Salsa Nights

by Salsa Nights (lit)

  Isabel gasped and turned to look at him. Her arms dropped to her side. Water rained down on her large breasts, and her cherry-red nipples puckered before his eyes. Soap bubbles burst along the lines of her arms and her small waist. A waterfall cascaded down her flat stomach to the center of her slit.

  “Dale,” she whispered.

  He ripped open his shirt, careless about the buttons that bounced off the floor. The shoes came off. Then he peeled his jeans and boxers off. And she watched him, licking her lips and breathing heavily. Damn, she was his.

  “I need you,” he told her, entering the shower.

  She backed into the wall and tilted her head to look him in the eye. “Then take me.”

  He kissed her fast, urgently. He’d never kissed her before, not like this. Water fell on his head and his shoulders. He touched her everywhere—he had to feel her. His mouth followed his hands. Her cheeks. The curve of her neck. Her shoulders. The breasts he worshipped. He licked them, squeezed them.

  “Oh, yes,” she moaned.

  On his knees, he caressed her waist, kissed her stomach. Water fell on his face. He pushed his chin between her thighs and licked her lips open.

  “Oh, God,” Isabel shouted, her fingers digging in his hair.

  He lifted her right leg over his shoulder, opened her pink slit with his thumbs, and laved her hidden clit. Water fell to his cheeks, ran down his chest, teased his dick. He slid his tongue lower, licking delicious juices that mixed with the water.

  “I need you inside me, Dale.”

  Fuck, he loved those words. He came to his feet, lifted her by her ass, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He entered her in one hard thrust. She cried out, and he grunted.

  “Oh, fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned

  She pulled his hair and ran her fingernails down his back, moaning and grunting. Dale threw his head back, letting the water bounce off his face. He was possessed. Rough. He’d die without this woman. He took her hard, ramming her pussy.

  “You’re so big,” she cried out.

  His ego burst, and he slammed into her, over and over again he undulated and flexed into her.

  She kissed him as if she were starving and Spanish words he wished he’d comprehend escaped her swollen, pink lips. Her boiling cunt swallowed him whole, choking tight, stroking him.

  The first spasms massaged him slowly, up and down his shaft. Her hot nectar enveloped his cock in its heated essence. Her orgasm climbed higher and higher. He helped build it with the rhythm of his hips.

  “Oh, Dale. Dale,” she moaned, throwing her head back, her body desperate for release.

  “Come, baby. Come for me. Now.”

  She did. And he felt every shudder and every convulsion while her cream singed his sensitive rod. His cock pulsated, his skin pulled taut, and he ruptured inside her, gushing his love for her.

  They stood in the shower, holding each other, gasping, trembling. He didn’t want to let her go. When he brought her back down to her feet, he held her still. Languidly, he kissed her neck, rubbed her back, caressed her tush.

  “Oh, Dale, I…I’m getting cold here.”

  No. He could swear she was about to say something else. He lifted his head from her neck and looked into her big green eyes. The emotion he read in them choked him. But why didn’t she say anything? He caressed her face and gave her one long, loving kiss. She molded to him, embracing him.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” he murmured.

  He’d have to convince Brad to open up to this woman because he couldn’t wait to tell her how he felt. He loved Brad like a brother, but he was a damn fool for holding back. They couldn’t lose this woman, and if they didn’t tell her they loved her, they would. Guaranteed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was Thursday, and Isabel was exhausted. She glanced at Brad, who gave her one of his sexy grins, and melted. She’d been with Dale yesterday in the back shower, and now she couldn’t help but wonder what Brad would feel like all by himself. No less sensational, for sure.

  She and Dale had had a quiet dinner and watched TV together on the couch, but she fell asleep before Brad came home. She’d woken up in her bed, smiling, happy. That was dangerous. She couldn’t get too comfortable in their house. There were no promises of tomorrow, only the gifts of what they gave her day to day. The tension had been building too, as was the need to tell them how she felt about them, and the yearning to hear them tell her.

  The distant thunder brought her back. A hurricane churned in the Atlantic, but the news announced it would head north, then east. The sky was gray, and a light drizzle fell, perfect weather for cuddling up with the men and drinking some hot cocoa.

  But it was Dale’s turn to work at the club tonight. It would be just her and Brad.

  The last student had walked out the door, and she was on the phone with the championship committee director when two men came into the studio.

  They were dressed in jeans and polo shirts and spoke quietly with Brad, shooting curious glances her way. She hung up the phone and eyed the three men walking into her office. She noticed the badges hanging from their necks. Her stomach dropped.

  “Isabel,” Brad took her hand and spoke gently, “these men are officers. Something’s happened.”

  Her eyes darted from him to the two men, looking quite concerned, and back to Brad. “Tell me,” she prodded.

  “Leyna Baker was found dead. She was killed the same way as Gina.”

  Everything went numb. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. Brad squeezed her hand, but she wasn’t there. She was somewhere else—the club, laughing with Gina, having a shot with Leyna. Everyone had been so happy.

  “Isabel, listen to me. On the video of you girls that night at Club Lava there is one other girl. Wasn’t that Nik?”

  The room was spinning. She’d just seen her in class yesterday. Leyna had been alive. She’d…What was happening?

  Brad stood directly in front of her and gripped her arms. “Isabel? You need to talk to her.”

  Slowly, she looked up at him. And then what he was asking her registered. “Oh, God.”

  Her hands trembled and felt ice cold and clammy. Numbly, she looked down and, through a haze, saw her cell phone.

  She couldn’t hold it steady. The thing shook and she couldn’t focus on the numbers. After pressing the speed dial number, she waited. But got her voice mail. Shit. “God, Nik, it’s me. Listen, Leyna’s dead. The cops are here. I don’t know what’s happening, but please be careful. Don’t be alone. Stay there. Tengo miedo. Adios.”

  Not wanting to cry in front of Brad or the cops, she covered her mouth with one hand and took deep breaths while putting her cell phone back in her bag.

  “Ms. Santos, where is your friend?”

  She eyed the cops warily and lowered her hand. “Safe. Away.”

  Brad gave her a strange look while the cops looked at each other in exasperation. “Ma’am, we need to know where she is. If this man’s targeting you and your friends, we need to keep her safe.”

  She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Sorry, but I’ve heard of crooked cops. You guys look nice, but you can’t keep me or my friend alive.” She crossed her arms.

  Brad asked them to walk out with him, and they continued their conversation on their way to the door. Isabel grabbed her things, not really looking at anything. When Brad returned, he helped her out, locked the studio, and helped her into his truck. It was all a sick nightmare.

  “How do you know Nik?” Isabel asked once Brad pulled out onto the road, eyeing the beach as it whirled past her.

  “I don’t, except in pictures. I told you, Dale and I have been looking after you. You moved in with her and her parents when your parents died. Now you’re roommates, and she’s your business partner and fellow dance instructor. The day before we went to speak with you she got on a plane to Ontario.”

  Isabel turned to look at him and was shaking her head by the time he f
inished his oratory. “You boys have done your homework.”

  His eyes remained on the road. “To keep you safe. How long will she be up there?”

  She glanced back out at the beach. It had stopped raining altogether, and a bit of late afternoon sun broke through the clouds. “Until I tell her to come back down.”

  She heard his heavy sigh. Was he wondering how far away that would be, wishing it’d be sooner than later? Or if she would be the one making the call?

  “That was real smart, Isabel. You impressed me back there.”

  Knowing he was now referring to her lack of cooperation toward the police, it was her turn to release a sigh. “Don’t condescend to me.”

  “I was paying you a compliment.”

  “Another friend of mine is dead. I don’t need flattery.”

  He was silent, and she regretted her attitude. It wasn’t his fault her friends were being picked off and she could be next.

  “I’m sorry,” she started. “My father wasn’t around growing up. After waiting for years for a ‘Good job’ or ‘I’m proud of you,’ I got used to not hearing compliments from a man related to anything non-superficial. The only thing I ever heard was ‘You’re so beautiful’ from guys who just wanted to sleep with me. It didn’t matter how intelligent I was or how hard I worked.”

  “And so you don’t trust men or cops?” he asked with a tinge of humor.

  She leaned back against her seat. “When I was sixteen, my mom and I and Nik and her mom went to Puerto Rico for the summer. Nik and I were taking salsa lessons while my mom reconnected with family. At some point my dad convinced my mom that my grandfather had killed an innocent man and to stop communicating with him. For whatever reason, my mom took my dad’s word for it. I think she wanted to do whatever it took to make my dad happy so he’d be home more. I never saw my grandfather again. Later that year, my parents were killed in a car crash on their way back from their anniversary dinner.”

  Isabel paused to take a shaky breath, then continued. “That’s when I moved in with Nik and her family. The cops who investigated the accident found the brake lines cut but never figured out who did it and, eventually, stopped searching. Of course, when I persisted they continue their investigation they were quick to suggest that my father apparently had a history of womanizing and probably pissed off a mistress. One even told me my mom may have done it out of anger for my dad cheating on her.”

  “Shit,” muttered Brad.

  “My grandfather tried contacting me but I was so angry that I shut everyone but Nik out. I ignored his calls and made Nik’s parents swear not to tell him where Nik and I moved to when we left their house. But, back to cops. What made things even worse with them happened one night while I still lived at Nik’s house, not long after my parents’ deaths. One of the cops involved in the investigation stopped by to see how I was doing. He came on to me, told me I was so beautiful, and if I told anyone about his advances, no one would believe a girl with a body like mine because it meant I was stupid. He was ripping my shirt open when Nik and her dad came out with a gun pointed at the man’s head.” Isabel wiped a tear, telling herself not to cry.

  That incident had made it easier for her to keep her grandfather out of her life, finally believing the story that he’d killed someone. She figured if the other cops were so disgusting, then it wasn’t impossible for her grandfather to have done something terrible himself.

  “What happened to the cop?” Brad’s voice could only be described as murderous.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Isabel turned to him then. He was serious. She didn’t doubt for one moment he’d go kill the bastard. And as much as she’d like to see the man pay for his lack of consideration in her parents’ case and for what he tried to do to her, she could never see anything happen to Brad.

  “I don’t remember.”

  Brad held a fist over his mouth, lost in thought, when Isabel decided to distract him. “Okay. Your turn. Why don’t you trust women?”

  He looked at her and gave her a small smile. “You’ve been talking to Dale.”

  “It doesn’t take a degree in psychology to notice.” She may have spoken with Dale, but it wouldn’t take much for anyone to see Brad had trust issues.

  He chuckled. It was a beautiful, manly sound. “Well, my mom left my dad, Bailey, and me when I was four. Bailey was only one. My mom found another man and ran off. Never heard from her again. That pretty much did it for me. My sister’s the only woman I would trust with my life. And then a few years ago, Dale and I met a woman. We both slept with her and had a relationship with her. Dale really liked her, although something about her just wasn’t right. Well, turned out she was seeing someone else.”

  Isabel shook her head. “She just confirmed that you couldn’t trust women.”

  “Exactly.”

  After a few seconds of silence, she spoke again. “And there’s more but you don’t want to tell me.” She spoke slowly, testing the waters and hoping her digging for more information didn’t bother him.

  Brad narrowed his eyes and shot her one of his incredulous expressions, then faced the road again. “Some other time.”

  She could wait. It had been a long day. They’d opened sore wounds and someone else who had been with her the night of the bachelorette party was dead.

  Oh, Leyna. She inhaled deeply and watched the beach through the mist in her eyes. Damn it, she’d tried to warn her. She hadn’t known Leyna as well as Gina. Leyna had actually been Gina’s best friend, but she had been a friend to Isabel nonetheless, so sweet and kind. Her smile had lit up the room, and her jokes had carried them through the night. She sniffed quietly, thinking how unfair it was that these innocent people died so horribly, and for what? Why?

  Brad pulled into the garage, and she offered to get the mail. It never ceased to amaze her how it could get any more humid after the rain. A drop of sweat already rolled between her breasts, and she’d only been out in the late afternoon heat for a few moments.

  The second letter was addressed to her. Her hands shook and a wave of nausea turned her palms clammy. No return address. Name and address typed. It was him—the killer. She knew it.

  A sharp sound made her jump, and she saw Brad move some tools around in the garage. She eyed the envelope. Plain. Simple. What does he say now? She didn’t want to know. Why was he doing this?

  But she tore the letter open. Comic Sans font danced on the page.

  THEY CAN’T PROTECT YOU

  No, no, no. The beat of her heart echoed in her ears. She didn’t know how she entered the house or how she made it to the living room. Everything was a messy blur. Her hand crumpled the note and stuffed it in the bag dangling from her shoulder. Her mouth had gone dry. The bag fell on the white tile floor.

  She couldn’t live like this. She was losing her mind. One moment she was elated, the next she was trembling with deathly fear. Air. She needed air.

  “Hey, Isabel, dinner will be ready soon,” Brad called as she opened the sliding doors and stepped outside.

  The beach was beautiful this time of day, even with the storm clouds far from shore. Her feet mashed the cool wet sand when she stepped off the pool deck. The high surf broke the stillness of the coming night. Birds flocked farther down the beach, possibly fighting for dead fish that floated nearby.

  The salt in the air was therapeutic, relaxing. Holding her long sundress up to her calves, she stepped into the warm ocean water and watched the waves break against her legs. It became more difficult to walk when the water reached her thighs so she dove in. Oh, it had been too long since she swam in the ocean. She was free and alive. Her arms reached, farther and farther.

  The more she swam, the more she forgot her fears, the threats, the murders. Her legs kicked hard, and her hands paddled. She finally stopped and leaned back to float, looking up at the orange sky. Salt clung to her skin. A breeze cooled her face.

  Someone called to her. Her name drifted in
the wind, but it was far away. She smiled sadly, wishing desperately that it were her mom. Oh, how she missed her. They’d been close, and while her father was home late many times and her mother tried to hide the tears, Isabel had comforted her.

  Her parents had opened Salsa Nights, but it was Isabel and her mother who ran it. The night her parents died, she lost a father who had never been proud of her and a mother who compensated for his lack of love and attention. Isabel had died a little when she lost her mother.

  Thinking of her mother now made her realize she’d chastise her for being out in the ocean, by herself, with evening turning to night. So she kicked her legs, flipped to her belly, and saw just how far she’d drifted from the house.

  She saw a figure run down to shore, and was suddenly very aware of just how worried she’d probably made Brad.

  With a heavy sigh, knowing a battle would wage tonight she began swimming. But, two strokes later, she was dragged underwater by a warm current lassoing around her chest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Panic ensued as she struggled to resurface, knowing a rip current could be deadly.

  Her face broke through the surface enough for her to take a gulp of air, but she was sucked back under. She could just make out the dark orange sky above, helping her keep her sense of up and down.

  Her lungs began to burn, and she kicked her legs hard, breaking the surface again, before going under again. Stay calm. Stay calm. She tried remembering what she’d learned about rip currents, living close to the beach her whole life. Swim parallel to shore or at an angle. That was it.

  But how the hell did she know which direction to swim when she was underwater, fighting for her life? Not having a second to spare, she lunged her body to the side, praying that was parallel to shore. But she was out of air and exhausted.

  Funny how a killer was chasing her, and she’d die by drowning. She stopped kicking, found her dark orange sky, and tried one final time to reach the surface. But it was so far away, and she was sinking. She stretched her arm, her fingers. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Maybe she’d see her mom again.