“Rahim’s death was so very hard on her. She blamed herself, because it was her idea for him to stay nearby. He was accepted into a summer program in London and would not have had time to see the family in Yemen. He would have been in school at the time of the…”
Explosion. Mel thought back to that day in the hospital when she had received a call that her granny had been in a car accident. Life itself seemed to have blown into pieces. A cold chill swept through her, and she rubbed at the gooseflesh that prickled her arms.
Hakeem released a deep, labored sigh. “She blamed herself and…and she…”
Mel shut her eyes at the agony in Hakeem’s voice. She’d always counted herself as blessed that she didn’t allow herself to fall in love with someone who could and would ultimately hurt her — perhaps even worse than the torment she endured in college. How Hakeem continued to struggle with the emotion of abandonment had her feeling a bit relieved. No one could touch her heart again. She was safe.
“One evening, I returned home…”
Wait. There was more to the story?
“I found her on the floor of our kitchen. Her wrists.” He paused. Trembling fingers tapped on one of his wrists. “They were slashed…bloody.”
Her stomach unexpectedly flipped and then dropped. All her self-satisfied emotions evaporated and a profound sense of remorse filled her. “Hakeem… I…I don’t know what to say.”
The kindhearted smile returned and he patted her upper left arm before he gave it a gentle squeeze. He moved past her and continued to the front of the tent, where the dinner meal sat expectantly. He fiddled with the silverware and arranged two place settings. She followed him, but stopped at a distance from him to observe his behavior. The thought of his wife’s suicide still evoked strong emotions from him, yet he continued to live his life, finding happiness with an “adopted” son.
“Say nothing, my dear. She was not strong enough to handle the grief.”
“Rahim’s death was not her fault.”
“No, no, it was not. Sometimes we create fiction to manage our pain. But it only masks it.”
“And sometimes increases it.” Alejandro used to ask what was with the chip on her shoulder, and she’d brush him off and pretend not to know what he was talking about. She had guessed he could detect a deeper issue because they had worked together day in and day out on an undercover assignments. But she’d only known Ric a few short days and he had sensed it as well, only he saw right into her soul — to her pain.
“Ricardo showed me the path to a new life. After losing my wife and son, I had nothing left. Now, look at the life I lead!” He spread his arms wide in a grand gesture, his smile broad and full of pleasure. “I am like, 007.”
She grinned at the reference to the most debonair, fictional spy that ever existed, but her mind was still on the pain that had consumed Hakeem’s wife and at one time, threatened to devour him. Give it to Jesus, her granny used to say. It was some kind of wisdom old folks were supposed to tout given their age and experience. Whatever issues they had to face, they were too old to do much about them anyway, and too old to care. On the other hand, her granny wasn’t senile and after she raised several children on her own and worked two jobs, Mel couldn’t discount the woman’s experience or wisdom.
“Keep the ice on your lip, or it will continue to swell.”
Mel sighed and placed the now damp cloth filled with rapidly melting ice cubes against the lower left corner of her mouth. Sucking water from the cloth, she considered the punch and kicked herself for not seeing it coming. For a small, middle-aged man who had thugs to do his dirty work, Abdul packed a solid right hook.
“Melody…”
At the sound of a deep baritone, her head snapped to the tent’s entrance. Oh, no. Ric stood there, arms limp at his sides and eyes wide on her mouth. She didn’t know how long they stood there and stared at each other, but in an instant he was beside her. He drew her hand holding the ice pack down from her face; his other hand was on the small of her back, luring her ever so closer to his body.
Oh, the contact felt so…so…right. Being near him warmed her, and his gentle touch eased the tension she felt over her encounter with Abdul. His very presence was like a comforting massage to her aching soul. Was this how it was supposed to feel?
“Qué te pasa, morena?”
She didn’t want to tell him. Her eyes darted to Hakeem, who watched them intently. If she didn’t tell Ric, Hakeem definitely would. She cleared her throat and tried to back away from Ric, but his arm seemed to have a lock on her waist and her efforts only brought him nearer. “Um, after you left, Abdul stopped by.” His face darkened and his eyes clouded. A tic pulsed in his tight jaw and a strange urge to thread her fingertips through his beard almost had her hand up and to the side of his face, but she resisted. With all her might.
“And?” he asked with a bit of impatience.
“And what does it look like?” She didn’t mean the hiss in her tone, but the whole situation aggravated her. Her plan was perfect — if not for the guards — yet all she had to show for it was a busted lip.
“He just punched you?”
Her spine stiffened at the incredulity in his voice. “Are you implying I baited him to attack me?”
Ric rolled his eyes. He ran both hands through his thick, wavy hair and blew out a frustrated breath. Before she could stalk past him, he gently cradled her face in his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop forcing an argument between us,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard you try to get rid of me.”
He stood so close now. The magnetism of his eyes held hers in complete suspension. The sounds of Hakeem fiddling with the food covers faded, as did everything else around them. Nothing was more in focus than Ric’s eyes, his flared nostrils, his slightly opened mouth. She could hear the rapid blasts of his breath, feel the warmth of them on her cheeks. Smell the faint aftershave he wore. See right through his eyes and into his soul.
Were they bonding? They had to be because a strange sort of shackle clamped itself around her heart and caused her to tremble. The foreign sting of tears burned the back of her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the dryness of her throat prevented all sound. She could see it, though. His heart was in his eyes. The murderous glare when she’d mentioned Abdul’s earlier visit was replaced by a longing so clear and so strong it eviscerated any and all desire to resist.
This look was different. Not the same one her college boyfriend had just before the attack. His was frightening: a sort of depraved possessiveness that curdled her insides and elicited her panicked shriek. No. No, Ric’s gaze told her she belonged to him in the sappy romantic movie way that would normally make her gag, but the acid reflux was curiously replaced by…butterflies?
This can’t be happening. I can’t belong to him. I won’t... “I’m not. I’m not forcing an argument.”
His lips curled into an amused grin and his eyes lightened. Too soon the humor faded from his face and his features hardened, his eyes deepening into jet-black. “Abdul interrupted the sheik and I, and practically laughed in my face about you. For that, I’m gonna kill him.”
Ric abruptly broke away and in two long strides, he was near the tent’s entrance. Hakeem blocked his exit.
“Ric, please, don’t!” Mel rushed toward him. “He’s just trying to send a message. He wants me to know that he knows I was in his tent and that he’s in control.”
Ric whirled. “Except he’s not, and someone needs to inform him of that.”
“It doesn’t have to be you!”
“No?” Ric laughed harshly. “Then who? No. I’m tired, Melody. I’m tired of seeing the women I care about get beat up.”
Her mouth closed in resignation. She couldn’t argue with his experience. Her heart broke knowing a bit of the five-year-old boy, who didn’t have the strength to defend his mother against the brutality of his father, was still inside and struggled to prove he could protect his mother and def
eat his father. He wasn’t like her college boyfriend at all; he was a man who would protect women from the brutality of other men. Although the experience had long since passed, it continued to warp her sense of trust and her view of men in general. God, help me. I don’t want to be this bitter forever. In an effort to prove her petition, she didn’t resist the desire to hold Ric, and both hands cupped his face. Ric stiffened slightly at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “I’m alright,” she whispered. “I feel safe here. I am safe here, with you.”
Ric’s gaze faltered for a brief moment and when it returned to meet hers, gratitude streaked through the anger. “What happened to you in college… I know you never said, but I can imagine the difficulty in trusting someone else after…” Ric’s lips twisted with a sarcastic tilt. “Especially with someone you’ve just met.” His eyes searched hers with skepticism, but his voice spoke of hope. “Are you sure?”
He knew. But it wasn’t difficult to deduce what had happened to her. Ric wasn’t inept. His knowing, however, eased her into a place of comfort and trust she hadn’t experienced before with a man. It frightened her, but right now she wouldn’t consider her fear. She respected the lack of pity in his gaze. She wasn’t hopeless, and had spent her life controlling circumstances so she would never have to face another demon. Their situation, however, was completely out of her control. Facing this trial with Ric… She didn’t feel alone or hopeless.
Her lip felt fat when she smiled and she refused to think how hideous she looked to him right now. She chose instead to encourage him with a nod. “Very sure. I’ve never felt more safe.”
“Even more than when you were with Ale?”
If he meant to hide the trace of coarseness that laced his tone, he failed completely — but Mel suspected there was a reason for that. Ale was the oldest and if anything, Ric wanted to prove to her that he was equally capable. She stepped closer and gently pulled his face down to meet hers. Her heart beat harshly against her ribs and broke through the bars of mistrust that had caged it for too long. The longer she stared into his eyes, the freer she felt. “Much more.” She lightly brushed his lips with a kiss. Before she could pull away, his arms were around her and his mouth pressed firmly to hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, angling back. “Did I hurt you?”
Mel smiled. “No. It’s so swollen I don’t feel a thing.”
Hunger flashed in his eyes as they were trained on her lips. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“You said Abdul interrupted your meeting with Hassan?” Hakeem interjected.
Ric kept his arms around Mel and turned to Hakeem. “Yes. I just hope he didn’t overhear Hassan and me talking about him before he entered. There was no announcement and he just walked right in.”
“If he didn’t have a reason to target you after you claimed Ms. Lewis, then he has one now.”
“And that’s going to complicate things.”
The heavy annoyance in his voice fueled Mel’s righteous indignation. “Go ahead and say it.” Thick, black brows collided and he searched her face for the answer to an unspoken question.
“Say what?”
Had she misjudged him? “Say ‘I told you so.’ I know you’re just dying to get it out.”
The crease between his brows disappeared. “You clearly don’t know me,” he said with a grin.
“How could I? We just met the other day.” His fingers trailed the tender flesh above her hip bone and she nearly jumped from the sensation. She had another snappy comment on the tip of her tongue, but kept her mouth shut, knowing it would come out incoherent.
“Listen, Miss Snark, I’d be happy to say ‘I told you so’ if that’s what you want.”
“Really? Would you?” she asked with breathless sarcasm.
“But you got me all wrong. I’d rather do this…”
He dipped his head and captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss. Their lips parted briefly before he pressed his lips to the knot at the bottom corner of her lip. The gesture produced a burning in her eyes. She opened them to find her arms locked around his neck. She hadn’t even been conscious of her movement.
“You’re crying. Are you okay?”
She fought back a surge of tears at the concern in his voice and instead, wriggled out of his embrace and with her back turned to him, she wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said as stiffly as she could. She eyed the covered meals on the table and her stomach rumbled in hunger. Wait a minute. Where’s Hakeem? He had discreetly disappeared.
“Tell me everything Abdul said.”
The way he said Abdul’s name, as if the taste of it disgusted him, was a sentiment she shared. She didn’t even want to discuss the man anymore, but the guy was ruthless…and patient. He had settled for giving her, and Ric, a message with the pop to her mouth instead of choking her with his bare hands, which was the look he gave her right before his fist connected with her lip. Both she and Ric needed to analyze the man’s actions if they were going to stay one step ahead of whatever he was up to. “He didn’t say much. Just that he was sorry he wasn’t available when I came by to visit him earlier. I denied I was there, of course.”
“I knew I should have killed those guys.”
Ric’s muttering wasn’t lost on her. In the haste to escape the tent, they hadn’t gone to the trouble of silencing their captors. “We didn’t have enough time. And how would we have disposed of the bodies?”
“We wouldn’t have.”
“Then Abdul would suspect us!”
“Let him. He already does,” Ric answered evenly. “Without anyone to back up his claim that we were snooping in his tent, Sheik Hassan would have let the matter die. He’d have paid Abdul handsomely for the inconvenience and given him double the guards as a replacement.”
“You’re so sure of yourself? Of the sheik?”
Expecting an affirmative answer right away, she arched a brow when he took his time to ponder her questions. His hands were on his slender hips, his wide shoulders straight. Mel didn’t doubt the confidence he displayed. The silence said he doubted himself. Although his eyes were on her, he wasn’t exactly looking at her. Mel waited.
After a few moments, he spoke. “Of myself, yes, obviously. The sheik…” He blew out a long breath. He lifted the covering on one of the plates. Whatever his thoughts were of the food, they remained a mystery as he retained the look of contemplation. He pulled out a chair for her. After she took a seat, he continued in a low voice. “According to intelligence, an attack on the US Embassy in the UAE is imminent. Hassan is my source and has been for several years. My investigation has led me to suspect that he’s funding the attack.” Mel’s mouth hung open as Ric finally explained his mission. “I’m convinced Abdul is the organizer of the plot, which is why we can’t draw any more attention to ourselves.”
Melody, you’ve done a lot of stupid things, but this… Lives are at stake!
Ric spoke again. “I’m sure the sheik will do what he can to protect me until he no longer can.”
Melody took a seat across from him. “What do you mean by that? Is there some sort of expiration date on his hospitality? His protection?”
Ric removed the covers to reveal two hearty cuts of steak served with steamed vegetables. He cocked a half-grin. “My favorite meal, minus a bloomin’ onion. Hassan likes to have it cooked for me when I’m visiting. And to answer your question, yes, there is an expiration date on the sheik’s protection. It expires as soon as I make too much trouble.”
He averted his eyes. It didn’t sound like a dig but nevertheless, she took it as a chastisement for her earlier behavior and she accepted it in silence. She had endangered them both, and got nearly knocked out because of it. “I’m making too much trouble,” she said softly to herself.
“Not too much…yet.”
His easy smile did little to relieve the uneasiness she felt over the possibility that she might just count as a strike against Ric. Add the unfortunate moment Abdul’s men cau
ght her in his tent and that was strike two. Ric now had very little room for error to continue his search for information about the upcoming attack on the embassy.
“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle the sheik.”
“And Abdul?”
Ric’s eyes flashed with villainous contempt. “I’ll handle him too.” He winked.
She wanted to smile but forced her lips to remain rigid. The situation was serious, and even though he smiled — thinly — for her benefit, she’d prove to him that she had learned her lesson. And…and…she’d follow his lead. Mel reached for the glass of water near her plate and chugged.
“Mel-o-dy? Take a breath.”
One last gulp and she slammed the empty glass back on the table. She inhaled loudly through her open mouth. She ignored the concerned look he gave her — or was it a “I think you’re weird” look? — and picked up her fork and knife to cut into her steak.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she answered at the same time she took a bite of the meat. She chewed as slowly as she could to avoid conversation. Ric crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. That cocky half-grin was back, but she refused to look at it.
“You know, I can do this all day.”
“Not eat?”
“Ha! You know what I mean.”
She believed him. Don’t engage. She took another bite. “Mmm, this steak is really tasty. Perfectly cooked.”
“Is it, now?”
“You should try it.”
“How’s your lip?”
The question caught her off-guard and her eyes locked with his. He still sat with his hands locked beneath his arms, but his demeanor had darkened once more.
“It hurts to chew, but I’m managing.”
“I swear I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.
The venom lacing his voice chilled her. Where was the usually good-natured Ricardo; the serious, yet softhearted, man who couldn’t stay mad at her for longer than two seconds? Funny how that trait was rubbing off on her. Was his attitude the result of letting go of past wrongs? The pain caused by loved ones? She rather enjoyed holding on to her bitterness. It gave her something to live for. It was one of the few real things she felt. Her appetite gone, she laid the fork and knife across her plate.
Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Page 12
