Emboldened by his physical response, I grabbed his hand and guided it to my chest. Would he go for it? I licked his lower lip, and his tongue swept out to tangle with mine. This time he didn’t hesitate at all. His fingers swirled my breast and kneaded my nipple. The warmth pooling between my legs turned to full-on wetness, and I swallowed a moan.
“Hey, look, we’re here, Officer Halloway,” Brad shouted.
Alejandro and I froze. Just then I realized the car had stopped moving.
“Oh jeez,” China said. “I guess it’s time to stop what we’re doing and head inside, then, Officer Jansen.”
“That’s a swell idea.” Brad’s loud voice dripped with melted cheese.
Alejandro rolled his eyes as he buttoned his shirt. “Thanks, guys. We get it.”
When we exited the vehicle, I noticed the sign for an expensive steak restaurant near downtown.
A voice yelled, “Alejandro!”
“Shit,” Brad said, and I looked up to see reporters running toward us.
“I thought you checked out the restaurant earlier, made sure there was nothing going on,” said China.
“I did. Something must’ve just happened. C’mon.” He marched us toward the restaurant, but the vultures swooped in to block our path. The lights mounted on the cameras blinded me.
“Alejandro! What do you think about Dariana Romero’s death?”
His hand tensed in mine. There was a hitch in his step, then he kept moving.
“What’re you guys doing out so late?” China asked.
One reporter pointed down the street. “We were covering a fire at the Greek Orthodox church.”
“Is everyone safe?” Alejandro asked.
The reporter smiled. “I’ll tell you if you give me a quote.”
He shook his head in disgust as we slipped inside.
I cringed as we headed to a private dining room. “I feel like I need a shower.”
“They sell their soul for a story on a daily basis.” Alejandro sat next to me. “You sure you’re up for dealing with those cabrones?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I already told you I’m not leaving.”
His hand clasped mine atop the tablecloth. “I promise I won’t leave you either, Maddie.” The sincerity in his dark eyes relaxed me.
“Hey. What are cabrones?”
“The closest English word is…” He looked down at his menu. “Illegitimate children.”
He wouldn’t say the word bastard out loud? Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard him use one swear word in English.
“Is wine okay with you?”
Ooh, he’d drink with me? Maybe I could get him to third base if wine loosened him up enough. I nodded.
“Red or white?”
I winced. “I know zip about wine.”
“I don’t know much, either.” When the waiter arrived, he ordered a bottle of zinfandel.
“Why zinfandel?”
He shrugged. “It’s my dad’s favorite. And red wine is supposed to pair well with steak.”
I fiddled with the napkin in my lap. “Who’s Dariana Romero?”
“She was a seven-year-old Guatemalan.” He looked down. “She died when she and her mother tried to cross the US-Mexico border. Her mother pointed a gun at Border Patrol, and they accidentally shot the girl instead.”
“That’s awful.”
He nodded.
“It seemed like you wanted to answer their question about her.” He nodded again. “What would you have said?”
“I’d say her death was a tragedy. I’d also say that pointing a gun at police never ends well. There are consequences for breaking the law.”
“If you said that, they’d probably edit out the first bit.”
He scoffed. “They do it to my dad all the time. Make him sound like a cold, uncaring jerk. Hence, my forced silence.”
“Sorry, potato.”
His scowl lightened.
After the waiter returned with a bottle of red, I felt so mature sipping wine in a fine restaurant. I ordered the filet mignon, and so did Alejandro.
“Baked potato on the side, sir?” the waiter asked.
His eyes danced as he looked at me. “Should I order a potato, Maddie?”
“Sounds kind of like cannibalism to me.”
His easy laugh was wondrous to my ears. When the waiter left, we clinked wine glasses.
“To many more anniversaries,” Alejandro said.
“Twelve a year.” I grinned.
“I can picture us now, years down the road.” His eyes took on a far-off glaze. “We’ll come home from the hospital after a long day, unwind with a glass of wine in front of the crackling fireplace. Swap stories about saving lives. Admire your shiny Olympic gold medal. Pet the dogs.”
A few months ago the hint of such commitment would’ve freaked me out. But it sounded like a lovely future, up to that last bit. “Dogsss?”
“Well, no way we’re getting a cat.”
“Then they’ll be big dogs. Not yippy ones like Charles.”
“Deal.” He drank some wine. “I always wanted a dog when I grew up. But the life of a major league ballplayer doesn’t lend itself to pet ownership. I guess that’s one consolation of my injury.”
“Oh!” I held up my finger. “I forgot—Dr. Valentine gave me something for you.” I dug into my purse to extract a handout.
He read from the paper: “Emotional issues from sport retirement.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You think I have issues, Ms. Brooks?”
“Too many to count.”
His smile faded as he continued reading. “Chingar. I’ve had every single one of these.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Isolation, sadness, losing my identity…Oh, and anger at the circumstances ending my career, frustration over losing my special status. Then there’s uncertainty about the future…It’s like they did a case study on me.”
“But the feelings have grown less intense over time, right?”
He considered my question. “Yes.”
“That’s what Dr. Valentine says. They’re just feelings. They can’t kill you. Ride them out, and they’ll diminish over time.”
His eyes pulsed into me. I hoped my feelings for him never diminished.
The waiter placed our plates in front of us, and my mouth watered. Alejandro set aside the paper. As I cut into my buttery steak, he took a bite of potato.
“How do you taste?” I asked.
His slow grin got my girly bits tingling. “Delicioso.”
By the time Alejandro signed the check, I was buzzing from the wine and burning from the smoldering look in his dark eyes. “Ready for home?” he asked.
I nodded. Would he come up to my apartment with me?
“Is Brad all set with the car?” he asked China, and she nodded.
Alejandro rounded the table to guide me out of my chair. His lips snuggled into my neck and kissed near my ear. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Lightheaded, I shivered at his deep, honey voice. “And you smell lovely.” He took my hand.
I like this Drunkajandro.
We followed China through the restaurant, and I could see the SUV a short distance away through the glass door. Brad waited by the vehicle as he scanned the parking lot.
“Good thing we have designated drivers,” Alejandro said.
We emerged from the restaurant. Pop, pop. His hand jerked in mine.
“Down!” China screamed as she lunged in front of us.
Pop, pop, pop. I gasped when Alejandro fell and dragged me to the ground. I hit my chest hard, knocking the wind out of me. After a moment I looked up to see Brad crouched behind the open driver’s side door, firing his weapon into a distant line of trees.
He spoke into his wrist. “Shots fired. Hyde Park on High Street.”
Shots fired? The rush in my ears made it difficult to grasp the situation. I strained for air as my heart thundered.
Brad discharged more shots, then glanced back at us and added, �
�Fernando down.”
What just happened? Who was Fernando? I tried to push myself up, but Alejandro rolled over me, covering the left side of my body. His groan shredded my heart—in an instant I realized he’d been shot. I groped behind me to touch him.
“Stay down,” he wheezed.
Pop, pop. Holy shit, was that a bullet whizzing by? Glass shattered behind me, answering my question.
“Son of a bitch.” Brad crept into the driver’s seat, staying low. The engine was still running, and somehow he put the car in drive and turned the wheel, placing the vehicle between the line of trees and our prone bodies. Good thing he stayed low because the front window exploded. Pieces of glass rained down on him as he slithered out of the car. “Gonna gut you, motherfucker!”
He looked back at me. “Help’s on its way.” Then he left the cover of the car and sprinted toward the trees. Why wasn’t China helping? I looked over and froze when I saw her splayed on the ground, blood spreading from under her chest.
“Alex,” I cried. When I wiggled out from beneath him, his hiss of pain stopped my heart. I maneuvered myself to face him. “Are you hurt?” His lack of response scared the hell out of me. I ran my hand up his body, and when I reached his elbow, he moaned.
“Oh, my God!” I pulled the collar of his jacket down over his right shoulder, revealing a dark stain that spread with sickening speed as I watched. His eyes fluttered closed, and his head sagged.
I heard a gasp and looked up to see the restaurant’s hostess gaping at us from inside the shot-out door. “Call nine-one-one!” I shouted, a second before I heard a siren in the distance.
“Alex.” I began to sob. “Stay with me. You promised you wouldn’t leave.”
Quick footsteps approached. “Fucking son of a bitch,” Brad huffed. He dropped to his knees behind Alejandro, and continued cursing as he examined his body and saw the blood. “Are you hit?”
It took a second for me to realize he was talking to me. “I, I don’t think so.”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket and wadded it into a ball that he handed to me. “Apply pressure to his shoulder. EMS is on their way.”
I swallowed, scared to hurt him, and pressed the jacket to the joint. Tears coursed down my face, but Alejandro didn’t make a noise. Stay with me.
“Oh, baby girl.” Brad cradled China’s head in his lap, his hands red with blood. “I neutralized the shooter. We’re gonna be okay. Fight, baby girl. You got this.”
As the siren’s wail increased, I smoothed my hand down Alejandro’s olive skin. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered. Tears blurred my eyes. Don’t you dare leave me.
Chapter Twenty
A BALLOON POPS IN THE DISTANCE. “Get down!” China screams. Pop, pop. I can’t breathe. Then I’m falling, falling in slow motion. Right before I hit the cement, my body jolts.
I tried to catch my breath. It was quiet around me, and I realized I was on my back, not my side. The surface beneath me felt softer than concrete.
“He’s coming to,” Lucia said.
“Ay, Dios.” That was my mother’s voice.
I opened my eyes to find my entire family and Maddie hovering around me. It looked like I was in a hospital bed, and I noticed Brad, Frank, and one of Dad’s agents standing by the wall. I blinked several times, trying to make sense of the scene. One thing was clear: I made it. I’m alive.
“Is everyone okay?” I croaked. Mom handed me a plastic bottle of water, and I took it with my left hand since my right arm was in a sling. A few sips soothed my dry throat—they must have intubated me.
Mom floated over me, the back of one hand pressed to my forehead, her other hand stroking my cheek. “Mi precioso niño,” she murmured. It was a little difficult to breathe, and I wished she’d give me some space.
“You got shot twice on your right side—your shoulder and elbow,” Dad told me. Dios. I hadn’t heard his voice shake like that since Mateo had collapsed as a five year old. “Sylvia, give him some room.” When she stepped back, he added, “But your surgeon says you’ll be okay. They removed a bullet from your shoulder, and cleaned up the entry and exit wounds near your elbow.”
My gaze found Maddie. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay. I didn’t get shot.”
I exhaled, though the fear in her eyes made my relief short-lived.
“China’s in a coma.”
Chills went up my spine. That could’ve easily been Maddie or me, if not for China’s heroism. “What’s her prognosis?”
Maddie pressed her lips together. “She got shot three times—once in her head.”
I gasped. About ninety percent of gunshot wounds to the head were fatal.
“GSW to the right frontal lobe, a penetrating wound,” Brad added.
“Did they perform a craniotomy?” I asked.
“That’s where they remove part of her skull?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes, to ease intracranial pressure.”
“Yeah. Allie told me they did that.”
“That’s good—she has a chance.” Please, God. Help China. Brad slumped by the wall, looking distraught. “Hey, jarhead.” He looked up. “Sounds like you actually picked up some medical knowledge attending my lectures.”
He shook his head. “Gotta get something out of those boring-ass classes.”
“We’re all grateful to Brad,” Dad said. “He got the shooter. He and China are a big reason you and Maddie are alive.”
“Who was the shooter?” I asked.
“Mr. President?” Dad’s chief of staff walked in and handed him an iPad. “We’ve made the changes you wanted to your speech.”
While Dad read the screen, Mom spoke in uncharacteristically hushed tones to Brad. I noticed Lucia crying.
“Lucy.” I held out my hand, and the motion jarred my shoulder—I wasn’t going to do that again anytime soon. Her eyes got big when she saw me wince. “I’ll be okay, hermanita.” I curled my fingers, and she finally stepped closer to put her hand in mine. She sniffed as a fat tear rolled down her cheek. She looked like she needed a hug, but I couldn’t provide that in my current state. “Is Dane here?”
“He was.” She sniffed again. “He had to go to practice.”
Mateo’s hands were stuffed in his jean pockets, and he stared out the window of the hospital room at the gloomy drizzle.
“Matty.”
He kept staring out the window.
“Mateo.”
He looked at me with glassy, vacant eyes.
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“I’m fine.”
Now that the anesthesia was wearing off, I noticed how tired they all looked. “None of you slept, huh?”
Lucia shrugged.
“Matty, you need to get some sleep. There’s a lounge chair over there.” I tilted my head to the corner of the room.
“Karen just checked my numbers. I’m fine.”
I sighed and nodded. We were all too fatigued to argue. But I also sensed my siblings were freaked out. “Matty, Lucy.” I looked them both in the eye. “The agents did their job, and they’ll keep protecting us. We’re all safe. We’re going to stay safe.”
“How do you know that?” Lucia asked, chewing on her fingernail. She wore a volleyball T-shirt that said KEEP CALM AND ACE IT.
“I trust our agents, Luce. They’re a pain to deal with, but they do a good job.”
Mateo frowned, but his shoulders lowered an inch.
Lucia whispered in his ear, and he smiled as he extracted his phone from his pocket. They looked at something on his screen, and she gestured to the chaise lounge over by the wall. When Lucia sat, Mateo sat next to her. He pulled out earbuds, and they listened to something together before Lucia handed one earbud back to him. After a couple of minutes, I was amazed to see Mateo lean his head back and close his eyes. Lucia reached for his jean jacket and draped it over him like a blanket.
“She sure has a way with him,” Maddie whispered.
I smiled. “You catch m
ore flies with honey than with vinegar.”
Dad glanced at me. “I’ll be back after I address the media.”
Once he and his entourage left, it was just Maddie by my bedside. “The reporters,” I said.
“What about them?”
“They alerted the shooter of our location.”
She nodded. “That’s what they think. Brad’s kicking himself that he didn’t call off the dinner once the reporters came ’round.”
“Yeah, but how could he have known? It’s not like someone’s been after me. Who was the shooter?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”
“Absolutely.”
“His name was Alan Eastman; he lived near Highbanks.”
“An American?” I’d figured it was a Middle Eastern terrorist. That was a threat I knew. To think one of my own countrymen had tried to kill me…I shuddered. “Why’d he do it?”
“We think it was a hate crime.”
Brad stepped toward the bed. “Your dad’s about to speak—he’ll explain it.” He reached for the remote and turned on the TV set hanging from the ceiling.
“Now awaiting remarks from the president,” the reporter said, “following the horrific shooting last night. We’re at University Hospital on the campus of Highbanks University.” She nodded. “Here’s the president.”
Dad approached a podium in the hospital lobby. “I’m relieved to tell you my first-born son, Alejandro, is in stable condition. He’s going to make it.”
Applause sounded from those gathered. It felt bizarre to be spoken about on national TV. What would their reaction be if I’d died?
“I’m so grateful my son will live. He’s studying to become a doctor, learning to heal others just like the tremendous physicians at University Hospital do every day. Their care has been top notch.
“We ask for your prayers for Secret Service Officer China Halloway. She’s done an outstanding job protecting our family, but we need to protect her now. She’s fighting for her life after taking three bullets. She’s in critical condition.”
The crowd gathered was silent, and a ghostly pallor hovered in my hospital room.
“Officer Halloway’s partner tells me she’s a fighter, but she needs your prayers to help that fight.” He gripped the podium. “Though details are still emerging from the shooting, we want to share what we know at this point.”
Aced (Blocked #2) Page 23
