Pink Neon Read online

  A rush of new customers distracted Cecily so he picked up her laptop and surfed. Daniel knew she watched so he skimmed The Kansas City Star but once his lady headed out to assist one of her customers with picking out a figurine, he switched pages. First he checked the Chicago papers for any updates about Willard Bradford VI but found none. Then he did a little digging on the Springfield satellite office to familiarize himself with the staff. When business slacked down around one in the afternoon, Daniel glanced up to find Cecily watching him with a frown. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can go bring something back for lunch if you tell me what sounds good?”

  “I’m not interested in food right now,” she said. “Daniel, tell me what’s going on.”

  He shook his head. “No, chica, it’s not the place or time. I’ll tell you this evening, I promise.”

  Cecily sniffed. “Sounds like you want to break it to me gently.”

  “Something along those lines,” he said. “You might need to plan on closing the store for tomorrow, too.”

  The frown went viral and she glared at him. “I don’t want to close Pink Neon! Why?”

  “We may need to take a little trip up to Springfield.”

  “For what?”

  If he told her now, she would freak out so Daniel didn’t. “Later, Cecily. You need to eat – would you like a sandwich or a salad or what?”

  Lips in full pout she shook her head. “I don’t care. Just bring me something.”

  So he plunged out into the afternoon traffic, dodging between the mini vans packed with tourist families and the little old ladies piloting their huge vintage cars through the lanes. Daniel wanted a drink more than he did a meal but he squelched the desire and pulled into a strip mall with a sub shop he’d noticed. He ordered two Italian hoagies on wheat bread with everything and picked up two bottles of iced tea. Then he made his way back to Pink Neon and Cecily.

  Daniel found her deep in conversation over handbags when he returned so he slipped behind the counter and sat in a chair. Ten minutes later, she rang up a sale and thanked her customer. After the door closed behind her, Cecily turned to him with a smile warm enough to melt ice cream on a winter morning. “Hey,” she said. “I was kinda bitchy earlier and I’m sorry, sugar. I guess I’m a little on edge.”

  He came to his feet and opened his arms. “You have plenty of reason. C’mere.”

  Without hesitation Cecily came and he folded her into an embrace. Although he couldn’t touch her without evoking some measure of desire, the hug meant something more. It reminded Daniel of the way he felt at communion a long time ago, back when he still went to Mass, back when he still believed in the power of good over evil. A potent mixture of love, faith, and hope cocooned him and he savored the moment. Her body radiated tension but as she rested against him in the shelter of his arms, he felt some of it ebb away. Daniel lifted her chin and kissed her mouth, slow and sweet. “Let’s eat,” he said after the short smooch.

  Her fingers stroked his face, light as a breath. “You’re too damn nice to me,” she said but without heat or complaint. “Thanks for bringing something to eat. I was getting hungry.”

  “De nada,” Daniel said. “Don’t you have a table where we can sit or something?”

  “Uh-uh, sugar,” Cecily said. “I didn’t know I’d be having any guests or I would’ve.”

  “Do you even have another chair?”

  “There’s one in back, in the storeroom,” she told him with a smile.

  He fetched it from the tiny space and said, “Here, sit down and eat before someone else comes into the store.”

  Cecily rewarded him with a dazzling smile. “Okay, thanks, I will.”

  Daniel joined her behind the counter, unwrapped his sandwich and he watched her eat. They made small talk during the simple lunch and afterward, between customers, he asked her, trying to make the question seem casual. “Do you have a passport?”

  Confusion crossed her face like a shadow. Frowning, she nodded. “I do. Dontcha know every rich bitch in Chicago has one? I had to so I could accompany my dearly departed ex-husband on trips out of the country. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I just wondered.”

  She didn’t buy it. “Daniel?” she questioned, tone sharper than a razor blade.

  Unwilling to bleed and aware she wouldn’t let it go now, he said, “Okay, I just wondered in case you ever needed to go out of the country for a day or two.”

  Comprehension widened her eyes. “Jesus, sugar,” she said. “I don’t think I like the sound of that. You going to tell me what’s up or not?”

  “I will, this evening,” he told her. “I promise.”

  A sigh emerged from deep within. “All right, I guess.”

  After finishing the last bite of sandwich and taking a long swig of tea, Cecily wrapped up her trash and deposited it in the can. She moved two steps over to stand close to Daniel and ran one hand up his arm, fingers diving under his short sleeve. “Are you staying?”

  God, he wanted to remain, to bask in her presence and to be on hand in case she needed protection. But he didn’t want to hover, either, knew better than to smother the first fragile flicker of flame between them. The words of the beautiful poem, The Prophet by Kahil Gibran, floated through his mind, familiar and evocative, let there be spaces in our togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. It seemed good advice, Daniel thought, wise enough to follow. Whatever he’d begun with this woman, he wanted to nurture even though at the moment it seemed all but impossible.

  “No, I thought I’d head back to your place, put my stuff up and have dinner waiting for you when you come home. I don’t suppose you’d consider closing early?”

  Head tilted, her vivid eyes met his. “I might, sugar. Are you planning to cook?”

  “Hell, no,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I’ll pick up take out or something.”

  And take a cold shower, light some candles to make it romantic, and figure out just how the hell to handle the situation.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Cecily told him. “I’ll shut down here around four and head home. How’s that sound?”

  “Bueno, querida.”

  Her delicious laugh pleased his ears. “I don’t speak Spanish,” Cecily told him and he opened his mouth to apologize but her finger covered his lips. “But I like it when you do, Daniel so don’t quit.”

  “I won’t.” Without asking, he took her mouth and owned it. Her lips molded against his and she gave back the kiss with a sizzle. Although he’d meant the kiss to be short, a down payment for later, Daniel couldn’t resist temptation. His mouth lingered over hers, every sense engaged and smoldering. Cecily excited him, evoked carnal desire but she impacted his emotions just as much. The kiss might’ve smoldered into open flame but a couple entered, senior citizens, the man wearing a jaunty newsboy cap, the lady in slacks and a bright floral patterned blouse. Their open delight in walking in on an embrace soon switched to pleasure in Pink Neon’s stock so Daniel cupped Cecily’s face between his hands. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you around four fifteen, four thirty, okay?”

  Her smile lit up the room brighter than the neon outside. “I’ll be there, sugar.”

  He walked out into the late summer sunshine and never realized he whistled until he climbed into his sedan. In the mood for music, he sorted his CD collection and plugged in a Grace Potts and the Nocturnals album. I might’ve well picked CCR’s tune ‘There’s A Bad Moon on the Rise’ because it fits. I’m not sure what’s coming down but troubles are on the way. Daniel reflected if he’d never met Cecily or fallen hard for her, he wouldn’t be trapped in his current situation but whatever happened, he’d meet it head on.

  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 t
asty. 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 in 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 but when 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 one 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 carryout. 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 told him.

  Her praise made him feel ten feet tall. “I’m glad,” he told her. “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 cried 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 but he answered, “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 replied. 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. And 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 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. “Then 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, 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 told him. “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 told him. “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.