Broken Wings (The Broken Series Book 3) (5 page)

He
smiled. “I have a Lincoln Navigator parked down the street.”

I
figured as much. Rafael didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be caught
unprepared. “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

He
shot me a knowing look. “The rental property?”

“Yes.
Do you own my townhouse?”

Rafael
had enough class to look embarrassed. “Yes. When I saw the places you were
considering, I made the guy next door to me an offer he couldn’t refuse. I’m
sorry, Kristine. I know that’s manipulative, but I wanted to ensure you were safe,
and there’s only one place safer than where you currently reside.”

“And
where’s that?” I asked suspiciously.

He
turned onto King Street. The trees on either side of the street were wrapped in
thousands of white lights. The cobblestone sidewalks literally glowed. Rafael
smiled. “You’d be safer if you were living with me.”  

I
tore my eyes from the beautifully lit trees so I could look at Rafael. “You’re
not suggesting we live together?” I asked with a nervous laugh.

Rafael
shifted his attention to me as he pulled up to a red light. “I’m satisfied with
our current arrangement… for now.”

I
nodded before gazing back out the window. All along the street, people were gawking
at Rafael’s car. “Did you furnish the place?”

Rafael
eased through the intersection as the light turned green. “Yes. I furnished it
with items I thought you might like.”

“So
that’s why it feels like home,” I murmured.

He
glanced at me. “You’re welcome to change anything you don’t like.”

I
shook my head. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about the place, but it’s a bit
unnerving how well you captured my taste in décor.”

Rafael
shrugged. “I’ve had years of training and experience observing people. There
are some areas where you remain a mystery, though.”

I
glanced at him in surprise. “Really? Like what?”

He
chuckled. “Like why you’re enrolled in school.”

It
was my turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I felt like a bachelor’s degree
wasn’t enough.”

He
nodded. “Tell me about your program.”

“I’m
working toward a master’s in conflict analysis and resolution,” I responded
distractedly. I was trying to pinpoint how Rafael was shifting gears on the
steering wheel.

He
glanced at me as he merged onto the exit ramp for I-395. “Is that like
international peacekeeping?”

I
tore my eyes from the steering wheel so I could respond. “Well, there are a million
different directions you can take this degree. You can work as a mediator,
negotiator, facilitator, or a trainer at the individual, organizational,
national, or international levels. Some people work to resolve conflicts
between gangs. Some serve as mediators for the courts. Some work to improve
employee relations in businesses, some resolve conflicts between governments,
and others engage in peace-building at the grassroots level.”

Rafael
gave me a curious look. “What do
you
want to do with the degree?”

I
smiled. “If everything goes well tomorrow, I’ll be going into peace-building.”

He
looked surprised. “What’s going on tomorrow?”

“I
have a job interview with an organization called Seeds for Peace. If I get the
job, I’ll be working with my friend Shae. She’s in my degree program and was
recently hired on there.”

Rafael
didn’t bother hiding his concern. “What exactly would you be doing for this
organization?”

“I’d
be going into universities in conflict-ridden countries to train college
students how to resolve conflict without violence. The goal is to empower a
subset of university students to help resolve conflicts in their communities
and to build conflict resolution programs in high schools and middle schools.”

Rafael’s
eyebrows inched up his forehead. There was an edge to his voice that I’d never
heard before. “Conflict-ridden countries… where?”

I
glanced at him nervously. “Africa, the Middle East, and the former Soviet
Union.”

Rafael
slammed on the brakes as he swerved to the shoulder of the road. His eyes
narrowed as he turned to face me. “Kristine, you cannot be serious.”

My
heart sped. I pressed my hand against my chest as I tried to catch my breath. “Why
are you so upset?”

Rafael’s
left arm was draped casually over the steering wheel, but the look on his face
was anything but casual. His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Oh, I don’t know.
The woman I love wants to work in violent, war-torn countries. Kristine, you’re
talking about really dangerous places… places where people get killed just for
looking the wrong way.”

I
sighed. “I know it’s dangerous, but I seriously doubt we’ll be waltzing into
any war zones. There would have to be some level of stability, or the
universities wouldn’t be open.”

He
frowned. “Haven’t you been in enough danger… suffered enough violence? I know
you want to help people, but can’t you find a way to do that without putting
yourself in danger?”

I
reached for his hand. “I haven’t even gotten the position yet. I’ll get a
better sense of what the job entails tomorrow. If it sounds too dangerous, I
won’t take the job. I promise.”

Rafael
blew out a long breath. He squeezed my hand before turning the car back onto
the road. “I just want you safe.”

“I
know,” I whispered, still a little stunned by the depth of his concern. “Let’s
talk about you,” I suggested. “What are
you
doing for work these days?”

Rafael
took the exit for the 14
^th
Street Bridge. “I’ve opened my own
security firm here in DC. We specialize in VIP protection.”

I
smoothed my dress down toward my knees. “That’s great, Rafael. That sounds
perfect for you.”

A
tiny bit of tension eased from his face. “I don’t like being stuck behind a
desk. I like being able to pick and choose my assignments, and I like not
having to work all the time.” He smiled. “Besides it gives me the flexibility I
need to keep an eye on you.”

I
shook my head. Then I studied him curiously. “You seem hard wired to protect,
Rafael. Why?”

The
car slowed as he eased inside a public parking garage.

My
eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait. You’re not seriously parking your car in
here?”

He
shrugged. “Komi doesn’t have valet parking, so I don’t have much of a choice.”
Rafael lowered his window as he turned his attention to the man in the ticket
booth. He greeted the man in a language I didn’t recognize.

The
man smiled as he conversed with Rafael. He nodded, then waved us toward a no
parking sign just off to the side of the booth.

I
glanced at Rafael questioningly. “He’s letting you park here?”

Rafael
pulled his car alongside the cement wall. “Yes. He doesn’t want anyone stealing
the car on his watch any more than I do.”

I
glanced back at the man in the ticket booth. “What language were you speaking?”

He
turned the engine off and opened the doors. “Amharic. He’s from Ethiopia.” Rafael
climbed out of his seat and walked to my side of the car. He reached for my
hand as he helped me from the car.

I
was still gaping at him. “How did you know that?”

Rafael
grinned. “I told you. I’ve been trained to observe.”

I
watched the doors to the car slide quietly back into place. I turned my
attention to Rafael as he twined his fingers with mine. “How many different
languages do you speak?”

“I
speak eight languages; English, Portuguese, French, Spanish, Arabic, Amharic,
Russian, and Mandarin.” He laughed at the astonished look on my face. “When you’re
protecting foreign dignitaries, it’s important to speak their language.”

We
walked out of the garage and turned toward DuPont Circle. “What other types of
people do you protect?” I asked curiously.

“The
vast majority of people I’ve protected have been foreign dignitaries, although
I did help guard some celebrities who were visiting or performing in Portugal.
And then, of course, there’s you…”

I
laughed. “I thought Michael stopped paying you for that.”

Rafael
chuckled as he guided me up the stairs to the restaurant. His hand settled on
the small of my back as he escorted me through the door. “He did. I’m funding
that operation now.”

I
soaked in the ambience as Rafael spoke with the hostess. The long, narrow
restaurant was filled with small tables draped in crisp white tablecloths. The
hostess led us to a table that was tucked against the far corner of the dimly
lit room. Rafael pulled one of the chairs out for me. I smiled as my eyes met
his. “Thank you.”

Rafael
moved the chair from across the table and set it next to me. Two waiters
approached our table as he folded himself into the chair. Each held a pitcher
of water and a wine carafe. They nodded and smiled as they poured our water in
unison. Then they poured our wine at the exact same time. They briefly
rearranged Rafael’s place setting so that it was sitting directly in front of
him. As they turned to walk away, two new waiters approached our table with small
appetizer plates. I watched, completely enthralled, as they set the plates in
front of us at the exact same moment. It was like watching a synchronized
swimming event.

I
watched them walk away. Then I leaned toward Rafael and whispered, “What’s this
all about? They haven’t even given us a menu, and they’re already delivering
food?”

Rafael
laughed. “They have a set menu, so I’m afraid we’re at the mercy of the chef.” He
reached for his wine glass and offered a toast. “
Saude.”

I
glanced at him questioningly before tapping my glass against his. “
Saude.
”
I sipped the cold, crisp wine. Lemon, lime, honey, and spice danced over my
tongue.

“It’s
a Portuguese toast to your health,” Rafael explained. He set his glass back on
the table, then reached for my cheek as he turned my face toward his. His mouth
hovered over mine as his tongue swept slowly across my lips. “This wine tastes
exquisite on your lips,” he murmured before fitting our lips together and
dipping deep inside my mouth. His tongue stroked and teased mine until I melted
into his chest.

I
blinked back my surprise when Rafael broke the kiss. I had lost sight of where
we were. He gently rubbed my leg as he turned his attention to the food. I
tried to ignore the desire pooling in my lower abdomen as I stared at the appetizer.
The small plate held a single slice of bread with a decorative spread of p
âté
.

Rafael
picked up his bread and took a bite. “Rabbit liver,” he noted appreciatively. “You
should try it. It’s quite good.”

I
hung suspended between Rafael and the food. I couldn’t move, not with the way
my body was responding to him. While Rafael held the appetizer in his right
hand, the fingers from his other hand were absently skimming just beneath the
hem of my dress.

Rafael
must have caught onto the fact that I was no longer breathing because he removed
his hand from my leg. He draped his arm around my shoulders as he tucked me
against his chest. “Better?” he asked with a soft smile.

I
exhaled softly and returned the smile. I reached for the bread and took a small
bite as I relaxed into the warmth of his chest. The rabbit liver was whipped,
more like a mousse than a p
âté.
As we finished the appetizer,
it dawned on me that Rafael hadn’t answered my question from earlier. I glanced
up at him. “What drew you into special ops? Why have you devoted your life to
protecting people?”

Two
waiters approached the table and took our plates, wine glasses, and silverware.
Two more waiters arrived. They set two new wine glasses down at the same time,
then the silverware, and the appetizer plates. Every move was made in unison.
The first set of waiters returned with two carafes and poured an entirely new
wine.

The
appetizer plates held a flaky pastry that appeared to be stuffed with spinach
and warm feta cheese. Rafael cut into the pastry with his fork. “Michael never
told you?”

I
sampled the pastry. “No, he didn’t really talk about you or anyone else in his
family. I didn’t even know the two of you were related until you told me at the
café.”

Rafael
nodded. “I don’t think Michael wanted you to know we’re related, at least not
in the beginning; and he never talks about our parents.” His eyes darkened as
he continued. “They were murdered in Portugal. Michael was attending graduate
school when it happened. I was in my senior year of high school. I had been out
with my friends and didn’t come home until late that night. That’s when I found
them. My father was already dead. He had been bound and shot. My mother died
three days later in the hospital.”

I
swallowed around the lump in my throat. Tears welled in my eyes as I reached
for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Rafael. I can’t imagine anything more horrific.”