“I’ll do that, Bart, and thanks for your time.” She tried to escape before he started on the inevitable date/drink request she’d seen simmering on his tongue.
“Say, Lita…” He subtly blocked the door with his body. “What do you say you and I have a drink sometime? The office has opera season tickets.”
Wasn’t his exorbitant fee enough payment for his services? “Gee, Bart, that’s tempting, but I don’t think so. I’m not much of an opera fan.”
“We’ve got Braves tickets if you’re more the sports type?” He leaned in and leered at her, as though sheer will would make her change her mind. “I’d really like to see you.”
I’d really like you to see the man I’ve given my heart to, she wanted to say. He’d laugh in your face and squash you like a bug for looking at me like that. But since I took off without a backwards glance, I’ve got nothing more to look forward to than a lifetime of offers like yours, but thanks anyway. “You’re sweet to ask, Bart, but I don’t think so.”
When he looked ready to go for strike number three, she reached beyond him for the doorknob. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
She let out a deep breath as the elevator doors closed and she retrieved her phone. She’d ignored its drumming while fending off Bart’s advances. No messages, but three missed calls from the same number. Hummm. Probably a wrong number. She needed to call Sophie, let her know the contract looked legit, and hash over any last minute concerns before taking pen to paper and sealing her fate for good.
“Sophie,” Lita said when Sophie answered on the second ring. “I’m just leaving Bart’s office. Can you believe that slime tried to ask me out again? Jeez.” She pulled out of the parking garage and headed north toward home. “Anyway, he said the contract is pretty basic. We’d be handing over our rights to buying textiles, blah, blah, blah. It sucks, but at least now we know he didn’t throw in any funny stuff, like dibs on your first born.”
“Lita,” Sophie squeaked. “Have you talked to Jesse?”
“Jesse?” She braked suddenly to avoid the car stopped in front of her, the car that vanished from her sight the minute she’d heard Jesse’s name. “What do you mean?”
“He came to the store looking for you. Oh, my friend, have you been keeping secrets.”
“I told you I’d met someone, but what is he doing here? Did he say?”
“He said y…r f…..th….ves…b….f…d.”
“Sophie?” Lita said. “I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up. Can you hear me? Sophie?” Damn it. She’d lost her and redial went straight to voice mail. Jesse had come to find her. Her head went dizzy with…relief, panic, excitement. What did this mean? While she was desperate to see him again, he was a complication she didn’t need until she got things straightened out with her father. Oh, why couldn’t he have waited a few days to show up? She tried Sophie again and, upon getting no answer, threw her phone in her purse as she pulled into her parking garage.
She smelled him as she ascended the stairs to her condo, just a hint of the scent she’d always recognize as his. Her knees shook as she rounded the corner and saw him, pacing back and forth in front of her door. He wore jeans, a tattered t-shirt, and a brooding expression. His head whipped up when he saw her.
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Neither one of them moved--her clutching the handrail, him with his hands in his pockets. “Angelita.” The sound of his voice felt like a feather over her skin.
“Jesse.” She walked to him, watched as he stood still, brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“I have several reasons for coming, but first…” He clutched her face in his hands and dove at her lips, drank like he was dying of thirst, and stole every coherent thought from her head. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and onto the floor, its contents scattering along the hardwoods unnoticed. She couldn’t touch him fast enough, couldn’t get enough of his taste, his skin. He pushed her back against the door. “Open it, for God’s sake,” he sputtered as his mouth played her throat like a flute.
She fumbled for her purse, realized it sat open on the floor, and used the tip of her snakeskin wedge to nudge the keys to within reach. She had the door unlocked in a second.
“We’re going to finish this, Angelita.” The door sprang open and they flung themselves inside. She saw her wallet and cell phone lying in the hallway and pointed with a strangled whimper as Jesse made quick work of the tie on her shirt. “Hurry,” he gasped.
She kicked her things into the condo, slammed the door behind her, and pushed him against the door. “Now.” She slid his shirt over his head. How could she be so starved for his touch, his mouth, his body when it had only been days and not the years it felt like? Her hands took expeditious care of his jeans and, as he ripped her shirt in two, his hands fisted in her hair and his rasping groan sounded more like pain than pleasure. She knew he was angry, could see it in his eyes when she’d approached, felt it in the rough way he touched her. He’d never been rough with her before, but now, with so much unspoken between them, she craved it.
He reversed their positions and, with his hands cradled under her ruffle hemmed skirt, plunged into her waiting body. She bucked, he thrusted, she cried out, he covered her scream with his mouth, he quickened the pace, she gripped his shoulders for support. Together they found the answer they’d searched for and slumped to the tile floor, exhausted.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said when she could speak without gasping. He lay half beneath her, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with her scattered brain.
When he opened his eyes, she saw the anger return in the evening light that slanted across his face. “You didn’t leave me much choice but to track you down.” He sat up on his elbows, thereby causing her to do the same. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“I know.” She attempted to button her top. She gave up when she realized he’d popped most of the buttons off in his haste to get at skin. She stood up awkwardly after pulling her skirt down from around her navel and sliding out of her shoes. “Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”
He snapped his jeans and looked at her through eyes as stormy as the rain she’d driven through to get home. “I want answers and you’re going to give them to me.”
“Yes. Come sit down so we can talk.” She led him to the couch. Despite literally peeling themselves off each other moments ago, wariness settled between them like an intruder.
He sank into the corner, she sank into the opposite corner. He rubbed his hands over his face, took a deep breath, and looked her square in the eye. “Why’d you leave without saying anything to me?”
“I…” How could she explain when she didn’t know herself? “I needed to get home and deal with some stuff.”
“You couldn’t explain before you left? Did you have to sneak away? Do you know how that made me feel?” He slapped his knees with his hands and rose. “Don’t answer that because I’m not prepared to answer it either. Look,” he began to pace, “I heard from my friend at the paper.” He stopped and looked her dead in the eye. “Your father’s a drug dealer or at the very least in bed with them. He’s under investigation by the DEA.”
If she hadn’t already been sitting, she would have collapsed. Her head shook with denial, while tiny pieces of information flew together in her brain to form a picture, like looking at one of those 3-D stereograms that holds a secret image. If you looked long enough, a scene would start to take shape like magic. “I…” She closed her eyes and let her head fall. When she opened her eyes Jesse stared, waiting patiently. “Of course. It explains everything.”
“I assume you didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “My God, Jesse, he’s made threats. I told you he said his life was in danger, but, before I left, he intimated that the people I care about would be in danger too. This proves he was telling the truth and explains his reasons for needing my company.”
She got up to pace, unable to
sit. He leaned against the wide windowsill, his eyes tracking her as she prowled the small space. He gave her blessed silence and room to come to grips with the truth at her own pace. “Is that why you came? Because you found out about Davi?”
He pushed away from the sill and faced her. “One of the reasons. Does it really matter?”
“No, not now, anyway.” She gripped the back of a vintage club chair she’d found at a second-hand store. “What in the world should I do?”
“Sophie said you hadn’t signed anything yet.”
“No. I had an attorney look over the contract. There were no surprises. We’d hand over control of importing textiles to him personally.” Just saying it made her feel sick. “Is that how he does it? He uses legitimate companies to smuggle drugs into the country?”
“I didn’t get much detail, but when we go see the authorities, I’m sure you’ll get the gist.”
“Go to the DEA? Me?”
“You and me. Apparently when my friend started making inquiries, they got their hackles up. He told them I’d asked him to look into the consulate.” He let her putting him in this perilous situation roll off his shoulders as if it meant nothing. “Cal said he’d already gotten a call from the sheriff. Either we go on our own or I imagine we’ll get dragged in.”
“I’m sorry, Jesse. If I’d known about any of this, I never would have asked for your help.”
“You didn’t. I offered and if it keeps you from getting involved with a drug dealer, then I’m glad I’m in the middle of this.” He walked toward her, cupped her cheek in his palm. She wanted so badly to lean into him and let him take all her worries away. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Angelita.”
No man had ever cared about her, really cared. His offer, the meaning behind his words meant everything. She kissed his palm and gripped his wrist in her hand. His pulse felt like a lifeline. “Where do we start?”
“You got a phone book?”
“How about the Internet?”
“That’ll do.”
Chapter 31
Jesse poked around the condo while Angelita changed clothes. It spoke to him, the tomato red couch, butter yellow walls, soft chenille pillows, shaggy rug, and vibrant art. She’d put it all together with her usual flare for the dramatic and it looked like her; a little bit different, a whole lot special. He hadn’t meant to attack her, hadn’t meant to drug himself on her before he’d gotten a word in edgewise. Seeing her standing at the top of the stairs with that lost puppy dog look on her face had made a tether snap inside him. He was going to have to talk to her about his feelings before they tumbled out without warning.
He turned around when he heard the clicking of heels on tile. “Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked. She stopped and looked down at her clothes, a feathered knee-length skirt the color of mustard, clunky wooden bracelets that went halfway up her arm, and heels with matching quills. The only thing he recognized as conventional was the white button-down that nipped at the waist and opened enough to show cleavage and an enormous amber daisy pendant hanging from a leather cord.
“Is it too much?”
The look in her eyes said little sparrow while her outfit screamed peacock. He could only chuckle. “No, not at all. You ready?”
“I think so.” She gathered her purse from the floor near the door and headed into the hallway. “I’m nervous, Jesse. What if they don’t believe me?”
“All you can do is tell the truth.” He held open the door to her SUV and slid behind the driver’s seat. “I don’t think it’s going to be anything like the movies.”
“I hope not. I don’t do well under pressure.” She reached over and grabbed his hand. “I can’t thank you enough for coming. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I’d signed that contract. I could have been arrested!”
“Don’t go putting the cart before the horse.” He squeezed her hand before letting go to maneuver around a fender-bender on Spring Street. Despite the years and obvious updates to Midtown, Atlanta traffic hadn’t changed a bit. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”
It didn’t resemble the movies at all. The federal building sat along a busy highway, twenty-six stories of concrete with security that would set your teeth on edge if you were late for an appointment. Jesse felt certain the guard at the front wanted to frisk Angelita by the looks he gave her chest as she emptied her purse and undid her strappy feathered sandals. It would have been quicker to enter the building with the tin man.
The agent who greeted them after a thirty-minute wait that Jesse had filled with concession coffee and a pack of M&M’s was a head shorter than Jesse. He made up for his lack of height with an impressive barrel chest and a grip that could have crushed aluminum cans without even trying. “Mr. Bloodworth, Ms. Barros,” he said in a surprisingly high octave considering his girth. “I’m Agent Fielder. Come on back and we’ll see if we can get this straightened out.”
He closed the door behind them after leading them to what looked like a conference room. The royal blue carpet and gunmetal walls gave the room the feel of a morgue. “Have a seat.” He motioned to a long wooden table and blue fabric chairs. “So, Ms. Barros.” He sat across the table from them. “Are you related to Davi Barros, the Brazilian consul in Atlanta?”
“Yes,” Angelita answered quickly. She sat bolt upright in her chair and the nervous swing of her foot caused her to bounce in her seat. “I’m his daughter.”
“And your connection, Mr. Bloodworth?”
“I’ve never met the man.”
The agent eyed him noncommittally, his bald head shining in the glow of the overhead fluorescent light. “So why did you ask Michael Bradomowitz to look into…” He consulted the thick file he’d brought into the room with him. “…the possible closing of the consulate?”
“I asked him to,” Angelita interrupted. She smiled nervously when the agent glanced at her without moving his head, his beady eyes flicking like a lizard. “My father’s been pressuring me to do business with him, said it could help the consulate stay open. When I complained about it to Jesse, he said he had a friend who could check it out and either refute or substantiate his claims.”
Jesse shrugged when the agent looked back at him. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“And what is your relationship with Ms. Barros, Mr. Bloodworth?”
Ah, the question of the hour. “We’re friends. She rented a cabin from my dad for a few weeks and we got to know each other.” It seemed safest not to mention how well they’d gotten to know one another.
“And when was this?”
“About two and a half weeks ago.”
Agent Fielder cocked his head. “So you made a phone call to Mr. Bradomowitz and forgot about it?”
“Basically. I figured no news was good news.” He didn’t like the way the guy looked at him, as if he had something to hide. If he’d had a guilty conscience, he’d have cracked under the heat of Agent Fielder’s stare.
“When you say your father pressured you, what exactly do you mean, Ms. Barros?”
Angelita shifted in her seat, wrung her hands in her lap. “At first he said he’d angered some people in Brazil through his work with the consulate. He said he needed my business to keep the consulate open and keep him in the States so he wouldn’t have to go back. He said he’d likely be killed if he returned.”
“And did you agree to work with him?”
“No, not at first.” She laid her hands flat on the table, leaned forward as if speaking to a girlfriend. Agent Fielder had no reaction. “I thought he was lying. He always liked having me under his thumb. My company has gotten some press recently and I really thought maybe it bothered him that I’d made something out of myself without him.”
Shoe Strings Page 29
