Seduction Page 15

  I park and start walking. A few kids are playing on the monkey bars and slide. I smile at the young mothers as I walk by. I claim an empty bench a few yards from the playground and run my fingers through my hair. It’s a cool 60 degrees today, with a few gray clouds overhead, but no rain. Perfect conditions to lose myself in a great book. I unzip my fanny pack and pull out a tattered paperback. I’m a closet history buff—obsessed with early American history. Anything about our forefathers reads like an epic to me. I flip through a half-dozen pages before I sense someone standing behind me. I close the book and place it on the bench.

  “Marisela?”

  Estevan. Goose bumps rise all over my body. “What are you doing here, Estevan?” I don’t need to turn around.

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time to talk to you.” He slithers around the bench and sits next to me. He picks up my book and reads the cover. “Wives of the Signers?”

  I snatch it from his hands. “Are you really here to discuss my choice of literature?”

  “No,” he admits, crossing his muscular legs. “We need to talk.”

  “No. We don’t.”

  “Listen,” he snaps. “I’m sorry for what happened in San Antonio.”

  I cover my face with both hands. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Friends in low places.”

  “Life isn’t a fucking country song.”

  “Ours is.”

  Ours? “There’s no us.”

  He grabs my hand and gives it a good squeeze. “I disagree.”

  “Whatever,” I say, shaking my hand free and standing. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

  He chuckles and fishes his smart phone from his shirt pocket. “I’ve snapped some great photos over the last week. Look at this one, Kline Avenue in Odem—or this one, a fine white brick house off Weber. Or how about this one?” He holds his phone up so I can see the screen. “A mansion on Ocean Drive.”

  My parents’ house, Robyn’s place, and Macey’s. My hackles go up. “What do you want?”

  “A chance to make things right.”

  “You raped me—there’s no fixing that, unless you want to turn yourself in to the police.”

  He snickers. “Rape? The way I remember it, baby, you gave yourself to me.”

  Hatred swells inside me. I look around. There are too many people here for him to risk getting violent with me. No, this is his way of letting me know he’s watching me. Like any Mexican family in south Texas, he has dozens of cousins, who probably follow me wherever I go. His daddy is a politician and his mother…she’s the kind of woman who keeps her mouth shut.

  “I don’t care what you know; my life isn’t a secret.”

  “What about him?”

  A picture of Craig. “Leave him out of it.”

  “Playing house with white boy?”

  “Keep your racist crap to yourself.”

  “You’ve become quite the socialite,” he comments. “Lunch with your pregnant sister and her best friend—dinner with me tonight.”

  “Been surfing Facebook again?” I ask, unimpressed. “I liked the photos of you posted a couple weeks ago. You look good with no shirt on.” I can’t believe I’m referencing the pictures Craig’s cousin took with the word rapist scrolled across Estevan’s chest.

  “You’ll pay for that one, bitch.”

  “As for dinner with you, not happening.” I turn and walk away.

  “I’ll cut that fucking baby out of your sister’s stomach,” he threatens.

  I freeze. If it were anyone else, I’d leave. But Estevan is a sociopath, capable of anything when he doesn’t get his way. He’s rich and connected, and I’m deathly afraid of him hurting my family. I have a large extended family too, but we’re not close, not like his. “What do you want from me?” I face him again.

  “Dinner at the Water Street Oyster Bar.”

  “When?”

  “Seven.”

  “I don’t have a car, Estevan. How do you suggest I get there? I’m not riding my bike downtown in the party district.”

  He reaches in his back pocket and takes out his wallet. He throws a fifty at me. “Take a cab.”

  Chapter 18

  Craig is waiting for me at home. We’ve discussed his unannounced visits before. Apparently he didn’t understand. And right now, after seeing my ex, I’m pretty rattled. I pull in the driveway and kill my motor. The garage door is open. I peek inside. Garrick and Craig are looking at a race-car magazine.

  “Hey, baby,” Craig calls. “Where were you?”

  “I went for a ride after lunch.”

  “Have fun?” he asks, walking toward me.

  I look skyward. “A perfect day for it.”

  “Sure is.” He gives me a bear hug. “I can’t get last night out of my head,” he whispers close to my ear.

  Neither can I. After three orgasms, I nearly told him I loved him. The two don’t mix. Sexual gratification doesn’t mean love. But with Craig, I’m probably wrong. Every climax is a screaming I love you. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hanging out.” He pulls back a foot and checks me out.

  I shove my shaky hands into my jacket pockets. “I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower.”

  “In the middle of the afternoon?”

  If he only knew how nasty and slimy I feel after seeing Estevan, he’d understand. “My leathers make me sweat.”

  “I can help you with that.” He grins. “I’ll lick you clean.”

  I smack his arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Can’t,” he says with a shrug. “Ever since I hooked up with you, I’ve reverted to my Neanderthal ways.”

  “As long as you don’t try to drag me around by my hair, I’m okay with that.” I do my best to laugh and give him a peck on the cheek. “Be back soon.”

  He follows me into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  I knew it. I can’t hide anything from him. “Nothing, just a little on edge lately,” I lie.

  “Did the asshole call again?”

  Should I spill? If I do, he’ll never let me have dinner with Estevan; in fact, he’d probably go in my place and kill him. Then I’ll be stuck visiting him in prison. “Yeah,” I fib again, digging a deeper hole. “Nothing new, same old threats.”

  He tilts my chin upward, gazing into my eyes. “Should I believe you, Marisela?”

  I laugh nervously. It must run in my family—none of the Gonzalez women can lie and get away with it. “Why not?”

  He scratches his head. “Not sure I like when you answer a question with a question.”

  “Save your policing techniques for the perps.”

  He chuckles. “I keep a pair of handcuffs in my glove box.”

  “Really?” God, I’m dating a total pervert. “I’m afraid to ask why.”

  “Never know when I’ll need them.”

  He’s still a licensed peace officer, listed on the reserves. I hold my hands up. “Guilty.”

  “How’d lunch go?” he asks, ignoring my last comment.

  I close my eyes. Apparently my sister isn’t back yet, so he doesn’t know what I decided to do. Well, can’t keep it a secret. “I’m moving in with Macey.”

  He scowls and folds his arms over his chest like a mad five-year-old boy. “Not the right answer.”

  “Come on, baby,” I plead. “Let me do this.”

  “Orgies,” he reminds me. “Coke and horny assholes running around like it’s a sex shop in Bangkok.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Care to find out the truth?”

  “If I’m moving in,” I say snidely, “I guess I will.”

  He grabs my arm and gives me a good shake. “You’re acting like a selfish brat again.”

  “No,” I disagree. “You’re acting like a jealous asshole.”

  “It’s not an act, Marisela.”

  “Well, well…” I yank my arm free. “You hang out there all the time. Why can’t I live there
?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  In his sexist mind, good girls don’t attend parties like that—but guys are free to go wherever they want. My brother-in-law is of the same mind-set. “Maybe we should discuss this later, after we calm down.”

  “Over dinner.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “I have plans already.”

  “With who?”

  “A friend,” I say.

  “Cancel.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Damn it, Marisela.” He looks so angry. “You’ve got a lot of growing up to do.” He turns, opens the door to the garage, then slams it shut behind him.

  I hear Garrick ask him what’s wrong.

  “You tell me,” Craig says. “You’re married to her sister.”

  I don’t have time to listen to his meltdown. If I can get Estevan to leave me and my family alone, it’s worth eating dinner with him in a very public venue. I run upstairs and start the shower. You can do this, I tell myself. Get rid of him once and for all. Face him—tell him how over him you are. Show him how much you love Robyn and her baby, how far you’re willing to go to protect them. Take back your life.

  —

  The Devil’s Den parking lot is empty—good. I go inside and order a rum and Coke from Glenda.

  “Trouble in paradise?” she asks.

  I slap a ten down on the bar. “Keep the change.”

  “Whatever it is,” she continues, “remember how young she is.”

  “Why do women always use their ages as an excuse?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Always too young or too old.”

  She laughs. “What about that male midlife crisis thing you guys get away with when you think your dicks are gonna quit working? They even make happy pills for that—what do we get? Hormone therapy.”

  “Really, Glenda?” I take a long swig. “I’m twenty-five, and believe me, all my parts work.”

  She cleans another section of the T-shaped bar before she turns back to me. “What’d she do?”

  “She’s moving in with Macey.”

  Glenda throws her hands up. “That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Since when did you become so cantankerous? She’s allowed to live wherever she wants to. Is she your girlfriend or your daughter?”

  I smack my palms on the bar top. Leave it to my buddy to talk some sense into me. “You’ve been to a couple of parties over there—Sodom and Gomorrah.”

  “Yeah.” Glenda scrunches her face. “And an indoor pool, hot tub, tennis courts, big-screen TVs, a party room that blows this place away, and don’t forget the prominent address. You know who lives next door to Macey?”

  I play with a pack of matches I swiped from a glass on the bar. “Some drug lord.”

  “Lazaro Mendoza, to be exact.”

  “That’s comforting, Glenda. Makes me feel better about my beautiful girlfriend running around in a bikini over there with guys like him on the loose.”

  “Last I heard, he actually broke up a fight a few weeks ago at one of Macey’s football bashes.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep at night.”

  “Give her a good reason not to move in.”

  I sigh. Another matchmaker. “I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.”

  She studies me for a long moment, then cracks a smile. “You’re so full of shit, Craig.”

  “Even if I was,” I say, “she’s not ready for it. There’s some heavy shit going on inside that head of hers.”

  “Work it out before you lose her.”

  “We didn’t have a blowout,” I assure her. “Just exchanged a few unpleasant words.” And I tried to strong-arm her into not doing what she wants to do. I leave that part out.

  I finish my drink. “Thanks for the advice, old lady.”

  She cups her fake 40DDs. “Never too old.”

  I shake my head. “You’ve been working here too long, darlin’.”

  “I jiggled my tits on that stage long before you were out of diapers.”

  I’ve seen photos of Glenda when she was a dancer. Striking in a Farrah Fawcett kind of way—feathered blond hair, big blue eyes, and legs the length of Interstate 10. I pull an extra twenty from my pocket and toss it in her tip jar. “For what I missed.”

  She smiles radiantly and I leave.

  —

  The cab turns down North Water Street. I’m nervous as hell. Lucky for me, Garrick and Robyn left the house early for the movies and dinner. Downtown is usually quiet on Monday nights, but the restaurant parking lot is pretty full. I ask the driver to wait while I run inside to check on the reservation. I want to make sure Estevan wasn’t screwing with me. Of course he’s waiting outside, near the entrance. I run back to the cab and hand the driver the fifty my ex threw at me earlier. He offers me change, but I let him keep it.

  “Thanks.” He salutes me. “Here’s my card if you need a ride after dinner.”

  I stash it in my purse. Never know when I’ll need a ride. Before I turn back to the restaurant, I ask God for strength. Estevan is determined to woo me back into his life, by any means necessary.

  “Hurry up, mamacita,” he calls.

  I whirl around, frowning. “In a rush?”

  “Depends who’s asking.” He offers me his arm.

  “I can walk on my own.”

  “Seems you can do a lot of things I didn’t know about before.” He opens the door for me.

  I’ve never been to this place before. But I love the brickwork and floor-to-ceiling archways. There’s a replica of the famous Botticelli painting The Birth of Venus on the far wall near the sushi bar. I smile.

  “Reminds me of you,” Estevan whispers near my ear.

  That creeps me out. I don’t want him to ever think of me naked again.

  “Loosen up, Gonzalez,” he says in that way-too-familiar voice. That’s what he used to call me when we were happy, before he assaulted me. “I’m not going to bite you.”

  “No,” I say turning his way. “But if you have a knife hidden in your slacks, you might cut me.”

  Finally, a hostess approaches with a smile. “Mr. Beltran,” she says. “Your table is ready.”

  I trail behind him as we follow the attractive redhead across the room. His gaze is locked on her swaying ass. Nothing has changed. Although he claims he loves me, he still gawks at other women. Before I leave, I need to warn her to stay away from him. We get a semiprivate table in a corner with a window.

  “You know,” he says, looking me over, “that red outfit looks fantastic on you. You never dressed that way for me.”

  “Never wanted to.” I probably should have worn my black pantsuit instead of this Armani stretch dress.

  Before I have a chance to review the menu, a server delivers a bottle of Kendall-Jackson Vintner’s Reserve Chardonnay. He opens it, then hands the cork to Estevan. My ex acts like a professional wine taster over his fifteen-dollar selection—sniffs the cork, and nods his approval. I roll my eyes. After the waiter fills our glasses, Estevan tells him we’re ready to order. I close my menu.

  “We’ll take two dozen oysters on the half shell, a black eel roll, a spider roll, a Nigiri Tasting, and two miso soups.”

  “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

  “That’s it.” Estevan dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

  When we’re alone again, Estevan takes a sip of his drink. “Time for you to come home with me.”

  “Home?” I repeat likes it’s a foreign concept. “We never shared one.”

  “You’re right,” he admits. “I know you hold the whole Austin move against me.”

  “Never mind everything else…”

  “I’m trying to be patient, Marisela,” he says. “But if you keep up with this sarcastic shit, I’m gonna slap you silly.”

  “In front of everyone?” I lean back in my chair. “Please,” I encourage, “do it so the cops have a rea
son to take you to jail.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m practically untouchable—my father has friends here.”

  “So do I.”

  The server returns with our soup.

  “I don’t want to argue.”

  “Then why did you threaten to kill my sister at the park?”

  “To get your attention.”

  He makes me want to puke. “Go back to Austin, Estevan. There’s nothing left between us—I’m happy here. Besides, shouldn’t you be at practice?”

  “Suspended for two weeks.”

  I smirk. “For what? Banging cheerleaders in the locker room?”

  “Something like that.” He rubs his chin and grins. “I like this new-and-improved version of you. I can only imagine what it will be like fucking you again. You used to lie there like a dead fish before.”

  I bite my tongue. Losing my cool will only please him. “Say what you want to say, Estevan. I need to get home.”

  He reaches under the table and squeezes my knee. “Let’s get married.”

  I choke out a laugh. Married? I wasn’t going to drink, but I change my mind and gulp down a huge amount of wine. “What in God’s name makes you think I’d ever consider marrying a misogynistic pig like you?”

  His hand freezes midair. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” I croon. “Ending up like your mother is the last thing I’d ever do to myself.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Yeah.” I slide my chair back a foot, ready to go. “Guess you should have thought of that before—”

  “Marisela?”

  I look up. It’s Desire from the Devil’s Den, holding her phone up. She snaps a picture.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, stunned.

  “Taking a picture to send to Craig. Won’t he be surprised to hear that another guy is proposing to you?”

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.” She smiles.

  “You know what?” I stand and throw my napkin on my chair. “Maybe the two of you should hook up.” I scowl at Estevan. “She’s just like you—psycho.”