Pink Neon Dreams (16 page)

And he’d tell her what had to
happen, no matter how much he’d rather not.

To deliver the unpleasant truth,
he borrowed from his mother and grandmother’s playbook.
 
Both Mama and
Abuela
softened harsh blows with good food, cooked and served with
love.
 
Daniel lacked cooking talent, but
he could provide something tasty.
 
Bad
news always seemed a little bit more palatable on a full belly, he
thought.
 
He knew just what he wanted but
not where to find it so he cruised.

It wouldn’t be a chain restaurant
or one with a lot of glitz.
 
The kind of
place he sought would be older, maybe even a little bit rundown but probably
painted with bright colors.
 
It’d most
likely be off the main paths, tucked away somewhere almost unexpected.
 
He’d recognize it when he discovered it and
the people running it would speak his ancestor’s language.
 
Delicious aromas would waft from the
overheated kitchen, smells which combined garlic, onion, cilantro, tomatoes,
peppers, and sizzling meats.
 

Daniel didn’t find it on the
first few streets or in the first thirty minutes, but he hadn’t expected he would.
 
He spent almost an hour searching before he
came across Rosa Mexicano.
  
With a vivid
deep pink exterior decorated with hand painted images of sombreros, cactus,
tacos, and a few burros, the building appeared to have once housed a chain
pizza restaurant.
 
Even at mid-afternoon
a number of vehicles remained in the parking lot so he parked and entered.
 
He inhaled and nodded.
 
The place would do.

After a gander at the menu, he
ordered carry-out.
 
Uncertain of what Cecily
liked or didn’t, he chose a variety, all ala carte.
 
He ordered in
Espanol
, the familiar words easy on his tongue and asked for it all
to be packed into aluminum pans, easy to reheat or keep warm.
 
Daniel ordered enchiladas rancheros, burritos
tipicos, tacquitos, and tamales.
 
He
asked for side dishes of both refried beans and rice.
 
The chips were on the house and so was the
container of homemade salsa, but he ordered some guacamole, too.
 

On the way back to Cecily’s
house, Daniel stopped at a liquor store to pick up a sweet Riesling wine.
 
Once there, he let himself in with the key
she’d provided and put the food into a low heat oven, hot enough to maintain it
without drying everything out.
 
He set
the table and rooted around until he found a couple of tapers to place in the
center.
 
Then, with an hour and half or
two hours until she’d come in, he took a long, satisfying shower and dressed in
a button-down black shirt with clean jeans.

He resisted the urge to drink
tequila, knowing the potent alcohol wouldn’t go well with the wine he planned
to share with Cecily no matter how much he sought the dulling it would provide
his inner turmoil.
 
Daniel dreaded
telling her what must come next and he hoped it wouldn’t make her angry or
upset.
 
If she handled the fact I’m with FBI, she’ll deal with this.
 
And he hoped it would be true.

Dragging his feet doing something
he dreaded wasn’t his style, so he used his FBI issued phone to call Martin.
“It’s Padilla,” he growled when his boss answered. “I’ve made contact and I’ll
bring her in tomorrow to talk.
 
Got a
time?”

“Make it eleven a.m.,” Martin
said. “She’s willing to come in?”

“Yeah, no
problem.”
He
hoped she’d agree to go, that she’d trust him enough
.

“All right, then. I’ll advise
them in Springfield.”

Daniel dragged a chair over in
front of the broad front window and watched for Cecily.
 
When she arrived, he relished the way her
hips moved to the rhythm of her stride, but he noted she wasn’t smiling.
 
Before she unlocked the door, he opened it
wide and she walked inside, straight into the circle of his arms.
 
He hugged her and she wrapped her arms around
him.
 
They stood fused together and he
basked in the embrace, needing it like a drought wilted plant requires water.

“You’re earlier than I thought,”
he said when they separated, after a swift but needy kiss.

“I couldn’t stand waiting
anymore,” Cecily said.
 
“Are you going to
tell me
what’s the matter
?”

He would but he’d like a few more
minutes of peace. “Don’t you want to eat first,
querida?”

Her dainty snub nose sniffed the
aroma from the kitchen. “It smells wonderful.
 
You’re tempting me, sugar, and I really want to know.”

“Let’s eat first, then we’ll
talk,” he said. He wanted to enjoy the meal and the moment.

Cecily locked her eyes with his
gaze. Daniel knew the moment she conceded. “All right,” she said with a world
class sigh. “But as soon as we’re done, you share.”

“I will.”

The food tasted even better than
he’d anticipated, delicious and authentic.
 
Although still not as fine as what his mom could produce, he found it
delicious.
 
Judging by the way she ate,
so did Cecily.
 
“I like all of it,” she said.

Her praise made him feel ten feet
tall. “I’m glad,” he said. “But surely you’ve had Mexican food before.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “But Taco
Bell’s nothing like this.”

The way she smirked indicated she
teased and he smiled.
 
She added, “And,
sure, I’ve eaten in several restaurants but ol’ Willard thought this kind of
food was too plebian for his elegant palate.
 
Thank you, Daniel, it’s just what I needed, something satisfying and
solid.”

He nodded as he poured the wine,
red as blood into her plastic goblets.
“
De nada.
Do you want to go outside or into the living room?”

“It’s too hot and humid outside,”
Cecily said and rose, wine in hand.

Daniel followed her.
 
She curled up, feet tucked under her body, on
one corner of the couch and he sat down on the opposite end. He lifted his
glass up.
“
Salud
!”

“Cheers,” she said as they
touched goblets together.

The sweet wine pleased his tongue
and he drank half a glass before Cecily reached over to touch his shoulder.
“Daniel, please tell me now.”

“My boss tells me I have to bring
you over to the satellite office in Springfield, to talk.
 
It’s not a formal investigation, not yet but
he’s insistent.
 
We’re supposed to be there
at eleven tomorrow.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Why?”

They’d talked about it before and
he had nothing new. “They don’t have any suspects so they keep coming back to
you.
 
I won’t let them arrest you, I
promise.
 
But if I don’t show up with
you, it’ll get hot fast.
 
The best way to
get them off your back a little is to go away.
 
And the bureau’s not the only problem,
querida.”

“What is and what happens then?”

Here’s
where it gets sticky and tough.
“Depends on how it goes,” he said.
 
Daniel chose each word with care.
 
“If they think you answer their questions and they can’t make any
connections, it’s good.
 
You’re off the
hook and I ask for a long vacation, a real one this time so we can spend more
time together. The other problem is someone did kill your ex and whoever it is
knows you didn’t.
 
If they think you can
point a finger in their direction or figure out their identity, they’ll want
you out of the way, too.”

She stared at him with huge eyes,
filled with tears. “So what do we do?”

Fools
rush in where angels fear to tread.
 
His mother and grandmother always said so,
but he plunged ahead anyway. “You’re going to help me figure out
who
really iced your old man and then I’m going to take you
somewhere safe until it’s all worked out.”

 
The wine glass wobbled in her shaking fingers
and she put it down, empty.
 
Cecily
lunged across the couch toward him and he put his drink down, too.
 
She wrapped around him and clutched tight as
if the world crashed around their heads.
 
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Will you hold me?”

“Para
siempre,”
he
whispered.
“Always,
querida,
always.

Chapter
Ten

Fear clutched her heart with a
closed fist and sucked all the air out of her lungs.
 
Cecily half-expected he’d tell her something
like this, but the reality hit home with more force than she ever dreamed it
could.
 
Her short-lived freedom seemed on
the verge of coming to a halt.
 
All I wanted was to get away from that
bastard, have a life of my own and I did, for a short time.
 
All I dreamed about in a man, in a lover,
I’ve found in Daniel, but everything’s threatened now.
 
Willard’s reaching out from the grave to fuck
me one more time—that’s what it feels like - revenge.

Nestled against Daniel’s chest,
his arms wrapped around her, she felt almost safer, safer than she
would’ve
under any other circumstance.
 
If the FBI had sent anyone else, she’d be in
deep shit and still might be.
 
Her body
quivered involuntarily and she snuggled tighter against him.
 
Right now it wasn’t about their amazing
sexual attraction or the sensual pleasures he sent through her.
 
She needed his comfort.
 
Several minutes passed before she realized
he’d been stroking her hair and talking to her in a low, calm voice.
 
It took another few moments to understand
what he said.
 
Between endearments in
both Spanish and English, he asked her if she were all right.

“I’m okay,” she said, after she
gathered enough breath to speak. “I’m terrified, though.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can’t help it.”

“It’ll be fine,
Niña
. We’ll work it out together.”

“I hope so.”

“I
know
it.” She could hear the emphasis he put on the word and
understood he meant it.

It required a lot for her to
bring out the next words, but she wanted to tell him, needed him to know. “I
trust you.”

His arms cinched closer and his
lips brushed her cheek. “I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I don’t want to close Pink Neon
tomorrow,” she said. “But I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No,” he said. “And you may have
to close it longer.
 
I’m sorry, if that
helps.”

“A little,” she said. “I’d never
be able to deal with this if you weren’t here.
 
I’m glad you are.”

“I’m sorry I brought this trouble
to you,
querida,
but I’ll do
everything I can to make it turn out right,” he said.

 
Cecily lifted her head so she could view his
eyes.
 
In their dark depths, she read a
powerful emotion, one greater than the anguish she’d recognized when they
met.
 
It smote her with its strength and
struck her square in the heart.
 
All of a
sudden it didn’t matter how short a time she’d known Daniel or how they
met.
 
Forget
all the self-made experts on love and romance.
 
They don’t know and I do. It doesn’t matter how short a time we’ve known
each other, because we’ve connected deep and experienced shit most couples
don’t for a long time, years, even in a lifetime.
 
I think he loves me and oh, holy God, I think
I love him, too.

If she hadn’t been such a rank
novice at love, she would’ve figured it out sooner.
 
But love had nothing to do with her marriage
and high school had been too damn long ago.
 
She’d been immature then anyway.
 
Cecily
wouldn’t even try to deny how she burned for Daniel’s touch or how hot he made
her body but there was more.
 
And had
been since the first day when he asked her to sing.
 
That moment resonated with intense feeling
and everything since maintained the level of emotion.
 
The way he cuddled her now said ‘love’, not
‘lust’.
 
I could live without him, but I don’t want to.
 
I want him by my side. I like him.
 
He makes me smile, he gets me to laugh, and
his presence comforts me. If this isn’t love, then fuck me—I’ll never figure
out what is.