All because of a feisty blonde with an attitude.
CHAPTER 27
Fallon
“You were right, Carlos,”I told the gruff-looking man with a heart of gold. He’d been the consummate host, providing vivid imagery of Santiago de Cuba while Cuban music played in the background. With the ocean rolling softly against the shore only yards away, the setting sun creating an incredible backdrop and the most delicious food I’d been allowed to enjoy in a long time, the moment felt far removed from the horrific danger we’d experienced only hours before.
And the night before.
And the afternoon before that.
Carlos had a wide grin that lit up his entire face as he leaned across the table. “What am I so right about?”
“Vissarian is a very strange man.”
He burst into laughter while Vissarian flicked his ‘trying to be commanding’ look over the candlelight. He even swirled his finger around the rim of his glass as he furrowed his brow. “I could say the same about you, dear Fallon, a crazy woman who risked her life to save a dog.”
“You were right there with me.”
“But I wasn’t the one shouting at the employees.”
“No, you would have shot them if they hadn’t helped.” I blew him a kiss, the moment something I would remember. At least we all felt relaxed. Although it hadn’t escaped me that several of Carlos’ men were pretending to be customers, hanging out at the small bar, two at a table looking stiff and formal.
Even in their rather tropical shirts.
The outline of their weapons was easy to see. It wasn’t as if they were hiding it from anyone. Not a single other guest seemed disturbed by their ominous presence. Maybe I should just take comfort in that.
“A match made in heaven,” Carlos piped in.
“If we were together, I’d likely kill him before a week was out.” I took a sip of wine, eager to hear what Vissarian would have to say.
“Over what? The fact I chastised you for cursing out men with guns or that you refuse to follow orders?”
“Ha! The fact you’re a demanding man with no sense of romance.”
Now Carlos choked on his drink. “Did I tell you the story about the woman he hit on inside a stakeout we were on?”
“Don’t you dare tell her that story. I will never hear the end of it,” Vissarian said gruffly, although I could tell he was doing his best not to laugh. When he turned toward me, he pressed his hand against his chest as if I’d hurt his feelings.
Again.
“And what do you mean I’m not romantic?”
I batted my eyelashes. “You’re not. You’re all business.”
“You see,” Carlos continued. “The woman was the wife of a very powerful man in this country and he didn’t take kindly to walking in and finding Vissarian’s hand on his wife’s knee.”
“I told you not to tell her.”
Laughing, the moment I pressed my hand against his arm, electric sensations trickled all the way down to my hand and further, igniting a fire in my core. The man had a way of doing that even when we were facing a crisis.
Or men with guns.
Carlos shrugged just as the small band began to play a slower song. “Why don’t you show the lady your fine moves, Vissarian?” He nodded toward the dance floor.
“I doubt he can dance.” I did love teasing Vissarian. He would not be a good poker player.
Vissarian tossed his napkin, immediately jerking to his feet. “Come with me, wicked woman, and I’ll show you who can and cannot dance.”