by Reina Torres
The tallest and likely the eldest of the group wedged himself into the center and laid both of his forearms on the open window bottom. “You want me to park your car?”
She heard the hopeful, almost begging tone in the boy’s voice.
Vicente tilted his head to look the boy square in the face. “Show me your license.”
One arm disappeared from view and popped back with a rectangular card held like the Holy Grail between the boy’s fingers. “Here you go, officer.”
The children on either side of him laughed as Vicente leaned closer to his nephew. “That’s Special Agent to you, young man.”
With a nod and quick flick of his hand, the boys stepped back and away, leaving Vicente room. The car was put in park and he got on his side. Just as Sloane unbuckled her seatbelt, her door was opening.
Vicente was waiting for her, his hand extended, and the tension in her body shifted. Worry and disappointment lost their hold for a moment and when she set her hand in his, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Leave it to Vicente to twist her heart around in her chest in a heartbeat.
Sloane stepped out of the car and barely had a second to breathe before the younger boys dashed past them and closed the door.
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Vicente set off at an easy pace toward the sounds of the party ahead of them.
By the time they made it to the side of the birthday girl, Sloane had been introduced to more than a score of Vicente’s relatives. Her head was fairly swimming with names and faces.
As they moved through the throngs of people on the dance floor, Sloane latched a hand onto his forearm hoping she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd.
He reached his arm back and took hold of her other hand. “Don’t worry,” he called back through the din of the dance music, “I won’t lose you.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Come on, I think I see Blanca.”
When they arrived at the center of the floor, Sloane didn’t need to ask which young girl was Blanca Bravo, Vicente’s eldest niece. Her dress wasn’t just a dress, but a gown. Swathed in yards and yards of organza ruffles, the petite young woman looked like an antebellum pixie with an addiction for ringlet curls.
Vicente called out to his niece, but the noise made it nearly impossible to turn her head.
Luckily, Pilar was standing beside her niece and gestured for her to turn around.
Sloane was nearly knocked off her feet a moment later. The wide circumference of her hoop skirt kept everyone at a certain distance, but she still managed to loop her arms around her uncle’s neck.
“Tio V! You came!”
Laughing, Vicente managed to stretch his arms long enough to hug her back even with the layers of organza and crinolines between them.
He spoke softly into her ear and then the two shared a laugh with each other. Blanca glowed with love for her uncle.
Sloane swallowed and blinked back sudden tears. Family.
The Bravos had enough members of their family to found their own town if they had a mind to, but it wasn’t just their numbers, it was the love they showed each other. The love they felt for each other.
She hadn’t had that in quite a while.
Sloane lifted her hand to brush away a tear and felt herself tugged sideways. When she came to a stop she found herself anchored to Vicente’s side, his hand on her hip.
“Blanca, this is-”
“Sloane King!”
Sloane cringed at the breathy tone in the teenager’s voice.
“I know!” Blanca reached out and grabbed both of Sloane’s hands. “You came to our school and talked about safety and what to do if we’re ever harassed or feel unsafe. All my friends talked about it for days. We still check with each other and make sure to follow your hints when we’re not together. Wow.” Blanca darted a look at her uncle and then looked at Vicente’s hand on her hip before meeting her eyes again. “Are you dating my tio?”
Before Sloane could manage to even process the question, all of Blanca’s friends crowded in after her squeal of happiness blasted straight through the music of the party.
Suddenly, she was the center of attention and all the teenage girls were going wild with laughter and cheers.
She leaned her shoulder closer to Vicente. “Do something?”
He shrugged, and she looked up at him, disgruntled that he’d jostled her. His gaze was even when he looked back. “What do you want me to do? They’re not a danger to you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, but I might end up being a danger for you if you don’t find a way to get me out of this.”
“This?” He narrowed his eyes at her and tilted his head to the press of organza and rhinestones around them. “I thought you liked what you did. Working with the girls-”
“Working with them, sure! Having them gush on me? Not exactly.” She gave a visible shudder and felt his hand gather her closer. “I’m not… comfortable with that.”
One of the girls touched her arm and then darted away giggling with some of her friends. Sloane squeezed her eyes closed and kept her lips pressed lightly together.
When she heard Vicente’s voice whisper past her ear she shivered. “You really don’t like the attention, do you?”
She shook her head, still blind to the wild colors swirling around her. “I just… It’s just something I do to help.”
“What if I could do something to make you forget that you’re the center of attention?”
“I doubt you could but go ahead and give it a try.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Give me a second.”
Her eyes flew open and fixed on him as he began to pull away.
Vicente looked down and she followed his gaze. Saw her hand on his arm, her white-knuckled hold. Gasping, she started to pull away, but he put his hand over hers instead.
When she met his eyes, she saw the glint of humor in them. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
She gave him a stare and a single raised brow to go with it. “I can’t move.”
The press of bodies wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. If she were to guess, she’d say the entire neighborhood was there along with Vicente’s family. So, there she stood as he waded two steps back into the fray and waved Blanca over.
The beautiful young woman reached out her arms and let her uncle tug her closer. When he leaned down to whisper in her ear she leaned in too. And after a few hushed words she turned ever so slightly to look over at Sloane.
Her chest tightened a bit as Blanca’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes glittering with humor just like her uncle’s had a moment before.
Blanca nodded.
Vincente leaned back from his niece and brought his hand up to his mouth.
Sloane felt her stomach turn over. “What is he-”
A whistle cut through the din and everyone turned in his direction.
Blanca waved her hands to the crowd and then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled something in the other direction, toward the end of the basketball court.
Moments later music started up and the crowd on the court shifted, opening up space to dance. Sloane looked at the crowd as it moved away and then turned her eyes toward the only person moving in her direction.
There was a subtle rhythm to his movement, following the gentle bounce of the music.
Sloane knew that people were still watching her, but she couldn’t seem to care, not when Vicente was watching her too. Only his eyes weren’t full of curiosity or humor.
No, Vicente’s eyes were dark and full of intent.
Bless her, but she didn’t know what his intent was… and she couldn’t seem to care.
Even when he was right in front of her, he wasn’t still. His subtle movements, coupled with the rocking bounce of the music, made her feel like she was standing hip deep in the ocean and the shift of the currents were easing the stress away from her body.
“Quiero bailar contigo.” He broadened his smile. “Dance with me,
Sloane.”
Sloane blew out a soft breath and felt the rhythm of the music tug at her, almost as much as the look in his eyes.
It might have been her imagination but rationalizing it didn’t do a thing for her heart… or other sensitive parts of her. The music, the look in his eyes, the slow, sly curve of his lips.
Conscious, clear thought?
Her instincts pushed away her conscience.
Her longing… her need… rushed to the surface when he held out his hands.
And she took them.
She took his hands and he pulled her closer.
Chapter 7
The cumbia rhythm rolled through his body, rocked him slightly back and forth, changed the pulse of blood through his veins. He watched Sloane and knew that the music touched her as well.
Honestly, he didn’t know if she had any connection to the music or his culture, but as he felt the subtle tug on his hand and saw the gentle sway of her hips in time to the music, he felt himself drawn even closer to her and it wasn’t about their physical proximity.
Her connection to him went deeper than the touch of her hand, or the scent of her perfume in his lungs.
It was easy to brush it away when they weren’t touching, but here on the nearly empty dancefloor, when she held his hands, let him draw her closer, lean into the long line of his body with her curves, he was only too aware of how deep it went.
Leaning forward she gave him a pointed look. “I don’t know how to dance to this.”
His smile felt good. Free. Easy. Completely unlike himself with someone outside of his family. “You might not know the steps, but you move to the music.”
“Oh, good,” she gave him a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m naturally inept.”
“I didn’t say that.” Tugging on one of her hands, he let go of her other and stepped back.
Sloane stepped back shifting her balance to her back foot, only to have him tug her back. She moved closer and ended up pressed against him from her knees to her chest. A soft gasp of surprise was her only response.
He set his free hand on her lower back, holding her against him, and gave her joined hand a gentle nudge as he started to turn.
She followed effortlessly and it had nothing to do with skill on her part. He just made it so easy. Moving with him across the floor, rocking her hips with the slightest nudge from the hand he laid against her back, a little here… a little there… they moved together.
He gave her a solid wall to lean on and she gave him her soft laughter and a gentle smile that grew along with her confidence as he led her through the steps.
A slight dip in the music moved through her body like a rolling stretch, brushing her body against his in all the right places. It hit him deep in his chest where his world had been silent much too long and all along his skin, making sure he was wide awake with this woman in his arms.
Her breath caught in her throat when she looked up into his eyes. It had to be the lighting, he decided, the lanterns, the soft, fading park lights that gave her soft green eyes a deeper cast.
“You’re really good at this.”
Vicente heard her voice, but he couldn’t quite speak, not when he was barely able to catch his own breath.
“Do you,” she continued to speak, and he was only too happy to let her as she moved against him in the same repetitive rhythm, making every inch of his skin tingle with awareness, “do you dance a lot?”
He took a step to the side and drew her along with him, making a half turn in the growing crowd. She followed, and the hem of her dress flared gently lashing at his legs through his pressed slacks. The touch was enough to draw him closer, pulling her against him.
There wasn’t much room to maneuver with their bodies that close, but that only made things a little more interesting. He drew their joined hands to his waist and when he unwound his fingers from hers, he felt her set her hand on his waist, grip his side with a little squeeze.
He had a hand on her lower back, using his fingers to tilt her hips into his as his thigh slipped between hers.
If there had been more light, he would have looked down between them and seen the folds of fabric where her skirt rode up on his leg, but even with the low lights, he felt the heat of her thighs around his and heard the softest gasp of her breath as he pulled her close enough that she was nearly on the tips of her toes.
She gripped his shoulder with one hand and turned her head until their cheeks brushed lightly against each other. He wondered if she could hear his soft groan as her hair traced over his cheek, or maybe… yes, he felt her squeeze her thighs around his, rocking her heat against him.
Flicking his gaze up to meet hers he found her dark gaze fixed on him, her lips parted enough that he could see the hint of her pale white teeth between them.
He wanted to taste them, feel the scrape of her teeth against his tongue, his neck, so many inches of his skin. He was a glutton for pain it seemed, especially if the source was Sloane King.
Vicente leaned closer, eager to whisper something in her ear and felt a sharp nip of pain on his earlobe.
Sloane… and those teeth.
He shifted his hips and heard the catch in her breath as she felt him press against her tender belly, hard and insistent. Needy and ready.
But was she?
Vincente reached a hand around her, to turn them both and felt the cell phone in his back pocket vibrate.
His movements stilled, and he heard Sloane’s disappointed sigh.
“What happened?”
Vicente wrapped a protective arm around her and they walked to the edge of the dance floor before he unlocked his phone and listened to the voice message.
He met her eyes and saw the worry in them, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to make this easy on her. He wasn’t going to be able to soften the blow.
Once the message ended, he typed out a quick text to let Travis know they were going to be on their way and then dropped his phone back in his pocket.
“What?” He heard the less than subtle worry in her tone. “What happened?”
“One of your distribution centers just burned down.” His hand dug deeper into her side, keeping her on her feet. “I’m going to get my car and we’re going to go over there and see what happened. Okay?”
He watched her falter, stumble to the side as if the ground beneath her feet had suddenly moved.
“Hey, I’ve got you.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she actually heard him, she was paler than usual, her face passive, but her body quivered against him. If he was any judge of women’s moods, she was in shock and he needed to get her off her feet.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you off your feet.”
As they started to walk, she swung her attention toward him. “I need to see what happened.”
He nodded, unwilling to remind her that he’d already told her he was taking her to the site. “Sure, Sloane. I’ll take you there.”
She nodded, following along meekly beside him. “Good. I need to know what happened. I need to know.”
When they reached the curb, his nephews started over in their direction. As he explained what he needed, he felt something touch his arm.
Sloane’s hand traced down his arm to take his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.
He tightened his fingers around hers and tugged her closer until she laid her cheek on his shoulder with a soft, plaintive sigh.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, “we’ll figure this out, Sloane. We’ll stop these people somehow.”
Vicente said the words to comfort her, but he was beginning to wonder if he was telling her the truth. He really had no control over discovering the identities of the men who were destroying her work, but he did know one thing for certain.
If these people came after her, he’d put himself between her and danger in a heartbeat.
And it had nothing whatsoever to do with his job.
Not anymore.
It had everyt
hing to do with the woman at his side.
Sloane had a headache but there wasn’t time to worry about it. Helping Hearts and Hangers was a charred mess, illuminated by a half dozen flood lights and the headlights of fire engines, and police vehicles. Engine 24 was finally packing up their hoses and Sloane was trying to give everyone their space. It made it easier on her head and her ears.
It was somewhere in the wee hours of the morning and she would likely be freezing if it wasn’t for Vicente who had offered her a hoodie sweatshirt that he’d left in the back seat of his car. The garment fairly swam around her, but she didn’t care much for the state of her own clothing when she was staring at the ruined mess of one of her oldest facilities.
Mentally she was calculating the amount of time it would take to rebuild the inside of the distribution center, and while that was happening, how they were going to service the members of this community while they waited.
She was trying desperately to ignore the pain in the center of her chest as she focused on the future, the next few steps she’d take after this was over.
Two police officers passed by talking to each other about the fire. She heard some of their words but not the entire conversation. No signs of gang activity. No signs of robbery. They were waiting on the Arson Investigator to go in once the Battalion Chief had declared the site completely out and safe, but they were fairly sure there wasn’t going to be any kind of evidence left behind. It was the lack of evidence that had both men positing that it was arson. And that it was a professional behind the crime.
Sloane didn’t care who was responsible at that point, she just wanted it to stop. All the good that she had been struggling to do. All the people she was trying to help. It wasn’t going to make a difference if someone was trying to destroy it all.
“Such a waste,” the words were cold and bitter on her tongue, but the ache and anger that was building inside of her seared her with pain. “Why would anyone do this?”
“Hey, babe, are you okay?”
Sloane heard the familiar voice of her friend and turned to see Hildie slam the door of her Mini Cooper and pick her way through the debris on the wet ground.
