They’d lived it up in London, but after a year of London weather, Entity had flown back home to Miami and enrolled at the U. The next five years saw them taking different paths, but one thing had remained the same. At any given time, she could walk in and find her little sister making herself at home in her digs regardless of where she was.
“I’m like your shadow, Abs. You can’t shake me…even in the shade. I’m going to make sure no one steps to you incorrect.”
Entity had established herself as “Abstract’s certified cock-blocker,” but at damn near six feet and two hundred pounds, and having a default attitude of “leave me the fuck alone,” Abstract didn’t have men beating down her door. If anyone needed a certified cock-blocker, it was Entity. Despite her normal outfit consisting of board shorts and a wife beater, and her waist-length hair being pulled back in some kind of ponytail, it was hard for Entity to hide her exotic good looks. While they both had milk chocolate-colored skin thanks to their African-American mother, they also had a little bit of exotic thrown in from their Italian father. In Entity’s case, she had a whole lot of exotic.
Picking up the phone, she didn’t even bother with a greeting. Like the fine arts of subtlety and tact, greetings were wasted on Entity.
“It’s about damn time! I already had one leg in my shorts and was about to bust up to your place of business to see if your minions finally grew tired of you and decided to kill you.”
“As if. They’d need to roll deeper and a lot more hard core if they want to get the drop on me. I keep telling you how gangster I am, and yet you don’t believe it.”
“Probably because you keep putting the –er ending on the word gangsta. Anyway, back to me and my needs. What are you doing?”
“Running my empire.”
“Yeah, but you can do that in your sleep. I need help.”
“Finally, she admits that she has a problem,” Abstract joked.
“Hearty ha ha ha. You have jokes, grasshopper. When you come home tonight I’m beating some respect into you.”
“It’s my house you’re staying at. Suspending complete belief for a moment, and pretending that you could whip my ass, how are you going to be so bold as to beat some respect into me in my own home?”
“A, you taught me self-defense. B, I know all of your moves. C, the combination of my cat-like reflexes and stealth will allow me to get the drop on you and kick your ass before you know it.”
“Certifiable. Now tell me what you’ve done that requires a call to me to fix it.”
Abstract listened as her sister’s normally dulcet tone switched to a straight-out whine. “I haven’t done anything.”
Translation: she hadn’t done anything yet.
“You know Tyler?”
“Nope.”
“Well, in another year you will. He’s only the best thing on a board since resin.”
Abstract didn’t know the young man, but she knew where this was going. “And you want him.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And the problem is?”
“He’s locked into a shitty contract.”
“And where in this little explanation do the police and other agencies come in?”
“See! Why you got to assume I’m going to be caught?”
Abstract smiled. Leave it to Entity to be insulted about the possibility of being caught and not be a damned bit concerned with the action that could lead to being caught. “A hunch.”
“I haven’t even done anything.”
LIAR! her mind screamed. Instead, she simply played along. “Mmm hmm.”
“Okay, fine. You know Carmen, right?”
Of course she knew Carmen. She made it her business to know people her sister hung out with—not to insure her sister’s safety, but to insure theirs. The smoking-hot Latina chick was good people, and she didn’t simply say that because she’d welcomed her to Southern California with a plate of Mexican food so good it should’ve been featured on one of those television shows. From what she knew of the young lady, she didn’t seem crazy, but looks could be deceiving.
“Yes, I know Carmen.”
“Well, she told me about her friend Rafa, who’s like this badazz attorney.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“So last week I asked him—very nicely, I might add—to help Tyler out.”
“And he was all like ‘why should I?’”
“Of course you ignored that and ran roughshod over any objections he might’ve raised.”
“Well yeah, because his objections were stupid. So here it is a week later, and he hasn’t done shit.”
“Where do I figure into your equation?” Because despite what Entity might pretend, Abstract knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was a variable in whatever equation her lunatic sister came up with.
“I just want you to, you know, talk with him.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m planning on talking with him tomorrow.”
“Ah, I see now.” And she did. Once Entity “talked” with this Rafa fellow, she was sure the situation was going to go from bad to worse—quick, fast and in a hurry.
“Fine,” she said. She might be a brew master, but one of her three master degrees was in international affairs with a specialty in international political economics. It was a good thing, because knowing Entity, she was going to need to pull a lot of rabbits out of the hat. Making reassuring noises, she finally shooed Entity off the line and called Carmen to get the rest of the story.
Twenty minutes later, she had the full story and the lowdown on Rafa Armada. Thanks to Carmen, she also had a current picture of the suave, good-looking Spanish-American. Ah, he looked so unflappable. Too bad he’d pissed off her little sister. She would’ve felt bad for him if Carmen hadn’t revealed he had an extra dose of asshole. Okay, that was a lie. Armada had pissed off her sister, and anything that upset Entity upset her. He was going down…and not in a good way.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rafa couldn’t wait to get home. He had his weekend all planned out. After a quick shower, he’d soak in his swim spa for an hour or so before heading to his state-of-the-art kitchen and cooking up some of his favorite Spanish dishes. He’d already done all of the prep work for his meal: the tapas would consist of Champiñones al Ajillo (mushrooms in garlic sauce); okra and butternut squash would serve as sides; and chicken paella would star as the main course. Because it was a rich meal, he’d down it with several glasses of water. But afterwards, he planned on indulging in a glass (or two) of sangria. He’d had the sliced strawberries, pear, apple, red wine, brandy, cinnamon, and simple syrup soaking in the refrigerator overnight to allow the fruit flavors to blend, and he had a bag full of crushed ice and chilled glasses on standby.
All he needed to complete the perfect weekend was for Carmen to drop by with his tres leches cake. Then the weekend would truly begin. He didn’t even pause to consider the irony of a traditional Mexican recipe being the keystone of his traditional Spanish meal. For once, he didn’t care. Tres leches cake had restorative properties.
Grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat, he let himself into his immaculate kitchen and came face-to-face with Entity Vivace. It wasn’t that Entity was in his house; it wasn’t even the fact that she’d made herself at home from the looks of things. It was the fact that she was sitting at his kitchen island bar, pretty as you please, wrapping her lips around his tres leches cake. “Is that my cake?” he asked a lot more calmly than he felt.
“Yep.”
“You’re eating my cake?”
“Yep.”
Not only did she not demonstrate even a hint of remorse; she had the unmitigated gall to smile at him as she ate it. A peaceful man, he quickly deduced that he was going to have to kill her. Of course, he’d have to get that cake away from her first.
“Where’s the rest of my cake?” he asked when he didn’t see a trace of the container Carmen usually delivered cakes in.
“Someplace safe,” Entity answered as she
made a big production of licking the fork.
Yep, kill her dead.
“And why do you have my cake?”
“Because, Counselor Armada, I don’t have Tyler. And until I do have Tyler, I will have your cakes. All twelve of them.”
Deader than dead.
Knowing this wasn’t going to go anywhere, he dialed Carmen. “Carmen, why does Entity have my cake?”
“Because, my dearest Rafa, you only said that I had to make you twelve tres leches cakes. You didn’t specify that I had to deliver them to you, and then Entity came upon a brilliant business proposition. Considering my busy schedule, she agreed to deliver the cakes I make for you. So friendship wouldn’t get in the way of business, we signed a contract. It’s binding and everything.”
Before he could raise an objection, Carmen laughed and hung up. Knowing the gist of the conversation, Entity just smiled bigger. Deader than dead, then bring her back to life and kill her dead again, he thought.
“So, since I’m already here, are you going to invite me to dinner?”
It was in that moment he wondered if there was a higher degree of dead.
He didn’t know how the hell he’d ended up cooking dinner for Entity. More than that, he wondered how he’d seen to cook dinner when his eye kept twitching so bad. Later, he’d blame it on the fact that he was trying to placate Entity enough to coax the location of the rest of his cake out of her. Or stupidness. Or drunkenness. Or any number of things. Perhaps it was a combination of all three, because at the end of the evening, not only had he fed her well and plied her with enough sangria that she’d had to stay the night, but he’d allowed her to sleep it off in his bed. And he didn’t stab her—not even when she took up all the space on his California King, hogged all of the covers, and snored the house down. He simply left his own room and slept in the guest room, intending to wake before she did and find the location of his cake.
CHAPTER FIVE
He wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. And it didn’t matter that every day for the past three days she’d sent him a photo of what was left of his cake. Day one was a photo of his cake, sitting in its box with a single slice missing. The high-res photo showed that she’d cut it with the utmost care. Day two was a photo of his cake with another slice missing. Today, there’d been a delivery. The small box held a photo of her eating a piece of his beloved tres leches cake. It also had what amounted to a thimble full of tres leches cake and a note—apparently from his cake. “Wish it was your lips eating me.”
Gathering himself, he put the box in the fridge and headed out the door for his customary run. He spent the entire run contemplating whether or not to strangle Entity. The entire three-mile exercise netted him nothing but frustration. True, he wanted his cake, but his mind was stuck on the photo of her lips wrapped around that cake just like his bed was wrapped in her seductive scent. Fuck! The last thing he needed was to feel anything besides mild annoyance at the annoying little cake thief. Protest as he would, the feel of his cock rising at the thought of her was evidence that fate didn’t give two shits about what one wanted. He wanted Entity Vivace, and there wasn’t shit he could do to change that.
Perhaps if his mind hadn’t been so firmly on the lovely Ms. Entity, he would’ve seen the full-figured woman approaching before he had a face full of grass. What the fuck!
“Oops,” she said.
He noticed that she didn’t apologize, just as he noticed she didn’t offer to help him up. She did, however, lean down and put her knee in the middle of his back. Before he could wonder what she was about, she was wrapping her fist around his hair and whispering in his ear.
“I believe my sister asked you to do something for her. Nicely. Yet, for some reason, you haven’t done that. When Entity doesn’t get her way, she becomes unhappy, and when Entity’s unhappy, I’m unhappy. So I’m going to need you to get off of your extremely lovely ass and do it. Any questions?”
Rafa could only blame his next words on fatigue. “Or I’m going to wake up with my horse’s head in my bed?”
Her rich chuckle felt oddly comforting, as if she was a woman who laughed easy and often. The words that followed her laugh, however, made a chill race up his spine. Turning him over, she looked him in the eye. In a gesture full of tenderness, she caressed his cheek before responding. “No, I would never be so cruel to an animal. While you’d never have to fear waking up and discovering your horse’s head in your bed, your horse, on the other hand, might wake up to discover your head in his stall.”
The words tumbled out so easily that Rafa was sure he didn’t want to know what the hell had gone down to make that a reality.
“Are we clear on what you should do?”
“I believe so.” Yeah, he wanted to say something, but what did one say to such a beautifully executed threat?
“Good. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Eric.”
“My name’s not Eric.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s the name of my favorite television police officer. Nothing like a man in uniform on a motorcycle. Anyway, I digress. So your name’s Eric.”
“I’m not even Mexican. I’m Spanish.”
“Ah, then you’re good at making tacos?”
He was going to kill Entity, and later he was going to kill her sister. In all of his thirty-two years, no two people had ever driven him crazier, and considering the neighborhood he lived in, the schools he’d gone to and the people in his family, that was really, truly saying something.
“And then she tripped me to the ground and threatened me,” he reiterated for the fourth time. The fourth time because his cousins were too busy pissing themselves with laughter at his misery.
“Wait, wait, wait. Tell the part again where she sent you the ransom notes. That was classic,” Marco said.
“Can I finish telling the whole sordid tale before you make requests?” he asked.
He continued the story when they finally settled down. As he’d suspected, the room erupted in boisterous male laughter when he regaled them with the part about the horse.
“Can’t breathe, can’t breathe,” Juan said as he doubled over with laughter.
Juan didn’t even try to act as if he had any semblance of couth. He actually slid from his chair and pounded the floor with his fists as he laughed.
The rest of his cousins and uncles weren’t any better.
“I invite you over to my home. I feed you delicious food and strong drink, and how do you repay me? You laugh in my face at my misery.”
“Yep, now tell that part again, son, about the horse,” his padre said.
Hours later, they’d finally settled down, although every damn one of the Armada males had a smirk on his face. If he didn’t love his family, he would’ve killed them all—slowly.
“So when are you going to help this boy?” his father asked when he topped off his glass of Aqua Fresca.
“Why should I? By now the cake is gone.”
“Because you have a thing for this señorita, no?”
He wasn’t going to lie to his father, but neither was he going to admit anything.
“And because you know it’s the right thing to do,” his tío said. “No matter how people have treated you, and no matter how much machismo you exude, you’ve always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.”
“Entity could take on the whole Army,” he groused.
“Yes, but what about this boy?”
“I’ll help him.”
“Of that there was no doubt. The only question is, why did it take you so long to do so?”
Because I wanted to see what she’d do next, he thought.
“Your uncle and I are going. We’re not young men anymore,” he said as they gathered their hats and hugged him tight.
“That’s what your lips say, but we all know you’re rushing home to your wives.”
“Nothing wrong with that, especially when you have esposas like ours,” his padre said.
Juan was the first to speak when he re-entered the living room. “Tío is right. You should help the boy, but as an Armada male, you have a duty to defend the honor of the name. What are you going to do to Entity and her sister?”
For the first time that evening, he smiled. “I’m going to do what she’s been begging me to do. I’m going to drag her to my bed and keep her there. As for her sister, I’m going to hook her up with our cousin Severiano.”
“Severiano, ‘I don’t know why I mingle with you low-life commoners?’ Severiano” Juan asked.
“The one and the same.”
“You must really hate Entity’s sister.”
“On the contrary. Despite that streak of crazy, I admire her. I do, however, hate Severiano. If anyone can take down his pompous ass, it’s Entity’s sister. Now go sleep off the wine. I’ve got a siege to plan,” he said before heading off to bed.
CHAPTER SIX
Having secured Tyler Morah’s release from the unscrupulous, money-grubbing hoes, Entity wasted no time outfitting the cutie with BA-DOW! everything. And to top it off, she sent his old company a note: Ha-ha, Bitches! It was only good etiquette to send a thank-you note when someone did something nice for you. It was undisputedly nice of them to treat their athletes like shit so that they wouldn’t mind being led away. Never mind that they only had one athlete—it was the principle of the matter.
Tres Leches Shake Page 2
