“So,” she said. “Where are we going?”
Grinning, though the thought had brought a hollow sensation to his throat, he said, “It’s a secret.”
32
“This is the part where you murder me, isn’t it?” Lil asked, eyeing the abandoned warehouse in the shuttered and darkened Houston industrial district. From the outside, the large square building at the outer edges of the city looked closed. The lights were out and a few of the windows were broken. The doors were chained shut.
If it weren’t for the full parking lot she wouldn’t have believed there was anyone else around.
Shaking his head, he said, “This is the part where I sweep you off your feet.”
Lil was still skeptical. “Not literally, though, right? My feet like being on the ground...attached to my legs.”
AJ laughed, “As far as I know, all your limbs will remain attached.”
“As far as you know?”
He shrugged, adding, “Nothing is certain in this life.” He offered her his arm and she took it.
If this was where he turned out to be a secret serial killer, this was probably about as good as the night was going to get. She said, “I usually like better odds for my nights out, but fair point.”
He countered with, “I thought you didn’t have ‘nights out.’”
“Ouch,” she said, reaching for her purse and quickly realizing she didn’t have it with her. She stopped.
“I need to go back to the car—left my purse.”
“You won’t need it.”
She frowned at him and he grinned, completely unrepentant and charming.
“I need my ID at least,” she insisted.
His smile turned indulgent. “You’re adorable, but it’s not that kind of place.”
She shrugged, releasing the idea of another drink. She wasn’t sure what kind of place it was, but anyplace she knew that served drinks tended to require IDs.
They walked up to a door that looked as locked as the rest of the building and he knocked three times. Up close, Lil could hear and feel the muffled rumble of bass vibrating the thick door. There was music inside. That was a good sign.
After a moment, three responding knocks came from the other side of the door. AJ replied with two more raps and the door opened.
Sound blasted them in deafening waves. The cacophony was a mishmash of traditional Mexican music and hip-hop and it took Lil’s senses a moment to sort out that the sound was the combined noise of two separate dance rooms—one playing traditional Mexican dances, the other blasting reggaeton.
AJ handed the doorman cash and they were ushered inside, their hands stamped.
Like the rest of the building, the foyer was crowded. People milled through the area switching back and forth between the dance floors fluidly. Lil held on to AJ’s hand.
He led her first to the traditional room. There, the absence of such heavy bass meant they could hear each other’s shouts if they really tried.
Her heart steadied to the beat of the music as her ears adjusted to the volume and the crush. Taking more in, she noticed the room was filled with people of all ages. Children darted in and out of people’s legs, creating their own level of activity in the tiered canopy of the room.
On the dance floor, old and young couples showed off their skills with varying levels of effort—young men spun young women in bandage dresses and impossibly high heels exuberantly while old-timers put hyper focus on precise movements and serving looks that gave the youngins a run for their money. Everyone moved together, though, all in time to the common rhythm.
Along the back wall, long folding tables bowed under the weight of Crock-Pots, cakes, and aluminum baking trays. The air was filled with the aromas of those various delights, as well as a war of women’s perfume and knock-you-on-your-ass clouds of cologne. Almost every word she heard spoken was in Spanish.
She’d never been anywhere like it, and it was wonderful.
Eyes wide as she continued to scan the scene, she accidentally connected with a tall young man in a cream-colored cowboy hat and freshly shined boots. He flashed her a blindingly white smile and began making his way in her direction.
AJ watched him approach quietly, sliding an arm around Lil’s bare shoulders as the younger man reached his palm out to Lil.
“Está conmigo,” AJ said.
The young man looked him up and down with a frown before he shrugged and shot Lil a little wink before turning and fading back into the crowd.
AJ glowered at him as he drifted away, but Lil laughed. “What is this place?” she asked, raising her voice.
He turned back to her with a smile. “Pop-up dance.”
She drew her eyebrows together, and he explained, “Somebody gets the idea, finds a space, and spreads the word. If it works, people bring food and booze and everybody dances. Totally illegal.”
She looked up at him, a little awed. “How’d you even find out about it?”
His grin flashed, chipped tooth and dimple coming along for the ride. “I know people.”
“Why go to the trouble?” Lil asked, touched.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, murmuring into her hair. “I wanted to take you dancing.”
Her stomach did a flip even as she blanched at the thought of dancing. She was a good dancer, but she’d never done anything with actual steps. Certainly not like the dancers out on the floor now. All of them seemed to know both the steps, and how to make them their own.
He offered her a hand. Butterflies loop-di-looped in her stomach.
“Lista?” he asked.
She shook her head. “What are they dancing?” she asked.
“Cumbia,” he said, his body beginning to sway in time with the music.
“I don’t know how,” she said.
He grinned. “Doesn’t matter. I do.” And then he swept her out onto the dance floor.
She went, helpless to resist him, and tried to watch the other dancers and figure out the moves on the way. It seemed to be comprised of a shuffling step and some half twirls.
She could handle that.
He took her arm and spun her to face him. Their eyes locked, gray and brown, the intensity there even amidst the crowd and noise. He gestured for her to watch his feet with two fingers and quickly showed her the basic step, which was just a back step and return on both sides of the body. She picked it up quickly, realizing abruptly that they were already halfway to doing what everyone else on the floor was.
He kept things basic for a few bars, letting the rhythm get into her body, before he added more.
“Keep up the same step,” he whispered in her ear after pulling her close, before she stepped back away from him. She nodded and while she focused on holding the same step pattern, he made the dance come alive.
He spun her under his arm partially, then back, before lifting her arm and dipping under it himself, the bounce in his knees and movement adding a little hip-hop flare to the dance.
Before she knew it, she’d completely stopped focusing on steps, her body memorizing the movements and rhythm so her mind could be free to elaborate and add her own flair. His eyes burned the first time she put her own signature on a spin, twisting her hips away from his at the last minute, avoiding the palm that wanted to land on her hip, making him work that much harder for the contact.
Her heart raced in her chest and her whole body was flushed, but she couldn’t remember having more fun outside an arena in her whole life.
They danced like that for three more songs until he led her off the floor sweating and unsure if it was possible for one’s hips to get too loose. Even still, her heart protested their leaving the dance floor.
He wove them through the crowd that had only thickened since their arrival, drawing her along with him to the food table.
Vari
ous beers lined the table and he grabbed two Modelos, dropping a five in the money jar on the table. He opened them and handed her one, nodding toward the jar.
“Part of how they make up the effort.”
He toasted her, smiling into her eyes, and she didn’t look away as she took a sip of the beer, letting the carbonated cold fool her into thinking she was rehydrating.
She knew her hair had to have gained a couple inches in volume, but didn’t worry too much about it. One of the pluses of wearing her hair natural was that more volume meant sexier rather than a frizzed edges mess. Straightening and perms meant always being worried about losing your style to moisture and, as a full-time rancher, she’d never had the time to worry about trying to keep her hair dry. Still, it’d taken her a while to make the big chop.
He scanned the table for a moment before zeroing in on the cakes. She stayed put while he cut a piece, put it on a plate, and brought it back to her.
“Have you ever had tres leches?” he asked.
She shook her head and he said, “Get ready to have your mind blown.”
She raised an eyebrow, eyes dancing, and opened her mouth. He obliged by forking a bite for her and feeding her, and once again he was responsible for her world changing.
The cake was the definition of delectable, with gorgeous whipped cream frosting and fresh strawberry filling. It was the best cake she’d ever had. “Mmmmmm. You’re right. Delicious. A little sweet for the beer maybe,” she said, raising her bottle, “but I’ll take it.” She opened her mouth for another bite and he gave it to her.
He replied, “You’re sweeter,” the heat in his eyes telling her he had a lot more than cake on his mind.
Blushing, she changed the subject. “You’re a great dancer.”
His grin turned cocky. “I am. You’re a natural.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He shook his head. “Not a single one.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a sip of her beer to distract from her loss of words. He was doing something to her. She didn’t know what it was, but she was afraid it might be permanent.
As if he sensed her unease, he said: “Want to check out the other dance floor?”
She nodded, grasping at something safe, and he offered her his arm once again. Taking it, she followed him out of the room leaving the Western and brass sounds of the cumbia, crossed the foyer, and followed him into the thunderous bass of the reggaeton room.
The music was loud and fast and stampeded her heartbeat into its rhythm. Tension she didn’t know she’d been holding eased out of her shoulders. Here was something she was familiar with.
She didn’t get out often, but it had been the tradition for her college rodeo team to go out dancing in Tulsa at the end of every quarter. She was no phenom, but she knew she could hold her own on this dance floor.
She was wearing a dress, and a bit of a sundress at that, so there would be nothing really risqué with him tonight, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun.
She moved her shoulders and head in time to the music almost automatically, unwilling to wait until he found them a space in the crowd. Her hips had joined in on the action by the time he’d picked a spot and twirled her around to draw her up against him, her rear pressing against his groin. His hand was firm on one hip, lending her balance and stamping possession at the same time. She leaned back into him and their bodies seemed to move together in perfect sync with the sound of their own accord.
She hadn’t danced close like this since Spain—in the States, drinking safety rules kept her from letting anyone so far into her bubble.
In Spain, the night hadn’t ever started until after 11:00 p.m. and never ended before six in the morning. At twenty-one, living in a foreign country, she’d been sure that, next to rodeo, there was no better way to tap into the part of herself that was forever wild and free than to dance into the morning. She was wrong, though. Dancing with AJ was more thrilling than both.
Having him in her bed even more than that.
While she swirled in thoughts of him, their dance transitioned into a smooth two-step, bodies fused, both of them taken over by the heat and pace of the beat.
She threw him a curve, stuttering the beat so that her behind bounced against him and he caught on immediately, adjusting his own movement to pull his hips away and thrust back to meet her bounce. They were both fully clothed, but she felt the thrill of each thrust as if they were naked and alone.
Her dress prevented things from getting acrobatic, but the sense that their bodies could take it there thrummed between them like a power line. He had the flow to go with her paired with the strength to lure her to come close. Whether she pushed or pulled, his body promised he’d meet her with exactly what she needed. She closed her eyes and shivered despite the heat of the dance floor.
The song transitioned into a popular dance song with a smooth, heavy beat. Lil wasn’t sure who led the change, but their movement slowed, becoming more fluid and sensual. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer at the same time as he leaned in to press a kiss to her neck, just below her ear, all without losing the beat. It was so tender, even in the middle of the throng of grinding bodies that her breath caught in her throat.
Then he spun her away and back so they were face-to-face and chest to chest. Eyes locked, both of them were breathing hard, their feet moving together in a quick-paced two-step. Lil couldn’t think of another time she’d ever been so in tune with another human in her life.
His eyes lit with pleasure as if he could read her mind and he grinned, lifting his arm and twirling her around to spin again. It was all she could do to spot and hold on, and she laughed, feeling carefree in a way she hadn’t since she’d outgrown the merry-go-round.
Pulling her out of the spin with a mini dip and a kiss, AJ gave her a small twirl in the opposite direction to counter dizziness. As he had before, he spun her first in and then away from him. This time, though, instead of flicking his wrist to spiral her body back toward his, a pair of hands grabbed her waist from behind, used her momentum against her, and spun her around to take her into their own dip and kiss.
The stranger’s lips were hard and cold against hers, his hands like frozen solid ice packs on her back. She balled her fists and slammed them against his chest, but he just laughed before righting them both. She leaped away from him as soon as they were balanced and her mouth dropped open.
It was Hank.
She experienced a moment of strange double vision, images of Hank in the arena running simultaneously to the picture of him standing in front of her. Her skin felt strangely numb.
How did Hank end up at the same spot as the two of them? The place had a secret knock, for crying out loud.
The music that had only moments ago pounded in her blood now just pounded in her head. She refused to rub her temples, even as they begged for the gentle pressure of her fingertips to ease the throbbing.
What was Hank doing there?
She didn’t have time to answer the question, though. Instead, AJ’s fist came flying out of her peripheral vision to land in the center of Hank’s face.
33
Unlike the outbursts of his youth, no storm raged inside as AJ swung his fist into the face of a twenty-year-long annoyance.
He wasn’t hitting Hank because he was annoying, though.
He wasn’t even hitting him because he’d cut in on his dance with Lil, though that was rude.
AJ was hitting Hank, and with deadly calm, because of the way Lil’s body had stiffened when the other man had touched her.
Her freezing, all that joyful fluid grace going rigid, struck him as an injustice that needed immediate righting.
She had been happy and safe and Hank had taken that away from her. So even though AJ might’ve been the one to throw the first punch, Hank had been the one to s
tart it. And once started, neither man was about to back down. Hank swung back and AJ dodged, dimly noting the rising tide of phones in the background, all aimed toward the fight.
This is going to be a scandal... The thought floated through his mind like a leaf on a river, lazy and unmolested, while he caught Hank in the gut with an uppercut.
Doubled over, it was easy to knock him to the ground, but the guy didn’t stay down long. Rebounding with surprising agility, Hank jumped up swinging into AJ’s side, catching him in the center of his left-side ribs.
The air escaped AJ’s lungs with the force of a car wreck and he nearly doubled over himself. Hank had a helluva swing. Probably cracked a rib.
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, though. AJ stepped to the right to avoid another one of Hank’s hammer punches and tripped the bastard, this time ready to use the guy’s rapid leap to his feet against him. Hank popped up right into AJ’s outstretched forearm, clotheslining himself with his own force.
Landing on his ass, Hank lost his spring and couldn’t hop up so quick, and AJ got a moment to recapture his breath. The guy hit like a bear.
When he did come back, it looked like he was going for a sucker punch and AJ blocked, but at the last minute he switched swinging arms and hit AJ dead in the eye. AJ’s head snapped back, but he got his block up before it even had time to whip back, so Hank’s number two hit didn’t make its mark. They danced around each other—an odd pair of bare-knuckle boxers both dressed in their go-to-towns.
By this point, they’d captured the attention of folks from both sides of the warehouse. The crowd that encircled them was a thick sea of people and dollar bills and bets were starting to swim through it. There were more phones out recording the scene than he could count.
In the corner of his eye, Lil was a figure in white, separate from both the sea of people and the brawl, but still within the circle.
A feint to the left and a quick jab with the right and he clipped Hank in the side of the head. The other man’s eyes momentarily pointed in two different directions and AJ ignored the twinge of conscience he blamed on his EMT training in order to finish it with a hook from the left. Hank fell backward, landing flat on the floor. AJ knelt quickly and checked for a pulse—it was the least he could do to satisfy the part of him that cared about helping people—before standing up to find Lil. At his feet, Hank groaned, though his figure remained prone. It didn’t matter to AJ, he’d met his professional obligation as far as Hank was concerned and no longer had time for him.
The Wildest Ride--A Novel Page 30
