Dirty Angels 02 Dirty Deeds (7 page)

But even so, he wasn’t there.

“Maybe he’s in the washroom,” Luz suggested hopefully.

Another heavy exhale escaped my lips. We were too late. Derrin was gone. Although there was a chance that he never came here to begin with.

“There you two ladies are,” a rough male voice came from behind us, speaking in broken Spanish. We craned our necks to see Derrin coming toward us holding two hot drinks in his hand. He was wearing knee-length cargo shorts and a grey wifebeater that showed off every single tanned muscle and plane on his body. I had to make sure my mouth wasn’t gaping open.

“Sorry, we’re late,” Luz said, switching to English. “The traffic was really bad.”

I found my voice. “Yeah. Sorry. I thought we’d missed you.”

He gave me a half-grin, something that made his face change from hard and masculine to soft and boy-like. I liked both parts of him. “Like I would leave so easily. I’m used to everything running on Mexican time by now.
Mañana
and all that.”

“Such the typical tourist thing to say,” I teased him.

“We only say it because it’s true,” he said and handed me my drink. “And you know it. I got you just a plain coffee, by the way. I didn’t know if you were lactose intolerant or on a diet or whatever.”

I thanked him and Luz muttered something along those lines as she took her coffee, while Derrin looked around the café. “It seems there is nowhere to sit.”

“There’s a park around the corner,” I said but even then I wasn’t too keen on the idea of having our date on a park bench surrounded by pigeons. Derrin didn’t seem like he liked it either. His smile sort of froze.

“Oh, look,” Luz said, pointing to the corner. “Those people are leaving.”

“But there are only two seats,” he said.

Luz gave him a look. “Nice try, but you know I’m not staying with you. I agreed to be a chauffeur, not a chaperone.” She eyed me, a hint of warning in them. “I’ll be back here in three hours. Any change of plans – and I really hope there aren’t any – you text me, okay?”

I nodded. She squeezed my shoulder affectionately, raised her coffee at Derrin as her way of saying goodbye and then she was gone.

“Come on,” Derrin said, stepping closer to me. “Let’s get you over there before someone else takes the table.” He put his arm around my waist so my own arm went around his shoulder. His skin was so taught, so warm, it was hard to hide the shiver that went through me. “Not a fan of crutches?” He asked as we hobbled between the tables.

I tried to ignore how close his mouth was to my face, the way his voice shot right through me and right between my legs. “No. Have you ever had to use them before?”

He nodded. “Yes. Broke my leg in Afghanistan. It’s why I was sent home. Tried to use them for about a day until I threw them out the hospital window. It was better to hop around on one foot than to knock over everything you came in contact with.”

I wanted to take that moment to ask him more about the war – something I was very curious about – but knew it wasn’t coffee shop kind of talk.

He eased me down to the seat and I was amazed I hadn’t spilled half my coffee during the maneuver. I was so frustrated being so helpless and awkward these days but I guess it wasn’t so bad when you had a man like him helping you.

“So,” he said, when he adjusted himself in his seat. He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes staring warmly at mine.

“So,” I said right back. My chest fluttered with anxiety. “Tell me about the war.”

Ah, fuck. So much for “don’t mention the war.”
Jesus, Alana, you’re a mess
, I scolded myself.

To Derrin’s credit, although his brow lowered, making his eyes seem intense, he didn’t seem offended. “All right,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how about how you broke your leg? Trading hospital stories might be fun.” But I regretted it the moment I said it. How could what I went through compare what he did? A hit and run, as traumatic, scary and damaging as it was, was nothing compared to honest to god war.

“It was silly, really. We were going down one of the roads – which are nothing more than faded tire tracks in the dirt – when a bomb went off.” I gasped and he went on, his voice monotonous. “It caught the front of our transport and flipped us. The driver died, so did another one of us. I broke my leg from the flip. We all broke something, everyone that survived.”

I felt like a hand had squeezed over my heart. Just the mention of a bomb – the very thing that killed my sister – was a sinister reminder of Violetta’s violent death.

“How could you say that was silly?” I whispered.

He exhaled sharply. “Because we should have known better. We should have seen it coming from a mile away. The road hadn’t been checked and were weren’t using due diligence.”

“Why not?”

“Because we were young kids. Because we’d seen so much, every day, that after a while you become desensitized. You stop caring. And you think you’re invincible. Until it happens to you.”

“How old
are
you?”

“Twenty-nine,” he said. “This was a long time ago. I use due diligence now.”

“But you’re no longer in the army.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m not. But it doesn’t mean life isn’t waiting out there to get you unaware.”

I raised my brows and took a sip of my coffee while I mulled that over. He was sounding a lot like Luz. Perhaps they had more in common than they thought.

“So how old are you?” he asked, seeming to want to change the subject. I couldn’t blame him. I was sorry I brought it up to begin with.

“Twenty-four,” I told him. “Going on forty.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What makes you say that?”

I shrugged. He may have brought up his battles but I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up mine. The fastest way to scare a guy off is to tell him your brother is the leader of one of the most powerful drug cartels and aside from your twin sister, the rest of your family was murdered in related incidents. Violent, messy, disgusting incidents.

“I’ve always felt older, that’s all.”

“No boyfriend? No husband?”

I tilted my head and gave him a wry look. “Do you think I’d be out here with you if I had either of those?”

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His chest muscles moved smoothly under his tank. “Maybe you’re in one of those open relationships. You never know with Mexicans.”

“Hey,” I warned him. “If I wasn’t so cripple, I’d reach over and smack you right now.”

“Good thing you’re a cripple then. You seem to be part wildcat.”

I made a claw scratch motion with my good hand. “You have no idea.”

That got a smirk out of him so I turned the tables.

“All right, hot shot,” I said to him, “what about you? Girlfriend? Wife?”

His lips twisted sourly and for a heart-stopping moment I was afraid he actually did have one or the other. But he said, “No, I don’t.”

Yet there was more to it. I quickly glanced at his hand and didn’t see a ring or even the tanline of one. I knew already he didn’t wear a wedding ring – it was usually one of the first things I noticed about a man – but I had to double check.

He caught me looking but still didn’t say anything.

“Ex-wife?” I asked.

He hesitated and by doing so was already telling the truth. I think he knew this because he looked down at the coffee in his hand and exhaled.

After a moment’s pause – which felt like eternity – he said, “Yes. I was married once.”

And it was quite apparent he didn’t want to talk about it. But like the blumbering, stubborn fool that I was, I pried further. “Are you divorced?”

There was a barely visible shake to his head. “No. She died.”

And once again, I was an idiot. This poor fucking man.

“Shit,” I swore. “I’m so sorry. How did she die?”

At that he looked up and stared me dead in the eye. “Car accident,” he said, completely emotionless. Somehow, maybe because the way he was staring at me was almost a challenge, like he was calling me out on lying about something, I knew it wasn’t the truth. But I guess it didn’t really matter. When someone was dead, they were dead.

“I’m sorry,” I said and suddenly it felt like all I’d done so far was apologize. It served me right for bringing up such torrid topics.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was a long time ago. I was a different person then.”

But have you moved on? I thought and from the darkness in his eyes, it was hard to tell if he had.

“I’m also sorry I’m not so good on dates,” I told him. “Or talking in general. And that
is
my fault.”

He managed a smile. “You’re direct. I like that about you.”

“What else do you like about me?”

“You look very pretty in a cast.”

I felt my cheeks flushed. “What else?”

“You have the sexiest eyes and lips I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks grew even hotter. I guess this meant he was into me after all. It was kind of hard to tell with him so far.

I decided to take the plunge. This emotionally wounded soldier boy was strumming all the right chords with me. I leaned forward slightly and looked at him through slanted lashes. “After coffee, did you want to come back to my place? Luz could drive the both of us.”

No, I couldn’t be more forward than that.

He seemed caught off guard. He blinked at me, his body stiffening and I was so certain he was going to take me up on it. Then his brow softened at he said, “Sorry, I can’t.”

So. Big fat no. Score one for rejection.

“Not into cripple chicks?” I joked but I knew he could tell I was smarting.

“It’s not like that,” he assured me quickly. “I’d love to. But I have an appointment with a realtor at four-thirty to see an apartment. You know, I told you the other day that I was looking to buy something here.”

That was true.

“How about we take a raincheck,” he said. “Better than that, maybe you can come down to the resort I’m at. I’ll come get a cab to get you. Your friend doesn’t even have to be bothered.”

Okay, this was soothing the embarrassment a bit. “Okay, when?”

“Tomorrow evening,” he says. “I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“Aren’t you staying at an all-inclusive place?” Those hotel restaurants weren’t exactly known for their good cuisine.

“Yes, but there’s a great little fish restaurant all tucked off the streets. Looks fancy. It should impress you.”

“Little do you know but I’m easily impressed.”

“Then that’s another thing I like about you.”

It wasn’t long until our time was up, three hours having flown by in flirty giggles and stories and glances, and Luz was honking her horn from outside the restaurant. I looked over at her and waved, even though I knew she couldn’t see in properly.

“Is she always so impatient?” he asked as he got to his feet and came around to my side.

“Yup,” I said. He held arm out for me, his muscles strained, the veins in his thick forearm bulging as I grabbed hold of him. He lifted me to my feet like that, as if I weighed less than air. With ease, he helped me across the café and outside to the car and I relished every moment of his warm skin against mine, his bracing, ocean-like smell. For those few moments, I felt every bit protected.

He helped me into the passenger seat and then shut the door. I quickly rolled down the window. “So tomorrow?”

“I’ll give you a call in the morning and let you know the time.”

I grinned up at him. “See you then.”

He nodded and raised his palm.

Luz stepped on the gas and we burned away from the sidewalk.

“Where’s the fire?” I asked, glaring at her and trying to put my seatbelt on.

“In your pants, I’m guessing,” she said.

“Ha, very mature.”

“So I guess you have another date tomorrow?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, you don’t have to be involved. He’s getting a cab to come get me. We’re going out for dinner.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to eat him already,” she commented dryly as we cruised down the street toward the highway exit.

I bared my teeth at her playfully. “That will come later.”

We were silent for a while as she drove, the traffic momentarily lighter, an American pop star signing to some bouncy beat on the radio.

Eventually Luz said, “So how was he?”

“Nice,” I told her.

“That’s it? Just nice?”

I shrugged, staring out the window while secret butterflies danced in my chest.

“That can’t be it. What did you guys talk about? Tell me something about him.”

“He grew up in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and was going to go into the NHL for hockey. Then he decided to join the army instead.”

“And …?”

“Nothing else,” I told her, not wanting to divulge the personal stuff. “We talked about this and that.”

“And did you mention your family?”

“Of course I didn’t. I talked about the airlines. That’s always a safe topic. People always want to know about crazy passengers, or the time you were hit by lightning or the scariest landings.”

“And did he want to know?”

“Probably not but I told him anyway.”

She laughed and her eyes darted to the rearview mirror. She frowned. “And do you trust him?”

“Do I trust him?” I repeated. “What does that mean? I barely know him.”

“I know.” Her eyes were still focused on something behind us. I looked to the side mirrors but couldn’t see anything unusual except for cars.

“What do you keep looking at?”

“I don’t want to alarm you,” she said in a way that I was immediately alarmed. “But I think there is someone following us.”

Now, I managed to twist in my seat and get a good look behind us. It was hard because the back window was so dusty. “What is it? What car?”

“There’s a white truck two cars behind us. It’s been two cars behind us before we even got on the highway.”

Now I could see it, the top of the truck poking up above the traffic but it was too far away for me to get an idea of who was driving it.

“Do you think that’s Derrin?” I asked, feeling this incredible sense of dread creep up on me.

“I don’t know.”

“What are we going to do?”