by Cecy Robson
She nodded, as if she understood more than I said, and released her grip.
I shimmied up through the booth, crouching on the cushioned seat as I scanned the dance floor.
The huge guy Mateo had taken on staggered back, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Another guy broke through the mob and attempted to tackle Mateo. Mateo drove his elbow into the puny guy’s head and flung him away like a sack of sand.
But the little guy’s interference had given his bleeding opponent time to reach for the gun strapped to his ankle.
“Teo!”
I don’t know if it was my scream or Mateo’s quick reflexes that saved him. He snatched the large man’s wrist in a lock, hyperextended the arm, and broke it with a hard strike of his palm. The gun fell and slid along the floor.
Both Mateo and a guy in a red shirt dove for it. Red Shirt Guy was closer and reached it first, firing off a shot and hitting a fleeing woman. She collapsed, shrieking and writhing.
Mateo snapped his opponent’s wrist, yanking the gun free as a fleet of police officers busted through the doors. They rushed the area, drawing their weapons and pointing them at Mateo, who rose holding the gun.
The arc of cops shouted “Drop your weapon!” in unison. Mateo flicked something on the gun and the magazine dropped out. A second later, he let the weapon fall from his hands. He kicked it away with his foot and placed his hands behind his head, his expression dangerously hard.
“Down on the ground!” another cluster of voices shouted.
Mateo dropped to his knees. I jumped from the safety of the booth, furious, and shoved my way through the last of the fleeing crowd.
His crew began to protest. So did Sam, who bulldozed his way across the room. More police arrived, speeding past me. The majority arrested the clubbers the bouncers had restrained. Yet some dove into screaming matches with our staff who were demanding Mateo’s release.
I tried to push through the wall of blue. But it was the hollers of the woman who’d been shot that cemented everyone in place. She held her bleeding arm as she scowled at Mateo. “He shot me!” she yelled. “He shot me!”
The officer cuffing Mateo asked him his name.
“Mateo Tres Santos,” he muttered.
The cop sneered in his ear, “Hey. Didn’t you do time?”
“Shut up!” I snapped, leaping forward. Those who knew me paused to gape.
The police officer blocking my path grabbed my arm tight. “Take another step and I’ll arrest you for interfering.”
I pulled out of his grip. “Mateo didn’t do anything. He took the gun out of that little prick’s hand.” I pointed at the guy holding his snapped wrist. He shot me a nasty look and I gave him one right back. “There were two armed men and Mateo controlled the situation. You should be thanking him―it could have been a lot worse!”
“Is he your boyfriend, Blondie?” the cop holding Mateo asked.
Mateo stiffened beneath his hold.
“He’s my friend.” I clenched my teeth. “And your questions are out of line!”
The cop blocking me narrowed his eyes. “Quiet, Zimmerman.” He examined me sharply. “Did you see what happened?”
“Yes, I saw it all.”
—
Statements were taken from everyone there, but Mateo and I were escorted to separate locations for questioning. The attending sergeant interviewed him first in the storage room, then proceeded to interrogate me in Sam’s office. Our stories must have matched where it mattered. When I returned to the floor, Mateo was sitting at the bar on a stool. The gash above his eye had stopped bleeding. He obviously hit harder than his opponent. Thank God.
The last of the police officers exited the building. Someone had switched on the overhead lights, and I don’t think I could’ve been more grateful. The gun blast had triggered the long-suppressed memory of my father’s suicide, and the wild night had left me on edge. The last thing I needed was another wicked breakdown.
Ant called after the trailing officers, “Thank you, fine sirs, for not arresting me this time. But I guess you had another kind of brother in mind tonight.”
“Shut it, Ant,” Dee-Dee snapped. She and the others were busy cleaning up the last of the broken glass. She didn’t want Ant arrested and worried what he’d say next. I couldn’t blame her. Ant had lost his shit when he discovered what had happened to Noelle. That said, I also couldn’t ignore that he had a point.
Mateo dressed like all the bouncers. Black T’s with white Club Excess logo, black military pants, black boots. And while he was the one holding the gun, the police hadn’t bothered to suspect anyone else.
Mateo’s deep olive skin had likely labeled him the bad guy. Just like his criminal past had affected my judgment. I’d dismissed his intelligence and leadership skills, and ignored the respect he’d righteously earned from Sam and the staff.
And I was an idiot for it.
Mateo had kept us safe tonight. Just like he always did.
The bouncers who had gathered around him dispersed when I approached. I sat on the stool beside him and crossed my legs. This time it was my turn to watch him. He leaned back, resting his elbows against the bar. I’d meant what I said. Had Mateo not recognized and acted on the threat, tonight could’ve been a lot worse.
“They were with the competing dealers from last week, weren’t they?”
Mateo nodded, paying close attention to my lips. “And this time they brought more friends.”
My body involuntarily shuddered. I knew I remembered the guy in the leather jacket. “Do you think they’ll be back?”
“Not for what they’re facing.” He drummed his fingers on the bar. “Dale was the asshole who allowed the guy with the black leather jacket into the club, and probably the one with the ankle holster. He never questioned why the prick wore a heavy jacket on such a warm fucking night. He also didn’t check for bulges in their pants legs. The dumb shit had the balls to tell me it never occurred to him―even though I’ve warned my crew a thousand times.”
“How many bouncers were working the door?”
Mateo rubbed his chin. “Three more besides Dale. From what I could tell, they were doing their jobs. But because of what happened, I have to put them on probation. Dale’s done as far as I’m concerned.” He motioned to the front with a tilt of his head. “Sam agrees with me. He’s firing him now.”
“Wow.” Not that I meant I’d miss Dale.
“I can’t have a dipshit on my crew, Evie. Not the way the club’s rep is growing. Sam’s already talking about increasing my men from twenty to twenty-five and maybe hiring a cop for the weekends.”
Fine with me.
Mateo leaned closer. “Why didn’t you stay behind the bar like I told you?”
I sighed. “I knew Noelle was in trouble. I couldn’t leave her like that.”
“You should’ve let my crew handle it.”
“Your crew was busy busting heads. Besides, I think I was the only who saw her fall.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened. “Noelle is a friend. And I appreciate you helping her. But that was a crazy-ass thing you did. You could’ve taken a bullet. Do you understand me? Up there on those booths, you were an easy target.”
I tried to argue, but Dee-Dee interrupted. “Leave her alone, Teo.” Her dark eyes softened for the first time since I’d known her. “She helped Noelle when no one else could or would. The medics who took her said she could’ve been trampled to death if Evelyn hadn’t saved her.” She reached into her apron and tossed him a clean towel. “Here. Wipe. You have someone’s blood on your pants.”
Mateo pressed the towel against his leg. “It’s just my blood. I got stabbed breaking up―”
“You were stabbed!” I almost fell off the stool.
Mateo frowned. “I stopped the blade before it reached the bone.”
“Like that’s supposed to make me feel better!” Talk about losing my mind. I slapped his hand away and ripped through the torn fabric with my fingers. Blood trickled from
the slice in his skin. “Sam! Call an ambulance.”
“Evie, I’m fine.”
I could feel his eyes on me as I raced around the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka.
“Hey! That’s top-shelf liquor!” Sam said.
“Shut up, Sam!” I rounded the bar and poured the contents over Mateo’s thigh, drenching his skin and pants. “Give me another towel.” Dee-Dee handed me another one, her mouth slightly open. Mateo flinched when I applied pressure to the wound. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?” he snapped. “You just poured a hundred bucks’ worth of booze on a puncture wound!”
I met his steely gaze. “I think that I just saved you from a possible infection. I think you should go to the hospital. And I think you should stop giving me attitude!”
The gathering staff of Club Excess agreed. “Get it looked at,” Sam ordered.
I took Mateo’s hand and grabbed my purse, not bothering to wait for a response. “Come on. I’ll drive.”
He didn’t resist. Instead he linked our fingers and gave my hand one hell of a squeeze.
I tried to ignore the scorching heat his touch sent through my veins as we abandoned the club and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Five
Dawn broke, spilling light along the industrial carpet of the Emergency Department’s waiting room. Across from me, an elderly man coughed violently into his elbow. Although my eyes stung from lack of sleep, I stood and passed his wife a bunch of tissues from the closest dispenser. Poor little old man, I hoped he wasn’t suffering from anything critical.
His wife wiped his mouth before a nurse tech appeared and wheeled him away. “Thank you, honey,” the old lady said, shuffling after her husband.
The double doors parted, allowing them in, and Noelle and Mateo out. Mateo stalked forward, his hazel eyes shimmering when he saw me. His limp was barely noticeable. No one waiting would think there was anything wrong with him.
Unlike with Noelle, who screamed at the top of her lungs, “Evelyn’s in da house!”
Mateo chuckled as the male nurse pushing her in a wheelchair rolled his eyes. I stood, grabbing the straps of my purse and throwing it over my shoulder in my haste to reach them. Noelle was a hot mess of a redhead. Her crazy hair stood on end and Ace bandages wrapped both ankles. Every button on her white dress shirt was twisted and misaligned. The sleeves dangled past her wrists, and although I could see traces of her tiny black shorts through the long shirt, girlfriend appeared pantless to anyone standing more than a few feet away.
That didn’t keep her from flashing me one hell of a grin and two enthusiastic, if lopsided, thumbs up. I took in the rows of bruises painting her fair legs. Considering the damage, Noelle felt a little too good. “Pain meds?” I asked.
“Morphine,” Mateo answered, glancing down at her. “And plenty of it, even though her ankles are just banged up and not broken. You should have heard her trying to MC in the back when Ant snuck in to check on her.”
I giggled a little, wishing Ant was still here to see it. He’d left to take Dee home to her little girl after making sure Noelle was safe. I motioned to Mateo’s leg. “What about you?”
“Nah, I don’t need that shit.”
“What he did need was antibiotics.” The male nurse eyed me, smiling. I supposed my hooker boots and outfit had that effect. Although he didn’t leer, I edged away. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight―young, but based on the way he carried himself and squared his shoulders, he’d worked in the ED for a while. “Were you the one who poured vodka on his leg?” He jerked a thumb Mateo’s way. I let my reddening cheeks answer for me. He laughed. “That only works in Westerns, sweetheart.”
Maybe he meant to be funny, but his comment and his “sweetheart” remark made me inch further from him and closer to Mateo. “Good to know,” I muttered. My brows knitted together when Mateo smirked. “Look, we didn’t cover stab wounds in clinical yet. I was just, you know, trying to save your life and all.” His smile widened. “You’re welcome, by the way,” I added, my face growing hotter.
“Evelyn’s in da house!” Noelle sang again.
“You’re in nursing school?” the nurse asked. At my nod he said, “Have you done your ED rotation yet? If you haven’t, think about coming here. I orient students often and there’s a lot I could teach you.”
Mateo’s attention shifted from me to him. “She’ll keep that in mind,” he told him, his voice gruff.
“Evelyn’s in da house!” Noelle wrenched her head back to glance between Mateo and the nurse. “With two cute guys who want her l-o-o-o-vin’!” she added as an afterthought.
My mouth popped open, but neither of the men seemed to notice anyone but each other. Alrighty. Time to bolt. My fingers skimmed over Mateo’s arm, mostly to draw his attention. “I’ll get my car and pull it up to the circle drive. Can you push Noelle out?”
His attention remained fixed on the nurse. “Yeah. I’ll meet you out there, Evie.”
I squeezed his arm; that’s when he finally looked at me. “Take care of Noelle, okay?”I said.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile that raced my pulse. “You know I will,” he answered quietly. Then he winked. And it took me a moment to move.
When I did, I could feel the heat of those sizzling hazel eyes skim down my back. My fast steps, and the thigh-high boots, swiveled my hips more than I’d like. I begged God for all I was worth not to let me trip. Not while Mateo was watching me.
The exit door opened with a bang, allowing the cool morning breeze to feather along my exposed skin. “Evelyn’s out da house!” Noelle hollered across the lobby.
I cupped my mouth, instead of crossing my arms to shield me from the sudden chill. Noelle’s antics made me giddy, so did Mateo’s attention, but I was too tired and now too cold to laugh. I smiled, though, and continued to do so all the way to the underground garage.
I jumped in my Cherokee and cranked the engine. It took several pumps to the accelerator and a few swears for it to start. When the engine finally caught, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was anxious to take everyone home. Despite my need to crawl into the closest bed, and considering the night we’d had, I felt strangely happy. Mateo and Noelle were safe. And they were going to be all right.
I angled my monster up the incline of the underground garage and then along the curved driveway, stopping at the curb where Mateo waited with Noelle. The nurse was noticeably absent. And Noelle, poor high-as-a-kite Noelle, sat in the wheelchair laughing her ass off. Mateo stood behind her, hands on the handles, shaking his lowered head back and forth slowly.
I set my SUV in park and unlocked the back door before slipping out to help Mateo load Noelle. “I have her, Evie,” Mateo said. “Just get the door.”
“Wait. Let me steady the chair.” I locked the wheels and lifted the footrests. Good thing Mateo was as strong as he was, because Noelle was absolutely no help whatsoever. Instead of allowing Mateo to lift her from her seat, she clung to the sides and broke into song. Apparently, she thought Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Women” was a great way to bid the ED buh-bye. Maybe it was the morphine. Or maybe Noelle just couldn’t sing. Either way, the medics hauling a folding stretcher back into their vehicle grimaced as Noelle ripped Beyoncé’s brilliance apart.
“Noelle, let go of the chair. Noelle!” Mateo laughed as he yanked Noelle and her throne in upward jerks. “You’re such a pain in the ass. Evie, tickle her sides.”
I stopped trying to pry her fingers loose from the armrests. “What?”
“Tickle her ribs. She’s ticklish there.”
At this point, Noelle thought it was a good time to switch to “Single Ladies.” “How do you know?” I questioned, instead of doing as he asked. He cocked his head, wondering what I was getting at. “It’s none of my business,” I added, rather hurriedly.
“What’s none of your business?” Mateo asked.
That you know where to touch her.
I stood there, s
taring, not knowing exactly what to say that would excuse my asinine comments. Thankfully, Noelle decided this was the perfect part in the song to raise her hands and shimmy. Mateo snatched her from the seat and hefted her into my Cherokee with little to no effort. I snagged the wheelchair and pushed it back to the entrance, thanking the volunteer who offered to return it for me as I ran back to my car.
Mateo leaned against my passenger-side door, waiting for me, smiling as I approached. He had such a steamy grin. But when Noelle broke into “Halo,” I reminded myself that I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how hot he was.
He walked around the SUV with me and opened my door. “Thanks,” I muttered, careful not to gawk at the way the bulging muscles of his arms tightened. I kept my focus ahead until the passenger side shut tight and his seatbelt clicked. “Where to?”
“Havertown. That’s where Noelle lives.”
Great. He’d been to her place, too.
Noelle stopped her torturous singing and shoved her head between us. “But Evelyn lives in Ardmore. And you”―she tried to poke him and missed―“live in Haverford. You’re closer, on the way. We should drop you off first,” she slurred.
Mateo glanced over his shoulder. “Then who’s going to drag your sloppy self into your place? Noelle, you can’t even crawl, much less walk, and I’ll be damned if I dump you on Evie.”
Noelle laughed again, but I didn’t quite get the joke. “Oh, I see.” She waggled her finger at him. “You want to spend time with Shevelyn.”
“Evelyn,” he corrected, smirking.
“See, I told you. You want to kiss her. And…kiss her…and…” Noelle slumped in the back and landed on the floor of the SUV when I turned right. All I caught were her legs swinging up in my review mirror.
“Shit. Is she okay?” My head jerked back, but I couldn’t check on her without taking my eyes off the road.
Mateo stretched his large body to peer at the backseat. “Yeah, she’s fine.”
Noelle broke into “Grown Woman” just to prove that she was.
My engine made that horrid squealing sound it always made when I accelerated. Mateo frowned toward the dashboard. “Sounds like you need a new alternator, Evie.”
