Mr. Mysterious In Black (9 page)

“You get angry just like that?” I asked, befuddled by this troubled man. “You are almost always radiating tension. Why are you so bilious?”

He gave a brief shake of his head. “Ignore it. It’s a dysfunction.”

“You take anger management?”

“Yes.”

“Effective?”

“Hardly.”

I swallowed hard as I asked, “You don’t go all crazy and hurt people brutally on impulse, do you?”

“Christ, no. Am I that frightening?”

“No. I was just curious.” I’d always had a nagging thought that he was someone of danger since I’d seen him at the club. But Tico said he knew him well. And Tico was fond of me, so I’m pretty sure he would’ve warned me about any red flags. And Devon knew him, and world-renowned Geo Lee. So I guess I could eradicate my worries of him being a sinister.

“Okay. I’ll be sure to talk to you whenever I have worries,” I placated. “I promise.”

“And you promise to allow my aid with them, too?”

My eyes rolled. “Yes, I promise.” Why does he insist on helping me? Did I look destitute and desperate?

He stared at me expectantly as he bit into a slice of pizza.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell you what was bothering you just now,” he explained, chewing patiently.

Should I ask him? That’s very personal, isn’t it? It just might anger him even more; especially if he wasn’t gay. Not now. Some other time when he’s not so choleric and guarded.

“It’s nothing I want to talk about right now. I’ll tell you some other time. I promise.”

He cast his eyes upwards and blew a breath before saying, “Okay. Fine. We don’t have to talk about it now. But be sure that I’ll be asking you again and again until you tell me.”

I nodded. Damn, what persistence.

“Now back to you and transportation,” he started in his usual unrevealing tone. Wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin before taking a sip of his wine, he continued, “I’ll have a car dropped by your apartment later. One less thing to worry about.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you asking me if I’d like to borrow your car or are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you,” he simplified.

“And don’t I get to say if I want to be loaned your car or not?”

“Transportation is a bother right now and I’m mending.”

“Yes, but this can be fixed easily with
cab fare
. Transportation is no bother,” I lashed, my voice raising. What the hell’s with wrong this man?

“With your new job, a car is essential,” he said
very
quietly. That was unexpected. Maybe he was trying to control himself from another outburst?

He was right, though. A car was definitely essential. But I didn’t want him loaning me a car. I could rent one. Or use one of Tev’s—and pray I never get pulled over by the cops.

“I don’t want your car,” I snapped.

“It would be yours. Not mine. It’s not a loan. You promised you would let me help you, Sadie.” His tone was accusatory.

“Yes, but this is crazy, Natalio. I don’t know why you want to do all this. You’ve already got me a job. Thank you. That’s good enough. It is not normal that I should meet a man in a strip club of all places, who tells me he’s only there because of me, then later tells me he knows me more than I think when I don’t see how he could because I’ve never met him before.” I paused for air. “Do you not see how eerie this is? Do you not expect me to be suspicious of you?” I stopped at a sudden thought then narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you a friend of
him
? Did Cali D beseech you to look out for me if something should happen to him?” That would explain a heck of a lot.

He scoffed. “No.”

“I don’t believe you,” I shot, folding my arms and sitting back.

“I don’t lie pettily, Sadie. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you didn’t inquire
who
Cali D was.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “I told you, I know more about you than you think. And I know your ex Cali D. But I am in no way associated with him. Believe me.”

“What do you know about me?
How
do you know about me?”

“For the former, everything. For the latter, I prefer to apprise you some other time.” He remained poker-faced and I couldn’t read through his tone or his expression.

“I’m afraid to trust you,” I whispered.

He breathed a heavy sigh before leaning forward and taking my hands in his. I tried not to simper at the contact. “I understand why you would be. But please, believe that I would never do anything to harm you. I just want to make you happy. You haven’t been for a while.”

How did he know?
Why won’t he tell me how he knows about me? Why was he so passionate about making me happy? And if I asked all these questions, he wouldn’t tell me.

“What can I do to make you trust me?” he asked. “I want to earn your trust.”

“Tell me what’s underground.”

“I will. But not now. Besides, I’m ninety percent sure that you’ll unearth it yourself.” He swallowed, his eyes growing soft. “I’m hoping you do. My faith is strong…”

“You prefer I find out on my own in lieu of you telling me?” I asked in surprise.

He nodded.

That has got to be the most backward thing I’d ever heard.

“Okay.” Resigning, I slumped back into my chair. There was so little that I knew about this man and yet he wanted to be my savior.

“If I asked you to unbutton your shirt, would you do it?” I asked him dully. Exhausted I was from trying to figure the man out.

“Why would you ask me to do that?”

“I’m just curious.”

He raised his brow, in that sexy way.

“I was wondering if I’d discover an S on your chest.”

Natalio grinned. Wow, I liked that. He looked young, earthly and mortal with his features relaxed. There was an unidentifiable nagging in the back of my mind about his familiarity. His boyish grin reminded of someone. And weird enough, I couldn’t seem to remember the person he reminded me of. How could he remind me of someone I didn’t remember? Was that even possible? Yeah, with my retrograde amnesia, there could be such a thing. Maybe he just resembled someone I was once fond of.

“It depends on what you want the S to mean. Superman, Savior…Sadie.” He gazed longingly at me with warm blue eyes and bit down on his lip. “I prefer the latter, though.”

All gay thoughts were decimated from my mind when I blushed. Gay men didn’t look at women like
that
.

“I can be anything you want me to, Sadie. For you. I can’t know what you want unless you tell me,” he said in a soft voice. His gaze lingered on my neck again and his pink tongue licked across his lower lip.
Sweet savior
… The temperature in here has risen.

Shifting in my seat, I quickly changed the topic. “What kind of work do you do?” That’s a question that had been lolling in my head for a while.

He stilled, eying me oddly. “I sell stuff.”

“You sell stuff? Is that even a job description?” That has got to be the most unintelligibly he’d ever spoken since I’d met him. What the hell kind of answer is ‘I sell stuff’? Unless…unless he was a drug dealer. Oh no, not again.

“Yes, it is,” he clipped.

“White stuff?”

“No. I told you, I’m not associated with your deceased. Neither am I like him,” he snarled.

“Then what do you sell?”

“Electronics. Appliances. All that junk,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Because I barely know you. And you want to move heaven and earth for me. I need to know more about my savior.”

“I’m not important. You are,” he said. “There’s nothing fascinating or interesting about me or my life. Well, nothing has been for the last seven years…”

“You are important to me because you’re helping me,” I petulantly snapped. Why did he not want to talk about himself? Now I was over-curious. “Are you sure you aren’t a drug dealer?”

His expression grew thunderous. “Do I look like a damn drug dealer?”

“No,” I answered in truth. “But it would explain why you don’t want to talk about your job.”

“I just don’t want to talk about my job right now. It already consumes almost all of my time. I’m enjoying my pizza and
you
. Can’t I do just that?” He vibrated with irritation. “I allowed you to evade talking about whatever was bothering you earlier. Do the same for me. Thanks.”

“Okay. Fine. We don’t have to talk about it now. But be sure that I’ll be asking you again and again until you tell me,” I mocked, throwing his earlier words right back at him.

That won me another grin. And there’s that nagging again. When he smiled like that, all boyish and relaxed, he looked vaguely familiar.

“Tell me about your family,” I pressed. “Any brothers? Sisters? Wife? Children? Pets?”
Please don’t have a wife or children.

“I have a healthy, comforting mother and a grumpy, controlling father. Two brothers, one sister, no wife, no children and my pet is in my pants,” he briefed.

“I see,” I nodded. “Where’s the passion. Not family-oriented?”

“I’d kill for them,” he deadpanned. “Are you and Devon serious?”

His question took me by surprise. Where did that come from?

Taking a sip of my wine, I answered charily. “We’ve only been on one date.”

“And you plan on going out with him again?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.

“Maybe. Yes.” Though I did find excuses twice when Devon asked me out again over the weekend. I didn’t like that he kept trying to sneak in questions about Tevin. His inexplicable interest in my friend had me wary.

“Does he treat you right?” Now he sounded avuncular.

“Yes. He’s very sweet,” I smiled. “He’s quite the gentleman.”
And I’m no gentlewoman.

He wiped his hands on his napkin and refilled his wineglass. All his movements were careful and measured as his brows crinkled in thought. Taking a sip of his wine, he slowly set his glass down, laced his fingers on top of the table and lanced me with his stare. “You will not see him again. Understand?”

My head jolted back at his stern command. “Are you serious? So now you’re trying to dictate to me who I can or cannot see? You have got to be kidding me! I’m not yours.”

His gaze didn’t waver, he didn’t even blink. “A shepherd knows his sheep, and a sheep knows its shepherd. This has nothing to do with possessiveness. After all, we’re just friends, right? This has to do with your safety. Devon is dangerous. Stay
away
from him.”

“Unbelievable!” I laughed out. “Devon has got to be the most banal, innocuous person I’ve ever met.
You
are the one that’s dangerous. You are the one that I should ‘stay away’ from.”

Natalio sat back in his seat and tossed his arm over the back of the chair in a relaxed position. “I don’t do arguments, Sadie. I speak and I expect you to
listen
. If I tell you that the guy is dangerous and that you’re to stay away from him, then I expect you to take heed and stay away from him. That’s where it ends.”

“Are you
serious
?” I shrieked in disbelief.

He only stared at me for what felt like a century, then suddenly asked, “Do you believe in a man’s love, Sadie?”

Sudden turn, again. He keeps jumping from one boat to the next.

I rested my elbows on the table and dropped my chin in my palms, being sure to lock my intensified gaze on his. “There are three things that amaze me—no, four things I don’t understand: How an eagle glides through the sky, how a snake slithers on a rock, how a ship navigates the ocean, how a man loves a woman.”

“Your bible quoting doesn’t answer my question,” he said quietly, his blue eyes softening as they bored into mine
.
Hmm, he knows the bible… Impressive.

Deliberately, I furrowed my brows and tilted my head to the side. “How could it not?”

“Because it’s not your words. I want
your
words.”

“Well, no. I don’t believe in love,” I admitted.

Extremely quiet his voice came, “Why? Has someone hurt you?”

“Yes. But I don’t remember the pain or
that
someone. And I don’t wish to talk about it. So please, don’t ask again.”

He dropped his head in his hands. Then seconds later rubbed his hands over his face before pinning me with glossy blue irises and saying a breathy, “I’m sorry.”

He said it, and it was a combination of sadness, pain, pleading and apology. Was he sorry about bringing up the topic of love? Or was he sorry about something else? It was really hard to tell. The man was just one big ball of emotions.

And so, once again, I was left mystified by Mr. Mysterious in Black.

D
eep masculine laughter swirled with soft feminine laughter above the low flowing of Common’s
I Want You
in Natalio’s vehicle as we drove into my apartment complex. It was Thursday, and after a long day of boozes, aggressive salty air and bawdy humor, Natalio and I had managed to slip away from an all-white yacht party thrown by Marco Levy, some multimillionaire acquaintance of Natalio’s. Of course, Natalio’s attire was an exception; he wore his usual black.

I was still in the dark about his line of work, but all the invitees of the yacht party were posh pomps who all referred to him as ‘Nelson’
.
The minute someone would launch a conversation with him about business, he’d cut them off, reminding them he was ‘sporting’ and would rather ‘not talk about work’. And I knew it was because he didn’t want
me
to know. Why was he hiding his occupation from me? Unless he was indeed a dwarf of Snow White and lied about it.