by Reina Torres
No, he just looked at her as if he was learning something about her and she almost smiled.
“What is it?”
His smile was contagious.
“Just wondering where you put it all if that’s the case.”
She started to reach a hand down to her backside, but stopped short. “Not going there,” she told him.
Shrugging, he reached for one of the wrapped quesadillas. “Pity.”
Leaning heavily on the table, Sloane sat down in her chair. “I’m too tired to decide if I’m offended by that remark or turned on.”
Opening the waxed paper, she swept her tongue over her lips and reached for the container of sour cream on the tabletop. It was popped open and set in front of her before she looked across the table and saw that Agent Bravo was watching her carefully.
Narrowing her gaze at him she looked at the wrapped bundle in his hand. “Something wrong?”
He looked from her face and then away toward the wall before he sat woodenly down in the chair opposite her at the table.
“Agent Bravo?” Concerned, she sat the quesadilla back down on the waxed paper. “Is something wrong?”
Leaning back in his chair, he dragged his gaze back up to look at her. “You’re surprising me… a little.”
“A little?” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to work harder. After I’ve had some sleep.” Picking up her quesadilla, Sloane scooped up some sour cream and took a big bite from the corner. It only took a few seconds for her to get a taste of the whole thing together.
She leaned her elbows on the table and moaned. Managing to lift a hand to cover her mouth, Sloane mumbled out a few words. “So good. What else did you get?”
Sloane wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him grumble under his breath.
“A long sleepless night.”
“Okay,” she swallowed and took another cream slathered bite, “whatever you say. I, for one, can’t wait to get in bed.”
Growing up in a large family had done a lot of good things for Vicente while he was growing up. One of the most helpful skills he’d learned throughout the years was being able to fall asleep practically anywhere.
When a couple of cousins stopped in to sleep over at your already crowded house, you would sleep anywhere you could. Being the eldest boy it was always up to him to corral the younger children during those nights, but he drew the line on the nights when his girl cousins would come over to sleep in Pilar’s room.
He’d made the mistake of falling asleep in her room one time.
And woken up the next morning with make up on his face and his nails painted in four different shades of pink.
The skill had served him well on stake outs and protection details. While other agents frowned at the idea of cranking down the back of a bucket seat and taking a good ‘power nap’ they had only to look at Vicente, happily resting in whatever corner he could find, to decide that he just wasn’t human.
That opinion would not have been the case if they had seen him over an hour later.
As soon as Sloane had disappeared into her bedroom, he’d taken the linens that she left for him and improvised a bed.
The sofa was a pull out, but Vicente was normally an easy man when it came to getting some sleep and he didn’t want to have to worry about pushing the sleeper back under the sofa cushions in the morning, so he just flopped down and closed his eyes.
Falling asleep was the easy part.
Staying asleep turned out to be the problem.
Startling awake, Vicente checked the time on his phone. Just shy of two in the morning, he closed his eyes and listened carefully to the apartment.
At first it was silent.
Then he heard the rustle of fabric.
Sliding soundlessly from the sofa, he picked up his side arm from the coffee table and walked across the carpeted floor barefoot.
The sound only intensified as he continued down the hallway.
No one had gotten past him. The alarm was still showing green on the wall.
The windows into Sloane’s bedroom were thick solid glass made for insulation. There was no way to open the window from the outside without removing the entire thing or breaking the glass.
That, he would have heard.
Halfway to her bedroom he stopped again.
The sound was coming from her bedroom.
Keeping his back to the wall, Vicente made it the rest of the way to her bedroom door, standing open.
They’d spoken about it before she went to sleep. He’d told her she could shut it most of the way, but he didn’t want a locked door between him and his charge, but he also didn’t want to have to worry about turning a nob.
She’d shrugged away the worry and told him that she’d leave the door open since the only bathroom was through her room.
Now, he stood on her threshold worried about her.
She was curled up on one side of the queen bed, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. The blankets, all of them were twisted off to the side of the bed or crumbled down at the end.
He had no idea how well she normally slept, but it was obvious that she was in distress.
And he didn’t know what he could do about it.
Waking her up seemed like such a personal thing.
They’d shared a late-night meal and she might have flirted a bit with him. She’d been exhausted and injured and out of sorts.
It just didn’t seem right leaving her upset and if he were to guess, in pain. She had managed to curl up onto her injured arm.
Shaking his head, he crossed to the bed, picking up a light blanket as he went. He set his side arm down on the nightstand and then took the blanket to the end of the bed and laid it down over the base of the mattress and drew it up over her body while he carefully watched her expression. She didn’t seem to notice his presence, he doubted that she knew he was there at all.
He’d covered her with the blanket, so that should have been the end of it. He should have left and gone back to his sofa bed, but Vicente crouched down beside the bed for a moment, wondering if he’d been wrong, if she would manage to settle down on her own.
Before he could come to answer on his own, everything changed.
She gasped in a breath and startled, her expression terrified.
He sat beside her on the bed and touched her shoulder.
Sloane turned and grabbed his arms, almost pulling him off balance. To keep himself from toppling onto her, he reached out and braced a hand on the mattress.
“Miss King, I-”
Her eyes flew open, but he was sure that she was looking right through him. “Hold on. Just hold on a little while longer.”
“Okay.” Vicente reached out his free arm and took hold of her elbow, holding her as still as he could.
“Don’t- don’t go.”
Vicente knew that she wasn’t speaking to him, but he let her hold onto him all the same. There wasn’t any harm in it.
Her fingers dug into his arms as tears fell from her eyes, coursing down her cheek and pooling against the side of her nose. “Promise me.”
Lifting a hand, he brushed some errant strands of her dark hair from her forehead before he trailed the knuckles of his hand over the warm curve of her cheek.
Her fingers dug in deeper and even though her nails were trimmed short and close to her fingers, he knew he was going to bruise but it didn’t matter.
“Promise me,” she demanded, “promise me you’ll fight. Hold on.”
He ground his teeth together, unsure of what to do. He was there to protect her life. Her heart…
Well, he wasn’t sure he was up to the task. He didn’t even know who she was talking about. A friend? A lover?
Shifting his grasp, he started to turn her to face the other side of the bed, but she wouldn’t let go, so he moved with her. Easing her onto her back, he saw her relax against the pillows.
“Don’t leave,” her voice was little more than a whisper, “I don’t want to lose
you.”
“Okay,” he promised, knowing it was the only way he’d get her to relax, “I won’t leave you.”
Her fingers softened, her fingers relaxed and slipped free of his arms.
“Good.” She let out a long sigh of relief and turned onto her other side, pulling her pillow closer. “I’m so tired of being alone.”
A moment later he knew she was fast asleep. The line of her back was a relaxed curve, her toes, visible in the golden pool of light from an outside streetlamp, were relaxed instead of clutched tight as they had been before.
Shaking his head, Vicente reached down to the end of the bed and pulled a blanket back up over her, up to her shoulders.
As he straightened he took a good long look at Sloane King.
He’d grown up seeing her in the newspapers. He’d seen the news when her parents died in a tragic car crash. He’d heard through the law enforcement grapevine when her sister had gotten hooked on drugs, and then he’d seen the headlines when her sister was found dead after being missing for more than a week.
Alone.
She said she was alone, but he wasn’t sure what she meant. She had her uncle who was as protective of her as a mama bear with her cubs. She had her friend, Hildie.
When Vicente turned away to walk back into the living room, he stopped short.
Hadn’t he just left his family’s gathering for much the same reason?
He’d felt alone in the middle of the massive gathering. He knew he was loved and cared for, but it hadn’t stopped him from feeling separated.
Vicente knew he didn’t have a hope of fixing what hurt in her heart, but he was going to do everything he could to make sure she had time to figure it out for herself.
That, he could do.
Chapter 4
Pulling himself up with a hand on the back of the couch, Vicente grabbed his phone off the coffee table. Squinting at the illuminated numbers, he dropped his forearms to his knees and waited for time to pass.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to make it any better.
Getting up on his feet, Vicente walked to the front door and looked out the side window at the sky. It was still dark, but he mumbled to himself. “It’s dawn somewhere.”
He sighed and turned toward the kitchen. He’d set up the coffee pot the night before, just a heartbeat or two before he fell onto the couch.
He pushed the button with a little more force than he needed to, because ‘caffeine.’
By the time he had the pot brewed and a cup poured for himself, he picked up his phone again.
Calling up the phone function, he swept his finger over Cruz’s icon and lifted the phone to his ear to wait for the first ring.
The smile on his face was bitterly smug and only grew when he heard a growl on the other end.
“Someone better be dead or dying, Bravo.”
“Wanna volunteer?” He pushed his fingers through his hair and curled his toes in the carpet under his feet. “I’m feeling lucky this morning.”
There was a long pause and then he heard Cruz’s voice again, but louder this time.
“My wife,” Cruz’s tone was tempered by a softer note and Vicente knew it was his feelings for his wife that bled through his anger at the early hour, “is sleeping. You care to explain why you’re calling me?”
“I didn’t want to chance Sloane hearing this call.”
“The only chance of that is if she’s a vampire.”
“Living in San Antonio?” The two shared a laugh at the thought. “Seriously, anything new? Do we have suspects?”
“Everything is developing.” Cruz sounded a little grumpy, “but with all of the people jumping in on this, I wonder if we’re tripping over each other’s feet.”
“There’s no wondering about it,” Vicente blew a tentative breath over the top of his coffee cup. “We’ve got so many LEOs on the street. We’re likely driving them deeper underground.”
Cruz sighed, and Vicente took a sip and winced at the sudden sting on the tip of his tongue. They both had friends in the local branches of law enforcement, but there was a time when more was too much. “We have to see if we can get the locals to stand down enough that we get a really good look at what’s happening here.”
“It’s not helping that this is a high-profile thing.”
“Hmm,” Vicente swallowed his first real sip of coffee and felt the caffeine flood his veins, “it does have its drawbacks.”
“Did something happen last night?”
Besides Sloane turning his assumptions about her on its head? And the way his grudging respect for her had only grown as he’d done a little internet search on his charge.
If there was a program benefiting women or children in San Antonio, Sloane King had something to do with it.
“‘Cente?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay? You seem distracted.”
What was he going to say to that? He was.
Still, he’d worked with Cruz a number of times over the last few years and there was no need to watch his words with his friend.
“I want to be on the street, Cruz.”
Once the words had been said, he relaxed a bit, knowing there was less of a chance that he’d blurt it out at the wrong time.
In front of Sloane.
This was exactly why he didn’t do undercover. He ran too hot to bottle things up inside. If he tried, they burst out at the wrong time.
“We’ve got the street covered, man. You keep her safe.”
“I feel like I’m sitting on my hands.”
A soft laugh came over the phone. “Careful where you put your thumbs, okay?”
“Smart ass.”
A shuffle of sound from the hallway turned his head.
Sloane was leaning heavily on the wall, her eyes half open.
‘Hey,’ she mouthed.
He nodded at her and lifted his coffee cup, gesturing toward the machine.
She sagged in relief with a smile and managed to push herself away from the wall as she made her way past him to the coffee machine.
He half-turned to follow her with more than just his eyes. Even in her wrinkled scrubs she looked gorgeous. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail at some point during the night and was now tugged off center, but she didn’t seem to care.
He watched as she poured herself a cup of coffee and held it in her cupped hands like the Holy Grail.
Vicente heard Cruz clear his throat. “Yeah?”
“Focus, Bravo.”
“Yeah, I’m focused.”
“Let me guess, you’re not alone.”
Damn if Sloane didn’t press the side of her coffee mug against her cheek and sigh silently at the feeling.
“Yeah.”
“Well, then I’ll get off the phone. It’s about time to wake up my wife.” There was a hint of something softer in his voice and a color to his tone that they were both going to enjoy it.
“Call me when you have an update.”
“Sure,” Cruz laughed, “let me know when you’re in the john and I’ll call.”
“Jackass.” Vicente saw Sloane look up, startled. “If there’s an update, call.” He was about to end the call when he heard Cruz speak.
“Hey.”
“What?” He growled. “My coffee’s getting cold.”
“Mickie saw the news last night. She wanted me to pass on a message to Sloane. So, can you pass it on or do I have to do it myself?”
Vicente flexed a muscle in his cheek. “Anything for Mickie, Cruz. What’s her message?”
“After everything that went down when we met, Sloane’s foundation did wonders for her. The group therapy sessions offered by Helping Hearts made all the difference.
“Tell Sloane that Mickie is there. Whatever she needs, just let us know. It’s hers.”
Setting down his coffee mug, Vicente felt a lump form in his throat. He’d seen his friend back then. Seen the hell he’d gone through when the end of his undercover assignment had ended. Sure,
they’d brought down the motorcycle club, but the personal toll had been devastating for his friend and the woman who had captured his heart.
Looking over at Sloane, he watched her climb up onto a stool at the kitchen counter and draw in a sip of coffee like it was life itself.
There was so much more than the image the papers put out. So much more than the pampered princess and socialite. And if nothing else, he owed her the courtesy of delving deeper than the surface. He was going to do better by Sloane.
She deserved that much.
“‘Cente?”
“Yeah, Cruz. I hear you. Send my love to Mickie.”
He ended the call and set his phone down on the counter before he looked up at Sloane.
She was watching him carefully. “Who’s Mickie?”
The question startled him a little. It wasn’t the question so much but the tone of her voice. It was early. She was still half asleep. The narrowed gaze and watchful eyes made him smile for some reason, but it was the next question that made the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile.
“Is that what you wore to sleep?”
He looked down at his undershirt and the jogging shorts that he’d pulled out of his car. “They don’t issue us a uniform for security details.” He shrugged. “And this is comfortable enough. I have to be ready for pretty much anything. Ready to go when I have to.”
She ran her gaze over him from head to toe and then looked down at her own clothes. “I remembered thinking that I should change my clothes, but I guess I didn’t.” She transferred the cup so that she held it with one hand and plucked at the baggy blue of her scrubs top. “I have little snippets of memory from last night after we got here.”
That got his attention. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Besides all that cheese I shoved into my mouth?” She laughed and gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m glad these things have an elastic waistband, or I might have split the seams last night.”
“Looks like you have some room left.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” Sloane yawned, and he had to fight off a yawn of his own. He didn’t miss her silent laughter, her shoulders shaking. “You don’t have to fight the yawn. I won’t think any less of you as an FBI Agent if you can’t stifle a natural response. So, you better finish up the rest of that coffee and maybe start on a second cup while I get a shower.”
