SALSA NIGHTS
Club Lava Series
Chalee Mar
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
SALSA NIGHTS
Copyright © 2010 by Chalee Mar
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-807-8
First E-book Publication: May 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Salsa Nights by Chalee Mar from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
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This is Chalee Mar’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Mar’s right to earn a living from her work.
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DEDICATION
To Alyssa and Ashley,
You believed in me and reminded me why I had to do this, even when you are both too young to read past this page!
I am so proud to be your mother. You are my dream come true.
Las quiero con todo mi corazon.
SALSA NIGHTS
Club Lava Series
CHALEE MAR
Copyright © 2010
Chapter One
Bright fluorescent lights bounced off the crisp white paper in her trembling hands. Isabel Santos blinked away the stinging glare and drew in a sharp breath, ignoring the usually soothing mulberry scent of her dying candle. Each word typed in Comic Sans font mocked her. How could anyone think this was a joke?
I AM WATCHING YOU. WILL YOU BE NEXT?
When the sickening wave of nausea reached her throat, Isabel dropped the note on her desk and stepped out of her office. Thump kaa. Thump kaa. Thump kaa. Her heels resonated across the high-gloss oak dance floor. Her key-lime green eyes scanned the large, empty dance school. She rubbed her arms protectively. Nervously, she licked one corner of her mouth, dragging back the salty taste of sweat from hours of instruction. Through the tinted window she could see the few cars parked near the shops still open. She locked her front door.
Many days turned to nights teaching Latin dance to her students at her beachside studio. But this was the first time she’d felt afraid to walk out alone.
“Hey, chica, I’m done for the night. Do you need anything?” The sound of Nik Logan’s voice jump-started her heart, and she turned to her best friend.
“Ah, no. Wait for me and we’ll walk out together.” Isabel shot one last glance over her shoulder at the parking lot encased in twilight, and hurried back to her office to grab her dance bag. Chewing her bottom lip, she snatched the note and stuffed it in her purse.
“Okay, let’s go.” She led Nik through the back of her dance school.
“I hate this back room. Gives me the creeps,” Nik murmured, stepping past the lockers and kitchen to the nearly pitch black far wall.
Isabel attempted a small laugh, hoping it would quiet her screaming nerves. It didn’t work. With her cell phone light she lit the way to the back door. “Sorry. I forgot to call someone to fix this light. I’ll do that tomorrow.”
They stepped out into the back parking lot, and Isabel set the alarm before locking the door and heading to their cars. The hot, humid September night, typical of South Florida weather, never bothered her, having grown up in this tropical climate. But tonight, it was distinctly quiet, and she walked a little bit faster.
“Isa, are you okay? I know Gina’s death shook us all up, but you seemed fine today. Then, I don’t know, something happened to you. Talk to me.”
Isabel let out a deep shuddering breath as she checked around for someone, something, anything.
“No, no. It’s nothing, really. It was just a long day and I—”
“Liar. I know you. Try again.”
She stopped at her car, parked right next to her friend’s, and grinned. Nik knew her too well to try and conceal anything from her, especially fear. They had grown up practically sisters, and it was comforting that someone loved her and cared as much about her as her dear friend. But that’s why she couldn’t tell her. She’d be too worried to let her even breathe, which guaranteed she’d be on Isabel every second of every hour and drive her insane. So she came up with a half-truth that would get Nik off her back.
“Gina was scheduled for class tonight. It brought back memories of…you know.” She swallowed a fat lump and dragged her misty eyes away from her friend’s sympathetic ones.
It was still too recent, just five nights, and that they were part of the small group that had been the last to see her alive was just gut-wrenching. She swiped a stray tear from her cheek and looked back at Nik, whose bottom lip quivered.
“I know. I’ve had my fair share of nightmares. But they got the guy, and he’ll pay for what he did.”
Isabel shook her head thoughtfully and adjusted the heavy strap of the duffel bag where it sank into her shoulder. “I don’t know, Nik. Something just bugs me about that. Something tells me he didn’t do it. They were getting married and he worshipped her.”
Nik leaned against her car and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t prone to violent behavior.”
Isabel sighed. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” She cocked her head to the side. “But the cops are trying to turn this into an act of jealousy when we know they frequented that swingers club. A man can’t be a jealous psychopath and enjoy seeing his fiancée have sex with other people.”
Her friend nodded. “I thought the same thing. But maybe he thought she was cheating on him.”
Is
abel tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No, I just don’t buy it.”
Nik’s gaze narrowed and Isabel suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Isa, do you want me to stay? I’ll tell my parents I can’t make it. They love you so I know they’ll understand.”
She had to smile at that last remark. Isabel loved Nik’s parents, too. They had welcomed her as their second daughter after the death of her own parents. She’d been just sixteen, and the trauma had been unbearable, but Nik and her parents had gotten her through it. Knowing her parents had left her Salsa Nights had given her something to look forward to. Nik’s mom, her own mom’s best friend, had managed it for Isabel until she took over at eighteen.
“You go. They need you. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep tonight.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
“Go. I’m all right, I promise.”
Nik doubted her, Isabel could tell, but gave her a curt nod and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“You need anything, I’ll be down here on the next flight.”
She pulled away and gave her friend a warm smile, feeling a little better. “I know. I just wish you’d let me take you to the airport. You’re my roommate, and you won’t even let me take you.”
Nik threw her bag in the back seat of her car. “You know how this airport is, and I love you too much to put you through the hell. Besides, I have a couple of things I need to do. I love you, chica. I’ll bother you every day, so charge that phone.”
Isabel threw her a kiss back and watched Nik drive away before jumping into her Corvette and revving the engine.
Every little hair on the back of her neck stood, prickling her skin, shooting a warning down her spine. The back lot was empty, but someone was watching her. She felt it. Foot on pedal, she peeled out and headed home, hoping her note had nothing to do with Gina’s murder.
But the message was very clear. He was watching and she may be next. She’d been celebrating with Gina the night she’d been killed. They’d had fun and-. They.
Besides Gina, Nik had gone as well as Leyna. Had they all received a note? She hadn’t heard or read anything about a note left with Gina. Nik hadn’t gotten one, as far as she knew. Would she tell her? Isabel hadn’t told Nik, so maybe Nik wouldn’t tell Isabel. Damn. But she was leaving the country so she had to be safe. That left Leyna.
A second later she was dialing Leyna’s number and heard her voicemail greeting. “Hey, girl, it’s Isa. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Give me a call. I have a strange feeling and, I don’t know, just be careful. Call me. Bye.”
She flipped her cell phone off and tossed it on the passenger seat. Damn. What if she was scaring Leyna for no reason? But the note—the freaking note—asked her if she’d be next. “Will you be next?” That implied there may be others.
Her fist slammed the top of the steering wheel. Who was doing this? What the hell did he want? Once again, her vision blurred, but this time, she let the tears fall.
* * * *
Veins popped in his crossed arms, stretching his bronze skin tight. The men standing before him reeked of cheap tobacco mixed with whiskey breath. The club music below dulled to a bass amplifying the sound of the cohorts’ rapid, uneasy breathing. No one moved. They waited.
Brad Westbrook turned his lips up into a deadly grin. “Gentlemen, I don’t like to repeat myself, so I’ll say this once. Tell your boss the answer is no. And if anyone else steps into my club demanding a share, I’ll personally see to it that they never walk again. Now, get the fuck out of my office.” His words were quiet, deliberate, but the burly man holding an un-ashed cigarette swallowed and took one small step back.
Brad willed them to strike, to argue, to pull a knife out. He would gladly welcome the much needed exercise that would help burn off the adrenaline shooting through his vessels.
Unfortunately, the big man retreated, motioning his big-bellied partner to follow him, and they left the dimly lit office on the second floor of Club Lava.
Dale Connor watched them carefully, prepared, fists clenched at his side, until the door closed with a click behind them. He turned to his friend and business partner.
“Never gets old, does it?” he asked dryly.
Brad chuckled, unaffected by the common occurrence found at most nightclubs that catch the eye of crooked politicians and gangsters alike. “Keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.”
He moved away from where he’d stood by his desk to the glass wall behind him and watched the partying crowd below.
The men who’d just left appeared, walking past the dance floor, the couches, and the bar, toward the front door. Their head bouncer, Devin, followed closely behind. Damn, Brad had looked forward to a fight.
Dale came to stand next to him and eyed the crowd while he spoke. “My insider says the cops don’t think the man they have was the one who killed her. He was bailed out this morning.”
Brad inhaled deeply, switching his train of thought. “And Isabel?”
“She’s safe. For now. Devin’s watching her place again tonight. I say we go talk to her in the morning.”
Isabel Santos. The little girl who had spied on them from their neighbor’s house, her grandfather’s house, had grown up into a stunning woman. At least that was how she’d looked on TV four years ago at the Latin Dance Championship. Gone were the ponytail, scuffed up jeans, and Converse shoes. In their place had been glossy black hair tousling down her shoulders, a skin tight costume with tiny sparkles that stopped too high on her thighs to be allowed in public, and red stilettos that made her lean legs look miles long.
Remembering now jerked his dick, and it pressed painfully behind his fly. And that’s why he maintained a safe distance from her. He hadn’t trusted himself to get near her after seeing the erotic, sensual woman she’d become. He would have just forgotten all about the promise he and Dale had made her grandfather, old man Thomas.
The old man had been convinced that Isabel’s life had been in danger, somehow connected to her parents’ deaths. They never doubted the old man since he was a retired cop, decorated for his heroism and remembered for his dedication. Bound by the debt they owed her grandfather, bound by honor, they’d sworn to keep her safe. Brad despised owing anyone anything and stayed far away from asking favors that would create an encumbrance. The one thing, however, that he couldn’t have anticipated was Thomas saving his and Dale’s lives.
The promise had been extremely difficult to maintain since he couldn’t get close and couldn’t speak with her. The attraction was too raw, too powerful to assume he could have a casual conversation with her without slamming her against a wall and fucking her through the night.
Instead, he watched over her from a distance through pictures—learning where she went, for how long, her acquaintances, her habits, the men around her. It’d been brutal, seeing the pictures of her dining out with some asshole panting over her. More than once Dale had stopped him from barging into a restaurant and making a fool of himself.
No one could take his mind completely off Isabel. Even when he and Dale shared a woman, as satisfying as it was, he looked forward to news of Isabel, to another picture of her. It was ridiculous.
Now he was actually contemplating speaking with her tomorrow. Being near her. She had only grown more beautiful since she’d been the nineteen-year-old he’d gawked at on TV. Shit.
Yet she was still the one entrusted to his care, a fact her maternal grandfather had kept from her. Thomas had believed that Isabel’s father had been unfaithful to her mother and had him followed. In retaliation, rumors had been spread about old man Thomas. Rumors powerful enough that Isabel’s mother and Isabel had broken all communication with Thomas. Isabel hadn’t been speaking to her grandfather at the time of his death so she’d never known he’d asked Brad and Dale to look out for her.
No matter what, he had to ensure her safety, even if the need to tear her clothes off and hear her moan his name choked him. So he’d have to keep himself in check a
nd behave like the grown man he was. Or should be.
“There’s just one problem that concerns me.” Dale rubbed his jaw.
“Don’t worry, I have a way to convince her we’re the good guys and not the ones who killed her friend,” Brad replied confidently.
Dale chuckled and pinned his eyes on Brad. “Well, actually, I was thinking of something else.”
Brad blinked, surprised he missed Dale’s cue, but from the looks of his friend’s amused expression, Brad was right back on board, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. If anything, I should be worried about you.”
Dale shot him an innocent look worthy of an award. “Me? I’m not the one who had illegal thoughts when I saw her salsa dancing on TV”
Brad groaned, remembering the things he’d wanted to do to her that he’d regrettably shared with his best friend. Dale was by no means a good boy—far, far from it, actually. “You’ve had more women than I even care to know. You’re the epitome of love ’em and leave ’em.”
Dale laughed, holding his hands up in front of his chest. “Okay, okay, I get it. So we both behave. We’re thirty-four now, not seventeen. Besides, old man Thomas trusted us, and we can’t let him down.”
Brad turned back to the club, packed to capacity with bodies dancing, sweating, moving to more than just music. “We can’t let Isabel down. So did your girl down at the police station say anything else about the video?”
Dale walked back across their expansive office to their bar, set up mostly for any business meetings since they avoided alcohol during working hours, and grabbed two bottles of water. “No, they didn’t see anything suspicious on the footage. The girls were here, had a good time, and left. Apparently they had very little contact with any men, except for two they had drinks with. Those men were busy in a back room with three other women when Gina was killed. No one seemed to follow them out of the parking lot, either.”
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