The closeness and the softness of his voice only reminded Setha of earlier that day on the rooftop of his office. She remembered the humiliation, the sting of it heating her cheeks.
“Why are you here, Khouri?”
He presented the portfolio she’d left behind.
She blinked. “Thanks. You didn’t have to come all this way to return it. I could’ve gotten it at our next meeting.”
Khouri put distance between them and went to lean against a counter. “I wasn’t so sure about that after the way you ran out on me today.”
“Hmph,” she mumbled with a smile before she went to check the cookies baking in the top oven.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. Trust me.”
“Did I do something?” He faked confusion, knowing full well what the issue was.
Setha’s laughter was a little more pronounced then. Her high ponytail slapped her cheeks when she shook her head. “You didn’t do anything, Khouri. You didn’t do anything at all, remember?” She let the oven door close with more force than was needed.
Khouri folded his arms over his chest. “Have you eaten?” He kept his eyes on his shoes—one crossed over the other. Another laugh was the response.
“I never eat when I get on a cooking kick.”
“Well, hell, that’s no fun. Come out with me.”
“No, I, um…no.” She couldn’t decide whether she wanted her hands in or out of the denim capris she sported.
“Is that because there’s someone you’re trying not to upset?”
She opened the refrigerator door and then closed it. “There’s no one.”
“Does he know that?”
Setha blinked and turned from the refrigerator to study him curiously. “What are you talking about?”
Khouri maintained his spot along the counter. “You’re starting to offend me. Turning down all my invitations.”
She resumed wiping down the countertops, starting with the one nearest him. “You’ll get over it,” she grumbled.
“Don’t be so sure,” he said, moving from the counter and turning her against it.
He’d moved so quickly, she barely had time to register the change in her position. The only thing registering then was his mouth on hers. He delivered the kiss thoroughly, enticing her tongue into the sultriest of duels. Infrequently, he curved his tongue over and around hers and then traced the even ridge of her teeth which coaxed her to do the same to him.
“What are you doing?” She barely formed the words when he finally let her up for air.
“Giving you what you wanted earlier.” He trailed his nose along the soft curve of her jaw and was kissing her again soon after.
It wasn’t in Setha’s nature to hold back, especially when she wanted something as much as she’d wanted to be kissed by Khouri Ross. Boldly, she tucked herself into his lithe, lean frame, participating in the kiss with an eagerness that made him rest against the counter while keeping her close.
His hands were everywhere since he’d wanted to touch her, unrestrained, from the moment he’d found her in his office. He cupped her bottom neatly encased in the denims and squeezed, drawing her into his firming erection. The fact that she didn’t resist added hunger to his kiss. For some reason, it also warned him not to rush it.
Why he should care about that was unknown to him. It was all too clear that they both wanted what was happening. But she was a mystery to him—one he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully solve.
He began to apply quick, supple pecks to her well-kissed mouth. “Sure you won’t have dinner with me?”
“Mmm…” She ran her tongue across his perfect teeth. “Dinner’s not what I want.” The words spilled from her tongue and she instantly regretted them. Bristling, she muttered a criticism believing she’d done another fine job of humiliating herself.
Cupping her lovely molasses-dark face, he kissed her again. He let her hear the moans her sweet mouth drew from him. Setha treated herself to the feel of his body smoothing her hands across his wide back and shoulders and the chiseled expanse of his torso.
“Promise to lock up as soon as I leave?” he said when the kiss broke that time.
She snuggled closer to suckle his earlobe. “I promise to lock up…good and tight.”
He couldn’t resist another kiss then. His fingers skirted the button fly of her capris. When the exploring hand insinuated itself between her thighs, she squeezed them close and absorbed the sensation he provided.
Khouri used his free hand to weigh her breast. Her gasping moans were a pleasurable massage to his ego and he practically fondled her right out of the pink, capped-sleeved blouse she wore.
“Stop me, Setha.”
“Why?” She was virtually straddling him on the counter then. Her fingers were curled into his shirt and she resumed her hungry suckling of his tongue.
“Setha? Honey, I should go,” he groaned when the words finally left his mouth.
She didn’t try to entice him into changing his mind. Slowly, she unwrapped herself from him. “Night,” she bid, moving back and keeping her eyes on his.
Khouri commanded his legs to carry him to the door. He was almost home free when she called out to him.
“It’s apple,” she said upon presenting him with one of the pies from the hutch.
He grinned. “This is a first.”
She raised one shoulder. “Hopefully a good first?”
Provocatively long lashes fluttered down over his hazel stare. “You have no idea.” He studied every inch of her face and then leaned close to kiss the corner of her mouth. He left her with the order, “Lock up.”
Setha took care of every lock. Then she returned to the kitchen and indulged in a few deep, refreshing breaths.
* * *
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“Pretty sure you know.”
Silence drifted across the phone lines for a time.
“You’ve gone too far.”
“You knew this would be our endgame.”
“But not like this.”
“Hermano…is this you talkin’ or the money?”
“It’s both and since the money is the money, it’d be in your best interest to take heed, as well.”
“Bullshit. You think I care about money? I haven’t cared about money since we were cheated out of what’s ours.”
“At any rate, you’re drawing too much attention too fast. Cornelius wasn’t to be touched.”
“It all started with him.”
“He wasn’t to be touched!”
Silence.
“Now you back off Setha Melendez or I won’t be able to help you.”
“They have to pay.”
“And they will, but in a way that can’t possibly be traced back to us.”
“This is bigger than us, hermano. You know that. This money man wouldn’t be giving us a second thought if it wasn’t.”
“Even still, we have a chance to come out of this set for life if we play the game right. Now can I count on you?”
“You can always count on me, hermano.”
“And you’re backing off the Melendez?”
“Backin’ off.”
The phone connection ended.
The man on one end of the call held on to his receiver and frowned. “For now,” he said.
Chapter 9
The attendees at Wade Cornelius’s funeral read like a who’s who of Houston society. Out of a genuine respect for the man they admired, many journalists on hand put away their notepads and recording devices to share space with the politicians, executives and celebrities whose stories they craved. Everyone came to pay tribute to a man who had touched their lives in one form or another.
&n
bsp; Setha had arrived with her brother Paolo. She stood taking in the mass of bodies covering the cemetery where Cornelius’s body was about to be interred. She wondered whether her follower was there. It’d make sense for him to attend since everything she was uncovering was telling her that he was the reason for this particular event. She managed to shake away the morose thought just as Paolo ended his conversation with the business associate who’d pulled him aside.
Paolo tugged his little sister close and tweaked her chin. “You all right, girl?”
She made a pretense at straightening his tie. “You know, if one more person asks me that, I believe I’ll scream.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You gotta know we’re concerned, though?”
“I know—” she squeezed back “—I’m sorry for snapping but really, Pow, I’m just peachy. Despite the fact that I’m about to walk through a cemetery.”
Paolo’s robust laughter drew more than a few smiles in spite of the gloominess of the occasion. Arm in arm, the siblings headed forward. Setha’s eyes widened and her fingers curved a smidge tighter into Paolo’s arm when she spotted Khouri surrounded by three women who were almost as tall as he was.
Setha recognized one of the women as Avra Ross and wondered if the others were the sisters Raquel and Fiona. Her mouth curved into a rueful smile. She’d hoped to speak with Raquel that night when she had tried to visit her club.
If that son of a b hadn’t been tracking me, I might’ve been able to talk to her, Setha thought. She may’ve found someone to finally bounce her outrageous theories off of. Instead, she’d been chased barefoot down a slimy alley and forced to hide out in some stranger’s car.
She gasped then, her free hand immediately going to her mouth. Paolo didn’t pay much attention to her reaction.
“You say somethin’, hon?” he murmured.
“Seth, that’s crazy…” she told herself. “I, um, I think I see Daddy and them.” She pointed across the grounds.
Once hugs and handshakes were exchanged between the Melendezes, talk stirred regarding the various attendees. The guys remarked on the information they’d gotten out of Brad Crest.
“He seemed certain no one out of his office let it spill about the vics being Melendez employees.” Lugo tapped his fingers against his silver-and-black speckled tie. His deep-set browns roamed the cemetery grounds with blatant suspicion.
“We might come through this without the high-level execs spillin’ the beans on that. That happens, chances are we could avoid a panic,” Paolo added.
Sam tapped fingers to his dimpled chin and observed his brothers stoically. “You two are whistlin’ in a shitty wind if you think that’ll happen. Everybody, high-level to custodial, they’ve been whisperin’ about this since day one.”
“At least we’ve got that much to go on.” Paolo’s slanting dark stare remained downcast. “Maybe them being Melendez employees is why they were targeted.”
* * *
“Mis hijos, I think we should let this rest.” Danilo had been listening to his sons’ theories. He clapped Paolo’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze beneath the worsted fabric of his navy suit coat. “Let the police do their jobs, yes?”
Samson and Setha left off with the speculating, Paolo and Lugo didn’t quite agree.
“The guy behind this is a complete nutcase,” Lugo declared. “We’re fools to believe he’s done with this spree of his.”
“You got that right,” Paolo said.
“Do you even realize that you’re upsetting your sister? Basta.” Enough, he urged, having noticed when Setha closed her eyes and swallowed.
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
Dan shook his head. “I say we change the subject.”
Setha eased both hands into the pockets of the black jacket which complemented the chic A-line dress she wore. “It seems that Basil Ross and the deceased parted ways with a disagreement between them.”
Danilo’s expression reflected surprise.
“They had a terrible argument.” Setha’s smile was barely there as she watched the breeze lift her father’s thick black hair off his wide forehead. “Wade Cornelius resigned right after that.” She pressed her lips together, feeling Dan’s astute gaze boring into her. Undaunted, she still selected her next words carefully.
“It’s rumored that the fight had something to do with his last story—the suicide of a man that worked for us.”
Setha’s revelation was accentuated by a faint chime that drew the crowd’s attention to the grave site. Paolo and Lugo moved ahead while Setha and Dan strolled arm in arm. Samson lagged behind his family and watched his sister.
* * *
The cemetery began to clear following a dramatic rendering of “Amazing Grace” from the choir of the Cornelius family’s church. Avra was conducting a search into the depths of her black tote while heading in the general vicinity of the parking area. Her slow trek was blocked when she bumped into the wall that was Samson Melendez. She took a step back and glowered.
“What rock did you crawl out from under?”
Sam’s grin had the capacity to make him look at ease and dangerous at once. “I came to pay my respects.”
“Understandable.” Avra smirked, taking the sunglasses from their perch atop her head and exchanging it for one across her nose. “After all, Wade Cornelius almost single-handedly gave Melendez its sterling rep. Not an easy thing to get in this town.”
“We’re very proud of our sterling rep.” Something had cooled in Sam’s dark, riveting eyes.
“And are you referring to your real rep or the one Wade created for you?”
“Are you saying he reported inaccurately?”
“Lord, Sam.” Avra eased the shades down a smidge on her nose. “Have you ever even read any of the man’s stories on Melendez or…had them read to you?” She set the shades back in place and folded her arms over the chic scoop-neck dress she wore. “Anyone with a brain would know they were slanted to favor Melendez.”
“You are includin’ your daddy there, Av? Are you saying that Basil Ross would allow false stories to be printed in his paper?” He made a tsking sound. “Don’t sound like the Basil Ross I know.”
“’Scuse me,” she said. She proceeded to step around him then.
Sam prevented it. “I heard they had a falling-out—your dad and the deceased. Maybe over one of his last stories on the Machine.”
“Get out of my way, Sam.”
Ignoring her thoroughly peeved request, Sam moved closer, easily crowding her. “Why so edgy, Av? That kind of tension’s bad for one’s health, you know? You should do somethin’ about that.”
Her smile bordered on a sneer. “And I’ll bet you’ve got tons of ideas that could help me out, hmm?”
He moved in so close then that the brim of his black Stetson provided her with ample shade from the sun. Avra prayed he couldn’t see the unease—or anticipation—stirring behind her sunglasses.
His wide mouth, set appealingly beneath a neatly trimmed mustache, tilted upward into the most seductive of smiles. “I’ve got ideas that could keep you busy for weeks,” he taunted.
Avra chose not to acknowledge the reaction his words roused.
“’Scuse me,” she repeated, then darted past him and bolted.
* * *
Paolo had gotten caught up in another conversation once the funeral ended which gave Setha time to sign the attendance book while she waited. She’d signed her name but kept the pen poised, biting her lip as she debated. Then, following her instincts, she flipped back the pages in order to scan the names already entered. A few names stuck out to her, her pen hovering over them for a moment or so. The study of the names, and everything else for that matter, flew from her brain when she felt a faint tug at her dress sleeve. Khouri Ross stood
behind her.
“Hey.” She swallowed. Her greeting was breathless as she fought to make her mind work.
Khouri kept his hold on her short sleeve, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “So you do come out in public and to funerals no less. Should I be concerned?”
Setha laughed and missed the way his eyes followed the toss of her hair.
“If what I’ve learned is true, my family owed a lot to Mr. Cornelius.” When his sleek brows joined, she changed the subject. “I saw you with Avra. You guys were talkin’ to two other women…”
“My sisters,” he confirmed, tilting his head when she pressed her lips together and nodded. “Did you think otherwise?”
A little wave of humor funneled up inside her. “You’ll never know,” she sang.
“Right.” He scanned the thinning crowd while jingling the keys in his pocket. “Walk you to your car?” he offered.
“Oh…Khouri, thanks, but I came with Paolo. We’ll be leaving as soon as he’s done talking.”
“Mmm-hmm…” Khouri nodded while pulling a mobile phone from his back pocket.
Setha frowned a bit, watching him work with the phone as though she wasn’t even there.
“Pow?” he said, staring at Setha. “Khouri Ross. What’s goin’ on?”
Setha’s lips parted.
“Right, right…yeah, I’m here—actually standin’ with your sister…right. Listen, we’ve got some business to discuss so I’ll make sure she gets home and has dinner, all right? Mmm-hmm…yep…sounds good. See ya ’round.”
“Khouri, I can’t—”
“Don’t bother.” He slipped the phone back inside one pocket and withdrew keys from another. “It’s fine with me if you prefer going home and cooking me dinner instead of going out.”
The man’s slow, easy confidence had her torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to swoon.
“If anybody ever told you that you were subtle, they lied.”
“What?” He feigned confusion with raised brows. “We’re just goin’ to talk a little business. What’s wrong with that?”
Laughing softly, Setha studied the strappy heels she wore. “Nothing’s wrong with that, but I distinctly remember you telling me that you don’t discuss business during dinner.”
Texas Love Song Page 8
