the same levity and fun that it did before. At least not for me.

  "Mama, will you push me, please?" She asked after her countless time of reaching the ground. Apparently, she was bored with the rock wall and ready to move on.

  "Of course, honey."

  Maisie climbed up into the swing and I slowly pushed her until that too grew tiresome for her.

  "We should probably head into the house," Pablo suggested.

  "Yeah, she's getting tired."

  Ernesto greeted us inside the kitchen. "Did you have fun out there?"

  “I climbeded and climbeded the wall and mama pushed me in the swing and Pablo says I should call him Pablo and not papa, even though I want him to be my papa."

  She wasn't going to let it go. Luckily, Pablo's father took it all in stride. "My goodness that's quite an adventure you had tonight. You know that calling someone papá is something you need to think very hard about? It's nice that you like him that much, but you have to remember that you don't want just anyone to be your papá. They must earn that title. They have to promise to always be there for you. Protect you. Love you. It's an honor to be chosen, but you must make sure you choose right. Take your time before deciding. Can you do that?"

  Maisie stared up at Ernesto. The expression on her face was one of intent concentration as though she was taking very seriously what he was saying to her.

  "Yes, sir," she said.

  "Good," he nodded. "If it's okay with your mama, I found a book you might like. It used to be Cristina's, and it was one of her favorites. I'd be happy to read it to you if you want."

  She turned her gaze up to me. "Can I, Mama?"

  "Sure, baby, since Mister Ernesto offered."

  He held his hand out to her, and she trustingly placed her small one inside his much larger one and the two of them strolled out of the kitchen and into the den leaving Pablo and I alone. Ernesto seated himself in his recliner and Maisie climbed up into his lap. Before long the two were intent on the story.

  I pivoted nervously in Pablo's direction, not sure how to address everything that happened this evening. His gaze was on his father and my daughter and there was such a look of longing in his eyes that it actually took my breath away. He blinked and met my gaze. His smile was one of self-consciousness.

  "Not exactly how I expected this evening to turn into," he said.

  "You and me both. I'm sor—“

  Pablo's finger covered my lips. "No apologies, remember?"

  He lowered his hand, and I nodded. "No apologies."

  "Come on, let's sit." With a hand to my lower back he guided me to the table. “I hope you enjoyed dinner."

  So we weren't going to talk about what happened outside then. My emotions volleyed between relief and annoyance. "It was delicious. I think you're a better cook than you give yourself credit for."

  "It helps when you have a father who spends all his free time in here. You pick up a few things over the years. He's teaching Brody how to cook for Ines."

  That didn't surprise me in the least. “I'm sure she's loving that."

  "Anything that will get her out of cooking a meal she'll take. Whatever it is. That is one thing she is terrible at. She tried making a few recipes for us growing up and they all turned into a complete disaster." Pablo shuddered as though remembering some of those terrible meals.

  “I don't dare laugh, because I'm probably on her level when it comes to skills in the kitchen. I'd never even turned on a stove before in my life until I started volunteering at the women's shelter where I lived after Maisie was first born. I forgot to turn it off and nearly started the kitchen on fire. After that, the women all kept a close eye on me whenever it was my turn to help cook." I remembered those days fondly, even though they were some of the toughest of my life.

  A lull flowed between us. I debated on bringing up what happened earlier, but decided against it. The silence continued until finally Pablo broke it.

  “Will you tell me about Maisie’s dad?”

  I snorted. “She doesn’t have a dad. She has a sperm donor. Honestly, though, it’s just one of those sad stories of a girl who thought some boy loved her.”

  He laid his hand on mine. “I’d still like to hear it, if that’s okay. If it’s too painful, though, I understand.”

  Painful had been four years ago. Over time, the pain has faded to a dull throb that occasionally flared back to life during certain times. Mostly when I saw other kids with their dads at the park or doing things together, Maisie’s birthday, and on days when I was so fucking tired and wished that I had someone to help with dinners and bath times. To just take all the pressure off of me for being…everything and everyone to my daughter.

  “Warren was two years older than me. I was the shy, nerdy, awkward fourteen-year-old who loved books. Always had one with me, everywhere I went. One day I saw him outside playing tennis. I recognized him from school, of course.” I paused remembering that first time. “Suddenly, I didn’t have any interest in whatever it was I was reading. All I could do was watch him out there. It became my ritual. I’d run to my spot at the window, and I wouldn’t move until he left the court.”

  My fingers twisted around each other on top of the table. A nervous habit I’d picked up as a kid and hadn’t quite gotten rid of.

  “One day, I found him sitting in my chair. He told me he wanted to meet the person always watching him. I’d been mortified. I had no idea he’d been able to see me. Embarrassed, I took off running. He chased me down and apologized. Then he started talking to me. Asked me questions like he wanted to get to know me. I fell head over heels.”

  “You don’t have to say anymore,” Pablo said.

  “No, I just need to get it out. I’ve been holding onto this for so long. It actually feels good to get it out of my system.”

  He covered my hand with his. “If you’re sure.”

  I nodded. “He never talke
d to me at school, but I just chalked it up to the fact that we were in different grades and we didn’t see each other much. But anytime we were together at the tennis courts, we’d sneak off by ourselves. At first it was innocent. We’d talk about all the things we had in common. Then one day, he kissed me. Over the next year things progressed…beyond kissing.”

  “He didn’t—?” Pablo ground out.

  “No. Sure there was probably a little extra coercion with the whole ‘if you loved me, you’d let me’, but no, he never forced me.”

  He growled low in his throat as though he didn’t quite believe that. Looking back, I wasn’t sure I did either.

  “After I found out I was pregnant, my parents were horrified. They demanded to know who the father was, so I told them. Of course, when they confronted Warren and his parents, he lied. He lied about all the time we spent together. He lied about all the stories we’d shared. He lied about everything.”

  “That’s why you don’t like liars,” Pablo whispered as though talking to himself.

  “Yes. He’s the reason why. My parents believed him.” My gaze grew unfocused as I recalled that last day in their house. I blinked to clear it.

  I grew uncomfortable with this vulnerability I’d just exposed. I shifted in my chair and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "Gosh, it's getting late. We should probably get going. I still need to give Maisie a bath before bedtime. And you know how that goes."

  Pablo’s gaze bored into me. I just wanted to go home.

  “Okay,” he said.

  We both rose from the table, and he followed me into the den. Both Ernesto and my little girl were asleep, her head resting on his chest, the book lying closed on his lap. My heart pinched with a bittersweet pain. This was what my dad was missing out on, and it was his own fault.

  Pablo's father acted more like a grandfather than her biological one. The more time I spent with this family, the further I fell in love with them. The man at my side was no exception. I didn't want to call it love. We were barely getting to know each other. To scratch the surface of this possible relationship.

  I'd never wanted anything more in my life though. I wanted Pablo. I wanted what Ines and Brody had. What Victor and Estelle had. I wanted to become a part of this family so badly I nearly physically ached with the need. A warm touch brushed across my hand, and Pablo's fingers threaded through mine. I glanced up at him. Did my expression match his? The one of longing and hope?