Lawmakers (13 page)

Della kissed her lover and hugged him and then nodded toward the living room. He squeezed her hand. She walked across the hall and clicked the TV off.

“Hey, I was watching that,” the old man grumbled.

She sat down on the couch and battled anger for a few minutes. “You almost ruined my life, Uncle Leonard.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he snapped, but she thought he appeared ashamed. She knew how he was. He would fight and argue, never giving an inch. All the while, he wouldn’t own up to himself being wrong.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He gasped, and the remote fell from his fingers. “Della, you know it was for you.”

“Yes, I know, but you didn’t have the right. I’m an adult. That means I make my own mistakes and learn from them. If I get my heart broken, at least I know I loved, and I was the one that got myself into it by letting someone else in.”

She saw him wince in pain, and her heart ached.

“We’ve been down this road before. I’m not going to argue with you because of your condition.”

He scowled. “I’m as fit as anyone else.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her uncle grumbled. “You don’t bite your tongue, do you?”

“I learned from the best,” she shot back. “You’re not long for this world, uncle. I’m going to put it to you straight. I love you, but I’m not going to put my life on hold for what you want. I’m done with that. Like I said, I don’t know if I can forgive you. I’m going with Santi.”

“But you just said—” He started up from his chair and sank down again. His nurse scooted to his side and tended to him.

“You won’t have to worry about a thing, Uncle Leonard.” Della bent to kiss his cheek then moved to the door. “Good-bye.”

Della strode to the door with her uncle’s shouted declarations behind her. “You’ll be back, Della. I know what’s best for you. He won’t stay. Listen to your elders!”

She kept moving, marveling that a man could be so damn stubborn and confess he loved her one minute and try to rule her the next. That was part of the reason why Santi was on trial, although he didn’t know it—Santi and her. She didn’t know if they could make it, but she wanted to try with everything in her. He presented a life of dreams. She was determined to fly into it with both her heart
and
her head.

Santi stood outside his rental waiting for her, and he opened his arms when she approached. She melted against his chest and shut her eyes. A sniffle told her she cried even though she hadn’t realized she’d started.

“I will make sure he has everything he needs,” Santi told her.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. For you.” Santi raised her chin and kissed her lips.
“Te amo.”

Della smiled. “
Te amo,
you too.”

He laughed.

“Yo también te amo,”
he instructed.

“Yo también te amo.”

Epilogue

One year later

Della woke to the song of birds singing and peered across the room to the double doors. As usual, her maid had thrown them wide, and the petit woman stood on the balcony with wrought iron railings and colorful, blooming flowers all around. Breathing deep, Della took in the scent of fresh
bollos
or sweet rolls, with jam and hot coffee. She popped from the sheets and hurried over on barefoot to snag one of the rolls.

“Mm, I really should brush my teeth first, but I’m starving.”

The maid smiled. “
Buenos días, Senorita
Della.”

“Good morning, Agustina. Today is the day.”

“
Si, Senor
Varela will be home soon.”

Della sank into a chair and drew her feet up to the chair next to her. Her heart beat like crazy at the thought of seeing her lover again. Santi had been gone on business for three weeks, and it killed her not to see him. He called every day, and texted often, but it wasn’t enough. She ached for him, and he had promised to take her on
El Ángel
for a cruise along with his brothers, whom she’d loved on sight, and they had taken to her too. This trip marked the first time they would get back to the yacht, and was eager for the chance to rub it in Maria’s face that not only had she lasted in Spain, but the last time Santi had been home, he had stuck a huge rock on her finger. She had given in to his wooing, and in three months, she would be Mrs. Santi Otero Varela.
Senora Varela,
she mused.

Life with Santi was so different. She had given up practicing law for the time being, but was looking into what she might do for work in Spain. One reality to her new life had thrown her for a loop. She was never allowed to travel by herself—
ever.
A billionaire’s wife didn’t have the freedoms of regular women, which seemed ridiculous. She had not one but two bodyguards, a personal maid—
bonus!
—and more staff than a woman could handle for the massive villa that was Santi’s home. Despite all the adjustment, Della loved her life because it included the man himself.

“
Cariño,
I hope that faraway look in your eyes means you’re thinking of me,” came the deep voice from the doorway.

Della screamed and threw herself into his arms. He whipped her around in a circle and kissed her breathless before setting her on her feet. She smacked his shoulder. “You said this afternoon.”

“Are you disappointed I’m early?”

“No, I missed you. I said I wanted to look into some job prospects, but the next time, I want to go with you. Maybe you can give me a job so we can spend more time together.”

His eyes brightened. “If you remember,
cariño,
I suggested that at the beginning. You said I would get on your nerves.”

“Exaggerate much?” She laughed, and when he grinned at her, her heart beat a rapid tattoo. “Eventually, I want to go back to school and learn the legal system here, after I get a command of the language, of course.”

“You have done well with my tutoring,” he said.

Della rolled her eyes. “Dirty words in bed have not helped, Santi.”

“They helped me.”

She smacked his shoulder again. “Right now, I want to concentrate on us, you and me.”

Santi’s arms stole around he waist. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “You said something about kids of our own?”

“Si?”
he asked hopefully.

“Si,”
she repeated. “I’m ready. I want to have your children, Santi.”

A rumble bubbled up from his chest, and Della found herself swept off her feet. She squealed in delight as he carried her toward the bed.

“Santi, what are you up to?” She pretended to fight to get away.

“No time like the present.”

“I’m still on the pill, crazy man.”

“Well, we’ll practice to get it right.”

He tossed her in among the sheets and began stripping. Della rolled to her knees and glanced toward the door. Agustina was just stepping out, and she shut the door quietly behind her.

“Where are you looking,
cariño
?”

Della turned back to Santi as he unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper. Desire arrested her, and she forgot everything else except the man she loved, the man with whom she planned to spend the rest of her life—in his bed and in his heart.

She jerked her nightie over her head and tossed it on the floor, then crooked a finger at him. “Come here, baby, and let me show you how much I missed you.”

The End

Skirting the Law

Dahlia Rose

Chapter One

It was never too early to bring in cake for some of her favorite guys
, R.J. thought with a wide smile. Her knee-high boot heels clicked on the hard, polished surface of the floor of the seventeenth precinct of Manhattan’s police department. Her father had worked out of this precinct for twenty years. She’d walked these halls since she was a kid, through renovations and upgrades until it had evolved into a sleek new building.

The outside was still red brick and mortar but the inside had changed. The walls continued to hold all their secrets, and echoes of policemen and women long gone could still be heard. Many said it was haunted but she didn’t care, the voices of generations past would never harm anyone there.

No, this was a place of honor, and if she’d been allowed to join the police force she’d be here too. Her mother’s pleas and tears not to join the force and get killed kept her from signing up for the academy. But with a box full of marble sheet cake in her vanilla-frosting-covered hand, she was heading to the third floor where the detectives resided. She had an old friend to see and wanted to try to get a little information. Cake was a good bribe to keep the others away, but Sean wouldn’t fall for that. Good old sweet talk would get her what she needed.

A low whistle echoed. “Hello, hot stuff!”

“Gibbons, if my dad heard you say that, he’d …” R.J. started.

“Yeah, I know, rip me a new asshole.” Givens chuckled. “How is the old man?”

R.J. punched the veteran cop lightly on his shoulder. “He’s doing good, heading up to the Poconos to fish. You should call him and go with him, save my mom the trauma. You know she hates it. When are you going to retire and give up this place?”

“Shirley gave me one more year, so I’m gone in twenty-fifteen,” Givens said, eyeing the box. “What do you have there?”

“Marble cake, with vanilla frosting from Gemma’s,” she said. “Want a piece?”

“Shirley has me on this new damn diet, but I don’t think one piece would hurt. Don’t you tell her.” Givens took the box and yelled, “Men, we got cake.”

She dodged the detectives making their way to the break room to follow Givens and the cake. The only one that didn’t move was Sean, who sat at his desk. She moved over to him easily, making sure there was a little extra oomph in her walk. Sean was easy to look at, that was for sure. Baby blue eyes set in a face that could scare a perp in a heartbeat, but when it was matched with that sexy-ass grin Sean could make a girl’s heart skip a beat.  He was tall—she’d danced with him at more than one cop’s wedding. Her family was so well known in the precinct that they got more invites than they could go to, but her mom always sent a gift whether they went or not.

She always made sure to go to the flag football games in the fall so she could see Sean play. He had toned thighs and a great ass. She had long ago put the thought aside of them ever being together because she’s wasn’t honey-sweet, and all the girls he’d dated seemed so demure and domestic. He wanted a brownstone and kids and a happy housewife. She had cop in her blood and adventure in her soul. She wouldn’t be the one to stay home and make pies.  Still, Sean Gilead was good to look at.

“Hey you.” She sat on the side of his desk and knocked her boot against the metal.

“Hey, Punk.”

He’d given her that nickname when she was sixteen and he was twenty-five. He was a beat cop just on the force, working his way up. Her dad retired ten years later and five more had passed. She was now twenty-five and he had just had his thirty-fourth birthday.  How did she know? Because she was at the pub with him and everyone they knew was drinking Irish whiskey and laughing it up.

“Soooo…” she dragged the word out.

“So, you need a favor I assume, a name, a peek in the database.” Sean never looked up.

“Just a little bit.” When he looked at her she bit the side of her lip in a way she knew was cute and flirty.

“That’s doesn’t work on me,” Sean said gruffly. “Try it on the fools you date.”

“Jack was a perfectly good guy,” R.J. said.

“Rosalie, he was as dumb as a box of rocks,” Sean said.

“You’re the only one who I let call me Rosalie,” she pointed out.

“I wish you’d stop calling yourself R.J. I wish you’d get out of this private investigation business.” Sean sighed. “But then, I wish a lot of things.”

She shrugged. “Mom didn’t want me to be a cop.”

Sean typed on the computer keys furiously. “You circumvented one promise… I’m in the database, what do you want?”

“Charles Bremerton,” she said.

“What are you working on?” he asked furiously typing on the computer.

R.J. moved from where she was sitting to look over his shoulders and leaned against them. “Missing person. Charlie B took the kid from her daycare three days ago, the wife is frantic.”

Sean made a sound of disapproval. “Let the cops take care of it. He’s a bad guy, look at his record.  The courts gave her full custody.”

“The system is screwed up and he still managed to sneak Brandy out of daycare,” R.J. pointed out. “It’s been three days and no cop has found hide or hair of them. I’ve almost caught up to him twice at two Motel Sixes in Brooklyn. I need to know his mother’s locale now. She moved from the Bronx. The neighbors said to Florida but I’m not buying it, she’s the type that would baby the stupid felon. I think she’s waiting for him and then they’ll run together.”

“Betty Bremerton’s last address was the one in the Bronx,” Sean said.

She pointed at the screen. “But look, the guy she’s shacking up with is right here, Johnny Ruiz. That’s a new address. He was supposed to be with her in Florida but this is a new address.”

“He has a record, too.” Sean cleared the screen.

“I already have the address.” R.J. tapped her temple. “Photographic memory.”

“Damn it Rosalie, you are not allowed to go there,” Sean snapped.

She walked around to face him with her hands on her hips. “Sean Gilead, did you just order me not to do something? Me? The girl who is a black belt in karate, the one who can beat most cops at the range when it comes to a gun? The one who has a concealed carry permit and basically has been taking care of herself each and every day since she opened her own business four years ago? A profitable one, mind you. Did you just order me not to do a job I’ve been paid for?”