Dancing in a Hurricane (48 page)

She closed her eyes for a couple seconds. "I don't think you should wait until after, Marisa. He'd be completely against this."

"He would." She used the only way she knew to convince her. "He'd go after Victor and threaten him. He'd end up in jail or, with Victor's connections, worse. He has thugs…" She shook her head. "I can't risk that. I don't want him involved." She touched her stomach. "And as much as I love this little one already, this is what I have to do." Her eyes overflowed. "I'm begging you, Bree."

Bree covered her face with her hands. "Of course I'll help you, Marisa." She dropped her hands onto her thighs, her gaze intense. "But you know how Sixto he feels about abortion. And lying. You have to tell him."

She smiled for the first time in weeks. "That frightens me more than going to the clinic."

Bree nodded. "It would frighten me, too. If he finds out…"

"Are you going to be able to keep this from him?"

Bree pursed her lips. "He's leaving Wednesday on a two-day photo shoot. If you can get an appointment then, you can stay with me for a couple days. That way your family won't know either."

Her composure left her and tears streamed down her face. "Thank you, Bree. I'm sorry to put you in this position, but I promise to make it right."

Bree looked frightened. "I don't know if it will ever be right."

Marisa had a premonition that Bree was correct. But this was her only option. She said a silent prayer for them all.

***

Wednesday afternoon, Rico heard his name, set down the box cutter, and walked out of the cooler. The lunch crowd was gone and the staff sat in the restaurant having their meal. "I'm back here."

Élian's face popped around the cooler door. "¿
Que bola
?" He didn't sound happy.

"
Nada
. What's up,
socio
?" He closed the door and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Come out back with me." He gestured using the newspaper in his hand.

"I don't have time—"

"Make time." He gave him a look, turned, and walked out the back door.

"Shit." He grabbed a couple bottles of Coke as he went out to the alley.

Élian sat in one of the old lawn chairs in the staff smoking area.

Rico took the one next to him and handed him a Coke. "What's the problem?"

Élian tossed the newspaper in his lap. "Marisa's article came out today. Page 2."

Did he care? He shrugged. "What's it say?"

"Read it. Then you're going to need something stronger than this." He held up the soda.

Élian had that determined look that he got when he was bulldogging something. He wouldn't let this go.

"All right." He opened his Coke and took a drink. He set it on the chair between his legs. Opening the paper, he read the title of the first article. "Anonymous Woman?" The byline said Anonymous.

Élian nodded. "That's Marisa."

He read the first paragraph. It talked about how she moved to Orlando and, in her loneliness, made herself susceptible to the worst kind of manipulation: an abusive man.

"What?" Rico sat forward and his bottle hit the ground.

It went on to tell about how she fell for him because of his standing in the community, his wealth, good looks and masterful charm. After she lived with him a few months, one night he hit her.

Rico's hands fisted around the edges of the paper.

She wrote how he manipulated her into being available at all hours and kept her from making real friends. He belittled her job in front of his friends and made her feel inferior, just lucky to have a man like him. How he promised—each time he hit her—that it would never happen again, told her that he was seeking professional help. He even brought home a psychologist's business card.

She'd called the doctor, pretending to be his administrative assistant and asked to change his next appointment. They'd never heard of him.

She had to get out. She told him she was leaving and for their last weeks together, he was almost perfect. The man she first dated, kind and loving. What she didn't realize until a month after she left him, is that he manipulated her again. Had done something that would force her to go back to him.

Rico stood and balled the paper in his hands. "He got her pregnant!"

Élian nodded. "I can't even begin to imagine what she's feeling. What she's going through." His voice was shaky.

Rico wanted to hit something. Wanted to hit himself. "Goddamnit, Marisa. Why didn't you tell me?"

Élian stood. "I'll stay and work for you tonight. You go find her."

Rico looked at his friend, wanting to hug him, or cry on his shoulder, or something else completely unmanly. "Thanks." His voice sounded like gravel. "You've saved my life."

He grinned. "I know."

Rico hugged him anyway, gave him macho slaps on the back, and walked off before Élian could see his pained face. He was a complete asshole to Marisa. Told her to go back to the lawyer when she asked him to help her raise the baby.

He'd make it up to her. If she'd still have him. He pulled out his phone and dialed. Yeah, he'd erased her from his address book, but her number stayed etched on his brain.

"Hello?" a quiet voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Bree?"

"Oh. Hi Rico. You're looking for Marisa?"

"This is her number, right?"

"Yes, it is. Hold on just a second." A moment later, her voice got louder. "She's not feeling well right now. She's sleeping."

"At your house?"

"Yes. I'll have her call you when she's awake."

"Thanks." The hell with that. He hung up, keyed open the lock on his old Lincoln and headed to Miami Shores.

He walked right into the house and looked around. Bree came from the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw him. She glanced at the couch, back at him, and touched a finger to her lips to keep him quiet. She gestured to the garage door.

He shook his head. He wasn't going to take another one of her lectures. When he reached the couch, he knelt on the floor. Marisa's brown hair was spread on a pillow, covering her face. Her long, too-thin body tucked under a blanket.

Bree stared at him.

He smiled. "I've got my shit together. Finally."

She smiled weakly as she turned and went into her bedroom.

He sat on the couch next to his woman. "Riss." He brushed the hair back from her face and startled at the shadows under her eyes and the way her cheekbones stuck out. "Riss, love. Wake up. It's Rico."

She inhaled a huge breath and blinked her eyes. "Rico?" Her forehead wrinkled. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to apologize. And to take you home."

"I can't go home—"

"No. My home. Our home, if you don't mind living with Élian as a roommate for a while. Until we can find a place of our own. With a back yard and a swing set."

Her eyes held disbelief. Then pleasure. The smile that broke across her face nearly broke his heart. "Really, Rico? You'd take me even as screwed up as I am?"

He shook his head. "You're not screwed up. You're as perfect as a woman can get. And I'm an idiot for not letting myself believe I could be that lucky. I let pride get in my way."

She sat up. "Rico. God, you're awesome."

He furrowed his brow. "Yeah, awesome enough to kick you out when you needed me most." He moved closer, took her arms. "If you'll have me, I'll be the man you need. The father to your baby—"

"No."

No? Fear made his heart stop beating for a second. He wouldn't accept her rejection. "I'll grovel and whine. I warn you, it'll be embarrassing for both of us."

She touched her fingers to his lips. "No. There is no baby."

He kissed her fingers and pulled her hand away from his mouth. "You weren't pregnant?"

"I'm pretty sure I was, but I went to the clinic today to—"

"That's why you're here, isn't it. They took you in for an abortion."

She nodded. "Are you shocked?"

"Usually, I would be. The church and all. But I read your article today."

She looked away. "I didn't know what else to do. I was afraid."

He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. "Honey, it's okay. I can understand why you had to do it."

Shaking her head, she said, "I didn't. I got there and tinkled in a cup and they said I wasn't pregnant. I've been sick for a week and a half. I must have miscarried. I noticed some spotting, but didn't think anything of it."

"Okay." He bobbed his head. "That's good, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Oh, yeah. Now I won't burn in hell for all eternity."

"That's a relief." He ran his fingers through her hair. "I've been worried about your long-term future."

"The clinic did a D&C just to make sure I didn't have any scaring, so my future will definitely include a whole bunch more babies."

He kissed her. "My babies."

She nodded and stroked his cheek. "Take me home?"

He stood, helped her up, and lifted her into his arms. "Let's go."

She scooped up her purse and shoes, shouted goodbye to Bree and he carried her to his car, setting her in the passenger seat. Walking around the back of it, he glanced up and saw Bree in the kitchen window. He waved and she waved back. Strange that Sixto and Bree took Marisa in for an abortion. He wouldn't have thought his buddy would allow it. He was vocal against abortion, but maybe when it's your own sister…

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Let's go dancing." Sixto grabbed Bree from behind and picked her up, she grasped the wet, soapy plate against her chest to keep it from falling into the sink.

"Sixto, put me down."

He jiggled her. "Not until you agree to go dancing with me."

"Slow dancing or Salsa?"

Rubbing his hips against her butt, he whispered in her ear, "I feel hot, like Salsa."

A pleasant rush of desire flooded through her. "Mmm. Okay. Give me a half hour?"

He set her down. "Fifteen minutes."

"Then you…" She handed him the plate. "Have to finish the dishes."

Kissing her, he said, "Hurry." He swatted her butt. "And wear something sexy."

A half hour later, they pulled up to a friend's house in Sixto's truck. "This'll just take a minute." He shut off the engine. "I'm dropping off some tools. They had storm damage. Do you want to meet them?"

"Um." She looked at the debris and building materials in the front lawn then down at her four-inch heels. "I'd love to, but maybe next time? I'm not equipped to be climbing around a construction site."

"Okay,
cariña
." He looked her up and down. "You look beautiful." He did a double take. "Shi— sorry. Shoot, you've got some grease on your arm." He looked at his hand and showed her his grungy palm. "My fault."

She looked at her elbow. "It'll come off. Do you have a towel?"

"Check the glove compartment. I usually have D.Q. napkins in there." He got out, hefted the tools from the back of the truck, and crossed the lawn to his friend's house.

"Mmmm." She loved the way he moved. Watching him carry the manly power tools made her weak for his powerful loving. Opening the glove box, she sorted through the junk. A first aid kit, a few small tools, and a lot of papers. Hidden at the bottom was an old tampon, the paper wrapper torn, dusty, and wrinkled.

She smiled. How sweet of him to let a girlfriend keep her feminine products in his truck. He'd probably die of embarrassment if he knew it was there.

Stuffing everything back in, she closed the door and opened the padded armrest cover. The only thing in there was a long, thin box of business cards. Curious. Why did he need business cards? Modeling maybe? She glanced up and saw him talking with three men on the front lawn.

Opening the top, she pulled one out. Red with black lettering. Club Quay. "No. What the hell?"

She pulled out a few more. All the same. He had hundreds of business cards for Club Quay. His shadow crossed her window and she quickly stuffed all but one back in. She closed the box, shut the armrest, and slid the card into her purse.

He opened his truck door and got in. As he started the truck, he looked into her eyes. "Everything okay?"

She needed a minute to process this. How was he related to a swingers' club? Why hadn't he said anything about it before? Did this have anything to do with Cloe? All the times he told her to keep her nose out of the management company's business, was this what he hid from her?

She shook her head.

"No? What's wrong? You look pale." He touched her cheek and she forced herself not to jerk back and slap his hand away.

She couldn't accuse him, not without proof. "I'm feeling a little strange all the sudden. Would you mind dropping me off at home?"

"We'll stay in tonight. Do you need anything? Like at a drugstore?"